Fic: A Thousand Times Or More (Teyla/Lorne, NC-17)
Title: A Thousand Times Or More
Author: miera_c
Summary: Teyla, matriarch of the house of Emmagan, tends to the injuries of her champion slave, Evan Lorne, who was hurt defending her honor in a duel.
Pairings: Teyla/Lorne
Main characters: Teyla, Lorne, OC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sexual content, kink, reference to character death
Spoilers: none
Beta: irony_rocks
Disclaimer: The Stargate universe belongs to a lot of people who are not me. More's the pity.
Author's Notes: Written for the Kink/Cliché challenge, May 2008. The cliché I was assigned was "Master and slave (erotic or romantic slavery, or otherwise; see Power issues) ." I also worked celibacy and washing/bathing into the mix as well.
Dusk was falling over the sprawling stone and wood buildings of the Decas house compound. Out in the courtyard slaves were hurrying about preparing the evening meal and finishing their work for the day. Inside the guest quarters, Teyla, matriarch of Emmagan House, kept the mask of cold rage in place as Nyla's servants brought buckets of heated water and towels into the guest room. Most of them made no eye contact with her, and they only briefly glanced at her champion in fear before quickly looking away.
She knew Evan was hurting, but he stayed on his feet in one last show of dominance, standing near the window until the last frightened slave hurried out. Teyla nodded to the two other guards she had brought from Emmagan. They would stay outside the door to the guest room for the night, just in case. She closed the door and pushed the latch over, ensuring they would have some privacy, and turned to see Evan sitting down gingerly on a stool near the table.
He was bloodied and injured in several places, and filthy from being tossed into the mud more than once. But he was alive, and Nyla's slave, the champion of Decas house, was not.
Teyla wished she could challenge the other woman herself, exact some sort of vengeance for this stupid, pointless exercise. But if that had been possible, Evan would not be hurt in the first place. He would not have had to take on a man nearly twice his size just to defend the honor of Emmagan house against Nyla's ridiculous insults. If Nyla, the matriarch of Decas, had issued a formal challenge, then the combat would have been Teyla's to handle, since a mactas fight was the one and only time that a house champion could not fight on behalf of his matriarch.
But there had been no direct challenge, only snide comments regarding the honor of Emmagan house and Teyla's leadership, growing progressively more offensive. Teyla had ordered Evan to do everything in his power to avoid a fight, and he had. But eventually Nyla found the limits of a champion's patience and Evan had jumped to his feet, goaded into responding.
This afternoon, as the sunlight had grown cool, the champions of the Emmagan and Decas houses had met in ritual combat to defend the honor of their respective mistresses. Emmagan was victorious. A male slave was dead, which meant little to most of her people, but Teyla saw only the blood needlessly spilt. Not to mention the damage to her own champion, in both body and spirit.
Teyla wasn't clear on what was going on here, but she knew Nyla's verbal attack had been planned. It was so wholly unprovoked and unnecessary, Nyla must have had an ulterior motive. The question was, who was really behind it? Teyla faced threats from within her own house these days, and someone scheming for power and hoping to challenge Teyla for the title of matriarch could easily benefit from an alliance with Nyla.
The problem was actually that she had at least two suspects of equal merit. And she could not find out anything until they left the Decas compound tomorrow and returned home.
She at least had the satisfaction of knowing the fight had not ended the way Nyla (and whoever else was behind this) had anticipated, thanks to the skill of Teyla's champion.
Finally allowing her concern to surface, she crossed the room and began to help Evan remove his tunic. He had already discarded the leather braces he always wore on his arms, and the soft leather collar that had rested around his neck - the symbol of a champion's owner and his loyalties - lay in pieces on the table. The collar had saved his life today, preventing his opponent's knife from striking a killing blow. Teyla bit down at the memory of how her whole body had knotted with terror until she was sure Evan was still alive after that assault.
There was a particularly deep cut on his left arm and he hissed when he moved it too much. Teyla carefully pulled his shirt away and reached for one of the washcloths.
Evan tried to stop her, but his protest sounded half-hearted to her ears. "Mistress, I can see to this myself." True, it was unusual for a matriarch to perform this task, but other than their guards posted outside the door, no one else from Emmagan house was in Nyla's compound, and Teyla did not trust the servants any more than she trusted their hostess right now.
She simply quelled him with a look and started wiping the blood and dirt from his wound. The cut started bleeding more heavily but that would wash the mud away and clean it out. She washed the rest of his arm, dried it and then bandaged the cut. She pushed down her awareness of his muscles and the warmth of his skin by focusing on the bruises beginning to darken his ribs, visible even by the low light of the fire. He was dirty from head to toe and needed to rest. Drying mud was caking in his hair and his eyes were glassy from fatigue. Teyla placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him so that his back was to the table. Gently, she urged him to lean backwards and drew a bowl underneath his head. Lathering soap on her hands, she began to wash his hair.
Evan's eyes closed almost as soon as her fingers first passed over his scalp, and a distinctly contented noise escaped his throat as she worked. His hair was soft around her fingers, once the dirt was washed away, and Teyla lingered far longer than necessary, running her hands through his hair soothingly.
His shoulder pressed against her stomach and the attraction she had felt for him since he won the title of champion simmered in her belly. When she traded for him over a year ago, she had not noted him as anything more than a competent guard and - in passing - a handsome male. At the time she had been too busy worrying about other things. It was only after Aiden's untimely death at the hands of the Wraith eight months ago, when Evan won the contest to become the new champion of Emmagan house, that she paid any real attention to him. It had not taken a week before her body began to crave his, before her dreams became filled with images of bedding him. She had struggled against her desires almost daily since then.
He was her slave. A champion, the highest rank a slave could attain and one that came with many privileges and liberties compared to the others, but still a slave. She had complete power over him, when he ate, when he slept, who he spoke to. He had sworn an oath to do her will, and if he refused an order, any order, she could have him put to death. Each night she had gone to sleep knowing she was fully within her rights to summon Evan to her bed. Each night she had managed to resist, but it seemed the more she knew of him, the harder it became to ignore her longing.
But her position as matriarch was tenuous at best. There were several in Emmagan house who thought she was too young and untested to hold her position. Teyla knew that at least two women in her house were candidates to challenge her for her position, and now she had reason to believe at least one of them might be receiving help and support from an outsider. She couldn't afford any mistakes, couldn't allow herself to be distracted.
And commanding Evan to service her would only cause problems. Her served her because she was the matriarch of the house. His loyalty and his oath were to her position. If she was challenged and lost the mactas, he would owe the same fealty to her successor. If Teyla compelled him to service her in bed, and then lost her title, Evan would be obligated to the next matriarch to perform the same function. Everything within her screamed in protest at the thought of him with another woman. She wanted him in her bed, for herself, and no one else. Not ever.
Evan opened his eyes and looked up at her and she realized her fingers had stilled in his hair. An image from her heated dreams popped into her head, of her running her fingers through his hair while he pleasured her with his mouth. She jerked her hands away and pretended her face wasn't flushing.
Without speaking, she guided Evan forward and cleaned the dirt off his back. Teyla swallowed at the sight of the scars across his shoulders. The reminder cooled off her libido, at least slightly. Regardless of her carnal desires, she cared about Evan. He was more than merely one of her slaves, or a pretty body she lusted after, or even simply her designated warrior. He was intelligent and sly, and she had grown to enjoy the comfort of his presence during these months.
And he trusted her. If true friendship was possible between a matriarch and a champion, it existed between them. She would not betray that.
And she would not be merely another woman who used Evan for her own needs and then discarded him. She remembered all too well the pain in his eyes when he had told her what he had endured in his former house, what many of the male slaves on Athos endured because they were at the mercy of a matriarch or members of a house who thought nothing of the welfare of a mere male slave. It was that more than anything that made her stay away from him. He had been badly hurt and Teyla was helpless against her ingrained need to care for her people, even the slave whose job was to protect her life.
Something ugly and tainted was occurring in her world. Nyla was involved. Members of her own house were as well. She needed to root out the source of this malignancy. She needed information. She needed allies. But she couldn't get any of those things tonight. She pulled her thoughts back to her task.
She stepped around Evan and crouched down and began to unlace his boots. He looked at her in surprise and she raised an eyebrow. A matriarch kneeling at the feet of a slave certainly wasn't a common occurrence for either of them.
When his feet were free, she gestured. "Stand."
He hesitated. "I can finish washing myself, matriarch."
She blew out a frustrated breath. "Evan, you are injured and exhausted. And you should not be pulling on your wounds any more than necessary. Now, stand up."
The imperative to obey was strong enough that he rose to his feet. But he jumped back when she reached for the fastening of his trousers. She fairly growled at him, "Be still."
As soon as he had risen, she knew why he was shying away. Once the pants and his underclothes were gone, she could hardly miss his obvious arousal. Even if she had, the redness spreading over his neck and ears and the scent of him filling the air between them would have told her anyway.
Evan was absolutely motionless, not looking at her, but she couldn't keep her eyes from roaming over his nude body briefly. If he was handsome when clothed, he was utterly magnificent naked, when every well-toned plane of his muscles was visible to her. Her mouth went dry as hunger slammed through her, reminding her of the many things she had envisioned doing to that body. Only concern for his injuries allowed her to refocus and murmur something to help him relax. "How did you manage to get so much mud under your clothes?" she asked with amusement.
He shifted, embarrassed. "I don't know," he told her softly, still not meeting her eyes.
She'd seen and touched him before, in training, during times when she'd been in danger, even accidental brushes between them as they walked or sat together. But her own heart was gathering speed as she stood before him and ran the soapy washcloth over his chest. As her hands worked down his torso, she could see him swallowing heavily. She hit a sensitive spot along his ribs and he twitched. Her own lips tilted upwards in spite of the tension in her body.
"You're ticklish?" she asked, hoping to get him to smile.
He huffed out a denial, but she trailed the washcloth very lightly over that spot and he jumped again. "Well, maybe a little," he admitted with a grin.
Their amusement faded as she moved lower along his abdomen. She watched his jaw clench as her hands drifted close to his erection before moving away. Then she bent down to wash his legs.
There was another cut on his thigh and Teyla allowed that to fill her thoughts for a minute, but once she had cleaned and bandaged that wound as well, it was impossible not to notice that her face was level with his cock. The hunger returned, this time not wanting to take pleasure but give it. She could take him in her mouth, bring him release. It would be something. Not enough, but something she could give to him. The thought had no more tripped through her mind than she looked up and met his eyes.
Evan was staring at her, his breath short. His eyes were a mix of longing and fear. He wanted her to do it, but he would never ask her. It would be speaking far beyond his place. And the scars on his back were only the most visible ones he bore after a lifetime of mistreatment from women who thought him nothing more than a plaything. But seeing the desire in his eyes put one more crack in her carefully-built resolve.
Her own breathing was labored. Dropping the washcloth, Teyla pressed a hand against his pelvis for balance, resting it across the flat bone above his erection. She went to her knees, but didn't move any closer. Not letting herself look away, she asked him lowly, "Evan, do you want me to pleasure you?"
He trembled when she articulated what he was clearly craving. But his voice shook for a different reason. "Mistress, you do not have to-"
"I know," she cut him off. Then she added, "Neither do you." There was a world of meaning behind the three words. This was a gift, not a demand. She would not ask or expect anything from him for this. She could never use him that way.
Evan watched her for a long moment in silence. He licked his lips and the ache between her legs intensified. Then he nodded swiftly, almost as if he was trying not to but couldn't stop himself.
With no more than that permission, she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock. Evan let out a guttural sound as she took him into her mouth slowly, using her other hand to steady his shaft as she drew him in and then pulled back carefully. It had been a long, long time since she'd done this. It had been a long time since she'd been intimate with anyone, in fact, something her throbbing body reminded her of insistently. She focused instead on sliding her tongue along the underside of his cock, pushing up against the place just below the head as she passed it before going down again. He tasted of salt and maleness, a unique combination that spread pleasantly across her palate as she teased him with her tongue again.
In her peripheral vision, she saw Evan's hands wrap around the edge of the table behind him as if for balance. As her head bobbed up and down she felt his muscles tense and she heard the way he gasped for air. Although she knew it was dangerous, she couldn't resist sliding her palm across his hip and around to cup his backside. It was as firm and pleasing as the rest of him and she kneaded the round flesh there, dragging another ragged moan from him.
His knuckles were going white. His hips were jerking in tiny movements, as if he wanted to thrust into her mouth but was holding himself in check. She sucked harder, moving faster, feeling the way he shook under her manipulations. She wanted to taste his release with a fiercely dominant drive that amazed her.
Evan let out a short warning sound before he came. Teyla pumped him with her fingers, swallowing, feeling a triumphant thrill of possession, as though somehow he was more hers now than before. She worked him all the way through the climax until he twitched away from her touch.
She leaned back on her heels, collecting herself for a moment. She was sweating and almost painfully aroused. Any relief would have been welcome, even the touch of her own hand, but this wasn't about her pleasure, she reminded herself yet again.
Evan was slumped against the table. When she stood he gaped at her in something akin to awe. That made her smirk a bit. She dipped the washcloth into the water one last time, wiping off her own face and arms before wringing it out. Beside her Evan dried himself with a towel and Teyla tried to ignore the pulse and wetness she could feel between her thighs. Maybe later, after Evan was asleep, she could-
Evan took hold of her hand and began to dry her arm with the towel. He wasn't meeting her eyes, and she wasn't sure what to say, so she let him towel off first one arm and then the other. The knowledge that he was still naked while she was completely clothed somehow made her feel even more awkward. Delicately he dried off her fingers and she shivered in spite of herself, imagining him devoting that kind of care to the rest of her body.
She could not ask that of him. Would not. She pulled her hands away. "You should lie down and rest," she said, annoyed that her voice was breathless.
He didn't move away. Instead his fingers brushed a stray strand of her hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Not only had he never touched her like that, she couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched her with such gentleness and care. It made her eyes flutter shut, but they snapped open again when he spoke.
"Teyla."
He had never used her given name before. A thousand times or more in her fantasies she had imagined the sound of her name on his lips. She could never have imagined the effect hearing it had on her. His voice was rough with emotion and a whole new wave of heat rolled through her. His fingertips trailed down her throat and she knew he could feel how her pulse was pounding through her body.
"Teyla, look at me."
She half-turned, looking up into his eyes. She saw the wanting still there, along with nervousness. She tried to pull away. "Evan, I meant what I said earlier. You do not have to do anything. I would never order you to-"
"I know," he interrupted. He had been more impudent to her in the last hour than he had in all the months prior. He took a deep breath. "And I know you want me. I've known for a while."
Shame filled her, though in retrospect she probably shouldn't have been surprised. They were together all waking hours of almost every day, and it was his responsibility to pay attention to her moods and expressions. Of course he would have divined her desires, no matter how much she wished to conceal them from him. But his knowledge changed nothing.
"I won't force you into my bed, Evan," she said almost angrily.
"You're not," he countered. "I'm offering. Just as you just did for me."
She shook her head, but her will was weakening. He pulled his hand away at her denials and it took all her strength not to whimper at the loss of contact. Aloud she murmured, "You don't owe me anything."
"I know," he repeated. His eyes were dark, and his voice dropped even lower, making a shiver run down her spine. "I want to."
Those three words, his willingness, drove all the concerns about her position and his rank from her mind. It was as if that admission of mutual desire unlocked the last bit of restraint Teyla had been clinging to where he was concerned.
Teyla threw her arm around his neck and brought her lips against his, taking his mouth in a wild kiss that made them both groan. Evan's good arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her as his tongue began to slide against hers hesitantly. Teyla did not allow his uncertainty to last long, pressing her body up against his warmth, urging him to let her plunder his mouth.
Her hips ground against his thigh, the pressure only serving to draw a cry of frustration from her. She needed more, and she needed it now.
Tearing herself away, she planted a hand on his chest and pushed gently so that Evan backed towards the bed that lay in an alcove along the wall. She stripped off her heavy tunic, boots and trousers as he sat down. The air felt deliciously cool against her overheated skin as she unwound her undergarments from her chest and her hips. He stared avidly as her body was bared to him, and she thought he appeared to be recovering already. But she couldn't wait for that.
"On your back," she ordered tersely. He complied without pause and even though she knew she should not be enjoying holding her power over him right now, she couldn't help the thrill she felt at seeing him stretch out on the bed for her. She swung up on the pallet, her hands braced against the wall, and rested her knees above his shoulders. She looked down, wondering what his reaction to her squatting over him would be. Deep down she wasn't sure if she could stop even if he told her to.
Evan stared at the apex of her thighs hovering just above his face. His right hand slid up the inside of her leg, strong and rough fingertips just grazing the folds of skin. His eyes flickered up to hers and Teyla's breath caught as he licked his lips again.
Then he gave her a slow smile and tugged her body closer. Her knees slid further apart, lowering her to his reach, stopping when his hand pressed up in resistance.
Then there was nothing but mind-shattering pleasure. Her hands and eventually her forehead rested against the wall so she could stay upright. She bit down on her tongue so hard it bled with the effort to keep from grinding down into his mouth. Evan's tongue was hot and strong, licking her folds in long swipes, darting against the swollen bud of flesh teasingly over and over. She cursed through gritted teeth, but he only bent his head and dipped the tip of his tongue into her wetness. Pressed against the stone wall, her hands clenched into fists.
He urged her to spread her legs even wider and his tongue began to swirl around her clitoris steadily. Teyla panted, a desperate noise coming with each breath. His thumb slipped up into her body, penetrating her only enough to tantalize her. More fingers caressed her ass, digging into her flesh as she wriggled against his hold. Her entire body throbbed with each beat of her heart and circuit of his tongue, and she moaned his name without realizing she was doing it. "Evan, Evan..."
The wave rose and Teyla felt tears on her cheeks as it crested within her. She shuddered, her body clenching so tightly she couldn't breathe, couldn't think as the pleasure whited out her senses. The release wracked her from head to toes, and the rough cries she let out as the lesser waves of the orgasm went through her were sounds she had never made before in her life.
She would have fallen if it had not been for the wall and remembering he was injured. She managed to move away and settle on the bed, letting her legs rest while she tried to get her breathing under control.
Evan's hand rested against her stomach, then slid up to cup her breast. His chin was wet and reflected the firelight, and she felt another shock go through her at the sight of his face covered in her juices. Then she saw something that made her recoil.
"Evan, your arm is bleeding again."
He looked down, apparently not having noticed. Teyla flinched with guilt. She should not have done this. She should have helped relieve him and then let him sleep. Nyla's incivility might not be the last obstacle they faced before getting out of here and returning home. They both needed to rest.
She moved over him, intending to climb out of the bed, but Evan's good arm caught her around the waist and tugged, and suddenly she was straddling him, her thighs on either side of his abdomen. His fingers slid up her back, pulling her down, and without asking permission his lips captured one of her nipples.
Teyla groaned, the worries and fears of a moment earlier falling from her mind again as her long-denied lust took over. Her body throbbed against his chest, heat pulsing through her core as Evan kissed and licked at her breast. His hand fondled her backside, urging her to rub herself against him, and instinct kicked in before she could protest his high-handedness. The rippled muscles of his abdomen chafed the soft skin inside her thighs. When he maneuvered her so he could lavish attention on her other breast, she planted her hands against the pallet on either side of his head. As her hips moved she felt his erection graze her ass, and her head dropped down. She wanted to shift backwards and slide down onto him, fill the aching heat in her body with his hard length and ride him until the need in her was satisfied.
Evan's head fell back against the bed, his hand continuing to tease her body. Teyla placed her palms against his broad chest and pushed herself up.
They stared at each other for a long moment in silence.
She could get up and leave him. If she stopped this here, she could ignore it as nothing more than mutual exchange of pleasure and release. It would not be easy, but she could try and force this feeling of longing and connection back into the proper shape to fit the relationship between a house matriarch and her champion slave.
And never touch his body again. She would not turn Evan into her whore.
There was no alternative. He was either her champion and her friend or he was nothing to her. It was the only way for her to protect them both.
Evan's hand cupped the back of her neck and pulled her down into a kiss. She resisted this time, leaving Evan in the unusual position of having to coax her into kissing him back, to tease and goad her into responding to his lips.
She wanted to scream in frustration when they finally separated to breathe.
"Take me," he whispered, thumb brushing against her cheek.
Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't hold up against this. She wasn't strong enough to resist Evan telling her to-
"Take me, Teyla," he repeated, and her name was a low purr in his throat that made her whimper aloud.
His hips rolled up, making his meaning that much clearer. His palms skimmed up her thighs, urging her to move back, to kneel over him exactly where she wanted so badly to be.
There would be no going back from this, she knew, even as she gracelessly wiggled and repositioned herself. Once she made him her lover, she wouldn't be able to forget it. And the next time her desires were aroused, it would be that much easier to call him into her bed.
Her fingers brushed the bandage on his thigh. There was a small red stain there, similar to the one on his arm. In a flash she saw the entire fight replay before her eyes, remembering how each wound he’d suffered had seemed to strike her own flesh.
She could smell his arousal as well as her own filling the heated air between them. His body was warm and solid underneath her, and she could feel his eyes roaming over her bare skin. Under her hands his chest rose and fell with his breathing.
He could have died today. She almost lost him.
Steadying herself, she wrapped a hand around his cock and sank down onto him, taking him into her body. Evan's fingers dug into her hips, his breath hissing out between clenched teeth. He was hot and thick and Teyla stretched and stretched, filling herself with his hardness until it nearly hurt.
Joined with him, she held still for a moment, feeling her body adjust. She spoke his name in a broken whisper, "Evan."
"Yes," he panted, his hips rocking up slightly against her weight. "Yes."
Her body was sensitized and hungry for him. She began to ride him, hard but not fast, concentrating on feeling every inch of Evan's cock sliding in and out of her. She let her fingers trail over his body again, but this time she was able to revel in the sensation of coarse hair and smooth skin, the angle and shape of his muscles moving in his thighs, his stomach, his arms. She wanted to commit his body to her memory, so that she never forgot a single detail.
She shifted her weight forward slightly, allowing his hardness to rub up against her where she needed it. Her fingers slipped down where they were joined, gliding in between her swollen lips to stroke her clitoris again. Her body reacted instantly, tightening around him. Evan moaned. His hands moved restlessly, fluttering over her skin as if unsure what to do. She guided them to her breasts. He stroked and fondled her eagerly, teasing her hard nipples with his thumbs and molding her flesh with his fingers. Through half-closed eyes she saw him watching her.
His face was full of desire, and something more. Affection, deep and intense, for her. His mistress, his owner. The woman who controlled his life and his death, for whom he had to be willing to die.
She wouldn't let that happen, she thought confusedly as the pleasure began to crest again. He was hers and she would keep him right here, where he belonged.
Evan had been trained well enough to know to wait for her orgasm before allowing himself the same. Teyla suddenly wanted to feel him coming within her, though. Her fingers sped up and she began to slam down onto him, grimacing in fear of hurting him further, though his face betrayed not the slightest sign of pain.
The climax bloomed within her, body tight and straining for what felt like an eternity at the crest before she shuddered violently with the sheer relief of it. She continued to move erratically over him, aftershocks striking her for a minute. Her nails raked over his abdomen, up over his nipples and along his neck. She'd spent so much time staring at his throat and the way the leather champion's collar encased it.
Giving in to a desire she'd had for ages, Teyla leaned over and licked along the tendon in Evan's neck, from the collarbone up to the edge of his jaw. Her teeth scraped his chin and she hovered over him, her hair falling in a curtain around their faces. She wanted nothing else to exist for him in that moment but her.
She met his eyes and all but growled out her last order. "Now."
Evan choked back a noise. She was still moving against him rhythmically and he bucked up, his breathing ragged. She stared down at his face as he shuddered and spilled inside of her.
Their bodies slowed and then stopped moving. Teyla knew she had just condemned them both to danger and complications when they returned home. But the image of Evan's face as the orgasm took him and the sensations of him within her left her feeling both fiercely possessive and strangely contented.
Her hand cupped his cheek for a moment. Evan turned his face into her touch, eyes falling shut as he yawned, unable to check it.
They exchanged a brief smile at that. Teyla drew away, urging him to find a comfortable position. He was asleep within moments, his hand covering hers. She watched over him as he slept.
She would find a way to make this all right. She would protect him from any other who thought to use him or mistreat him. She was still the matriarch of the house of Emmagan, and no one would take from her what was hers.
Author: miera_c
Summary: Teyla, matriarch of the house of Emmagan, tends to the injuries of her champion slave, Evan Lorne, who was hurt defending her honor in a duel.
Pairings: Teyla/Lorne
Main characters: Teyla, Lorne, OC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sexual content, kink, reference to character death
Spoilers: none
Beta: irony_rocks
Disclaimer: The Stargate universe belongs to a lot of people who are not me. More's the pity.
Author's Notes: Written for the Kink/Cliché challenge, May 2008. The cliché I was assigned was "Master and slave (erotic or romantic slavery, or otherwise; see Power issues) ." I also worked celibacy and washing/bathing into the mix as well.
Dusk was falling over the sprawling stone and wood buildings of the Decas house compound. Out in the courtyard slaves were hurrying about preparing the evening meal and finishing their work for the day. Inside the guest quarters, Teyla, matriarch of Emmagan House, kept the mask of cold rage in place as Nyla's servants brought buckets of heated water and towels into the guest room. Most of them made no eye contact with her, and they only briefly glanced at her champion in fear before quickly looking away.
She knew Evan was hurting, but he stayed on his feet in one last show of dominance, standing near the window until the last frightened slave hurried out. Teyla nodded to the two other guards she had brought from Emmagan. They would stay outside the door to the guest room for the night, just in case. She closed the door and pushed the latch over, ensuring they would have some privacy, and turned to see Evan sitting down gingerly on a stool near the table.
He was bloodied and injured in several places, and filthy from being tossed into the mud more than once. But he was alive, and Nyla's slave, the champion of Decas house, was not.
Teyla wished she could challenge the other woman herself, exact some sort of vengeance for this stupid, pointless exercise. But if that had been possible, Evan would not be hurt in the first place. He would not have had to take on a man nearly twice his size just to defend the honor of Emmagan house against Nyla's ridiculous insults. If Nyla, the matriarch of Decas, had issued a formal challenge, then the combat would have been Teyla's to handle, since a mactas fight was the one and only time that a house champion could not fight on behalf of his matriarch.
But there had been no direct challenge, only snide comments regarding the honor of Emmagan house and Teyla's leadership, growing progressively more offensive. Teyla had ordered Evan to do everything in his power to avoid a fight, and he had. But eventually Nyla found the limits of a champion's patience and Evan had jumped to his feet, goaded into responding.
This afternoon, as the sunlight had grown cool, the champions of the Emmagan and Decas houses had met in ritual combat to defend the honor of their respective mistresses. Emmagan was victorious. A male slave was dead, which meant little to most of her people, but Teyla saw only the blood needlessly spilt. Not to mention the damage to her own champion, in both body and spirit.
Teyla wasn't clear on what was going on here, but she knew Nyla's verbal attack had been planned. It was so wholly unprovoked and unnecessary, Nyla must have had an ulterior motive. The question was, who was really behind it? Teyla faced threats from within her own house these days, and someone scheming for power and hoping to challenge Teyla for the title of matriarch could easily benefit from an alliance with Nyla.
The problem was actually that she had at least two suspects of equal merit. And she could not find out anything until they left the Decas compound tomorrow and returned home.
She at least had the satisfaction of knowing the fight had not ended the way Nyla (and whoever else was behind this) had anticipated, thanks to the skill of Teyla's champion.
Finally allowing her concern to surface, she crossed the room and began to help Evan remove his tunic. He had already discarded the leather braces he always wore on his arms, and the soft leather collar that had rested around his neck - the symbol of a champion's owner and his loyalties - lay in pieces on the table. The collar had saved his life today, preventing his opponent's knife from striking a killing blow. Teyla bit down at the memory of how her whole body had knotted with terror until she was sure Evan was still alive after that assault.
There was a particularly deep cut on his left arm and he hissed when he moved it too much. Teyla carefully pulled his shirt away and reached for one of the washcloths.
Evan tried to stop her, but his protest sounded half-hearted to her ears. "Mistress, I can see to this myself." True, it was unusual for a matriarch to perform this task, but other than their guards posted outside the door, no one else from Emmagan house was in Nyla's compound, and Teyla did not trust the servants any more than she trusted their hostess right now.
She simply quelled him with a look and started wiping the blood and dirt from his wound. The cut started bleeding more heavily but that would wash the mud away and clean it out. She washed the rest of his arm, dried it and then bandaged the cut. She pushed down her awareness of his muscles and the warmth of his skin by focusing on the bruises beginning to darken his ribs, visible even by the low light of the fire. He was dirty from head to toe and needed to rest. Drying mud was caking in his hair and his eyes were glassy from fatigue. Teyla placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him so that his back was to the table. Gently, she urged him to lean backwards and drew a bowl underneath his head. Lathering soap on her hands, she began to wash his hair.
Evan's eyes closed almost as soon as her fingers first passed over his scalp, and a distinctly contented noise escaped his throat as she worked. His hair was soft around her fingers, once the dirt was washed away, and Teyla lingered far longer than necessary, running her hands through his hair soothingly.
His shoulder pressed against her stomach and the attraction she had felt for him since he won the title of champion simmered in her belly. When she traded for him over a year ago, she had not noted him as anything more than a competent guard and - in passing - a handsome male. At the time she had been too busy worrying about other things. It was only after Aiden's untimely death at the hands of the Wraith eight months ago, when Evan won the contest to become the new champion of Emmagan house, that she paid any real attention to him. It had not taken a week before her body began to crave his, before her dreams became filled with images of bedding him. She had struggled against her desires almost daily since then.
He was her slave. A champion, the highest rank a slave could attain and one that came with many privileges and liberties compared to the others, but still a slave. She had complete power over him, when he ate, when he slept, who he spoke to. He had sworn an oath to do her will, and if he refused an order, any order, she could have him put to death. Each night she had gone to sleep knowing she was fully within her rights to summon Evan to her bed. Each night she had managed to resist, but it seemed the more she knew of him, the harder it became to ignore her longing.
But her position as matriarch was tenuous at best. There were several in Emmagan house who thought she was too young and untested to hold her position. Teyla knew that at least two women in her house were candidates to challenge her for her position, and now she had reason to believe at least one of them might be receiving help and support from an outsider. She couldn't afford any mistakes, couldn't allow herself to be distracted.
And commanding Evan to service her would only cause problems. Her served her because she was the matriarch of the house. His loyalty and his oath were to her position. If she was challenged and lost the mactas, he would owe the same fealty to her successor. If Teyla compelled him to service her in bed, and then lost her title, Evan would be obligated to the next matriarch to perform the same function. Everything within her screamed in protest at the thought of him with another woman. She wanted him in her bed, for herself, and no one else. Not ever.
Evan opened his eyes and looked up at her and she realized her fingers had stilled in his hair. An image from her heated dreams popped into her head, of her running her fingers through his hair while he pleasured her with his mouth. She jerked her hands away and pretended her face wasn't flushing.
Without speaking, she guided Evan forward and cleaned the dirt off his back. Teyla swallowed at the sight of the scars across his shoulders. The reminder cooled off her libido, at least slightly. Regardless of her carnal desires, she cared about Evan. He was more than merely one of her slaves, or a pretty body she lusted after, or even simply her designated warrior. He was intelligent and sly, and she had grown to enjoy the comfort of his presence during these months.
And he trusted her. If true friendship was possible between a matriarch and a champion, it existed between them. She would not betray that.
And she would not be merely another woman who used Evan for her own needs and then discarded him. She remembered all too well the pain in his eyes when he had told her what he had endured in his former house, what many of the male slaves on Athos endured because they were at the mercy of a matriarch or members of a house who thought nothing of the welfare of a mere male slave. It was that more than anything that made her stay away from him. He had been badly hurt and Teyla was helpless against her ingrained need to care for her people, even the slave whose job was to protect her life.
Something ugly and tainted was occurring in her world. Nyla was involved. Members of her own house were as well. She needed to root out the source of this malignancy. She needed information. She needed allies. But she couldn't get any of those things tonight. She pulled her thoughts back to her task.
She stepped around Evan and crouched down and began to unlace his boots. He looked at her in surprise and she raised an eyebrow. A matriarch kneeling at the feet of a slave certainly wasn't a common occurrence for either of them.
When his feet were free, she gestured. "Stand."
He hesitated. "I can finish washing myself, matriarch."
She blew out a frustrated breath. "Evan, you are injured and exhausted. And you should not be pulling on your wounds any more than necessary. Now, stand up."
The imperative to obey was strong enough that he rose to his feet. But he jumped back when she reached for the fastening of his trousers. She fairly growled at him, "Be still."
As soon as he had risen, she knew why he was shying away. Once the pants and his underclothes were gone, she could hardly miss his obvious arousal. Even if she had, the redness spreading over his neck and ears and the scent of him filling the air between them would have told her anyway.
Evan was absolutely motionless, not looking at her, but she couldn't keep her eyes from roaming over his nude body briefly. If he was handsome when clothed, he was utterly magnificent naked, when every well-toned plane of his muscles was visible to her. Her mouth went dry as hunger slammed through her, reminding her of the many things she had envisioned doing to that body. Only concern for his injuries allowed her to refocus and murmur something to help him relax. "How did you manage to get so much mud under your clothes?" she asked with amusement.
He shifted, embarrassed. "I don't know," he told her softly, still not meeting her eyes.
She'd seen and touched him before, in training, during times when she'd been in danger, even accidental brushes between them as they walked or sat together. But her own heart was gathering speed as she stood before him and ran the soapy washcloth over his chest. As her hands worked down his torso, she could see him swallowing heavily. She hit a sensitive spot along his ribs and he twitched. Her own lips tilted upwards in spite of the tension in her body.
"You're ticklish?" she asked, hoping to get him to smile.
He huffed out a denial, but she trailed the washcloth very lightly over that spot and he jumped again. "Well, maybe a little," he admitted with a grin.
Their amusement faded as she moved lower along his abdomen. She watched his jaw clench as her hands drifted close to his erection before moving away. Then she bent down to wash his legs.
There was another cut on his thigh and Teyla allowed that to fill her thoughts for a minute, but once she had cleaned and bandaged that wound as well, it was impossible not to notice that her face was level with his cock. The hunger returned, this time not wanting to take pleasure but give it. She could take him in her mouth, bring him release. It would be something. Not enough, but something she could give to him. The thought had no more tripped through her mind than she looked up and met his eyes.
Evan was staring at her, his breath short. His eyes were a mix of longing and fear. He wanted her to do it, but he would never ask her. It would be speaking far beyond his place. And the scars on his back were only the most visible ones he bore after a lifetime of mistreatment from women who thought him nothing more than a plaything. But seeing the desire in his eyes put one more crack in her carefully-built resolve.
Her own breathing was labored. Dropping the washcloth, Teyla pressed a hand against his pelvis for balance, resting it across the flat bone above his erection. She went to her knees, but didn't move any closer. Not letting herself look away, she asked him lowly, "Evan, do you want me to pleasure you?"
He trembled when she articulated what he was clearly craving. But his voice shook for a different reason. "Mistress, you do not have to-"
"I know," she cut him off. Then she added, "Neither do you." There was a world of meaning behind the three words. This was a gift, not a demand. She would not ask or expect anything from him for this. She could never use him that way.
Evan watched her for a long moment in silence. He licked his lips and the ache between her legs intensified. Then he nodded swiftly, almost as if he was trying not to but couldn't stop himself.
With no more than that permission, she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock. Evan let out a guttural sound as she took him into her mouth slowly, using her other hand to steady his shaft as she drew him in and then pulled back carefully. It had been a long, long time since she'd done this. It had been a long time since she'd been intimate with anyone, in fact, something her throbbing body reminded her of insistently. She focused instead on sliding her tongue along the underside of his cock, pushing up against the place just below the head as she passed it before going down again. He tasted of salt and maleness, a unique combination that spread pleasantly across her palate as she teased him with her tongue again.
In her peripheral vision, she saw Evan's hands wrap around the edge of the table behind him as if for balance. As her head bobbed up and down she felt his muscles tense and she heard the way he gasped for air. Although she knew it was dangerous, she couldn't resist sliding her palm across his hip and around to cup his backside. It was as firm and pleasing as the rest of him and she kneaded the round flesh there, dragging another ragged moan from him.
His knuckles were going white. His hips were jerking in tiny movements, as if he wanted to thrust into her mouth but was holding himself in check. She sucked harder, moving faster, feeling the way he shook under her manipulations. She wanted to taste his release with a fiercely dominant drive that amazed her.
Evan let out a short warning sound before he came. Teyla pumped him with her fingers, swallowing, feeling a triumphant thrill of possession, as though somehow he was more hers now than before. She worked him all the way through the climax until he twitched away from her touch.
She leaned back on her heels, collecting herself for a moment. She was sweating and almost painfully aroused. Any relief would have been welcome, even the touch of her own hand, but this wasn't about her pleasure, she reminded herself yet again.
Evan was slumped against the table. When she stood he gaped at her in something akin to awe. That made her smirk a bit. She dipped the washcloth into the water one last time, wiping off her own face and arms before wringing it out. Beside her Evan dried himself with a towel and Teyla tried to ignore the pulse and wetness she could feel between her thighs. Maybe later, after Evan was asleep, she could-
Evan took hold of her hand and began to dry her arm with the towel. He wasn't meeting her eyes, and she wasn't sure what to say, so she let him towel off first one arm and then the other. The knowledge that he was still naked while she was completely clothed somehow made her feel even more awkward. Delicately he dried off her fingers and she shivered in spite of herself, imagining him devoting that kind of care to the rest of her body.
She could not ask that of him. Would not. She pulled her hands away. "You should lie down and rest," she said, annoyed that her voice was breathless.
He didn't move away. Instead his fingers brushed a stray strand of her hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Not only had he never touched her like that, she couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched her with such gentleness and care. It made her eyes flutter shut, but they snapped open again when he spoke.
"Teyla."
He had never used her given name before. A thousand times or more in her fantasies she had imagined the sound of her name on his lips. She could never have imagined the effect hearing it had on her. His voice was rough with emotion and a whole new wave of heat rolled through her. His fingertips trailed down her throat and she knew he could feel how her pulse was pounding through her body.
"Teyla, look at me."
She half-turned, looking up into his eyes. She saw the wanting still there, along with nervousness. She tried to pull away. "Evan, I meant what I said earlier. You do not have to do anything. I would never order you to-"
"I know," he interrupted. He had been more impudent to her in the last hour than he had in all the months prior. He took a deep breath. "And I know you want me. I've known for a while."
Shame filled her, though in retrospect she probably shouldn't have been surprised. They were together all waking hours of almost every day, and it was his responsibility to pay attention to her moods and expressions. Of course he would have divined her desires, no matter how much she wished to conceal them from him. But his knowledge changed nothing.
"I won't force you into my bed, Evan," she said almost angrily.
"You're not," he countered. "I'm offering. Just as you just did for me."
She shook her head, but her will was weakening. He pulled his hand away at her denials and it took all her strength not to whimper at the loss of contact. Aloud she murmured, "You don't owe me anything."
"I know," he repeated. His eyes were dark, and his voice dropped even lower, making a shiver run down her spine. "I want to."
Those three words, his willingness, drove all the concerns about her position and his rank from her mind. It was as if that admission of mutual desire unlocked the last bit of restraint Teyla had been clinging to where he was concerned.
Teyla threw her arm around his neck and brought her lips against his, taking his mouth in a wild kiss that made them both groan. Evan's good arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her as his tongue began to slide against hers hesitantly. Teyla did not allow his uncertainty to last long, pressing her body up against his warmth, urging him to let her plunder his mouth.
Her hips ground against his thigh, the pressure only serving to draw a cry of frustration from her. She needed more, and she needed it now.
Tearing herself away, she planted a hand on his chest and pushed gently so that Evan backed towards the bed that lay in an alcove along the wall. She stripped off her heavy tunic, boots and trousers as he sat down. The air felt deliciously cool against her overheated skin as she unwound her undergarments from her chest and her hips. He stared avidly as her body was bared to him, and she thought he appeared to be recovering already. But she couldn't wait for that.
"On your back," she ordered tersely. He complied without pause and even though she knew she should not be enjoying holding her power over him right now, she couldn't help the thrill she felt at seeing him stretch out on the bed for her. She swung up on the pallet, her hands braced against the wall, and rested her knees above his shoulders. She looked down, wondering what his reaction to her squatting over him would be. Deep down she wasn't sure if she could stop even if he told her to.
Evan stared at the apex of her thighs hovering just above his face. His right hand slid up the inside of her leg, strong and rough fingertips just grazing the folds of skin. His eyes flickered up to hers and Teyla's breath caught as he licked his lips again.
Then he gave her a slow smile and tugged her body closer. Her knees slid further apart, lowering her to his reach, stopping when his hand pressed up in resistance.
Then there was nothing but mind-shattering pleasure. Her hands and eventually her forehead rested against the wall so she could stay upright. She bit down on her tongue so hard it bled with the effort to keep from grinding down into his mouth. Evan's tongue was hot and strong, licking her folds in long swipes, darting against the swollen bud of flesh teasingly over and over. She cursed through gritted teeth, but he only bent his head and dipped the tip of his tongue into her wetness. Pressed against the stone wall, her hands clenched into fists.
He urged her to spread her legs even wider and his tongue began to swirl around her clitoris steadily. Teyla panted, a desperate noise coming with each breath. His thumb slipped up into her body, penetrating her only enough to tantalize her. More fingers caressed her ass, digging into her flesh as she wriggled against his hold. Her entire body throbbed with each beat of her heart and circuit of his tongue, and she moaned his name without realizing she was doing it. "Evan, Evan..."
The wave rose and Teyla felt tears on her cheeks as it crested within her. She shuddered, her body clenching so tightly she couldn't breathe, couldn't think as the pleasure whited out her senses. The release wracked her from head to toes, and the rough cries she let out as the lesser waves of the orgasm went through her were sounds she had never made before in her life.
She would have fallen if it had not been for the wall and remembering he was injured. She managed to move away and settle on the bed, letting her legs rest while she tried to get her breathing under control.
Evan's hand rested against her stomach, then slid up to cup her breast. His chin was wet and reflected the firelight, and she felt another shock go through her at the sight of his face covered in her juices. Then she saw something that made her recoil.
"Evan, your arm is bleeding again."
He looked down, apparently not having noticed. Teyla flinched with guilt. She should not have done this. She should have helped relieve him and then let him sleep. Nyla's incivility might not be the last obstacle they faced before getting out of here and returning home. They both needed to rest.
She moved over him, intending to climb out of the bed, but Evan's good arm caught her around the waist and tugged, and suddenly she was straddling him, her thighs on either side of his abdomen. His fingers slid up her back, pulling her down, and without asking permission his lips captured one of her nipples.
Teyla groaned, the worries and fears of a moment earlier falling from her mind again as her long-denied lust took over. Her body throbbed against his chest, heat pulsing through her core as Evan kissed and licked at her breast. His hand fondled her backside, urging her to rub herself against him, and instinct kicked in before she could protest his high-handedness. The rippled muscles of his abdomen chafed the soft skin inside her thighs. When he maneuvered her so he could lavish attention on her other breast, she planted her hands against the pallet on either side of his head. As her hips moved she felt his erection graze her ass, and her head dropped down. She wanted to shift backwards and slide down onto him, fill the aching heat in her body with his hard length and ride him until the need in her was satisfied.
Evan's head fell back against the bed, his hand continuing to tease her body. Teyla placed her palms against his broad chest and pushed herself up.
They stared at each other for a long moment in silence.
She could get up and leave him. If she stopped this here, she could ignore it as nothing more than mutual exchange of pleasure and release. It would not be easy, but she could try and force this feeling of longing and connection back into the proper shape to fit the relationship between a house matriarch and her champion slave.
And never touch his body again. She would not turn Evan into her whore.
There was no alternative. He was either her champion and her friend or he was nothing to her. It was the only way for her to protect them both.
Evan's hand cupped the back of her neck and pulled her down into a kiss. She resisted this time, leaving Evan in the unusual position of having to coax her into kissing him back, to tease and goad her into responding to his lips.
She wanted to scream in frustration when they finally separated to breathe.
"Take me," he whispered, thumb brushing against her cheek.
Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't hold up against this. She wasn't strong enough to resist Evan telling her to-
"Take me, Teyla," he repeated, and her name was a low purr in his throat that made her whimper aloud.
His hips rolled up, making his meaning that much clearer. His palms skimmed up her thighs, urging her to move back, to kneel over him exactly where she wanted so badly to be.
There would be no going back from this, she knew, even as she gracelessly wiggled and repositioned herself. Once she made him her lover, she wouldn't be able to forget it. And the next time her desires were aroused, it would be that much easier to call him into her bed.
Her fingers brushed the bandage on his thigh. There was a small red stain there, similar to the one on his arm. In a flash she saw the entire fight replay before her eyes, remembering how each wound he’d suffered had seemed to strike her own flesh.
She could smell his arousal as well as her own filling the heated air between them. His body was warm and solid underneath her, and she could feel his eyes roaming over her bare skin. Under her hands his chest rose and fell with his breathing.
He could have died today. She almost lost him.
Steadying herself, she wrapped a hand around his cock and sank down onto him, taking him into her body. Evan's fingers dug into her hips, his breath hissing out between clenched teeth. He was hot and thick and Teyla stretched and stretched, filling herself with his hardness until it nearly hurt.
Joined with him, she held still for a moment, feeling her body adjust. She spoke his name in a broken whisper, "Evan."
"Yes," he panted, his hips rocking up slightly against her weight. "Yes."
Her body was sensitized and hungry for him. She began to ride him, hard but not fast, concentrating on feeling every inch of Evan's cock sliding in and out of her. She let her fingers trail over his body again, but this time she was able to revel in the sensation of coarse hair and smooth skin, the angle and shape of his muscles moving in his thighs, his stomach, his arms. She wanted to commit his body to her memory, so that she never forgot a single detail.
She shifted her weight forward slightly, allowing his hardness to rub up against her where she needed it. Her fingers slipped down where they were joined, gliding in between her swollen lips to stroke her clitoris again. Her body reacted instantly, tightening around him. Evan moaned. His hands moved restlessly, fluttering over her skin as if unsure what to do. She guided them to her breasts. He stroked and fondled her eagerly, teasing her hard nipples with his thumbs and molding her flesh with his fingers. Through half-closed eyes she saw him watching her.
His face was full of desire, and something more. Affection, deep and intense, for her. His mistress, his owner. The woman who controlled his life and his death, for whom he had to be willing to die.
She wouldn't let that happen, she thought confusedly as the pleasure began to crest again. He was hers and she would keep him right here, where he belonged.
Evan had been trained well enough to know to wait for her orgasm before allowing himself the same. Teyla suddenly wanted to feel him coming within her, though. Her fingers sped up and she began to slam down onto him, grimacing in fear of hurting him further, though his face betrayed not the slightest sign of pain.
The climax bloomed within her, body tight and straining for what felt like an eternity at the crest before she shuddered violently with the sheer relief of it. She continued to move erratically over him, aftershocks striking her for a minute. Her nails raked over his abdomen, up over his nipples and along his neck. She'd spent so much time staring at his throat and the way the leather champion's collar encased it.
Giving in to a desire she'd had for ages, Teyla leaned over and licked along the tendon in Evan's neck, from the collarbone up to the edge of his jaw. Her teeth scraped his chin and she hovered over him, her hair falling in a curtain around their faces. She wanted nothing else to exist for him in that moment but her.
She met his eyes and all but growled out her last order. "Now."
Evan choked back a noise. She was still moving against him rhythmically and he bucked up, his breathing ragged. She stared down at his face as he shuddered and spilled inside of her.
Their bodies slowed and then stopped moving. Teyla knew she had just condemned them both to danger and complications when they returned home. But the image of Evan's face as the orgasm took him and the sensations of him within her left her feeling both fiercely possessive and strangely contented.
Her hand cupped his cheek for a moment. Evan turned his face into her touch, eyes falling shut as he yawned, unable to check it.
They exchanged a brief smile at that. Teyla drew away, urging him to find a comfortable position. He was asleep within moments, his hand covering hers. She watched over him as he slept.
She would find a way to make this all right. She would protect him from any other who thought to use him or mistreat him. She was still the matriarch of the house of Emmagan, and no one would take from her what was hers.