Chapter Seven Summary:  Malek learns the true meaning of hot.  Lantash and Martouf are
surprised to find Samantha awaiting them in their room.  One thing leads to another and they become
bonded.  

“Italics” – Symbiote-Host Communication












Martouf and Devlin stared at the TV screen when they weren’t watching Jack O’Neill
become excited and scream at it.  They were still not exactly clear on why these humans
were chasing a little black circle around a floor of ice and beating it, and each other, with
sticks, but the Colonel appeared to believe that it was the height of entertainment.  So
much so, that he had forgotten to watch Martouf.  

In fact, he hadn't even noticed when Major Carter had yawned, shook her head, and
stated that she was really tired, and was, therefore, leaving.  Nor had he noticed when,
very shortly afterwards, Lieutenant Kathryn Donovan had glanced at her watch and
exclaimed that it was really getting late, look at that; nine o’clock.  Wow.  She’d see them
all tomorrow for the shopping expedition.  

She had given Devlin’s thigh a final couple of pats, a few circular rubs, ever higher, and a
slight squeeze on the stiffness there, before she excused herself.  Needless to say, Malek
was grumbling, although no one could hear him except Dev.  Where her strong, but
feminine, hand had patted, rubbed, and squeezed him, it felt as if his thigh, among other
things, was on fire.  Losing interest in watching O’Neill, his mind wandered back to the
beginning of the evening.

They had been sitting to one side and slightly away from the group.  She had started
torturing him shortly after the lights had gone out by, oh so unobtrusively, running her
fingers in lazy patterns on his arm, his leg, and even occasionally, his nipples through his
shirt.  Then, as he realized that nothing was going to take the Colonel’s attention from
that screen, he had put his arm around her, allowing his fingers to make their own forays
against her skin.  

He had stroked her arm and realized that she had moved in such a way that he had
access to her breast, if he wished to have it.  His hand had found its way under her shirt,
his fingers finding the softness of her and rubbing lazy circles.  She had rearranged
herself so that he could unsnap her undergarment and that had given him access to her
flesh.  Her soft, warm flesh and the nipples that had hardened as he stroked her.  

He had never known how erotic it was to sit in a darkened room full of people, and caress
a woman so carefully that no one noticed what you were doing.  No sudden moves, no
obvious grasping, no moans could be allowed to escape your lips, nor could your lips be
used to pleasure both her and yourself, as you were aching to do.  

Shifting slightly, so that his back was more toward Colonel O’Neill, he had moved her
until she was sitting with her back to him, which had given him even easier access to
her.  He could feel her tremble, and knew she was probably wet and needing him.  His
hand crept down to the waistband of her BDU’s and unbuttoned them, loosening them
just enough to allow his fingers in to find her center and, as he had suspected, the
wetness that was waiting there.  

His fingers had found the nub that would give her the greatest pleasure and he had
brought her to the edge several times, only to change his stroking, allowing her to calm
down, only to work her back toward the edge again and yet again.  He had been smug
about what he was doing to her, feeling the shivering that affirmed she desired more of
him than she was getting.  He felt sure that by the end of the evening, she would follow
him anywhere, and of course, anywhere, included his quarters.  

When she could take no more of what he was doing, she had shifted back to where her
side was against him as she buttoned her BDU pants.  He was disappointed, but accepting
of her decision, knowing it would take little to bring the embers back to life.  He could still
play with her breast, caress her, but not as well; he had to be a little more circumspect in
his touches.  

Then things had gone from very warm to hot as she had placed her head on his shoulder
and reaching up with her hand, discovered that she could arouse Malek by rubbing him
through Devlin’s neck.  He had realized that she could see Samantha doing this to
Lantash.  Normally, her touch on Malek would not have done this so quickly, but his
senses were heightened by what was already going on, and Malek had responded
immediately to her touch.

The first time she had touched him in that way and he had quivered, she had pulled her
hand back, startled.  Then fascinated, she had done it again, and watched as Dev had
clamped his lips against the moan as he trembled slightly, along with Malek.  He knew
that she had realized then, that not only Devlin, but also Malek, could be pleasured, and
that touching one of them, aroused both of them.

With his back still to the room, she had been able to bring her other hand to his lap and
first teasingly outline, and then begin to stoke the hardness there.  So, she had stroked
both Malek and Dev and drove them quietly insane, as he had done to her minutes
earlier.  

Under cover of the noise of the game, she had eventually unzipped the BDU’s he was
wearing and found her way inside.  He had thought he would go off in her hand, he was
so aroused by then.  But, she had not allowed that, keeping her touch light and changing
rhythms to keep him from it, much as he had done to her.  He wanted so badly to move
his hips in time with her stroking that it was all he could do to keep himself still.  She had
enough sense and willpower to move away from his fingers when they became too much.  
Dev and Malek did not seem to be able to gather the resources needed to do that.  What
was the Tau’ri expression that he had heard Jacob use?  Paybacks were hell.  Netu, he
had decided, had nothing on this, for pure torture.  

He had ached to be able to lay himself out for her hands to explore, to be allowed to pump
his hips in time to her stroking, so that her touch would become more than just a torment,
but, of course, he could not, and the occasional shout from O’Neill at the screen was
enough to keep him grounded.  It was the only thing keeping him grounded.  

Dear Universe, he wanted to lay her down and sheathe himself in the moist, hot, satin of
her channel.  If she did not stop soon, he would lose control, he could feel it building in
himself, and Malek was no proof against her either.  

She must have sensed his inability to force himself to move from her, for her hand had
finally given him a few last firm strokes, almost milking him, and then quietly zipped up
his BDU’s.  He hadn’t known whether to moan in relief that the torture was over, or
because he didn’t want it to stop.  She had leaned up, lightly nipped the side of his throat,
and then flicked it with her tongue as she pressed firmly along Malek.  

It was all he could do to stop himself from kissing her senseless or jumping from the
couch and carrying her from the room.  Last night she had been on duty and left him
aching with need.  Tonight, she had simply called a halt when things were nearing the out
of control stage and walked away from him before one or both of them embarrassed
themselves.  He was grateful for that, at least.  He would never have been able to live
down the episode if he had so far forgotten himself.  Malek, well, Malek would have been
mortified.

Her decision to leave the room had been both a shock and a relief.  He had only had time
to ask softly, “My room?”  She had smiled at him as she stood, and said, “I’ll think about
it, but it is getting late.”  His look had promised retaliation if she was doing anything but
teasing him by that answer.  The sardonic look she had sent him, had said plainly that he
should assume nothing; she did not belong to him.  

By that point, it had been all he could do to keep from groaning loudly and following her
from the room, to either try to convince her to come to his room or to simply carry her off
and have his way with her, he was not sure which.  He wondered if pleading would work.  
The thought shocked him into immobility.  Never before had a woman brought him to the
point of even considering so lowering himself.

He was a diversion for her, he realized, and it was a new experience for him.  Most women
that he had actively pursued had been only too willing to bed him.  He wasn’t sure how to
respond to her and her refusal to do so.  He had, he realized, made no promises, but
expected her to capitulate and bed him regardless.  He was finding that the Tau’ri did not
work that way.  They had aroused one another, but that did not, in her way of looking at
things anyway, automatically give him the right to any more of her body than she had
already given.  

He decided that insanity was not far off if this kept up.  Then he groaned to himself,
realizing that she had been assigned as his lo’tar, and that by definition of her
subservience to him, he could not take advantage of her position.  He’d be lucky to survive
this mission, not because of the dangers involved, but because of one blue-eyed, blonde,
Tau’ri.     

He was certainly getting an education about the term hot.  He had thought she had shown
him hot last night.  However, last night, as hot as it had been, was nothing compared to
sitting in this crowded room, knowing what was within easy reach, but which he could not
access because of where they were.  

Jacob had not done the term justice.  He had not mentioned that it was not only a
description of someone you were attracted to, but also, the way it made one feel.  And, in
that way, there was no doubt that he was indeed hot.  If he and Malek got any hotter, they
would either be perspiring, unheard of in the normal course of events, or they would
instantaneously combust and burst into flames.  

Looking toward Martouf, his attention was caught by a movement in the back of the room.  
He stared as Anise let Daniel up for air, only to be grasped by Daniel and pulled back for
another deep, long, kiss.  He watched, fascinated as Daniel’s hand slid under her shirt,
and headed for her breasts, as he realized that Anise had her hand in Daniel’s lap, and it
was not just resting there.  So, it was not only the female Tau’ri that were passionate.  He
would certainly not have guessed that Daniel Jackson would be so, but he supposed he
should not be surprised.  Why else would the women of the SGC have given him the title
of hot?  Yes, Malek decided, he was definitely getting an education in Tau’ri sexuality.  He
hoped he survived it.

He looked over at Martouf and wondered if he was having similar problems concentrating
on the puck chasing taking place on the screen.  Seeing him shift and attempt to
rearrange certain body parts, without drawing attention to himself, he decided that he
was.  No doubt, Lantash was having as much difficulty as Malek was.  Good, he was glad
to know that he wasn’t the only Tok’Ra that found the Tau’ri women almost too hot to
handle.  

Perhaps if he concentrated on the hockey that was being played, he could get rid of these
feelings.  He turned his attention back to the screen to see if it would help.  It did not.  In
fact, it seemed to get worse.

Had he been privy to the inside of Martouf's head, he would have heard as much moaning
from Lantash as Devlin was hearing from Malek.

“We cannot leave yet, Lantash,” Martouf snapped.  “Samantha only left a few minutes
ago.  If we leave now, it will leave her open to gossip and speculation.  I will not have her
harmed by us.”

“I know, and I agree.  However, if you do not get your mind away from her breasts and
how they felt in our mouth, I am never going to be able to calm certain reactions that are
making us very uncomfortable.  How hockey can make you think of sex is beyond me.  At
least, if we were in our quarters, we could take a cold shower.”  Lantash shuddered at the
thought of that, but knew it might help.  Maybe.  Second thought.  Unlikely.

“Now who is having erotic thoughts?  Why did you switch the water from cold to hot and
add Samantha to it?  Lantash, please, we must concentrate on something else.”

“I am trying, Martouf.  However, I do not think we will succeed any more than Malek and
Devlin are.  He is extremely uncomfortable.  He can barely sit still, and Daniel and Anise
should go to a room somewhere.  I do not understand what it is about this hockey that is
having this affect.” Lantash looked over Martouf's shoulder at the action on the screen,
trying to see a connection between it and sex, as Jack bounded out of his chair,
screaming, “Yes!.”

“Wasn’t that a great game?”  He asked, as he headed for the light switch.  Martouf noticed
that Daniel and Anise were now sitting somewhat apart, but Daniel was still flushed and
Anise looked like she had just had a particularly tasty meal.

“Okay, that’s it for tonight, folks.  Selmak said he wanted an early night for everyone.  
Seems you all have a lot to do tomorrow and General Hammond wants me to take a new
team out tomorrow for some training, so I have to be up and around early myself.  You all
know your way to your quarters, right?”

“Yes, Colonel, thank you,” Malek replied quickly.  “Thank you for an enjoyable evening,
also, it was quite, ah, enlightening.”

“Hey, everyone enjoys hockey,” Jack said, oblivious to the slight sarcasm in Malek’s voice,
as he went to retrieve his tape from the VCR.

“Goodnight, Jack.  Have a good trip off world tomorrow,” Daniel called as he exited the
room, Anise in tow.  Martouf was next out the door followed by Devlin.  Teal’c and Jorlin
were deep in conversation when Jack turned around.  He ambled toward the door, calling
out a goodnight to them.  They surfaced from their conversation long enough to reply.  

Jack headed for the elevators.  He was going home.  He wondered if he’d meet Daniel in
the parking lot.  Probably not.  No doubt he’d returned to his office to get back to some
fascinating rock, and no doubt Carter had opted out to head to her lab to finish some
experiment.  Those two just didn’t know how to relax.
  



“If you cannot succeed soon, Lantash, we will have to take that cold shower.  We cannot
sleep like this,” Martouf snapped, his nerves stretched tight from a day of tensions.

“I am doing the best I can, but if you do not stop thinking about Samantha, I will not be
able to do anything.  Every time I begin to lessen the blood flow to certain parts of our
anatomy, you think of something else and my efforts are wasted as the blood rushes back
again,” Lantash pointed out.  “You could help rather than hinder.”

“All right, I will try.  Perhaps once we have showered and are in bed we will be so tired
that we will fall asleep at…” Martouf's thought died as he entered his room to see
Samantha sitting at the small table in his room, doing something on her computer.  She
had changed clothes.  Her BDU’s were neatly folded and placed on one of the chairs.  She
was wearing a camisole top and a pair of shorts.  She had showered and it was obvious
that she was not wearing an undergarment.  His breath stopped and he had difficulty
swallowing.

She smiled tentatively, looking almost frightened as she breathed softly, “Hi.  I hope you
don’t mind me waiting for you.”

“No,” his voice gave out, and he tried again, “No, not at all.  I was just going to shower and
then, um,” his voice slowly fading.

“I’ll leave if you’d rather I wasn’t here, Martouf.  I’ll understand,” her voice quivered
slightly and she again smiled, a very small, unsure gesture.

“We do not wish you to leave, Samantha.  Stay, please.”

She gazed at him for a long moment, as if gauging his sincerity and then nodded abruptly,
before ducking her head and blushing.  “All right.  If you’re sure you don’t mind.  I’d like
to stay.”

“It will not take us long to shower.”  She seemed very tense and Martouf was puzzled as to
why.  “Promise me you will not disappear while we are in the shower,” he finally brought
himself to say.

“I promise.  I have some things to do here,” she replied, as she indicated the computer.  
“Go ahead and shower.”

Martouf nodded and walked into the bathroom.  “Lantash?  What is going on?  Do you
have any idea?”  He questioned his friend as he stripped their clothing off and turned on
the water.

“I do not want to assume, but I believe Samantha has decided she wishes to become
intimate with us.  I also believe her hesitant manner is because she is unsure of how we
will react.”

“Should I reassure her?  Tell her to go ahead and get into bed if she finishes whatever she
is working on?”

“I am not sure.  No.  No, do not do it in that way.  I believe we should not be so blunt, as if
we expect her to sleep with us.  Finish our shower, and we will see where it goes from
there.”

Hearing Martouf walk back into the room, Sam looked up from where she had been
staring at her computer screen, accomplishing nothing, and sucked in a breath.  His hair
still damp and uncombed, a towel thrown around his neck and one around his hips, he
was a gorgeous hunk of male animal.  

They stared at each other for a moment, before Martouf said softly, “I hope I am not
assuming too much, Samantha, and allowing my own desires to allow me to see only that
which I wish to see.”

“What is it that you wish to see, Martouf?”  Sam asked, her voice strained and barely
above a whisper.

“I am hoping that you being here, dressed as you are, is an indication that you wish to,”
he paused, looking for the right word, “come to know us on a more intimate level,” He
finally said.

He watched her expression, as she seemed to relax and then nodded her agreement.  “I –
I.  Yes, I do.  Want to know you in um, in that way, that is.”

He nodded, also looking extremely relieved by her answer, and grabbing the towel around
his neck, proceeded to finish towel drying his hair, not wanting to take a chance that she
might change her mind.  “I will be out in a moment.  Why do you not finish whatever you
are doing, and then we will sit on the bed and talk.  I am not going to jump on you and
ravish you, Samantha,” he said quietly, realizing she was still unsure of exactly how this
was going to happen.

After giving him a tentative smile, Sam turned back to her computer screen and closed
her programs down, as he walked back into the bathroom.  He came back out with a comb
and less one towel.  The one around his hips was still there.  She closed her laptop and
scooted past him into the bathroom, pulling in some calming breaths as she finished her
nightly routine.  

She had brought her overnight case and stashed it under the cabinet earlier.  She didn’t
keep sexy lingerie here on base, but once she had made her decision, she’d grabbed Janet
and asked her to bring her some things.  Being the great friend she was, and being happy
for Sam and her second chance with Martouf, she hadn’t hesitated and had turned up
with it, leaving it in her friend’s lab.  

Sam hadn’t looked to see what she had brought, trusting her, so she was shocked when
she opened the bag holding the clothes and found a gown that was pure sex appeal.  Sam
turned red just looking at it.  Could she even wear this in front of him?  Good grief, the
midnight blue gown was almost all lace, with a few strategically placed strips of satin.  
This gown was not meant for sleeping, that was for sure.  Gritting her teeth, she stripped
off her shorts and camisole top.  Looking up and into the mirror as she pulled the gown
over her head and it fell into place, she stared at herself and reached for a comb.

Pretend you are in jeans and a sweatshirt, Sam, she told herself, only to hear a little voice
snicker and say, yeah, right.  Then she heard Janet’s voice from earlier today.  “No, Sam, I
don’t think you are crazy.  You go, girl.  Don’t miss out this time around.”  It was the first
time that Sam had realized that although she had never discussed it with her, somehow
Janet had known.  And she was right.

Sam opened the bathroom door and walked into the room.  

Martouf was glad that he had not been holding anything but his shirt.  When it hit the
floor, it did not break.  He stared at her, and was vaguely aware of Lantash giving up on
trying to get him to say something and taking over for him.

“You are as lovely as I remember, Samantha,” Lantash’s deep tones sent a shiver down
her spine.  The old line that had been applied to Lord Byron came to mind.  It reminded
her of Lantash: mad, bad, and dangerous to know.  The mad part might not apply, but
something told her that the bad and dangerous were there in abundance.  And like a
moth to a flame, she was drawn into the depths of that voice and those eyes.  Her
thoughts were disjointed as she found herself standing in front of him.

Oh, so dangerous to know, but oh, so wickedly enticing.  Both of them, not just one of
them.  The curve of those beautiful lips called her as much as the voice and the eyes did.  
The eyes were compelling.  The voice was seductive and the smile was wicked.  

And she was going to allow herself to be compelled, enticed, and seduced by them all.  
Enthralled.  She had heard the word, but had never experienced it until now.  Enthrall –
1.  to hold spellbound; captivate 2. enslave.  Thrall – to put into bondage.  Well, he
certainly had put her heart there, and it was just a matter of time until her body followed
its desires.

She wondered idly if they would ask her to become their mate.  She would make love with
them anyway, but it would have been nice to know for a fact that they considered her in
that light.

The love she felt along with the desire was deep and abiding and she realized that it
would never have ended just because he was gone.  It would have remained with her
always.  She had managed to put the grief away eventually, but the love had simply been
nestled quietly in her heart.  Now that he was here, it had burst forth, no longer content to
stay in the shadows.  

Beyond that was Jolinar’s legacy of love, also endless and timeless, stretching out into
forever.  As she embraced it and added it to the love that she felt, it was almost
overwhelming.  She would no doubt have loved again someday, but not like this.  Never
again like this.  

“What are you thinking, Samantha?”  Lantash asked, as he watched her.  She had briefly
had an odd look on her face, as if she had just discovered something that was both
fascinating and terrifying all at the same time.

“You,” she answered, gasping a little at her epiphany, her flash of insight into what this
being meant to her.  “I was thinking of you.”

Lantash frowned.  “You looked frightened for a moment.  We did not intend to frighten
you.”

“No, I’m not frightened of you.  It’s just - I suddenly realized that…I know what the two of
you mean to me and the depth of my feelings, they frightened me for a moment, that’s all.”

Lantash closed his eyes briefly, feeling her words sink deep within them and heal a
wound that had been open and painful for a very long time.  Opening them, he said, “I
know.  We, Martouf and I, have a deep and boundless love for you, Samantha.  We have
for a very long time.  It will not change.”

“I know.  I understand,” she replied, wonder in her voice.

Dropping the towel from his waist, unashamedly naked, comfortable with his body and
being with her in this way, he took her hand and led her to the bed.  “Come, my love, let
us make ourselves more comfortable.”  Swiftly leaning over and picking her up, he placed
her in the center of the bed, glad he’d had the forethought to turn the linens down.  The
deep blue of the gown made a pool of color against the stark whiteness of the sheets.  Her
flesh through the lace was enticing.  He followed her down and stretched out beside her.

“Lantash, I cannot.  I cannot take Samantha in this way.  We cannot take her in this way,”
Martouf said suddenly.  He felt Martouf's distress.  Now that the time had arrived to make
Samantha theirs, he was having second thoughts.

Lantash’s hand stopped midway between their bodies as he reached to touch her.  
“Martouf?  About what are you speaking?  Have you lost your mind?  I thought you wanted
this?  Wanted our Samantha in this way?  It is all you have thought about all evening!”  
Lantash exclaimed, exasperated at what he was almost sure he knew was coming.

“I know and I am sorry, but she is Not our Samantha, Lantash.  We – we are not bonded,”
Martouf whispered to his blended mate.

Lantash allowed his hand to fall and rolled over onto his back, moaning, “Now, Martouf?  
You are waiting until now to bring this up?  Why did you not think of this before we
reached this point?  Do you have any idea how our refusal to mate with her is going to
appear to Samantha?  She will believe we do not want her.  You saw how nervous and
unsure she was.”

“I am sorry.  I cannot.  I thought I could.  I wanted to, needed to, but now that we are
about to make her our mate, I find I need the bonding words to make it right.  If you wish
to take her without the bonding words, then you must be the one to do so.  I will not.”

“Lantash?  What is wrong?  Are you and Martouf feeling ill again?  Should I get Selmak?”  
Sam asked; as she sat up, fear on her face.

Reaching out and taking her hand, Lantash opened his eyes and sighed.  “No, Samantha,
we are fine.  I must apologize to you.  I am afraid that Martouf is having an attack of
conscience.”

Sam looked at him blankly for a moment, while what he said made its way into her mind
and was analyzed.  It didn’t compute; she needed more information.  “You’re going to have
to be a little more explicit, Lantash.  Spell it out for me,” she stated firmly, her voice
becoming cooler with each word.

“I hope you are happy, Martouf.  You probably just lost us our chance to have Samantha
back in our life,” Lantash bit out.

“Why can you not simply ask her to become our mate, Lantash?  Do you not wish to bond
with her?”

“Of course, I wish to bond with her, but I also do not wish to pressure her, Martouf.  Has it
occurred to you that even though she has realized she loves us, she may not be ready to
commit herself to us in that way yet?  You are asking her to bury years of pain
surrounding our loss.  She was not bonded to the “us” from her reality.  Why must you try
to force this issue with her so soon?”

“I am sorry.  I had not thought of that.  We were mated in our reality.  I wished for that
with her.  Perhaps you are correct and I am rushing her.  She is willing to share her
body.  Perhaps she will be willing to share her life when she begins to know us better,”
Martouf said quietly.  

Lantash sighed again.  How did he handle this?  Either way, one of them would be hurt.  
Martouf was not being unreasonable.  He had refused to mate with Samantha before
without being bonded to her, too.  It was just his way.  Lantash had thought they would
both lose their minds before she had finally agreed.  He had often wondered if the need to
mate with them had forced Samantha to agree to be their mate, instead of her truly being
ready.  

Thinking back to that, he said, “I will not live with that again, Martouf.  I will ask, but if
she says no, I will not refuse to mate with her.  If you cannot agree to that, then I will close
you off from the entire happening, if that is what you wish.”

He could feel the indecision from Martouf.  “No.  You are correct, Lantash.  I may be
asking too much too soon and I will not deny her or myself because of that.  I had not
considered her needs and that is being unfair to you and to her.  I will not take control,
but I will not be shut away either.”

“Agreed,” Lantash replied softly, hugging his blended mate, giving him his understanding,
even though he could not agree completely with him.

He turned his attention to Samantha, as she patiently waited for him to finish his
conversation with Martouf.  He was surprised at her patience, then realized that she must
realize he was talking to Martouf.

“Martouf feels that we should be bonded before we mate with you, Samantha, however, it
has also just occurred to him that, while we were bonded to you, you have never been
bonded to us.  While we wish to bond with you, we do not wish to pressure you.  We have
come to a compromise between us.”

Sam stared at him for a moment.  “And what do you feel, Lantash?”

“Nothing would make me happier than to be able to claim you as our mate, but I, also,
realize that you may not be ready to take that step.  We have only been together for a very
short time in this reality.  You were not mated to us before.  For us, it seems natural, but I
realize that to you it may seem to be moving too fast.”

Sam looked bewildered for a moment, before asking, “So—are you, or aren’t you, asking
me to—to bond with you?  Is that like—like marriage?”

“Yes, it is,” he sighed, “and yes, I am asking you, and hoping you will not give us an
outright refusal, but will at least consider bonding with us.  If we bond in this way, then
you will be our acknowledged mate.  We did not marry in our old reality; you said that we
belonged to one another by the bonding, and that it was the same thing.  So, although
nothing would make us happier than to take you as our bonded mate, Samantha, I will
not pressure you or refuse you and us the mating act.  I would rather wait to ask you,
until you have resolved some of your conflicting feelings, than have you refuse us, but I
will not.  On the other hand, I will not refuse myself or you a physical mating, if you do
not wish to be bond-mate to us now.”

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment, and then stretched out beside him, placing her
hand on his chest.  “Could I talk to Martouf, please?”

Lantash looked surprised, but agreed at once, “Of course,” he said, as he allowed Martouf
to take control.  “I am sorry, Samantha, I should never have brought the subject up so
soon.  Lantash is right, and I am asking for the impossible,” Martouf said quietly.  

“Are you asking me to be your mate, Martouf?”  Sam asked him the same question she
had asked Lantash.  

“Yes, of course, but we will not…”

Martouf's words were cut off as Sam swooped on his lips and taking him by surprise
kissed him deeply.  Moaning deep in his throat and hearing the answering moan from
Lantash, Martouf found his resolve weakening as he felt her breasts brushing against his
chest and her hand reaching behind him to stroke Lantash.  He could not help himself.  
His lips opened to her like a flower to the sun and his arms came around her.  He would
regret it later, he was sure, but for now, he could not deny this woman.  He loved her,
needed her, and wanted her.  It would have to be enough for now.

He felt her pull away slightly and then completely, as she sat up and looked down at him.  
His sanity returned, and he sighed.  “I cannot deny you, Samantha.  I am lying to you,
Lantash, and myself, if I insist I must be bonded to you before I partake of your body.  
Perhaps, I was even trying to force you to become our mate by denying you the pleasure of
physically mating with us.  I am sorry.  I will not deny you, or us, that pleasure now, but
know that I meant what I said.  I wish to become your bonded mate.  Whether it is now, or
later, is not important.  I will continue to hope that, as you get to know us, you will finally
feel that you can do so.”

“What does it entail, Martouf?  I don’t seem to have a memory of your bonding with Jolinar
and Rosha.  The Sam you knew was blended with Jolinar for quite some time, but I was
only blended with Jolinar for a very short time and have only sporadic memories.  We
should’ve discussed that today, and I’m sorry we didn’t.  That’s my fault and I apologize.”

Martouf blinked at her, as Lantash groaned in his mind, ”This is even worse than I
thought, Martouf.  She does not even remember our bonding with Jolinar.  We are asking
too much of her, too soon.”  

“No, Samantha, it is not your fault.  We knew from the things your Colonel O’Neill said
that your blending with Jolinar was very different.  I should have realized that and not
pressured you.  I am the one who is sorry.”  He reached to pull her into his arms only to
have her evade him.

“You’ve not answered my question, Martouf.  What does it entail?  Is there a ceremony?  
Or, is it a declaration between the two, er, or four or in our case, three of us?  I really want
to know.”

“It can be both, or just the ceremony.  Jolinar, Samantha, Lantash, and I declared to one
another first.  We had a ceremony later.”

“And Jolinar and Rosha?  How did you bond with them?”

“The same way.  Most Tok’Ra do so, Samantha.  We usually declare to one another, before
we mate.  Then we usually do a declaration of our intent to our friends, followed by a
ceremony.”

“What does the declaration consist of?  If you were going to bond with me, what would you
say to me?”  Sam wanted to know.  She was very curious about how their rituals were
conducted.

“I would say to you that…Lantash and I love you today, we will love you tomorrow and all
the tomorrows we will have together.  We will keep ourselves as your mates, from this time
forward, never forgetting that our body and our hearts now belong to you, and to no
other.  Our love for you will last until death parts us, and that we know now, that it will
last beyond death, for we love you still, after all this time.  We swear to do our best to
protect and care for you, no matter what might happen to us.  We have spoken truth to
you, as it is written on our hearts, which we now give into your keeping.  We are your
bonded mates.  Are you willing to declare yourself to us?”

“I see.  Well, you know, it does sound very similar to our marriage ceremony in some
ways.”  Sam paused, before saying slowly, “So, if I was going to declare myself to you, I’d
say something like; I love you today, and I will love you and Lantash tomorrow and all the
tomorrows we are lucky enough have together.  I will keep myself as your mate, and only
your mate, from this time forward.  I will never forget that my body and my heart now
belong to you and Lantash and to no one else.”  

“Then, I’d probably tell you that; My love for you and for Lantash will last until death parts
us, and beyond death, because I love both of you still, even after all these years.  I swear
to do my best to protect and care for you, no matter what might happen to us.  I swear
everything I’ve told you is the truth, as it is written on my heart.  It is the same heart that
I am now giving into your and Lantash’s keeping.  I am your bonded mate, Martouf, yours
and Lantash’s.  I’ve answered your question of whether I was willing to declare to you by
doing so.  Are you willing to become my husbands at some time by the ceremony of my
people?”

“Samantha?”  Martouf asked, afraid to believe that she had just declared to them.
“Lantash?”

“Yes, dear one, I believe we have just received our dearest wish.”

“Yes, Martouf?  Did I not say it right?  Did I leave something out?”  Sam asked, anxiously.

“No, no, you left nothing out.  I love you.  We love you.  We are not wrong, Samantha?  You
did just declare to us?  You are willing to be our mate?”

“No, you did not misunderstand.  Yes, Martouf, I did declare to you.  I have wanted to be
able to say those words, or some very like them, to you and Lantash for a very long time.  
Perhaps I should give the entire thing more thought, but I don’t want to.  I don’t ever want
to live with the regrets I’ve lived with for so long.  No regrets.  Not now, not ever.  I want to
be your mate.  I want you and Lantash as my mates.”

“Then we will declare to you, Samantha.”

“You already did, didn’t you?  When you were telling me what you would say?  You meant
every word you said, I could see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice.  If you truly wish
to say it again, I will listen, but my heart heard you the first time.”

“Our Samantha,” Martouf breathed, as he leaned forward to capture her lips.  Releasing
them at last, he said, “Tomorrow we will declare to our friends.  Tonight we will become
mates of the flesh, as well as the heart.  Come to us, our mate, and make us whole.”

Sam smiled as he reached to remove the deep blue gown that was rather less than more.  
No regrets.  She allowed him to lay her down and capture her lips once again.  

“Martouf?”

“Yes, my love?”  Martouf murmured as he kissed down her neck, nuzzling her ear and
nipping her lightly, as his fingers played with the nipple of one of her breasts.

“Um, you, mm, you didn’t, aahh, answer my, mm, question,” she finally managed to gasp,
as his nibbling sent shivers down her spine.

“What question is that, my love?” he asked, seemingly very much in control of himself.

“Ah, marriage.  Husbands,” she again managed to pull a coherent thought forward, forcing
herself to ignore the tugging she felt in her center, as his fingers tugged on her nipples.

Martouf stopped what he was doing and looked down at her.  “Yes, our Samantha.  We are
very willing to become your husbands,” he answered before returning to the more
interesting occupation of loving his mate, instead of talking.  He leaned down once more,
this time to take a nipple into the warmth of his mouth, only to have her move sideways,
away from them.

“Wait, um, please, Martouf,” Sam said, forcing herself to leave the sensual haze into which
she was fast falling.  She knew Lantash had not wanted to ask her yet, and perhaps he
had only done so at Martouf's urging.  She had talked to Martouf, now she needed to hear
what Lantash had to say, too.  “You needed to bond with me before we mated.  I need to
know that Lantash agrees to become my husband.  After all, you are the one that said the
bonding words to me, not Lantash.  I need to hear from him that he really does wish to
become my husband.  Not only that, but…I’m sorry, Martouf, but I have some questions to
ask him.”

"You have no need to apologize, Samantha.  Lantash is your mate, as much as I, and you
may speak to either of us, at any time, whenever you wish to do so."  

She watched as Lantash came forward.  Now that he was here, she wasn’t sure how to ask
her questions.

“What do you wish to ask of me, Samantha?  Are you upset that I would have mated with
you physically before bonding with you?”

She looked up, startled, then lowered her head as she blushed, “I—that is—I…need to
know.  I need to know if you truly wished to bond with me.  I know you said you did
before, but…knowing it is what Martouf wanted, you would have done so, whether you
wished to or not.  That’s true, isn’t it?”  She finally managed to ask.  “Because I was
willing to mate with you without the words, Lantash.  I admit I wanted you to ask me, but
I still would have, even without them.  But, I need to know if you feel the same as Martouf,
or if we forced you into it, between the two of us.  I won’t force you to bond with me.  I—I
couldn’t bear that,” she whispered.

“Samantha, look at me and listen to me,” Lantash said firmly, as he reached out and
grasped her chin, forcing her to leave her study of the sheets and meet his eyes.  “When
we were bonded before, Martouf refused to physically mate with you, before we bonded
and I agreed with him.  Later, I always wondered if we had forced you into a decision that
you would not have made so quickly, if we had not been so adamant.  I do not ever wish to
wonder again if I—we—have forced you.  That is the only reason I was hesitant to ask you
to be our bonded mate.  It is, also, why I would have mated with you, without your
agreeing to become our bonded mate.  Never again do I ever want to have those kinds of
doubts.”   

“Your answer to us was quickly, and, I believe, happily given because you wish to be our
bonded mate.  The reason I am telling you this is because I know how those types of
doubts can eat into you, since I myself had them before.  Therefore, I will tell you exactly
how I feel about you and bonding with you, and you will know that I speak the truth.  I
would not try to deceive you, Samantha, not about this or anything else.”

“I will tell you this once and hope you believe me.  If you do not, then I suppose I will
repeat it as often as necessary, until you do believe me, but I would prefer not to have to
repeat this, as it is very—difficult—for me to admit.”

“We are Tok’Ra, Samantha, and yet we are also, although, we do not like to admit it, Goa’
uld.”  He watched as her eyes widened.  This was not something they ever admitted that
she could remember.  From the first time they had met them, they had insisted that they
were not Goa’uld.  

“You are surprised, but you should not be.  You are aware that we are physically Goa’uld.  
Our only true difference is in our beliefs and our customs.  Our desire is to share the body
of our host, and in exchange, we will give certain abilities to them.  Our knowledge, our
strength, our ability to heal; this is what we offer in exchange for the chance to experience
the world we know only in our minds until we blend.”  Lantash paused again, obviously
trying to think of how to tell her what he had to say.

“In many ways we are very different from Goa’uld.  However, in one way, unless we
actively put it away from us, we are still very similar to the Goa’uld.  It is the one thing
that Egeria warned us most stringently to guard against, for it will claim us more enemies
than friends, and in truth, she told us, we have no true reason to be this way.  Be that as
it may, it is still there in us.”  Lantash paused again, before he could bring himself to say
the words, “We are very arrogant, and we have a great deal of pride.  It is very difficult for
us to admit that there is anyone or anything, other than our queen, that could command
us.”

Lantash smiled slightly as he continued to look at her fully, as he made his confession,
“You are wondering why I am telling you these things.  I am telling you, so that you will
understand the full meaning of my next statement.”  

Drawing a deep breath and never looking away from her, he said, “You may command me,
at any time, Samantha, for my love for you far outweighs my arrogance and my pride.  I
love you today, I will love you tomorrow, and I will love you all of the tomorrows we will
have together.  You have my heart.  You are my mate, not because Martouf wishes it,
although he does, but because I wish it.”  

“I would do anything, anything you ask of me, to prove that to you.  If repeating the
bonding statement to you is what you need to hear, then I will repeat it.  Every day if
necessary.  If becoming your husband is what will convince you that I love you, then I
shall go through that ceremony whenever and wherever you ask it of me, as often as you
ask it of me.  You are my mate, Samantha, because I love you and wish you to be my
mate, and for no other reason, I swear to you.”

“Why are you crying?  Do you still not believe me?”

Sam shook her head.  She couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat.  After a sniff or
two, she was able to give a slight smile.  “I believe you, Lantash, and I’m sorry for making
you say those things.  It had to be very difficult.  I promise I’ll never question your love of
me again.  Ever.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my heart.  As Martouf said to you, come to me and make
us whole, Samantha, for we have been only half alive now, for a very long time.”

As he reached for her and felt the softness of her skin under his hands, he thanked
whatever it was that had led them here, once again.  Whether it was fate, luck, or destiny
did not matter.  Whatever it had been, he would not turn away from it.  

He brought her lips to his and traced them with their tongue.  Martouf moaned in their
mind, and the thought was sent, asking if he wished to take over, the answer came back,
no, not yet, he would revel in the feel of her and Lantash, as he made love to her.  Lantash
did not need any more encouragement.  “Open for me, Samantha,” he demanded and was
rewarded with her lips parting for him.  

Sam smiled to herself, at his command.  Lantash would always be an Alpha male.  He
might say that she could command him, and perhaps she could, but in the end, he was
still arrogant, demanding, and expecting to be obeyed, whether he realized it or not.  
Moreover, she was more than happy to agree to this particular demand.  

The next few days could have some delicious situations awaiting them.  As his mate and
his slave, she could see some very interesting instruction sessions coming up, and she
was looking forward to them.  And someday she would turn the tables on him, but for the
immediate future she was looking forward to being his lo’tar.  It could prove to be very
arousing, if she managed things just right.  

He kissed her deeply, drinking of her sweetness, before moving to feather kisses from the
corner of her mouth to her temple, and from there to her ear and on down her throat.

Once there, he began to nip her lightly, bringing forth a moan from her and a slight smile
from him.  That particular spot had always sent her desire spiraling higher.  He came
back to it over and over, playing her body as if it was a fine instrument, and he the
virtuoso that could bring the most beautiful music from it.  He laved her nipples and
suckled gently at first, only to become more aggressive as she urged him on, her moaning
more intense now, as her need of him rose higher.

“Spread your legs for me, my Samantha.  Open yourself to me, so that I will have access to
you,” he demanded.

Moaning, she did as he asked, for she was eager for his fingers to find the spot that
needed attention.  She was burning for them already and they had barely started.  Soon
his fingers found the center of her, and began to tease her body to ever higher levels of
desire.  Her hands roamed his body, but he would not allow her full access to him,
holding her in such a way that she was confined to only a few areas of his body.  

As he became more immersed in her body, she managed to maneuver her hand to his
neck, and she began to stroke him there, feeling him quiver under her fingers.  
“Samantha, I will not be able to keep myself in control, if you continue to do that.  Please,
you must stop,” Lantash, moaned softly.  “I wish to pleasure you to release, at least once,
before we mate, my love.  I will not be able to do so, if you continue.”

“I want to reach my release with you, Lantash, not alone, not the first time, please,” she
said softly.  Looking up into her eyes, he knew she meant what she said.  He nodded, but
said, “All right, but if you continue to do that, I will not be able to wait for you.”

As she removed her hand, he turned his attention back to her breasts and from there he
followed her body until he came to her center.  He laved there, until he could both feel her
body tensing and hear her gasping, as she climbed toward that point at the very edge.  
Moving quickly he settled himself between her legs, watching her as her head tossed
restlessly.

Feeling him there, she reached down to guide him to where she wanted him to be.  They
were about to mate, to become mated.  There was no turning back.  After this, she would
be their mate in every way.  She gasped at the depth of the feelings that thought brought
to her, and then again as he gently sheathed himself in her silken wetness.  

Slowly sinking into her, he felt himself hit bottom, only to have her move slightly allowing
her body to give way for him to move deeper into her.  Her body was accommodating him,
slowly.  He would not hurt her by forcing her to take all of him, at once.  She wiggled
slightly and he felt himself finally sink the rest of the way in, resting for a moment to be
sure she was all right.  “Are you all right, Samantha?  I am not hurting you?”  He asked
softly.

“No, I’m fine,” she said, as her hips began to move, encouraging him to begin to bring
them both to the edge again.  She felt his fingers working wonders on her sex, and she
reached behind him to stroke his neck with one hand, as her other hand found one of his
nipples.  He groaned and began to move faster, as her stroking was urging him to do.

“Give yourself to me, to us, Samantha.  Hold nothing back.  We wish to see you wild in our
arms, as you fall over the edge and into the abyss of the little death.  We will be there and
fall over with you, my love, I promise you.”  His strokes became faster and harder, as she
moaned, her need and her hips rising to meet his in ever increasing fury.  She was
tossing wildly, moaning their names when she heard him plead with her.  She was ready,
waiting only for them.

“Samantha?” He groaned an entreaty of need.

“Yes, my love, now.  Now, Lantash, oh, god, now,” she panted, sobbing in her need for
release and her readiness to achieve it.

He felt her teeth sink into his shoulder as she stifled her scream, when she fell over the
edge into the abyss.  It triggered his climax; he pumped his seed into her waiting vessel,
and then collapsed onto her breathing heavily.  “Dear Universe, Samantha, we do love
you,” he managed to say.

When she said nothing in return, he forced himself up onto his elbows.  She was lying
quietly with a contented smile on her lips as she softly caressed him.  “We are mated,” she
finally said softly, in wonderment.  “I am finally, really and truly your mate, in all ways,
Lantash.  I love you.  Both of you.”  Leaning forward, he kissed the tears away, realizing
they were tears of wonderment, release, and joy.  

Feeling himself finally begin to soften, he pulled himself from her body, and slid to her
side, gathering her into their arms, as she moaned in protest.  Martouf roused himself
from his sensory overload and took Lantash’s place allowing him to become quiescent for a
time, as he preferred and, indeed, needed to do for a short time.

“As we both love you, our Samantha.  As we both love you.”

She watched as their eyes closed.  Moving gently, so as not to awaken them, she reached
down and pulled the blankets over them, before snuggling into their arms.  “Goodnight,
my loves,” she whispered.  She was surprised, when their eyes opened, glowed for a
moment, and Lantash answered, “Goodnight, Samantha.”  Then leaning forward and
kissing her lightly, he whispered, “But do not expect to sleep for long, my love, for our
hunger for you has only temporarily been sated.  Rest now, as we will, and later we will
love yet again.”

He pulled her more tightly to them and nestled her firmly against their body as they both
relaxed into sleep.

TBC



                         Chapter Six                    Home                    Chapter Eight             

                                                   
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Where Destiny Leads

Chapter Seven

No Regrets