Fandoms: Stargate Atlantis

Characters: Teyla Emmagan/John Sheppard

Type: One Shot – Stand alone.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: F/m, Body Part fetish (misc) & Pegging

Disclaimer I don't own the characters or ideas behind Stargate Atlantis, no money has or will be made from this fic.

Completed: 27th June 2008. 825wds.

Summary: There are two things that make John a happy boy.

A/N: Written for my Kink Bingo card: Body Part fetish (misc) & Pegging .

Teyla was only 5’4” compared with his 6’, but it didn’t matter, she seemed taller to him: it was all in the way she carried herself. Her posture was perfect and she held an air around her like a queen: perhaps that was why she was a leader to her people. She was special and, while she didn’t seem to hold any expectations to be treated like it, he was fairly sure that she must be aware of it. If nothing else, she had to be aware of the effect she had on most people.

Her height was irrelevant though, in fact it was probably an advantage: she could hold her own in a fight, was fast and agile, efficient and deadly. John loved to watch her fight, not just because she was so sexy when she kicked peoples’ asses but because he could appreciate her body without having to look like a pervert. Although the casual observer could be forgiven for thinking he was watching the totality of her movements, her whole body, her raw sexuality; when in fact there was just one thing that caught his attention… well, two really since hands came in pairs.

He often watches as those hands twirl the fighting sticks, often finding himself put off by their movements if he is the one sparring with her at the time. They’re sensual, strong and dexterous. He loves the sight of them. More than even that though is the way he loves the feel of them on his body. The way they can slide over his skin and possess him, the way that just one touch can be a command that instantly results in his obedience, and he especially loves the feel of them as they open his body up for her.

Teyla Emmagan isn’t just a queen, she is dominant to the very tips of her pinky fingers.

Of course, John would never tell her that. Could never dream of telling her how much he loves her hands because that would mean talking about his feelings. And if there was one thing that was widely accepted about Colonel John Sheppard, it was that he was incapable of discussing emotions. He would get all uncomfortable, his eyes would find it impossible to make contact with the other person’s and he suddenly acted like there were a million other places he needed to be…now! So, he didn’t tell her. He wasn’t sure if she knew without him saying a word. She did seem incredibly good at reading what he was trying to say when words failed him. In any rate, he did try his best to show her.

Instead of words he used his eyes. Intense hazel irises that could look so focused it was almost scary. Many had made the miss-assumption that he was dominant in a relationship, simply because of the level of intensity in his hazel eyes. But those orbs were also capable of conveying such love, tenderness and need… it was those looks that Teyla was best at interpreting. And when eyes failed there were his hands and mouth.

Yes, he adored her hands, and he just loved the way they could make him squirm and shiver as slender fingers thrust inside him. Words weren’t needed then and he would make soft noises of pleasure at the touch. Her hands could turn him inside out and he worshipped them.

That said; there was something that turned him on even more than what her beautiful hands could do to him - her strap-on cock. John wasn’t a closet bisexual or confused about his sexuality at all in fact. No, he was as straight as they made them. But, he did so love pegging. When she nailed him so hard he could hardly see for the stars, it was the surest way to turn him to a puddle of goo. There were times when she would fuck him so hard and for so long he would have trouble walking right for days. She had the most incredible stamina!

While she fucked him, her hands would grip his hips tightly, holding him in place or guiding him onto her fake cock. The combination of what those hands could do to him as she was taking him drove him wild with need. Every touch signalled ownership, branded him as hers. Hers to love, hers to hurt and hers to fuck: however or whenever she chose. He was fortunate, those hands were capable of such terrible pain but she only used them on him for the right kind. Not that pain was really his thing, but he was sure he was being conditioned to like it with their sparring.

John could lament on the wonders of her hands and prowess with a strap-on dildo for an eternity and it wouldn’t be enough. So he settled for worshipping them the only way he knew how: with his lips, tongue and his own hands.

~Fin~

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