Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 belongs to Gecko Corp, et al.
Trigger Warning: Mild non-graphic torture.
Sex Disclaimer: Yep I like it. Oh, yes it’s in here and to tell you who it is would be a spoiler. But if you aren’t open-minded turn back. F/F and F/F/M
This has been posted to fanfiction.net under the same screen name but thought I would add it here. So enjoy this one-shot.
Vala Mal Doran saw Daniel scuttle out of Sam’s lab, her temporary workspace until life support was restored to the George Hammond. With a little skip in her step, Vala bounced up to Daniel and jumped on his back. She laughed at his eeak of surprise.
“Yes Vala?” his voice resigned.
“Did Sam and Cam agree to join us for dinner?”
“I, ah, never got a chance to ask. I’m still trying to understand how I got roped into this night of yours.”
“Oh, Daniel, you need to get out more. You’re no fun sitting in that … the place with the animals and mud we saw on TV last night….” She floundered.
“Yes, that pigsty you call an office. I’m going to guilt Sam into coming and I already got Muscles on board,” she affirmed.
“Don’t bug Sam! She’s in one of her moods.”
Vala turned back curiously, “What mood?”
The buff man looked around hesitantly then lowered his voice, “You know the one where she holes up in her lab and refuses to speak to anybody for a week.”
Eyebrows cutely furrowed, “I’ve never seen that and I saw her when she was suspended from gate travel for a month.”
“This is worse, Vala. Do not mess with her,” he hissed. “It happens a few times a year, more so in the last few years. Come to think of it you’ve always been busy when she has one of her episodes.”
With a shrug Vala turned away calling over her shoulder, “bye Daniel.”
“I mean it Vala,” the exasperated man shouted after her.
Paying no heed to his warning, but with a far less jovial step she back-tracked to Sam’s lab. She knocked four times without a response. With a huff, Vala pulled out her access card and let herself into the dark room. Cursing the workbench in goa’uld for her throbbing toe, the brunette searched in vain for a lamp. Eventually she calmed down and used the resonating Naquadah signature in their blood to locate the Colonel. A huff escaped her lips as she slid down the wall next to Sam; she ignored the woman’s efforts to scoot away from her. A pale hand reached out in the dark at about head height landing on blonde hair, smoothing it down to calm the trembling woman.
“Darling, you cut your hair again.” Sam didn’t respond, just cringed away from the interloper. They continued to sit in silence; Vala worried her fingernails waiting for Sam to make the first move. She just sat there staring into the void; eventually Vala gave up that tactic.
“Well channeling Teal’c clearly isn’t working, so how do you feel about this. I find us some whiskey and you can yell and scream until you are blue in the face.” She cleared her throat to try to dispel the raspiness from her last sentence, but Sam had turned sharply towards her. Vala could feel piercing blue eyes upon her.
After a few eon-long moments Sam sighed and slumped down further. Her voice was a whisper, “you sound… like her. Logically I know you aren’t, but part of her is you. Like part of her is me and I can’t distinguish me from her. The longer we’re apart the more we are one. When we act or say things they look at us like… shol’va.”
Vala understood immediately. The guys couldn’t help Sam because they had never been a host. When Vala looked over to see her friend sprawled on the floor, eyes shining in pain, a rare flashback flooded her mind.
Quetesh ran her fingers down her silky red dress; a well-muscled slave dressed in a loin cloth slid her black, spiked overcoat onto her arms and shoulders. The same slave slid stiletto boots onto her feet and received a kick to his chest in rebuke to his soft caresses. Gracefully she stood and nodded to her jaffa to lead the way to the dungeon. The light was sparse and she was barely able to make out her prisoner propped up against the wall, body sprawled in the shadow. Quetesh looked disdainfully at her Tok’Ra’s bloody and battered body. The shol’va had the stupidity to meet her shiny, pain-filled eyes with those of her goddess. A blond lock of hair fell into the blue eyes, a beautiful face. Quetesh felt lust for this prisoner, Jolinar of Malkshur.
Vala gasped as she found herself once again in the SGC. “Sam you have Jolinar’s memory of previous hosts and your own time as host right?”
“Yes,” she quietly responded.
“I don’t. Not all of it anyway. The last few years were all a blur, a few images, maybe, but nothing to hold onto. I’m glad though; because I don’t have to remember all the atrocities committed by my hands.”
Sam just nodded, no doubt recalling some atrocities either Jolinar committed, witnessed or had enacted on her. Gently Vala grabbed Sam’s wrist and received a blow to her jaw for the act. The blonde tackled her companion and began wrestling her for control. Jabs and kicks and grunts ensued; the struggle ended with both bruised, battered and scratched. Vala tasted blood, but was more concerned at her vulnerable position. Sam straddled her hips and had her hands pinned above her head; Sam’s eyes were slightly unfocused as if she weren’t completely in the moment.
Quetesh observed her prisoner hanging from her wrists, head lolled forward. With a disconcerting smile the goa’uld decided she liked her new toy in the leathers of the goa’uld underling she had been impersonating; shame it had to go. Vala watched her hand pick up a knife without her consent. The goa’uld set about cutting off strips of leather from Jolinar’s host, letting the blade nick the skin beneath. The jaffa then began to torture their naked prisoner. They pressed the pain stick to her ribs and neck forcing convulsions; they lashed the blonde with a whip whose wounds would scar; they pushed needles into her feet. Their meaty hands took to groping her breasts and thighs, but Quetesh kept it from going any farther; that would be her pleasure. She stalked forward to circle her prey and run her fingers through the Tok’Ra’s blood. She spread the fluid over her prisoner’s body as her hands explored the planes of the host’s chest, back, abs and ass.
A jaffa stepped up and cut the restraints allowing the blonde to collapse. He kicked the downed prisoner for good measure. Quetesh bent down and lightly grabbed her wrist as she slid a collar around the battered spy’s neck. Backing away the goddess demonstrated her power by activating the collar; it sent electricity through the prisoner’s body causing every muscle to painfully contract. When it shut off, the Tok’Ra was limp and powerless allowing the jaffa to strap her to a metal table. The goa’uld resumed her explorations and then followed her hands with tongue and teeth.
Vala peered up at Sam and read need burning deep in her eyes. It was the only warning before Sam’s mouth collided roughly with hers. Tongues tangled, teeth caught lips and hearts hammered, but the distraught blonde never let up on her control of the other woman. With a knife produced out of thin air, the once Tok’Ra cut Vala’s shirt from her body careful not to mar the skin beneath. The blonde broke away to breathe and nuzzle her captive’s neck.
“Samantha, darling, I want this but do you?” The brunette asked short of breath.
“You want this? Or does Quetesh want this?” she rasped.
“I do, but it wouldn’t matter. As you already said, she is a part of me.”
Sam’s mouth descended to Vala’s breasts, ribs and stomach; a growl escaped her throat when Vala tried to move from her friend’s control. At that moment the door opened and deposited Teal’c, who immediately turned on a dim table lamp. He quirked his eyebrow and simply watched the stronger woman’s ministrations.
Vala tried to save her dignity, “Muscles! Um could you not, you know… watch. I don’t mind a three way, but this doesn’t really seem like the right time….wait, shouldn’t you be stopping this, not that I want you to, but she is your girlfriend.” She rambled.
Anything more was cut-off by a moan of pleasure as Sam’s teeth grazed her nipple. A very un-jaffa like smirk graced Teal’c’s features as he locked the door. A large black shirt dropped to the ground by Vala’s head as he began unlacing and removing both of the women’s boots. The blonde took to kissing the pliant brunette again as the large man stripped them. They trembled in each other’s embraces and fed their need for dominance. When they reached the pinnacle they soothed each other’s pain and came to rest on either side of Teal’c, their heads rested upon his shoulder.
Vala lightly trailed her fingers across light and dark skin lazily, “so, is this how you normally solve your issues.” Sam chuckled and Vala could feel the vibration through the jaffa’s pouch.
“The first few years I just drank myself into a stupor, but Teal’c has been good to me. Pete never let me be on top.”
“Dominant behavior after Jolinar’s memories is cathartic to Samantha Carter,” intoned Teal’c.
“Ever the charmer, how do you handle it, Vala?”
“Drink, sex and steal stuff all at the same time if possible…. I didn’t remember.”
“I figured so. That’s alright, it was Quetesh that hurt us, not you,” Sam reassured.
“Jolinar is really a part of you isn’t she?” asked Vala as she sat up.
“Indeed,” replied Teal’c in classic Teal’c manner.
“So, dinner?” Vala finally remembered why she came in the first place.
Originally, I wrote this and made it explicit that the host that Quetesh tortured was Samantha Carter. I rewrote it to be more ambiguous whether it’s Sam, Rosha or someone else to make it fit with your preference.