Nayleia's Heritage

***PRISONERS IN LAHAL***

Sheppard stalked out of the Conference Room and pushed past any Atlantis personnel blocking his path to the Turbo Lift. He quickly pushed the ‘down’ button to summon the Lift to that level. As he waited the short time it would take the Lift to arrive, he cursed soundly and slammed his fist into the wall. The sharp pain of contact shot up his arm and numbed his fingers resulting in another string of expletives which caused the nearest individuals to stop and stare at him in shock. He ignored them and quickly entered the Lift as its doors slid open. Sheppard then reached over to punch in the number for the level where his room was located, only to see a firm brown arm reach across the threshold to stop the Lift doors from closing.

Teyla entered the lift and without a word reached over to punch in the number for Sheppard’s level. Upon seeing her action, Sheppard’s eyes met hers and instantly he felt his blazing anger reduce to a slow simmer, as she returned his stare with a single raised eyebrow. She always seemed to have that effect on him; just a look would make him feel he should have handled the situation differently…better. As the lift came to a stop, a now more subdued Sheppard indicated that Teyla should precede him out of the Lift. He quickly palmed open his door and ushered her in.

“Teyla, I mpfhh---,” Sheppard’s words were cut off as Teyla launched herself into his arms and covered his lips with a passionate kiss.

Despite his best effort to remain angry and aloof, Sheppard felt himself responding to Teyla’s kiss. His arms slowly reached around to draw her into a tight embrace as he took charge of the kiss, branding her with his lips. Sliding his hands downwards, Sheppard’s strong hands grasped Teyla’s hips and pulled her up against his rapidly hardening maleness. She responded by rotating her hips in a slow grind that had him sliding his hands down the cleft of her buttocks to reach under and lift her onto the wall of the room. Teyla immediately took advantage of the new position by wrapping her legs around Sheppard’s hips so that he was free to move his body up and down, as he stroked her core with his throbbing erection.

Bolts of pleasure shot through Teyla as she felt herself moistening from the friction between their rubbing bodies, and the plunging, stroking action of Sheppard’s tongue as he continued to plunder her mouth. It had always amazed her how quickly Sheppard could bring her to the point of release; and here it was that even with layers of clothing still separating their flesh, she was close of the point of ultimate release.

Galvanizing into action, Teyla began to rapidly draw off her clothing. Her top, then bra was quickly tossed away as Sheppard lifted her off the wall and walked over to his sleeping platform. He gently laid her on the platform as she fumbled with her belt and pants, finally managing to draw them off. She reached for Sheppard’s belt only to have him push her back down onto the platform as he drew off her panties and sank between her splayed legs.

Sheppard inhaled Teyla’s special scent and as always, it drove him wild with desire to taste her…to devour her as if she was the rarest of fruits to be savored. He quickly stabbed his hot tongue into her throbbing core and tasted her nectar. Teyla’s sharp intake of breath was music to Sheppard’s ears and he repeated his action, drawing forth an answering moan of pleasure which became a groan as he allowed his teeth to lightly graze her swollen clit. Lifting her hips and spreading her legs even wider, he proceeded to lap at her moist center, using his tongue and lips to alternatively stroke and sucked on her throbbing core, working her into a state of frenzied need.

Teyla’s moans of pleasure excited Sheppard beyond reason, and he reached down to unzip his pants to free his engorged flesh from the confines of his pants. The aching flesh surged into his hand, prompting him to stroke the hard length, pleasuring himself as he continued to pleasure Teyla with his tongue. Before long, Sheppard’s deeper groans and gasps of pleasure mixed with Teyla’s loud cries of ecstasy, which filled the air as she reached the pinnacle of orgasmic release.

Teyla never knew when Sheppard shed his clothing, she simply felt him climb between her legs and position his cock at her still throbbing entrance. She wrapped her legs around him to urge him into her moist center. One push, then another and another, and he had fully entered her tight passage, filling her with his ardor. Their bodies moved in the Ages old rhythm as John stroked her passion until she was once more groaning with every plunge of his slick, hard cock. She met each stroke head on and returned the pleasure in full measure.

Neither knew which started to climax first. Teyla felt the increased tension in John’s body and his cock seemed to get even harder as he plunged deeper and deeper into her. His body strained and he arched his back as the powerful orgasm ripped through him, causing him to groan loudly as he called her name over and over like a mantra:

“Teyla…Teyla…Teyla…Teyla.”

As always, his climax triggered hers. Teyla ground her swollen clit against his plunging cock as the ripples of pleasure shot through her body. She felt him pump his warm seed into her and the nerve endings at her core responded by sending another ripple shooting through her body as she experienced a second wave of orgasms.

The aftershocks of orgasmic release were still sending tiny tremors through Sheppard when he rolled onto his side, taking Teyla with him. They were still connected and he gently stroked her arms as he tenderly kissed her. She returned his kiss and laid her head on his shoulder to wait. His sigh of frustration was not long in coming. Their lovemaking had served the purpose of distracting him from his anger, but she knew that the real issue would continue to plague him…Ronon and Nayleia.

“I have to go back for them Teyla,” he said softly nuzzling her hair.

“I know. I would be disappointed in you if you didn’t go back. But John, Dr Weir was right to stop us from returning immediately. We needed to plan our strategy very carefully.”

“I know she’s right, but Teyla…Ronon would never leave me behind in such a situation, I should have stayed and fought!” Sheppard punched the pillow next to him and pushing Teyla aside, launched himself off the bed to pace up and down.

“I could have fired some warning shots! I could have wounded some of them to scare off the rest! Anything besides turn my back, and leave!” Sheppard shouted to no one in particular.

“John, you did the right thing. You made an accurate assessment of the situation and took your only option…you withdrew. There was no way the three of you could have chased off the Lahalans and carried both Nayleia and Ronon back to the Gate. If you had tried, the Lahalans would have over run you before you could have lifted up even one of them, far less both. Besides, I think Ronon will be able to take care of himself for a few hours, especially with the precautions Dr Beckett insisted we all take.”

Teyla’s assessment of the situation was as always a reasonable one. Sheppard had in fact weighed their chances of carrying both Ronon and Nayleia to the Gate before the Lahalans recovered. He was not a cold blooded murderer, so he knew that firing his P-90 into the Lahalans was not an option. Despite the lack of alternatives, it both helped and hurt to hear Teyla’s calm assessment and support of his decision.

“So Colonel, what’s it to be? Are you going to second guess yourself, or are you going to spend the next few hours resting so you’ll be ready for the raid tonight?” Teyla asked, laying back onto the pillows in a provocative pose.

Sheppard stared at her curves and firm warrior’s body and felt himself hardening again. He grasped his cock and slowly slid his hands up and down along the length, teasing Teyla with his version of a provocative image. A wicked grin appeared on his face as he walked towards her and climbed back onto the sleeping platform.

“Alright I concur…Ronon can take care of himself and Nayleia for a few hours. Now that you mentioned it, I can see that you’re right. Ronon probably is very happy to have the opportunity to repay them for their ‘hospitality’ towards him on his last visit. Yes…I think I’ll let the Lahalans entertain Ronon for a few hours,” Sheppard said as he sank down next to Teyla and pulled her into his arms.

“I definitely think some entertainment is in order,” Sheppard said, as he grasped one of Teyla’s firm breasts and sucked on the puckered nipple. “I have some really special entertainment in mind for us, for the next few hours.”


**********

Ronon awoke gasping and sputtering, as a flood of cold water was forcefully dashed into his face. His first instinct was to launch himself at his assailant who he heard chuckling wickedly as the sheets of water rivulets blurred his vision. He felt the sensation of being held back and was pulled up short causing his forward momentum to send him falling back to his rump with a thump!

He was tied down, with his hands bound behind him using sturdy cord, the trailing end of which was secured to the wall of the hut. As quickly as it had started, the torrent of water stopped, allowing Ronon time to shake his head to clear his vision. The tableau spread before him was one he had experienced before:

Two sturdy Lahalan men were advancing towards him, and Janta his arch-nemesis, was holding a bowl from which emanated a familiar smell. The Lahalans grabbed his shoulders and forced his head backwards. Ronon fought against his bonds but only managed to rub his wrists raw from the tight cord. He heard Janta laugh out again at his antics, before she came to stand over him with her foul brew.

“I think you enjoyed your stay here so much you decided to return for more of my ‘special’ treatment,” she said grinning. “Cover his nose and hold him steady!” she instructed her helpers before she gradually upended the bowl over Ronon’s tightly shut mouth.

Ronon felt like he was drowning. The liquid in Janta’s bowl flowed over his mouth, preventing him from taking a breath without swallowing the vile brew. In the end self preservation won out and Ronon opened his mouth to breathe.

The brew tasted as disgusting as he remembered from his last visit. He tried to hold his breath again to limit the amount he was forced to swallow, but Janta simply waited him out. At the first sign that he was taking a breath, she upended a greater flow of the liquid; until she was satisfied that he had swallowed enough of the drug.

Janta stepped back and signaled to the men holding Ronon to let him go. He fell over sputtering as Janta and her minions looked on.

“You truly are a defiant one. Would you like to rip my head off?” Janta said sneering at Ronon as he struggled into a crouching position and stared at her darkly, promising great retribution.

“I’ve always found a strong man attractive,” Janta said as she leaned forward to run her hands over Ronon’s chest, straying downwards to his lower abdomen, “you definitely intrigue me. Who knows, maybe after Harla has amused herself with you and that traitorous bitch of a sister, Nayleia, she might give you to me. Would you like that?”

“The only thing I’d like right now is a chance to as you said ‘rip your head off’,” Ronon said softly, his deadly look let Janta know that he meant it.

“Cur!” She cried, roughly grabbing his crotch with her hand.

“Do you really think you can have her? Even as we speak, another present is being prepared for her. Harla didn’t like the job you did the last time, so she’s gotten someone else to take care of Nayleia; and guess what…you get to watch as you BURN!”

Janta angrily backhanded Ronon as she rose, having completed her vicious mission. Ronon found himself struggling like a mad man to burst free of his bonds. The thought of Nayleia being harmed drove him over the edge into a berserker rage that had Janta laughing uproariously as she and her minions strode out of the hut, barring the door behind them.


**********

The sound of heavy footsteps returning drew Ronon out of the meditative state he had willed himself into following Janta’s visit. His internal clock told him that approximately three hours had passed since he was given Janta’s brew, which meant it was sometime in the late evening. He rolled over onto his side allowing several loud groans to escape his lips as he twitched restlessly on the lone pallet. Three sets of footsteps came to a halt outside the hut and Ronon heard the bolt being drawn so that the door could open.

“Ah, I see he is properly subdued,” he heard Janta say as she stood near the entrance to the hut.

Another series of groans escaped Ronon’s lips as he struggled to turn around to face Janta. He finally managed to stare at her through pain filled eyes that left no doubt in her mind that he would attack her if he could. Janta returned his stare with a sneer of her own, she then signaled to her companions to release his bonds from the wall of the hut, and carry him out.

Ronon was carried only a short distance into another building which he recognized from his previous visit. Harla’s audience chamber was lit with several torches and was filled with about ten persons who sat about uncomfortably on low benches and cushions. Ronon was dragged to the far corner and once more tethered to the wall, where he lay writhing on the dirt floor in obvious pain and discomfort.

Nayleia was dragged into the chamber next. She was dressed in a short shift and her face was once more fainted with the Lahalan designs she had worn all her life. She was roughly pushed onto a sleeping platform positioned near the center of the room and her hands were tied to a stake protruding from the dirt floor. She scrambled to her knees and hissed at Harla where she sat observing from the sidelines.

“I hate you Harla! You’re pathetic! I’ll never allow you to break me!” Nayleia cried in defiance.

“Oh I think I’ll be able to break you. Look how easily I’ve managed to reduce your ‘rescuer’ to a sniveling idiot!” Harla shouted back at Nayleia, pointing to Ronon’s prone form.

Nayleia turned to where Harla pointed and for the first time realized that Ronon was already in the chamber. Her first impulse was to reach towards him, but her tether pulled her up short. She was shocked to see him twitching on the floor and groaning uncontrollably. This latter, more than anything else frightened her. She remembered well the fateful night she had spent with him. Impressed on her mind was his resolve to suffer quietly. Through it all, he had made almost no sound. Now…here he was groaning and moaning just like any other of Janta’s victims.

“What have you done to him Harla! I’ll kill you if you’ve harmed him!” Nayleia cried, feeling tears threaten as she watched him pluck at his crotch and clothing, trying to remove it, all the while groaning through clenched teeth.

“You should be more concerned about your own fate, Nayla.” Harla said, using Nayleia’s childhood name making no attempt to hide the contempt she had felt for Nayleia even as a child.

Signaling Janta, Harla sat back to watch as a large bound man was brought into the chamber. The man wore only a loin cloth and was covered in a sheen of sweat. Janta dragged him to the stand in front of Harla, who watched warily as he struggled to remain standing, so obvious was his discomfort. Harla nodded and his loin cloth was quickly removed, leaving him standing naked in front of those gathered.

“I believe he will do an adequate job Janta, what do you think?” Harla asked her chief lieutenant in amusement as she stared at his fully engorge penis, which strained away from him, so great was his arousal.

“He’ll do,” Janta replied, roughly grabbing the inflamed organ and drawing a groan from the man as she manipulated him.

The man was then led to the platform where Nayleia lay watching warily. Janta cut his bonds with her knife, then pushing him onto Nayleia, stood back to watch.

Nayleia rolled as far away from the man as her bonds would allow, but he still managed to grab her leg and drag her back beneath him.

Nayleia was being smothered by the weight of the man above her. He held her arms over her head as he roughly kneed her legs apart. Tears of frustration came to her eyes when his calloused hands reached to drag her shift higher. Nayleia turned her head towards Ronon, hoping he was too far gone to realize what was about to happen to her. She could only stare in horror as she realized he was no longer groaning, but lay quietly staring at her attacker with death in his eyes.

Ronon felt a maddening rage ignite inside his head as he watched the drugged man grab Nayleia and roughly knee open her legs in preparation for his invasion of her body. When he had awoken earlier and found himself once more a prisoner of the Lahalans, he had silently thanked Dr Beckett for his foresight in administering an antidote to Janta’s favorite brew. He had no idea where Nayleia was being kept and so immediately decided to play along with Janta as she ‘forced’ him to drink her brew. He had spent the hours afterwards preparing mentally for the time when he was taken to Nayleia to ‘watch’ her debasement.

The urge to smash Janta’s face when she had grabbed his crotch had been great, but Ronon knew it would have given away the rouse. Even so, he had almost relented when he heard the fear in Nayleia’s voice as she shouted to Harla to tell her what had been done to him. Ronon felt proud that she knew him well enough already to know that he would suffer quietly rather than let an enemy know his weakness. His groaning had been to maintain the façade of discomfort; Nayleia had known he would never cry out in that manner unless there was something radically wrong with him.

As Harla and Janta examined the drugged man, Ronon had been using his rolling and twitching movements to hide his true actions. He carefully eased out a blade from his wrist bands and began to saw at his bonds. The blade was less than an inch in length and so it had been easy to conceal from body searches. The cords were not very thick, but the difficult angle and the shortness of the blade made the task a slow, frustrating one.

Ronon had cut halfway through his bonds when Nayleia was pinned down and her dress was roughly dragged up. He had been steadily sawing at the cords, but his rage at the sight of the drugged man’s actions seemed to give him inhuman strength.

“ARRGUH!”

Ronon shouted out his anger as he flexed his muscles, bursting open the cords the rest of the way. He ignored the pandemonium that broke out as he vaulted across the chamber and slammed a large fist into the head of Nayleia’s assailant. A normal man would have fallen unconscious immediately, but Janta’s drugs seemed to give the man extra strength and he unsteadily rose from where he had fallen and faced Ronon.

Ronon smiled grimly as he saw the man take up a staff and advance towards him. He shook his hands to encourage the return of full circulation and then waited for his adversary to come to him. The man swung the staff in a mighty arc towards Ronon, intending to smash open his head. At the last moment Ronon spun out of the way while simultaneously using his momentum to bring his knee up to the off-balanced man’s chest with a crunching sound that left no doubt that several ribs had been broken. The man fell to the ground, grabbing his chest in pain and spitting blood.

The attack came just as Ronon was turning away from his downed adversary. He had just enough time to react as Nayleia shouted a warning to him. He had been so focused on destroying Nayleia’a attacker that he had given Janta time to sneak up on him. She swung her staff at his head, missing by just a hair as he quickly reacted to Nayleia’s warning. As he rolled away from Janta he managed to take up the downed man’s staff and come to his feet with it in his hands. Eyeing the staff in Ronon’s hand, Janta stepped back and signaled to her guards to engage him.

The skill of the attacking guards was better than adequate. Apparently the villagers prized this form of defense very highly and trained hard to perfect their skill. Unfortunately for them, Ronon had trained all his life in every kind of combat possible and had mastered all the ways of dealing death. The fight lasted no more than a few minutes as in ones or twos the guards attacked Ronon, only to have their blows fended off by his quick staff passes. His anger was great, but it was not directed at the guards and so he did not do major damage to any of them. A few sprains, sore abdomens and arms were the extent of the injuries of the groaning men as they rolled around on the ground. Ronon’s benevolence did not extend to Janta, and as he turned to her once more. She saw it in his eyes. He meant to kill her.

“Your time has come Janta.” Ronon’s deadly whisper sent chills up Janta’s spine which she resolutely ignored.

“You think because you have defeated these minions you can destroy me? Fool…my skill far surpasses theirs, how do you think I became head of the village security?” Janta delivered her challenge as she raised her staff in anticipation of Ronon’s strike.

With a lift of his eye brow at her confidence, he swung around his staff to deliver the first of what was supposed to be flurry of blows, only to have it intercepted by another staff.

Ronon spun around on the new threat, and was about to deliver a counterstrike when he saw that the offending staff was held by Teyla.

“What?” Ronon pulled his blow back in surprise at his team mate’s appearance.

“Teyla!” Ronon shouted in ill concealed jubilation.

As he looked around he saw that she had not come alone, the rest of his team and Major Lorne’s had surrounded the gathered Lahalans.

“I suggest you step back Ronon, this will be settled by someone closer to Janta’s size; that way it will be a fair fight.” Teyla said to him, her attention fully focused on Janta who was returning Teyla’s stare in full measure.

Ronon recognized the steel behind Teyla’s words and saw her lock eyes with Janta in an ages old battle of wills. There was only one person besides himself that he trusted to give Janta the lesson she deserved, using the weapon she obviously prized. Teyla had never let him down. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ronon lowered his staff and stepped back.

~Janta doesn’t know it yet, but she has just met her match! ~ Ronon thought grimly, as he strode to the sidelines to observe the tableau unfold.

TBC