SG–1 had been reported dead, lost in the harsh cold of a planet caught in the depths of an ice age. In defiance of the odds they'd returned, confused and dirty, but in good shape. The truth was they had nearly died, but instead of exposure, the cause would have been lies, deception, and petty vengeance. Calder, an administrator on P3R–118, had seized the team, forced a memory stamp of false personalities upon them, and sent them to work as slave labor in an underground boiler room that provided heat for the domed city above them. For weeks, the team lived under spartan conditions filled with hard, physical labor. Despite their severe disadvantages of being out–numbered, out–armed, and not even having a clear idea of who they really were, SG–1 had managed to return home safely with fifty–one of their fellow laborers in tow. SG–1 was quickly separated from the large group and sent to the infirmary. Eventually, a surprised but very relieved Dr. Fraiser, pronounced them filthy — but relatively healthy — and sent them off to the showers.
* * * * *
Still disoriented, Daniel Jackson trailed Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c into SG–1's locker room. He stood and watched as Jack and Teal'c went directly to their cubicles, shedding their homespun garments with relish as they moved confidently about the room. He frowned worriedly. Why were his memories not supplying him with the details of what he was supposed to be doing in here? What was wrong with him? Why was his recovery taking so long? Teal'c had regained his memories on P3R–118 through kelnoreem, and Jack's had come back in a sudden flood while he'd slept. How could they be so acclimatized while he was still wading though two sets of memories, neither of them complete?
During his captivity, Daniel had been imprinted with the personality of Carlin, a strong, self–assured man. While Daniel had lived in the mines for weeks, all that had happened to him had been seen through Carlin's eyes and interpreted from Carlin's point of view. The memories were, in fact, Carlin's, and Daniel worried that he would never be able to absorb those images and feel that they were his own. The past few weeks seemed like a dream, or worse — somebody else's dream — and now he was having trouble accessing his previous memories; his real memories. Had they been erased somehow?
He eventually found the cubicle with his name on it, although he'd had to stare at the letters until he could put sounds to them. Clean, fresh–smelling clothes hung in an orderly fashion and a half dozen brightly colored bottles sat on the shelves; but what were they for? Stalling for time while he considered them, he slowly pulled off his rough–woven shirt. As it slid down his arms, the material caught on a twist of cloth around his left wrist. Puzzled by the strange adornment, he held his arm close to his face so he could see it better. It was dull in color and tied snugly by a large knot. He fingered the tight loops and remembered….
* * * * *
Carlin stood with Brenna on the metal catwalk and stared down at dozens of curious faces.
"This is Carlin!" she shouted. "How many would seek him out?"
A large number of hands shot up, and voices both male and female gave hearty assent.
Brenna took a long rag out of her pocket and tied it around his wrist. "This will give you leave to go to the Red Chamber for a few hours after the evening meal each night," she told him.
"The Red Chamber? I don't understand."
"It is the place where workers may seek pleasure with one another. Efficiency must be maintained at all costs. When sex was forbidden, many workers spent too much time thinking about it rather than concentrating on their work. Now we know it is better for workers to have daily access to partners who they find pleasing to look at. You will go to the Red Chamber every night and join with any who seek you out; it is your honor — and your duty — to serve. Our lives — our very existence — depend upon our ability to work without distraction."
Later that night, and every night afterwards, he went to the Red Chamber. It had bare, rough–hewn rock walls, and a number of pallets and cots strewn about. One small brazier was the only source of heat and light, its soft, warm glow leaving most of the room in deep shadow. Night after night, low moans, grunts, and harsh breathing surrounded Carlin as he lowered himself into the arms of the men and women who sought him out.
He remembered strong bodies without faces, the pungent smells of sweat and sex, and the sharp slap of bare skin rhythmically striking more bare skin. He remembered feeling overwhelmed and when he did, he remembered becoming tense with a desperate need to be equal with — if not in control of — his companions. How many partners had he been with? Men, women; it hadn't mattered. They'd all stood before him wearing the same expression of hunger while they shed their clothes. Firelight burnished their curves and muscles, stripping away everything about them until all that was left was the one basic, primitive need to find release with another body. He did what was expected of him, but it didn't change how he felt. He knew something was very wrong and it worried him that he didn't know what.
* * * * *
Back in the harsh white glare of SG–1's locker room, Teal'c's muscular fingers closed over the knot and picked at its tight coils. Time froze as another wave of Carlin's memories struck Daniel. Shocked, he looked up and met Teal'c's dark, intense eyes. Suddenly, another version of Teal'c superimposed itself over his friend and he remembered….
* * * * *
Carlin lay back on his mat, nude and propped on his elbows. He glanced up and saw Tor towering over him, wearing an expression as hungry as everyone else's, but with a wildness in his eyes. He looked dangerous as he jerked the drawstring of his pants. "I will have you," he announced, his voice taut with some hidden strain.
'Bold,' Carlin thought as he nervously licked his lips. Tor was physically alarming, but at the same time, Carlin was excited by the immense, yet barely restrained power he exuded. With some trepidation, he eyed Tor's body, captivated by his powerful thighs and the way his muscles rippled as Tor stepped free of his discarded garment. Tor's cock, long, thick and hard, swung heavily as the big man straightened back up. Carlin cleared his throat. "I thought you never wanted me to speak to you again."
Tor stared hard at Carlin, so hard that Carlin suddenly wondered if he could see something Carlin couldn't. Nearby, two men moaned and Tor glanced briefly at their eager coupling. "I…I want you," Tor growled, kneeling between Carlin's spread legs. Leaning forward, Tor dipped his hand into a basin of high–grade engine lubricant that was placed beside each pallet. He massaged the golden oil over his jutting erection and inched closer. Grabbing one of Carlin's legs, he stretched it up and extended it slightly outwards. As his gaze slowly travelled down Carlin's leg, Tor's breathing grew harsher and his lips curled back in a snarl as he stared ravenously at Carlin's genitals. Tor's hold tightened painfully on Carlin's ankle at the same moment he penetrated the younger man with slick fingers, sliding inside him with the same circular motion that worked so well when oiling a pipefitting. Then he caught Carlin's other leg and settled them both on his shoulders. He pressed forward, doubling Carlin in two as he set his hands on either side of Carlin's head. "I will have you," Tor gritted out, clenching his muscles and blindly seeking entrance.
Tor's need and intensity was powerful and Carlin felt himself caught in the overriding desire that radiated from the other man. He slid his hands up the thick muscles of Tor's upper arms and shoulders and stared into the slightly crazed eyes. By rights, he should be frightened — Tor was very strong and was seething like a boiler about to explode. He had Carlin pinned in an extremely vulnerable position, but instead of being afraid, Carlin only felt the heat of raw lust. Fear was swept away by the need to know; he had to touch and be touched by Tor's passion, no matter the cost.
"I must have you," Tor gasped, curling tighter, winding like a spring around Carlin's body. Carlin felt Tor's cock probing at him and he shifted position until the organ was aligned and pressed against his oiled sphincter.
"Then take me," he urged. He pushed his heels into Tor's broad back, the only purchase he could find that enabled him to push his ass towards Tor.
A feral smile lit Tor's face and he thrust forward, slow and strong. "Yes," he groaned as he imbedded himself deeply.
Carlin was stretched, filled, invaded deep to the core. He gasped and felt the beginnings of panic. He had no control over this and was completely at Tor's mercy, pinned as he was with his body splayed open for the other man's pleasure. He gripped Tor's shoulders as the large man began his strokes, slow and deep. Tor stared unblinking at Carlin with an intensity that calmed the younger man. His other partners hadn't bothered with eye contact; they had only sought him out for his body and spent most of their time looking at it, or with their eyes closed. Tor, on the other hand, was memorizing Carlin's face, adjusting his movements as he gauged Carlin's reactions to his thrusts. The attention and the connection between them was incandescent, and Carlin gave himself totally to Tor and the moment.
Tor fucked him relentlessly until Carlin cried out, shooting his seed over his own chest. His expression victorious, Tor lowered his head until he could lap at the viscous fluid and rake his teeth across a sensitive nipple. Restlessly, he hefted Carlin's legs higher and braced his hands closer together, gaining better leverage. He quickened his pace and pistoned ruthlessly into Carlin's pliant body until he suddenly froze as if in great pain, his muscles rigid as he came.
When Tor's joints began to unlock, he slowly extracted himself from Carlin, his fingers lingering over Carlin's slick skin as their two bodies separated. Straightening up, Tor trapped one of Carlin's long legs before it could fall away and rubbed his cheek against it. He pressed a kiss to the ankle while his heavy–lidded eyes stared unblinkingly at the younger man. Tor was still breathing hard, and the warm, moist air gusted over Carlin's leg, stimulating its hair and sending electric shivers through his flesh.
Carlin marvelled at how peaceful Tor now seemed; gone was his earlier restless agitation. Carlin stretched languidly and realized he also felt more at peace. His joinings with all the other workers, while they had provided physical release, left him feeling empty and dissatisfied. His coupling with Tor sated desires that he hadn't even realized he had. He rubbed his free leg against Tor's thigh and even that felt good to him.
For the next two nights, Tor returned to Carlin's pallet and claimed the younger man before any other could. Their joinings were just as intense, hard, and needy as the first time. On the third day, Tor fell ill and was taken away. Unsettled, Carlin took to wearing his quilted jacket so that no one would see the cloth bracelet that proclaimed him available for sex; he had no desire to go to the Red Chamber if Tor was not there. Instead, he concentrated on what Tor had first said, on his own strange lack of memories, and why Jona and Thera also seemed important to him.
* * * * *
Teal'c finished untying the cloth bracelet and pressed the scrap of material into Daniel's hand. He stared unblinking at Daniel, his expression composed and serene. Daniel stared back, his mouth open and his eyes so wide he could feel his eyebrows arch up into his bangs.
"Oh!" Confusion overwhelmed him as he realized Teal'c must've also remembered. Flustered, he began blinking rapidly.
"Daniel Jackson, you have regained your memories. No doubt you will have questions. When you are ready, I will strive to answer your questions, my friend." He stepped forward and grasped Daniel firmly by the shoulders. "Know that I hold you in the highest regard and with great affection. I do not regret what has occurred between us on P3R–118."
Teal'c bowed his head respectfully, but before he'd fully turned to walk into the showers, Daniel thought he caught a glimpse of the barest of smiles on the normally taciturn face.
"Oh," Daniel repeated to the now empty room. Well, obviously Teal'c did not have a problem with this, er, strange turn of events.
Daniel reviewed Carlin's memories and he felt a warm flush spread over his face. Teal'c was right: there were a lot of questions. Big questions. Carlin and Tor's attraction to each other — where did that come from, if not from how Daniel and Teal'c felt about each other? Did the actions of Tor and Carlin mean that Teal'c and Daniel desired sex with each other, or was it the natural attraction of friendship that had been misinterpreted by the unnatural environment? And if it was merely friendship, why did they both feel so, so complete after they had sex? Incredible sex. Blistering sex. Fuck me 'til I'm raw sex.
Oh boy.
Daniel fingered the cloth strip thoughtfully, but instead of tossing it into the trash, he carefully slipped it between the pages of a notebook he kept in his cubicle. He had questions, but the more he thought about what he and Teal'c had shared, the more he realized he didn't have a problem with it either.
END