zinnith | SGA/SG-1 fic: Nothing Gold Can Stay (R)

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Author: Zinnith

Rating/Category: R/PWP

Pairings: Sam/Teyla

Spoilers: Tiny ones for The Pegasus Project (which I haven’t even seen yet.)

Word Count: 444

Disclaimer: I am the proud owner of a ten-year-old computer and a huge study loan. This? No such luck.

Notes: Look, I wrote a naughty.

Summary:

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Robert Frost

Teyla is sweet golden honey, brown sugar, her skin soft and smooth and warm. Every move she makes is graceful, perfect. Sam feels pale and clumsy in comparison.

She’s not certain how they came to be here, in Teyla’s room with candle-light casting flickering shadows over them. Sam went to Atlantis’ gym to work out, exhaust herself, and try to forget about the Ori and everything else. She didn’t expect to find Teyla Emmagan there, going through a complicated routine of elegant movements. From the minute Sam stepped through the door and laid eyes on the golden goddess, she did forget about everything else.

Teyla’s smile will stay with her forever (even though the woman won’t). Sam ended up sitting down to watch, wondering how it could be possible for a human body to bend that way. Took in the sweat-slick skin, the way Teyla’s breath was calm and deep and even, the way that place where her neck meets her shoulder was beating in time with her pulse. And then, Teyla looked up, fastened those dark eyes on Sam and saw her, saw Sam instead of the giant walking brain, and Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell flew right out the window.

Now, Teyla kisses her way down the side of Sam’s breast and Sam aches for it, didn’t even know this was what she was missing. Not until now. Not until she can’t have it any more.

Teyla’s fingers are in all the right places, nimble and sure. She’s playing Sam like an instrument, makes her entire body sing in perfect harmony with the universe. This togetherness, this understanding is not something Sam has ever experienced with a man. It’s like, even though this is their first (and last) time toghether, Teyla knows exactly what Sam needs.

She lifts her head from the pillow, watches how Teyla’s hair drapes over her cheek, brown-red-golden strands of silk, and Sam wants to bury her face in that hair, breathe it in and bathe in the warm scent, the Teyla-ness of it.

She has to memorize every inch, every motion, for those long lonely nights without gold of any kind. The most beautiful woman in two galaxes is kissing her stomach, and Sam feels beautiful too, like Teyla is rubbing off on her somehow (in more ways than once – oh - don’t laugh now, that was a bad bad joke and you can’t ruin this moment, it’s all you have).

Sam lets her head fall back, closes her eyes, and savours every touch of those lips against her skin. Tomorrow, the Oddysey will head back home, and there will be preciously little gold left in her life.