Chapter Text
“I can’t believe we did it. Nobody recognized us. The stylists on both sides really outdid themselves”, Sam told Lantash and Martouf. “Of course, you two did the spear work, or should I say, Chepesh?”
Lantash had a very pleased cat-sitting-in-the-cream look, prompting first in Sam’s laughter then his.
“Look, that’s all well and good”, O’Neill remarked, “but cut us poor slaves of your lordliness some slack.”
”Jack!” Daniel exclaimed in exasperation. “What did we do that was so special besides staying out of Lantash's, his lo’tar’s, and his Jaffa’s way, and not causing any trouble?” He looked at Sam and Teal'c.
“Well, Daniel, look at it this way. Given my poor but well-documented track record of self-control when it comes to groveling, even if it’s just for show, I’d say it’s pretty damn impressive.” He said flaunting himself, “And considering how many temples, artifacts and inscriptions thereof we came across I must commend yours.”
If looks could kill, Jack would have instantly combusted into a small pile of ash. But since he also lacked the gene for proper and healthy self-preservation, it didn’t bother him; it amused him. Daniel's “I’m so done with your bullshit, but you're my best friend” look certainly didn’t help.
“Haha! Very clever and amusing, Jack! It's a good finte to distract from your flaws and shortcomings by pointing out mine. Have you always been this cheeky, or did you become this way after we met? I can’t imagine how much your training supervisors in the Air Force Academy had to put up with you.”
Before Sam or Lantash could say anything about their childish bickering, Teal’c came to their rescue.
“Colonel’ O’Neill and Doctor Jackson, I suggest you implement a better code of conduct at once while operating covertly in deep and treacherous Goa'uld territory, as the one you are currently displaying is most inadequate. The success of our mission—and our lives—depends on it.”
Although Teal'c kept his tone low, it didn’t diminish the strength of his message; quite the opposite, in fact. “We’re sorry”, said Daniel and Jack in unison, while the others kept looking judgmentally.
“I hope you be”, Lantash said firmly “The room is free of surveillance, as Sam and I confirmed, so that we can speak freely. However, that shouldn’t make us negligent. Teal'c is right that this place is treacherous, and the slaves see and hear more than their overlords admit. They will warn their masters of any traitors among them. The Goa’uld, of course, will say they already knew.” Lantash wrinkled his nose in disgust and sighing tiredly.
“As proof of their servant’s will to please their gods and serve their way”; Daniel mumbled angrily.
“Hating something doesn't make it less true. Our people learned this lesson the hard way. After all in our earliest history many innocent lives, cities, and planets were lost in our youthful efforts to help. Contrary to how you may perceive it, our words aren't just marked by arrogance. Despite a few claiming otherwise, we don’t have figured out everything. We just try to be wiser than we were in the past. We give our best to keep the Goa'uld fighting each other while draining their resources and sabotage technological development. As I told you our plan is to take them out once they are fighting over the scraps. This has considerably reduced their power over the last two thousand years and prevented a top few to hoard all the power. It is difficult for us to recognize the merit of your ways in all of thus but I hope we can form a friendship stronger than the Goa’uld would be able to destroy.”
“Wow, you're really sure there's no surveillance in this room?” O'Neill said with a raised eyebrow, quickly adding, “Okay, sorry. Point taken. You’re far from perfect, but you try your best just like us, and your hosts do the same. I don’t want to imagine a universe without you distracting the Goa’uld while we explore and shit. That doesn't mean I'm suddenly a fan of everything you all. But some like Liam and Beeshah have warmed me up a little to you, as well as to Lantash, Martouf, Yosuuf, and Garshaw, though I’m surprised, and you know how much I hate surprises."
Lantash laughed, a little at the beginning, then more as his face softened, which surprised O’Neill even more.
“See, you guys can get along splendidly once you get over the awkward small talk”, Sam said, laughing and prompting the rest to lose their restraint and join in. Tok’ra hearing and their own tech kept them safe for now.
“Okay, now that your team has gone to their quarters or is looking around discreetly, I hope the three of us can engage in more pleasant and exciting evening activities that only our mission can provide,” Lantash said naughtily.
“Oh you rascal”, Sam answered with an equally naughty wink in her eyes “But shouldn’t we train our roles better?”
“You are confident that you are up to this? I think in your world it is called roleplay? Do you need a safe word?”
“Hey, don't back out now that we're in it. Isn't that what you always say? I’m pleased to be of service, my lord.”
Lantash laughed, a slightly cold mirthfulness and glee creeping into his voice. Sam's knees shuddered, not from fear—she knew her men well, and they had planned accordingly—but from lust at seeing her secret fantasies come true. Her team wasn’t exactly happy that she was playing Lantash’s pleasure slave as well, but she was willing, and it served their mission. It protected their cover and Martouf/ Lantash’s more importantly, that they acted as expected.
He closed his eyes and felt Martouf humming in their head. Martouf embraced Lantash’s spirit and told him to proceed. When they first met Samantha, they saw both Jolinar’s and Rosha’s remnants. Now, they only saw her—all her quirks, her strengths, and her weaknesses. Her entire being spoke for itself. They didn’t need to be told that she wasn’t their former mates because they knew her so well that they could see all the ways in which she wasn’t them. She lacked their essence — their soul, their kalach. Having some common traits did not make one the same person.
Smiling, knowing that Lantash took his time to converse with Martouf, Sam slowly took a little bit of teasing distance and went to her knees, lowering her head, as if she was a slave waiting in anticipation of her master’s commands.
Martouf prodded his symbiote and told him that, since they all wanted this, they should not make her wait. It was foolish. Looking at their beautiful Samantha bowing in her Lo'tar garb, all hesitations were quickly clouded by lust.
“My pet”, he said in a silky, smooth, possessive and lusting way that didn’t leave much to one’s imagination.
“Yes, my master”, she said in a quiet, reverent, and sweet way, not moving or looking away from the floor.
“You have come to fulfill your master's wishes and please him with everything your body has to offer tonight.”
“My sole purpose in existence is to serve you, my Lord Chepesh. There could be no greater joy than to please you.”
“Then rise and let me take a proper look at you”, he said, stroking her chin and raising it so that their eyes met.
Her breath became husky and high-pitched when he touched her. She gracefully rose to her feet before him.
“Oh, yes, very beautiful, very delicate, very voluptuous, as well as dutiful in all her skills—a most rare rose I've found.” He said this while circling her, inspecting her, and eating her up with his gaze before even his first taste.
Sam forced herself not to laugh, and keep her face straight, Lantash would never enjoy this so much if it wasn’t her.
“My pet, my most wonderful pet”, he whispered with lust that definitely wasn’t played and cupped her left breast.
She responded with equal lust, pushing forward to fill his hand more. Their Naquadah senses tingled while he stood behind her. His voice—perhaps the only symbiote voice she found so sexy—was now directly in her ears, teasing her.
He sucked her left earlobe, pressed her against his body possessively, and inhaled her scent. He continued to knead her left breast and play with its nipple until it hardened. Then, with his other hand, he treated the other breast, all while planting kisses from the back of her teased ear down to her collarbone, making her arch against him.
“Look at you, so eager to serve me. I think I should feed and bathe you first to give you more energy for it.”
“If your lordship sees me worthy of such honor”, she whispered, hearing the slaves enter to obey any obstructions.
It wasn't as strange as she had imagined when she was taken to the nearby bathing chambers. The human slaves did not question Lantash’s orders. As a lesser god, he might be not as powerful as their master, but a god nonetheless.
She returned to her lord Cepesh’s (Lantash’s) chambers wearing less clothing than when she left—a feat in itself. Delicate, gold-threaded white straps of nothing were draped over her breasts and back in an X-shape, arranged in a way that would require a new Ph.D. for Sam to figure it out and attached to a matching skirt made of translucent material, but the slits on either side of her thighs didn’t leave much to be covered in the first place.
A mix of vanilla and a whole lot of other spices, scented rosewater, prepared with almond and donkey milk, and massaged with oils whose otherworldly scents she could only try to fathom, had bathed her into sublime relaxation. The royal bath slaves massaged her afterwards thoroughly with lotions and oils of all kind and did her hair (or wig), and she let herself fall into their hands, something she would not normally do. But then, this situation was anything but normal. Besides, when had Major Samantha Carter ever been normal? Screw normal, we have Goa’uld to fight.
Okay, she would engage in the most wonderful role-playing, master-slave sex with her Tok'ra boyfriends, who were masquerading as the Goa'uld Cepesh, to achieve it. Then, she would spend the following days with them and her team infiltrating the palace of Heru’ur and stealing tech, intelligence, and weapons for both sides. A Gal should be able to have a little fun while facing danger like this. She was used to danger, but this kind made her excited. Being so close to the real thing while actually being safe with her loved ones—oh, yes! Goodbye, always-perfect Carter. Goodbye, always-trying-to-please-everyone Carter. Goodbye to prim and proper Carter, just for one night!
She almost hadn’t noticed when they put a band around her neck, attached to a thin golden leash when she entered the chambers, they surely hadn’t given her the strong aphrodisiac stuff, as she was seen as “properly trained” and treasured “possession” of her master but something they put on her body must have a calming and buzzing effect on her, or maybe she was just simply horny and throwing all hesitations into the wind and just rolling with the flow.
Their eyes met across the room and in a mix of love, lust and anticipation the world seemed to disappear around them, as if they were the only beings in existence and everything else was just a side character to their story. Okay she could definitely pretend that Martouf/Lantash as Cepesh were beings of divine nature, as they were the only one she and her body would ever consider worshipping in bed and wouldn’t take what was not given to them freely.
Her lovers had bathed, eaten a quick meal and dressed properly for the occasion too while she was gone. Never would she have admitted, at least to others, how well they looked in gold, silver and gemstone extravagance. The Goa’uld System Lords should defiantly get fashion tips from them as they were rocking it to sublime perfection.
Okay maybe she should get into the proper mindset for this role and pretend that nothing she thought happened.
“My Lord, your Lo'tar has been prepared for you. Hopefully she will meet your most exalted expectations.”
“She is perfect! Bring her to me immediately!” Lord “Cepesh” said while residing on the edge of the bed.
“Yes, my Lord”, said the random, nameless, and absolutely unimportant-to-the-plot Jaffa who held the leash.
“Oh look at you, such splendor gazes my divinely eyes. So much hunger to be satisfied, so little time.”
She knelt before her Lord, now with the leash in his hands. She did not look up, remaining submissive yet blissfully devotional. Only Cepesh noticed how she licked her lips, which she used so exquisitely to ravish and eat him up.
“Leave us alone, tell your Master I will not require any service for the rest of the night!”
“Yes, my Lord”, the Jaffa said, his expression stoic yet his eyes betrayed a little disappointment when he and the other servants left. Only when he closed the door did he afford himself a last gaze at the scene. He smiled.
Cepesh’s Lo’tar had the tip of her master’s shaft enveloped in her mouth, deep throating him only seconds later and giving the Jaffa a good look at her firm buttocks rising into the air. He stumbled almost backwards when the Goa'uld flashed his eyes at him in anger, and he did the wisest thing he could do at the moment: make haste and disappear.
(Not) THE END