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TITLE: Little Moments, Outright
SUMMARY: Guys don't always have sex on the brain!
CATEGORY: romance, humour
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 431
NOTES: Written in the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sg_rarepairings Fic Battle for the prompt "John.Teyla, brush."
Little Moments, Outright
Guys don't always have sex on the brain.
Except, of course, when John's ambling down a corridor next to Teyla, and she turns on her toes when Cadman calls them from behind with a breathless invite for some Girls' Thing for Teyla to join, and one hand swings out nearly crashing into his arm but just avoiding it at the last moment so only her fingertips graze through the hair on his forearm.
(That night, John skims his hand over his forearm lightly enough to make him shiver, and thinks of the glance of apology she shot him - tossed hair and the curve of her jaw and throat, perfect as a circle - before he takes himself 'in hand'.)
Or when she offers him her dish of 'apple pie' - questionable fruit stewed until it's unidentifiable between two layers of soggy stuff that is allegedly pastry - and their fingers touch as she hands it over to him.
(It's just a touch. She's had a firmer grip on him heaps of times before. But this feels different. It's the gleam of laughter in her eyes as she offered him the dessert. What can John say? He likes fruit in soggy pastry. And her smile.)
There's the time when they slide into a niche along a long corridor while on the run from some people holding their team-mates captive, and they endeavour to look like they're just one more set of shadows behind a couple of shadowy statues.
(Adrenaline does things to the libido. John knows this perfectly well. But his face is turned into her hair and she smells of scented wood and Teyla-sweat. And although his mind knows perfectly well that they're in tight quarters, his dick is thinking that it's in tight quarters right now.)
And then, there's the time when she pauses at her doorway when she should say goodnight, and John's about to make a casual comment and go back to his own solitary room. But her eyes are dark and steady on his face and he finds himself taking that step into her quarters like she's a magnet and he's merely steel to her calling, reaching out as though Nancy and Kanaan and Larrin and Michael never existed between them, and curving a finger into the hollow of her cheek.
(Her mouth curves, and her lashes drop, and she leans into the contact and then it's no longer a mere brush of skin against skin but an outright caress. And things...progress.)
This time when John's got sex on the brain, he's not thinking at all.
fin
SUMMARY: Guys don't always have sex on the brain!
CATEGORY: romance, humour
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 431
NOTES: Written in the
sg_rarepairings Fic Battle for the prompt "John.Teyla, brush."Little Moments, Outright
Guys don't always have sex on the brain.
Except, of course, when John's ambling down a corridor next to Teyla, and she turns on her toes when Cadman calls them from behind with a breathless invite for some Girls' Thing for Teyla to join, and one hand swings out nearly crashing into his arm but just avoiding it at the last moment so only her fingertips graze through the hair on his forearm.
(That night, John skims his hand over his forearm lightly enough to make him shiver, and thinks of the glance of apology she shot him - tossed hair and the curve of her jaw and throat, perfect as a circle - before he takes himself 'in hand'.)
Or when she offers him her dish of 'apple pie' - questionable fruit stewed until it's unidentifiable between two layers of soggy stuff that is allegedly pastry - and their fingers touch as she hands it over to him.
(It's just a touch. She's had a firmer grip on him heaps of times before. But this feels different. It's the gleam of laughter in her eyes as she offered him the dessert. What can John say? He likes fruit in soggy pastry. And her smile.)
There's the time when they slide into a niche along a long corridor while on the run from some people holding their team-mates captive, and they endeavour to look like they're just one more set of shadows behind a couple of shadowy statues.
(Adrenaline does things to the libido. John knows this perfectly well. But his face is turned into her hair and she smells of scented wood and Teyla-sweat. And although his mind knows perfectly well that they're in tight quarters, his dick is thinking that it's in tight quarters right now.)
And then, there's the time when she pauses at her doorway when she should say goodnight, and John's about to make a casual comment and go back to his own solitary room. But her eyes are dark and steady on his face and he finds himself taking that step into her quarters like she's a magnet and he's merely steel to her calling, reaching out as though Nancy and Kanaan and Larrin and Michael never existed between them, and curving a finger into the hollow of her cheek.
(Her mouth curves, and her lashes drop, and she leans into the contact and then it's no longer a mere brush of skin against skin but an outright caress. And things...progress.)
This time when John's got sex on the brain, he's not thinking at all.
fin
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