Summary: Home is a heart which moves.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Warnings: Threesome, het and slash.
Original Story: Bare Skin of Her Lovers by sugargroupie
AN: Thank you, O my beta.
The debriefing is interminable. When it is over, Teyla's back hurts from maintaining such rigidly straight posture. She uses the table to get onto her feet and takes small, measured steps to the door. Despite her precautions, however, her legs give out from beneath her, her bruised thigh buckling like a hollow reed.
There is a moment's flailing as she tries to drop her weight and find equilibrium. Then strong, familiar hands touch her, elbow and waist, steadying her easily and setting her on her feet again.
"Thank you." She says the words before she turns around and smiles up at Ronon. Her pride is a touch stung, but it is soon mended and the gesture was kindly meant.
Ronon only grunts in answer, but his fingers linger as they slide from her side.
"I'm sorry I'm late," Elizabeth says hurriedly as she enters the room and seats herself on the opposite cushion. "I got so busy..." Elizabeth pauses and straightens her shoulders, placing both hands flat on the table. "No. No, that's not right. You're just as busy as I am." She tips her head at Teyla. "I apologize for being late," she says humbly.
"If it keeps Rodney from destroying another solar system, I am more than happy to wait on your availability," Teyla answers with a smile.
She opens the earthenware dish to her left and removes two teaflowers, dry, knurled things the color of dust. The cups were a present from Elizabeth. They are not like the soulless, interchangeable cups of the messhall, deep earth brown on the outside and a blue like the ocean outside her windows on the inside. Teyla puts a flower in each cup and lifts the pot from the spirit flame, pouring steaming hot water over them. She doesn't need to look at her hands to pour; instead, she watches Elizabeth's face, savoring the delight that transforms the other woman's face and eyes as the flowers open, revealing the secret colors of their heart.
"Oh, Teyla, it's beautiful!" And when Elizabeth smiles like that, Teyla cannot mind the time it took to get her here.
"I don't..." Ronon touches her delicately, with only his fingertips. The lightness of his touch makes her shiver despite the heat of her want. "It's been a long time."
It sounds almost angry, his eyebrows bunched and shoulders pinched tight. Teyla sits up in the nest of his bedding and brushes her finger down his laddered forehead, the tip catching in the furrow where his eyebrows nearly join. "I am not made of glass, Ronon," she says gently, climbing into his lap. His spread thighs are broad and she feels it pull in her groin as she spans him. "I will not break." She captures his mouth, drinking him deeply, rolling him across her tongue.
Ronon groans into the kiss, dragging her close with one hand spread across her back. She tangles her hands in the thick locks of his hair and arches her back, tugging him down with her.
They are nervous, when she brings them together. Elizabeth stands against the wall, her hands folded behind her back and the soft cascade of her curls doing their best to hide her face. Never content to be still, Ronon paces in front of the windows, using the late afternoon glare to cast himself in shadowed camouflage.
She was unsure of the wisdom of this maneuver at all. Her relationship with Elizabeth is very different from her relationship with Ronon, an understatement of thought that makes her smile. Still, they have both expressed a certain...vulnerability about sharing her with each other. Nothing overt. Nothing directly spoken, but Teyla would not have served her people nearly so well if she had not learned to hear more than simply the words that come from another's lips.
Elizabeth and Ronon both guard their hearts so jealously, held tightly between their closed hands and afraid if they lose so much as a fingerlength of their grip that it will shatter. Teyla does not think so much that she will change the either of them, not to their deeply shielded cores, but she hopes they can perhaps understand: that her love for each of them is the same.
Teyla rises from the bed and unlaces the yoke of her gown. From her first movement, she has both their eyes; when she parts the panels of the dress and lets it fall like petals over her shoulders, Ronon stops in his tracks and Elizabeth takes a step from the wall, hands falling to her sides.
Teyla shimmies her shoulders and the robe drops in a pool to the floor.
Teyla does not let her shoulders slump until she is out of sight of the jumper bay. She does not know why she should feel so tired after such a long and joyful time spent with her people, but she feels as stumble-footed with fatigue as if she'd done battle with the Wraith.
Perhaps it is because she has not had so much time to spend with other Athosians in far too long. She tries to pack so much into the moments she does have, storing them up like sweet berries for a long winter ahead.
But, she reflects, there is no reason that it must be so. It is too easy to let other things cloud the time she has, but few are as valuable. She'll have to speak to Elizabeth about getting to the mainland more often. It may tire her body, but it is good for her spirit.
Her body smells of earth and sweat and smoke. They are human smells, the smells of humans living and she always forgets how much she misses them, here in the sterilized cleanliness of Atlantis. Even the incense she burns in her own rooms is quickly erased by the environmental scrubbers, leaving only the neutral tang of recycled and temperature controlled air.
Though Teyla has to confess that the Lantean showers with their endless supplies of hot water—that require nototing on her part—do make up for a multitude of deficiencies. Teyla is deeply looking forward to that part of her evening.
Still, when she enters her rooms, even with the rich, warm colors and familiar shapes that surround her are not as much a balm as she thought they would be. Her quarters are dark, empty of any presence other than her own and, just now, the silence is too loud.
Teyla turns from her room and directs her steps elsewhere, a slight lift to her walk that wasn't there before.
The lights are off behind Ronon's shoulder when he opens the door and he is naked to the waist, the soft pants slung low on his hips rumpled as if only lately scooped from the floor. As they most likely were. There is no drowsiness in his eyes, though, and at the sight of him, Teyla feels a pleasure that goes far past any aesthetic appreciation of his half-naked body.
"Teyla." His eyes crinkle up into a smile and a pleasure that matches her own and he steps aside, fingertips brushing familiarly across the small of her back in streaks of lingering heat.
"I know it is late," Teyla apologizes and Ronon snorts.
"We were waiting for you."
At the sound of Elizabeth's voice, Teyla looks further into the room, seeing the moonlight gleam on bare ivory shoulders and long arms. "Elizabeth."
"How was your day?" Elizabeth rises from the bed and comes across to her, smoothing the hair back from Teyla's temple.
"It was...good." Teyla's back arches as Ronon traces a rough fingertip down the line of her spine before slurring his mouth over the nape of her neck. "But," she adds, entangling her fingers with Elizabeth's, "I am most definitely glad to be home."