Story Notes:
Written for ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
oxoniensis' Porn Battle V on LiveJournal and a lot less smutty than I was originally going to do only because I was seriously running late with the entry.
This is what we call an OT4 over in SGA fandom. There's no tag for it here which is why no pairing is listed. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: All known characters belong to their respective copyright holders. All situations and original characters herein belong to the author. This story is for entertainment purposes only.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Teyla sighs as yet another department head starts in on a report. As meetings went, this was one of the longest: the annual Atlantis assessment. Normally she can school her face and body into some semblance of attention. Years of negotiating had taught her that skill.
She shifts to find a more comfortable position only to stop at a slight twinge between her legs. Heat rushes into her cheeks and she swallows.
Long pale fingers tap her thigh and she turns to look at John.
"You okay?" he mouths.
Teyla nods briefly and she turns her attention back to the presentation. Suddenly, she feels his hand curve over the top of her thigh to squeeze and she bites back a tiny moan. More heat rushes up her spine and she remembers
those fingers stroking her skin, across her shoulders, into her hair...tightening and pulling her head back to look into his eyes...
She sits back in her chair, tightening her thighs, but she doesn't dare look at him, otherwise she'd
beg to be kissed, devoured
Chair wheels squeak behind her then Ronon's head dips in beside her own.
"Long meeting," he rumbles, his breath hot on her ear.
"Yes," she replies, surprised that her voice is steady. He rests his head on the back of Teyla's chair for a moment and she thinks
that he'd pull her back on to his cock, her back to his front, spreading her thighs with his own. "Keep them open," he growls and she obeys so easily, her spiraling need making her pliant
Even when Ronon leans back, she knows he's still there. John squeezes her thigh again and this time pulls her leg slightly to the side.
No one can see; at least that's what she hopes.
Teyla's sure that they can smell her, aroused as she is but she keeps her composure even as John's hand moves towards the apex of her thighs. She should push his hand away. It's what she should do but she can't because she knows he'll tell her
"No." She'll rest her hands on her thighs lest they devise something much more restrictive. Her head rests on Ronon's shoulder and she weeps with frustration and joy as another set of hands mold her breasts
Teyla blinks and comes back to the here and now but she doesn't know how much longer she'll last.
When Rodney gets up to give his report, she steadies. Almost over, almost done.
Bu she's nearly undone when he begins to talk, when his hands start to move because last night
his were the hands curving around her breasts, his palms brushing her nipples before one dips down between her open thighs to touch
John's hand keeps her from closing her thighs and she bites her lip in frustration. When Teyla looks up at Rodney, his lips are curving into the slightest smirk, his eyes sharp and knowing as they meet hers
"Look at you." Rodney's voice is deeper than it's ever been. Through a haze of lust she hears, "All wet and wanting." His fingers finds that tight bundle of nerves that are her heart, his other hand plumps her breast and he leans in close, lips brushing hers. "Do you want to come, Teyla?"
Her hands clutch air on the table top and she breathes deep, the memories surging through her.
They make her beg. Her teammates, her lovers, the men closest to her heart make her beg for release while they stroke her higher and higher. Until she barely knows her own name or whose hands are on her, a cock slipping past her lips while another surges within.
"Do you want to come?"
"Well, I think that wraps everything up. Thanks everyone." Sam's voice cuts into her reverie and she looks around. People are getting up and leaving. "The meeting is over?"
"Until next year, yes." Rodney saunters over and sits on the side of the table. "I'm thinking lunch."
"You always think lunch, McKay," Ronon replies, getting up from his chair and stretching.
"Lunch it is." John slides his hand up and down her thigh. "Unless, someone has a better idea."
They're waiting, she can feel them. And she knows what her answer will be.
"I think lunch can wait."