Bluffing

Title: Bluffing

Word count: 2335

Summary: Some days it really wasn't worth chewing threw the straps.

A/N: Based off a first line given to me by blueraccoon. Betaed to hell and gone by wesleysgirl and ferret_kitty. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Some days it really wasn't worth chewing through the straps, John thought, staring at the ceiling.

It was peaceful, almost. The ceiling was woven out of something that looked like fragile vines, thick with flowers and smelling like his grandmother's perfume. He was tempted to pretend that he was just resting, like lying here was all his own idea. It was easier on his ego than admitting he couldn't break those slender little vines and had actually fallen on his ass when he'd tried.

But now he had his breath back, and he was going get out of here. Yes, get out here, find his chief scientist, save him from whatever trouble his mouth had gotten him into, and then he was going to kick Rodney's ass.

After all, it was Rodney's fault that he was trapped in here, stripped down to his BDU pants, with nothing else, not even his radio. If Rodney had just for once kept his mouth shut, right now they'd be on their way back to the gate. But he'd had to say something about the fact that the local tribe - nice people, definitely good builders - were using an ancient crystal as a part of the headman's headdress. More than that, he'd touched it without permission. God only knew what the punishment was for that.

What a trip to be missing Ronon and Teyla. But Ronon was still recovering from a broken arm, and Teyla had leader-type things that she'd had to deal with. And this was supposed to have been an easy mission, so John had decided not to postpone it.

Looking back, that might have been a mistake.

Well, nothing to do but to try and get out again, and just as John rocked himself to his feet, the door swung open, and Rodney was shoved inside.

John hurried to Rodney, eyes running over him rapidly, looking for bruises or cuts or some explanation of what had taken so long written on his skin. But Rodney looked perfectly fine, if a little put out, when the door slammed behind him. Like John, he was stripped down to his pants. Unlike John, he seemed embarrassed about this fact, and John realized that he'd never seen him shirtless.

Deciding that the best thing to do was ignore their mutual state of undress entirely, John focused on Rodney's face instead of other parts of his body. "Well?" he demanded.

"Well, what?" Rodney sputtered. "This isn't my fault. Those morons are using an Ancient device as a hat! It's just lucky none of them have the gene or they could have made it explode or something."

"Rodney, you touched it and you have the gene - is it going to explode?"

"Well, no," Rodney admitted. "But it could have! It could have been the Ancient version of a hand grenade that he was wearing in his hair."

Issues of the thing blowing up because Rodney had touched it faded to the background, and John focused once again on the fact that they were locked up. "Did they tell you -"

"And then to get upset just because I made the crystal glow a little bit! It's not like it didn't stop as soon as I let go of it. Can you imagine? They were going to make me stay here and marry one of the chief's daughters!" Rodney looked completely horrified at that, at least. John didn't blame him - he'd seen the daughters.

Wait. Were going... "Rodney? How did you get out of it?"

For the first time, Rodney looked a little uncomfortable, "Well, I might have told them - did you see those girls? They're bigger than I am!"

John grabbed Rodney's shoulder and shook him lightly. "What did you tell them that let you keep your bachelor status intact?"

Rodney dropped his head and stared hard at the floor. "I might have... possibly... implied that we were married."

It took a minute for that to sink in, and then John started laughing, and couldn't stop. He laughed so hard that he ended up on his knees, head buried in his hands. Of all the things that he'd thought of, Rodney telling a bunch of aliens that he was married to John just wasn't even on the list.

"John? John! Stop it! Did you hear what I just said? They think we're married," and now Rodney's voice dropped to what he probably thought was a conspiratory whisper. "They could be listening right now!"

Trying to take some deep breaths, John finally managed to get his laughter under control. "Sorry. Sorry, dear. Of course, we're married - that's why we fight all the time. So I guess calling you McKay is out of the question?"

"Um..."

That didn't sound good. That really didn't sound good at all. Standing back up, John glared at Rodney. "Rodney, what did you do?"

"I told them that you were my wife."

Blink. Grimace. Resist throttling Rodney with bare hands.

When John was sure that he could keep from killing Rodney, he nodded sharply. "Right. And they bought this because I look so much like a woman, of course."

"Well, to be fair, you look more like a woman than their women do!"

John just sunk back on the bed and buried his face in his hands. This wasn't happening. He was going to wake up any moment and discover that he was actually on a Wraith hive ship or in a Go'auld settlement - somewhere peaceful.

When that didn't happen, he sighed and sat up. "Okay. So what's going to happen now, husband?"

"We, ah, apparently have to go to the Feast tonight, and then there was something about a bonding ritual, and then we can go home in the morning."

"Bonding ritual? What the hell?"

"I didn't ask, Major! I was a little busy trying to avoid dying or being married off to a woman who could use me as a toothpick!"

Sighing, John went back to contemplating more peaceful places to be. The middle of a pitched battle, being chased by a drone...

***

The feast actually hadn't been too bad, other than Rodney asking if there was citrus in everything. Their guards had even unbent enough to give them back their shirts when they saw Rodney shiver in the cooling evening air.

By the time the food had all been eaten, John had almost - almost - forgotten about the bonding ritual, whatever the hell that was.

Then he noticed that all the single men and women were slipping away from the fireside, leaving only couples, and he remembered with a suddenness that made his stomach hurt. Oh, shit.

"Tonight, we demonstrate to the gods that we remember their lessons well. Men and women, lovers all, we come together to show them," and that seemed to end the verbal part of the evening, because the headman's wife immediately bent down and kissed him deeply.

Rodney and John looked at each other and then looked around the small clearing, which was full of couples who were stripping out of what little they wore, touching and kissing each other. Looking back at each other, they could see the thought reflected one to the other. "Fuck."

Gender didn't seem to be an issue for the members of the tribe - in addition to the majority of heterosexual couples, there were couples made up of two males or - John elbowed Rodney in the chest for looking - two females.

As the two of them continued to hesitate, the headman looked up from the extended make out session with his wife. "Is there a problem?"

John tried to think fast. There had to be a way out of this. "Our... gods don't like it when... married couples have sex on missions. Forgive us, but it might be best if we went back to our..." cage, cell, safe space, "hut?"

The headman smiled widely. "Ah, but surely your gods don't want to offend our gods? Besides, it's not like you have to have intercourse out here!"

John felt an overwhelming sense of relief. "We don't. That's - "

It was immediately dashed. "No, you don't. As long as you experience pleasure at least once, any way you get there is fine." And then the headman went back to kissing his wife, leaving John and Rodney staring at each other.

Finally, Rodney snorted, "Oh, for god's sake," and leaned forward, grabbing John by the shoulders and leaning in like he was going to kiss John's ear. "In case you haven't noticed, John, we still don't have our guns, and they have a lot of very sharp spears. Lie back and think of Atlantis if you have to, but we're not going to get out of this." Before John could think of another argument, or even tell Rodney that he was okay with the sex, really, it was the audience that was a problem, Rodney's lips were on his ear and then it was too late.

Making out with Rodney McKay was a bit like making out with a tornado. All John could do was hold on and pray as lips moved over John's skin, and hands divested him of his shirt and opened his pants. Right around the time that Rodney was tracing a wet path down over his stomach with his mouth, John realized that he was chanting, "Rodney, god, yes, please, Rodney," over and over again, and when they dipped a bit lower, grazing over the head of his cock, he damn near came.

Dimly, John was aware that this couldn't be the first time Rodney had done this, and he was damn glad for it, since it was so, so good. But mostly, he just did what Rodney wanted, grateful that Rodney was as demanding and clear with his hands as he was with his words.

It took him a moment to realize that Rodney had stopped moving, and he glanced down. Rodney was frozen, his mouth centimeters from John's cock, looking up at him for... permission? Consent? Something that John wasn't real worried about. "Rodney?" John forced himself to think past his dick for a second. "You - you don't have to if you don't want to." But all he could think was, Please don't stop please don't stop please don't stop.

Rodney made a small sound and then slowly sucked John's cock into his mouth, taking him deep on one stroke. John gave a muffled shout and slammed one hand into the ground, trying not to come embarrassingly fast, but it had been a long time since anyone had touched him like this and it wasn't going to take long no matter what he did.

It didn't help that all around him were the soft sounds of moans and sighs, mouths kissing and skin sliding and sex, sex, sex. It was quite possibly the hottest thing he'd ever experienced.

At the last moment, he managed to get his brain wrapped around the fact that Rodney needed to be warned. "I'm gonna... gonna... "

Instead of pulling back, though, Rodney just went down further, took him deeper, and John came with what he would deny to his death was a scream.

Before he had even caught his breath, Rodney had slid up his body and was kissing him desperately, hips rocking against his own. Somehow, he'd lost his pants, and John could feel Rodney's cock as a blaze of heat against his thigh. "Please, John, oh, please don't freak out now, please let me just..."

John reached around Rodney and wrapped his hands over his ass, pulling him in tight while opening his mouth for Rodney's kiss. Murmuring reassurances, he let Rodney move at his own pace until he moaned, and John felt him spill, wet and slick, between them.

From the way that Rodney became a dead weight above him, he must have passed out.

It didn't take long to wake him back up, though, and when the two of them stumbled to their feet, no one noticed. Somehow, they managed to find the small hut that they'd been held in earlier in the day, and collapsed together on the one bed.

John hadn't even gotten his boots off before he was asleep; Rodney sprawled next to him.

***

They woke the next morning to the wonderful sight of their equipment, piled neatly in the corner. As John silently pulled on his vest, attaching the P90 to its clip, Rodney did the same. He was quiet as well, which was unusual for him.

But when he tried to speak, John held up a hand. "We'll talk about it back in Atlantis. Just so you know, though, I'm not angry with you."

Rodney nodded, and together the two of them made their way to the headman's lodge, where they confirmed the trade agreement of medicine for food, and then headed back to the 'gate.

Halfway there, Rodney stopped, grabbing John's shoulders and making him turn to face him. "Wait. I know you said you aren't mad, but I can't stand this anymore. If you're going to hit me or something, would you go ahead and do it?"

"Huh? Why would I hit you?" John asked, confused.

"Because you're a heterosexual male who got put in a position where he had to get a blow job from m -another male? Doesn't that usually require some sort of violence in response?"

A slow smile crept over John's face. "Okay, first of all? Only a moron would turn down a blow job. Second? Who said I was straight? I'm fairly certain that it wasn't me."

Rodney's hand flexed on his shoulder, and when it relaxed, John ducked out from under it and started walking. "Let's go, Rodney. We need to get back to Atlantis. Weir is waiting to hear about the treaty." He forced himself not to look back as he walked away, listening carefully to make sure that Rodney followed. Which he did. Eventually.