TITLE: Just A Kiss
SUMMARY: He forgot he'd promised himself never to kiss her again without asking first.
CATEGORY: Humour, romance.
RATING: PG-13
ORIGINAL THREAD: here
CHALLENGE:
fanfic100 prompt #034 - Not Enough
NOTES: Written for
teh_gandu in the V-Day Meme. She wanted John/Teyla or Elizabeth/Kate, and I couldn't quite manage Elizabeth/Kate in my brain.
Just A Kiss
John felt like a fool, his face glowing in the heat of the setting Livanian sun and his humiliation.
Teyla had kissed him.
Actually, she'd tugged on his dogtags, her fingertips light against his bare breastbone as she signalled him to bend down.
She'd lifted her mouth to his, a quick brush of lips against lips. John tasted the soft cinnamon-like spice of the dessert wine, and forgot that he'd promised he wouldn't ever initiate a kiss again without asking.
When she began to draw away, he went back for seconds.
Slow and easy, more intent than casual, more eager than reserved, John kissed her. Light, but sure. And she kissed him back with more enthusiasm than she'd shown with the first kiss, so John tucked his hand in behind her nape and let himself go.
In his belly, the embers of a fire he'd only once let free caught tinder and began to flame. His tongue traced her mouth, exploring the curve of her smile, and the fingertips resting on his chest flexed once, then flattened against his skin.
John wanted to drown in the taste, smell, touch of her.
He wasn't forcing her - not this time. She wasn't fighting him - not this time.
This time it was consensual.
It was also very public.
Behind Teyla, someone coughed; a clearing of the throat that indicated without so much as a word that this was all very good, but there were serious things to be seen to.
And John's brain - previously switched off - suddenly recalled that he'd just kissed Teyla before an audience of several hundred Livanian aristocracy, including the princess who had challenged Teyla to a 'friendly bout' for 'the night's use' of one of 'her husbands'.
He paused, mid-kiss, and felt hot and cold all over when she drew back. Mostly cold, actually, and particularly along his lips, and in his chest and belly.
Teyla's lashes rose enough for John to catch a glimpse of the haze of desire covering her eyes, before she dropped them again. "Yes," she said, turning away from John, suddenly brisk and businesslike, although the dusky flush across her cheeks and throat were at odds with the calm tone of her voice. "I will be in the arena shortly."
She flashed a brief smile at the Livanian prince whose expression suggested that if his sister wasn't going to remove John from Teyla's 'harem', then he'd be more than happy to strangle John and dispose of the body in a very deep hole somewhere.
John ignored him, and managed a smile as he caught her eye. "Good luck," he said, hoping it didn't sound as stupid as he felt.
He blamed the wine - the whole half-glass he'd had at dinner, feeling like a lightweight as Ronon drank down glass after glass like soda, and with about as much effect. Half a glass of Livanian wine, and John Sheppard's brain wandered off and let him make a fool of himself.
This time when Teyla brushed her lips across his, John accepted the kiss and resisted the urge to kiss her back.
Still, his hands flexed slightly when she leaned across to kiss first Rodney, then Ronon, in the exact same manner that she'd first kissed John.
It was stupid to resent the fact that, in this situation, a kiss was just a kiss.
- fin -
SUMMARY: He forgot he'd promised himself never to kiss her again without asking first.
CATEGORY: Humour, romance.
RATING: PG-13
ORIGINAL THREAD: here
CHALLENGE:
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NOTES: Written for
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Just A Kiss
John felt like a fool, his face glowing in the heat of the setting Livanian sun and his humiliation.
Teyla had kissed him.
Actually, she'd tugged on his dogtags, her fingertips light against his bare breastbone as she signalled him to bend down.
She'd lifted her mouth to his, a quick brush of lips against lips. John tasted the soft cinnamon-like spice of the dessert wine, and forgot that he'd promised he wouldn't ever initiate a kiss again without asking.
When she began to draw away, he went back for seconds.
Slow and easy, more intent than casual, more eager than reserved, John kissed her. Light, but sure. And she kissed him back with more enthusiasm than she'd shown with the first kiss, so John tucked his hand in behind her nape and let himself go.
In his belly, the embers of a fire he'd only once let free caught tinder and began to flame. His tongue traced her mouth, exploring the curve of her smile, and the fingertips resting on his chest flexed once, then flattened against his skin.
John wanted to drown in the taste, smell, touch of her.
He wasn't forcing her - not this time. She wasn't fighting him - not this time.
This time it was consensual.
It was also very public.
Behind Teyla, someone coughed; a clearing of the throat that indicated without so much as a word that this was all very good, but there were serious things to be seen to.
And John's brain - previously switched off - suddenly recalled that he'd just kissed Teyla before an audience of several hundred Livanian aristocracy, including the princess who had challenged Teyla to a 'friendly bout' for 'the night's use' of one of 'her husbands'.
He paused, mid-kiss, and felt hot and cold all over when she drew back. Mostly cold, actually, and particularly along his lips, and in his chest and belly.
Teyla's lashes rose enough for John to catch a glimpse of the haze of desire covering her eyes, before she dropped them again. "Yes," she said, turning away from John, suddenly brisk and businesslike, although the dusky flush across her cheeks and throat were at odds with the calm tone of her voice. "I will be in the arena shortly."
She flashed a brief smile at the Livanian prince whose expression suggested that if his sister wasn't going to remove John from Teyla's 'harem', then he'd be more than happy to strangle John and dispose of the body in a very deep hole somewhere.
John ignored him, and managed a smile as he caught her eye. "Good luck," he said, hoping it didn't sound as stupid as he felt.
He blamed the wine - the whole half-glass he'd had at dinner, feeling like a lightweight as Ronon drank down glass after glass like soda, and with about as much effect. Half a glass of Livanian wine, and John Sheppard's brain wandered off and let him make a fool of himself.
This time when Teyla brushed her lips across his, John accepted the kiss and resisted the urge to kiss her back.
Still, his hands flexed slightly when she leaned across to kiss first Rodney, then Ronon, in the exact same manner that she'd first kissed John.
It was stupid to resent the fact that, in this situation, a kiss was just a kiss.
- fin -
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