Word Count: 2,028
Rating: NC-17/my first het porn! Language and pegging.
Notes: Someone who shall remain nameless was talking about the lack of Evan/Teyla pegging fic. And, okay, I've never written it before but everyone has to start somewhere. And then she helped me clean it up and make it much, much better and now here it is :)
There’s a carving on the bedstand that Evan’s never seen before, and he picks it up in fascination to take a closer look. It’s handmade, that’s for certain, by someone who knows their way around the tools of the trade, someone who obviously cares a great deal about their work. The wood is dark and rich, brown with a hint of deep red that Evan recognizes as the color of one of the trees that grows on the mainland.
The artist has taken the time to shape gentle bumps and hollows and ridges, and the whole piece has been polished to a dull shine. Evan is almost entranced by how it catches the candlelight in the dim light of the room, the flickering flame providing flashes of color, of knots and whorls in the original wood smoothed out by the workmanship but beautifully preserved at the same time.
“Do you know what it is?” Teyla’s voice cuts into his thoughts, amused. Evan shifts and drops it on the bed guiltily. She sits beside him and picks it up, smoothing her thumb around the tip of it almost fondly, and Evan has a sudden flash of clarity, realizing that he’s been playing with Teyla’s sex toys, good God.
“Sorry,” he fumbles, cheeks absolutely burning. Teyla just cocks her head at him.
“I have told you before, Evan,” she tells him, a trace of humor in her voice, “that I am perfectly willing to show you the Athosian ways of making love.” She reaches for his hand and places the dildo firmly in his palm, curling his fingers around its shaft. It’s a good size, he notices, though the shape isn’t realistic at all. He frowns at it and studies Teyla out of the corner of his eye. She’s looking at him in a way that he recognizes as her “I will wait here until you tell me what you want” expression.
“You’ve… used this?” he asks haltingly, gesturing to the carved bit of wood. Teyla purses her lips and shakes her head slowly.
“I have not used that particular ahila, no,” she says. “It is customary to have a new one made when you begin a relationship with a new partner.”
Evan looks down with renewed interest. This hasn’t been used, then, not by Teyla, not by anyone else she’s been with. He clears his throat, suddenly breathing a little harder. “Can I – can we…”
Teyla smiles and takes it from him. “If you would like to,” she says. “Of course.” She hesitates. “I was certain that you would not be interested in this, Evan, which is why I have not suggested it before now.”
Evan raises an eyebrow as he pulls his shirt over his head. “Why would I not be… oh.” Teyla has reached down beneath the bed and retrieved what looks like a collection of soft leather straps. She looks up as he trails of, a light frown on her face.
“Evan?” she questions, fingers disentangling from the straps, letting them fall to her lap as she reaches out to catch his wrist. “What is wrong?”
He clears his throat, embarrassed again, but Teyla’s face smoothes in understanding. “You assumed it was for you to use on me.”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, but she’s smiling and still holding his wrist. “That’s how… that’s what I’ve done before. I’ve never…”
Teyla shakes her head and leans over to press a kiss to his temple. “Do not worry, Evan.” She pulls back and leans over, sliding the leather harness out of her lap and Evan reaches out, stopping her and surprising himself when the words tumble from his mouth.
“I’ll still – just because I haven’t – Teyla,” and he doesn’t have the words to ask for this, to tell her about trust and want and maybe even need, but then she’s a lot smarter than he is and knows all of that. She studies him intently, staring into his eyes.
“Are you certain?” She holds up a hand as he opens his mouth to immediately agree. “I mean it, Evan. Do you want this, or do you just want to please me?”
He takes her hand, presses a kiss to the palm, and mumbles against it, “Can I say both?”
Her hand cups his face and he knows it’s the right answer, and he’s at once relieved and a little terrified, because her hand slips down to his waistband and undoes the button there and he realizes exactly what he’s just signed on for.
She’s leaning in, though, kissing him harder and harder, and she murmurs, “If you want to stop, Evan, tell me, and I will stop.”
“Okay,” he breathes back, pulling her down on top of him as he leans back into the bed. She follows smoothly, and it’s easy to just go with it, with her peeling back clothing until he’s naked and so is she, with her leaning her head down and licking a stripe from nipple to nipple, down his chest, taking his dick in her mouth, teasing him until he’s gasping and twisting his hands in the sheets.
“Teyla,’ he moans out, running his hands through her hair. “Teyla.”
“Yes,” she murmurs to him, her breath hot against his hip. Her fingers are wandering, and he freezes as her hand settles between his legs, tracing lightly across his cheeks. She’s just moving a finger back and forth, barely-there pressure, and he takes a deep breath and tries to unclench the knot in his stomach. She looks up at him from her place between his legs and presses a kiss to the inside of one thigh. “Relax,” she says simply, and all at once she takes him back in her mouth and presses the slim, slicked tip of one finger into him.
It’s strange, a little uncomfortable, but it doesn’t hurt like he thought it would, and as she works her mouth on him she moves her finger in farther and farther, until he can feel the rest of her hand pressed against his ass. She’s sliding the finger around a little, bending it this way and that, and he almost idly wonders why this would be a big deal to anyone when she presses up and he bucks up off the bed.
“Jesus,” he pants out, “Teyla, fuck.”
She quirks an eyebrow at him, and he has to close his eyes and throw an arm over his face because she’s still got her lips wrapped around his cock and her finger in his ass and she’s making dirty faces and he’s going to lose it pretty quickly at this rate.
She pulls her finger out and pushes it back in slowly, rubbing over that same spot again and again until she finally pulls it out all the way. There’s a small bowl that Evan didn’t notice before resting near his thigh, and she drags her fingers through it before pressing back up against his entrance. It’s lube, he realizes, or something like it, and then she’s pushing back in with two fingers and he didn’t realize before how much of a difference there is between the size of one finger and two, but he’s sure feeling it now.
Teyla is still going slowly, agonizingly slowly, and Evan can feel himself stretching, accommodating, and then there’s even more pressure right there and oh, oh. Teyla’s mouth is still slowly working on his dick, and Evan can only lay there and feel everything like it’s shorting out his brain. The fingers in him stretch and twist, slowly, always slowly, until Teyla’s pulling them out and going back with three.
Evan can’t tell if it’s minutes or hours or weeks later when Teyla pulls her fingers out and releases him from her mouth, sitting back and surveying him. He knows how he looks – face flushed and sweaty, hands grasping the bedsheets, legs spread wide, knees bent, hips raised, cock hard and wet and red against his stomach. It’s like something out of a damn porno.
Teyla hums approvingly, though, and Evan watches as she picks the harness up again and makes quick work out of wrapping its complicated-looking ties around her body, looping and tugging and finally picking up the – what had she called it? ahila – and settling it into a slot on the front. Her fingers loop the leather into place and she presses down against it. It bobs and shifts but stays secure, and he can see her breath quicken.
The artist in Evan wants to shout for her to stop so he can commit all of the details to memory – the curve of her body, the swell of hip and breast, the color of dark leather over lighter skin, the complicated crossing pattern. He wants to remember this in exquisite clarity, the way the ahila hangs from the harness, the way it glistens when Teyla’s fingers coat it with the substance from the bowl that she then carefully sets aside, the way the sweat glistens on her skin, the way her eyes look, pupils wide and dark as she leans over him, dragging it along his side as she hovers.
“Are you certain?” she asks again, and Evan reaches up with one hand to bring her mouth to his, crushing their lips together as his other hand curves familiarly around her hip. He slides that hand between them, slowly strokes his hand up the dark wooden shaft, and thinks about how it had felt, her fingers, and he has his answer.
“Yeah,” he breathes into her mouth. “Please.”
Her eyes darken even more and she sits back, settling between his thighs again. “Tell me if it is too much.”
Evan nods and tries not to jerk when he feels the pressure against his entrance. He concentrates on what he’d felt before as Teyla guides it into him, and it’s just like it was before, each finger being more and more but this is even bigger, thicker than three of Teyla’s dainty fingers, and he has to concentrate on staying calm and relaxed as she leans into him, pushing it farther and farther in. He distantly remembers thinking it was decently sized, and he wonders now if maybe he should reevaluate the thought because it feels huge, abnormally large to him. But then he feels the soft leather against his ass, and Teyla’s holding still above him, looking intently at his face.
She’s patient, Evan has to give her that, because she doesn’t even twitch as Evan pants on the sheets and tries to adjust to the feeling. He finally nods at her and she gives him a tiny smile, leaning slightly.
Evan moans as the ahila shifts inside him and brushes against that spot, and he bucks his hips as Teyla moves again, and the pressure changes and it’s good, so good. Teyla pulls her hips back slightly and pushes them back in a motion Evan’s used to doing but not to seeing, and fuck, fuck, he feels like he’s going to tear a hole in the sheets because she keeps moving, keeps thrusting in and out, more and more each time. It’s still gentle, still rhythmic and rolling and fluid but Evan’s drowning in it, in the sensations, and the second Teyla brushes her fingers up his dick he’s coming hard.
Teyla keeps rocking into him until he’s done shuddering, and when she pulls out Evan feels like he’s lost something but isn’t quite sure what. She moves around quietly and Evan drifts as she disappears into the bathroom and comes back without the harness but with warm, damp towels to help him clean up.
“Evan,” she says quietly, and he opens an eye to look at her drowsily. “I must change the bedding.”
“No,” he mumbles. “Later.”
She smiles. “I will not sleep in the spots you have made,” she mock-scolds him, but she sits when he tugs on her arm, lays beside him when he wraps an arm around her waist. His fingers drift between her legs but she pulls at his wrist, stopping him.
“Sleep,” she says, kissing his cheek. “There will be time for that later.”
So he sleeps.