A Cure for Boredom

God, I’m bored. I hurt all over; my arms, drawn up and backwards over my head, my legs, which are barely holding me upright, and my wrists, chafing and sore where the manacles rub against my bare skin.

This mission has been a complete and total waste of time.

“How much longer?” I ask in frustration.

Martouf looks up from his seat on the floor. “Quite a while, Samantha,” he says quietly, knowing how on edge I am. “O’Neill and the others should reach the Stargate within another hour or so, and then they will have to arrange for our retrieval.”

We had been so arrogantly certain of ourselves, coming to this planet. The Tok’ra had found its gate address, the world itself having been abandoned long ago. But the former inhabitants had been quite advanced, and the lure of free technology led us here. The Tok’ra couldn’t spare anyone but Martouf for an initial survey, and so they invited us to help if we wished, with the promise that we would share in any gains. It was a tempting offer, one we’d been glad to accept.

But we didn’t count on the fact that there would be other scavengers ahead of us, or that they’d be formidable opponents. Teal’c was the first to be wounded -- that alone should have warned us what we were up against. In short order, he was cornered, along with Colonel O’Neill and Daniel, and stripped of weapons. Martouf and I managed to slip away in the first rush of battle, retreating to better assess how to free the rest of my team. We were in the ruins of an abandoned city and quickly found hiding places, but then another group came looking for us and we got separated. In short order, I’d been surrounded, but whoever they were, this race had strong taboos against harming women. Lucky me.

So after taking all my weapons and gear away, they brought me here to this building, which must have been a prison at one time, and put me in this cell, chaining me to the wall so I couldn’t escape. Impeccably polite in their apologies, the aliens told me that they would retreat, and set the rest of my team free once they had gathered some supplies. They had no interest in further knowledge of us, nor any intention of harming us; but they didn’t want to be followed, and we should stay off this planet in the future.

Somehow, I don’t think General Hammond’s going to have a problem with that. An abandoned world which seems to be a weapons repository for violent xenophobic aliens, nope, we’ll leave it alone, no problem whatsoever.

After I’d been calling out for my team for about half an hour, the Colonel and Martouf managed to find me. Their weapons and gear had been confiscated, so they had nothing with which to pry the manacles out of the wall. A quick search for a key also came up empty. They couldn’t even find anything with which to pick the lock. The metal itself was surprisingly strong and untarnished, given the amount of time this world’s been empty -- at least four hundred years, Daniel speculated.

But Teal’c and Daniel were wounded and needed to get back to Earth, and Colonel O’Neill needed to go with them to see them home safely. Martouf volunteered to stay and keep me company until Colonel O’Neill and some other SGC people can come back and get me out of these damned cuffs.

“Well,” I muse, talking to keep myself from going completely insane with boredom, “when they come back, they’ll most likely bring ATVs, so it’s not like it will take them long to get to us. Although my arms might have fallen off by then.”

Martouf looks up at me curiously. “ATVs? To what are you referring?”

“All terrain vehicles,” I explain. “They can drive them here, and we can ride back, so once they organize everything they need, it should only take about half an hour for them to get here. I just hope they don’t need to use a blow torch to cut these manacles away from the wall.”

Martouf smiles, shaking his head. “I am certain that will not be necessary,” he tells me soothingly. Looking at the cuffs speculatively, he asks, “Are your wrists bothering you?” I nod tersely, and he looks at the hem of his shirt, considering. With a few sharp jerks, he manages to tear off some of the material, then stands up. “Hold still. I will use these to protect your wrists so the metal does not hurt it as much.”

I sigh in relief as he slowly wraps the scraps of fabric around the manacles so that they shield my skin from the metal.

“Is that better?”

“Yes, much,” I thank him. “Now if you could just do something about the lack of circulation in my arms?” My arms have been over my head for a long time now, and they’re beyond numb.

Unable to conceal a small grin at the ridiculousness of my position, he stands in front of me and begins rubbing his hands up and down my arms, massaging away some of the aches and twinges. I groan as the numbness fades away, bringing pins and needles in its wake. I can be patient, I can stand this, but the next time the Tok’ra High Council sends us a message asking us for our assistance, I think I might just give them a good thwap upside their heads.

After my arms are feeling somewhat more normal, he lowers his hands to my neck and shoulders, continuing the massage. Sighing, I let my head fall back against the stone wall, smiling appreciatively. A few moments later, when I open my eyes again, my breath catches in my throat.

I know that look in his eyes. Hell, part of me remembers that look. Sometimes at night, Jolinar’s memories invade my sleep, and after that mission to Netu I had almost a week of continuous dreams of Martouf. His eyes burn into mine, and I have no doubt in my mind what he’s thinking about.

We’re not likely to be interrupted any time soon. I can feel the warmth radiating off his body, standing so close to mine, almost touching. This situation is slightly kinkier than anything I’ve ever been in, but that’s not the problem.

The problem is I’m not really sure if I should do this. With one quick movement, I could lean my head forward and capture those soft lips, and have him completely in my power. Instinctively, I know exactly what he would like, what he’d respond to. But I most definitely have not sorted out my feelings for him, and I’m not exactly the type to have a casual fling, especially when Martouf might think I mean more from my actions than simple lust.

Then again, where has following my instincts gotten me? My traitorous mind reminds me of the indiscretions my teammates have had in the past, the names quickly coming to mind: Kynthia, Shyla, and Kira, to name a few. The guys of SG-1 aren’t always known for their ability to keep it in their pants, and if I’m completely honest with myself, while outwardly I looked at them with exasperation, part of me felt just a little jealous.

How long has it been since I let myself be thoughtless, let myself just take a man for no other reason than the fact that I could? Since I began working at the SGC, I’ve been so good, the model officer, even surrounded by three very attractive coworkers most of the time. Don’t think I’ve never wondered about them, and I know I’ve been the recipient of some mental undressing on occasion. We may be a team, and we probably wouldn’t act on anything, but we’re not blind and we’re not dead.

The hell with it. I’m sick of being good.

I lean forward, staring at his lips. Those soft, parted lips, moistened when he slowly runs his tongue along the edge of his mouth. He sighs, resting his hands on my shoulders, then letting one hand slide up to cradle the back of my head. Sensually, his fingers tangle in my hair, and I lean back against his supporting hand, the discomfort of my position a minor annoyance I can ignore.

His other hand reaches up to trace the line of my jaw, and I turn my head, pressing a kiss against his palm, letting him know my inclinations. He leans in to brush his lips against my neck, finally permitting himself to press his body against mine, pinning me against the wall.

Suddenly, I feel as though I’m on fire for him, already feeling that welcome dampness between my legs, the melting sensation of his body over mine. Gasping as his mouth teases my neck, I curse these manacles that won’t let me touch him, but from the blatant evidence of his arousal against my thigh, I know that he doesn’t consider it to be a problem.

“So beautiful,” I hear him whisper, as he drops his hands to my waist, untucking my shirt. “My sweet Samantha...”

I pull back as much as I can and wait for him to look at me. “I don’t want you to misunderstand me, Martouf,” I tell him bluntly. “I want you. That doesn’t mean I’m making a committment here.”

He raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t seem too surprised, or even disappointed. Perhaps he knows me better than I thought? “No promises,” he agrees slowly, boldly reaching under my shirt as he covers my mouth with his. His hand brushes aside the fabric of my bra, skillfully rubbing my nipples into aching hardness, and I moan softly as he traces my lips with his tongue. “So sweet,” he whispers again, as I tense my muscles in frustration. My limited movements have me at his mercy, the enforced restraint leaving me breathless with need.

Wrapping his arms around me, he embraces me tightly and nudges my thighs apart as he slides one leg between them, grinding his hips against mine. I brace my feet against the stone floor, trying to put as little pressure on my wrists as possible, and shudder as his mouth trails up and down my neck.

Stepping back, he smiles at me, his eyes alight with desire, and kneels down to take off my boots, slowly running his hands along my legs. Quickly loosening the laces, he helps me kick them off, then moves his hands to my belt, leaning in to kiss me again, laughing when I nibble on his lower lip.

“Patience,” he scolds me, scattering kisses along my throat, and dodges my kick with ridiculous ease.

I swallow, breathing hard, and glare at him. “Bastard.”

He only laughs harder, removing his shirt and tossing it aside. I stare at his smooth expanse of skin, wanting to run my hands all over him, wanting to taste him, and tremble with exasperation.

“Perhaps,” he agrees, unbuttoning my pants and pulling down the zipper. “But I have you in such an interesting position, Samantha. It would be a shame not to take advantage of it.” He then strips off as much of my clothing as possible, pushing my shirt and bra behind my head, lightly running his hands across any exposed skin all the while. Of course, he’s still mostly dressed, blithely ignoring my threats of retribution and demands that he disrobe as well.

At this point, if I weren’t so turned on, I’d be seriously rethinking this whole situation. He was supposed to be eating out of my hands by this point, damn it! Even if I am chained up at the moment, I’m supposed to be the one in control here! Instead, Martouf, who I always thought was so easygoing, has turned out to have as much of a malicious streak as I do. Maybe Lantash is being a bad influence on him?

Lazily, he looks me up and down, the naked desire on his face making me sigh with renewed longing. With another wicked grin, he takes me in his arms again, one hand trailing up and down my back, and kissing my shoulders just softly enough to keep me aching for more.

Finally, I’ve had enough of being proud. I’m so frustrated that I can barely see straight, but there’s just enough stubbornness left in me that the words come out grudgingly. “Please,” I whisper, trying in vain to get closer to him.

His face is a study in smug satisfaction. “Please, what?” he teases me.

I roll my eyes, wanting to aim another hard kick at him, but restrain myself. I don’t want to injure him anywhere vital until I’m done with him. “Take me,” I plead, wanting to smack that arrogant smile off his face, vowing to myself that even though I told him there was no commitment involved, I will arrange at least one more time for us to be together for the sole purpose of revenge. He’s earned it, and I will deliver.

In response, he pushes me roughly up against the wall, lowering his mouth to my breasts. Unable to stop myself, I gasp and whimper at the intense sensations. “Martouf,” I sigh, eyes squeezed shut, legs shaking. Through the roaring in my ears, I hear the sound of rustling cloth, and when I open my eyes again, he’s finally undressed. I let my gaze linger on his erection, no longer caring how amusing he finds this situation.

His voice is hoarse with desire. “Shall I continue?” he asks me.

“Yes,” I gasp, as he presses his warm skin against mine, his arousal trapped between us. Slowly bending his knees, he tilts his hips so that his erection comes to rest between my legs, pressing against my swollen flesh. Then, our mouths meeting again, fierce and demanding, we rub against each other shamelessly, groaning and crying out and generally making a hell of a lot of noise. I’m past any sense of decorum or pride, I want him as soon as humanly possible, and judging by his harsh breathing, he’s in a similar state.

At last, with a helpless moan of my name, he surrenders to my demands, and gently lifts me against the wall. I wrap my legs around his hips, choking back a sob of desire as he finally lowers me onto his hard shaft. He shudders as he slides into me, a look of sensual ecstasy on his face.

Supporting my weight easily, he presses me back against the wall, holding me high enough that my wrists don’t pull against my restraints. My arms are once again reaching the point of extreme numbness, but that would be the case no matter what we were doing. I let my head rest against his shoulder, breathing in his warm scent as he slowly begins rocking his hips against mine.

Resigning myself to getting some scratches on my back, I use the rough wall as leverage, pressing myself closer to him as we move together, settling into a leisurely rhythm. He murmurs something in my ear, but I’m beyond comprehension, concentrating only on the feeling of him moving within me. My head spinning, I’m helpless to do anything but react to him as he increases his speed, both of us yielding to this insistent urgency. The room echoes with our passionate cries as he brings me to shattering fulfillment, and I smile in savage satisfaction as he spasms against me, moaning my name against my heated skin.

Still holding me close, he rests his forehead against mine as we gasp for breath, our hearts beating wildly. At last, when I’ve stopped trembling, he gently lowers my legs to the floor, brushing a soft kiss over my lips. When he steps back to look at me, he attempts his usual inscrutable expression, but fails miserably, a slow triumphant smile spreading across his face.

Then, since we can’t be sure how much longer we’ll have before Colonel O’Neill returns, Martouf slowly helps me back into my clothes, stealing kisses, and daring to tickle my ribs before he sees the promise of fatal retribution in my eyes should he continue. Only when I am once again fully dressed does he reach for his own garments, dressing quickly. I may never be able to look at desert camouflage utilities again without blushing.

After another half hour or so of talking, during which time Martouf takes it upon himself to teach me some suggestive slang in the Tok’ra dialect -- after securing my promise that I’ll never repeat any of it front of my father -- Colonel O’Neill and Major Ferretti finally arrive with tools to free me from my restraints. Martouf swings the hammer that breaks the chains away from the wall, and then Ferretti carefully uses a metal saw to cut through the cuffs, after trying in vain to pick the lock. By the time I’m free, I have some more scrapes and cuts on my hands, but given the alternative, I’m not complaining. While I swing my arms around in an attempt to restore feeling to them, Colonel O’Neill fills me in on Daniel and Teal’c’s injuries, and lets us know that they’re going to be fine. I make sure that we take the cuffs with us, since I want to do a metallurgical analysis on them.

Once outside in the blazing sunlight, Ferretti starts explaining the ATV to Martouf, who looks over the vehicle with a critical eye. The Colonel stands by while I continue stretching, although I know by now that the only thing that will soothe away these aches is a long, hot bath.

My commanding officer gets an evil gleam in his eye. “So, Carter,” he murmurs softly enough so that only I hear him, “Hope you weren’t too bored waiting for us to show up.”

I raise my eyebrows. “I survived, sir, but it’s not something I’d care to do again.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he continues, “you don’t seem to have suffered too badly.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

He glances over at Martouf, who is still engrossed in Ferretti’s lecture. “Marty’s got his shirt on inside out.”

I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me blush. “He took it off when he tore off some of the hem to wrap the cuffs, sir,” I lie glibly.

“Oh, okay. That makes sense,” he concedes, and I give a mental sigh of relief. “But that doesn’t explain that impressive hickey on his neck.” I cringe, and he holds his sides, shaking with the effort of containing his laughter. “Carter, you have just ruined my preconceived notions about you.”

Grinding my teeth, I glare at him, which he only finds funnier. “Was there anything else, sir?”

“No, no, that just about covers it,” he whispers, trying to contain his mirth, and hands me my helmet. “You ready?”

As I stalk away, fastening my helmet, he laughs aloud. Oh well, he’ll probably tell Teal’c and Daniel, but I seriously doubt he’ll bring it up during the mission briefing. And unlike one of his more spectacular indiscretions, mine won’t cause me to start aging at an accelerated rate. So there.

Martouf has convinced Major Ferretti that he can easily drive the ATV, so I climb on behind him, while O’Neill waits for Ferretti to put the rest of his gear in his backpack.

Leaning forward, I speak into Martouf’s ear, the rumble of the engines keeping our conversation private. “I know my father’s been teaching you about the Tau’ri and our customs. Has he mentioned any of our slang?”

He thinks for a moment. “Not much of it, except for what he uses in conversation.”

“Has he mentioned the phrase ‘Payback’s a bitch’?”

Smiling, he shakes his head. “He has not, Samantha.” His eyes smolder suggestively as he looks back at me. “I will most likely not be returning to Vorash until tomorrow. Perhaps you could demonstrate later tonight?”

“Count on it,” I promise, as he puts the vehicle in gear, and we head back across the sands towards the Stargate.

fin.

Author’s Notes: Okay, I know this was ludicrous. I saw an adorable little plot bunny and just had to play with it because I have no willpower. Forgive me, and send feedback anyway. Thanks to Bree for the beta, and Heather for preliminary feedback.