Pairing: Chris and JC
Words: kettle; depress; abduct; grate  

JC sighs heavily and takes the kettle off the grate over the fire. 
"Chris, just because you think I'm, like, likely to depress
everyone else doesn't mean you have to abduct me and make me go
*camping*!"  He shudders and looks around the leafy clearing.  "I'm
not *built* for roughing it, Chris.  My nails will break.  I'll get
twigs in my hair.  Spiders will bite me.  I'll be forced to eat
non-gourmet food.  Chris, I can't do this.  So you see, I had to do
it."

JC looks regretfully at Chris.  "Now.  Will you give me the keys,
or shall I pour the honey on your groin and leave you here for the
bears?"

JC's actually very proud.  It's been a long time since he was a Boy
Scout, but he still remembers how to make knots and fold a gag so
it won't smother the person who's gagged.  Not that that was
exactly a boyscout skill, but he *did* learn it at camp.  

Chris shakes his head firmly.

"You won't give me the keys?" JC asks, looking at the RV.  "C'mon,
Chris.  It's *like* roughing it."  

Another headshake.

"Oh.  Okay."  JC puts honey into his tea, and drinks it.  Then he
crawls around the fire and opens Chris's pants.  "This is nice and
warm," JC lies, then starts spreading it all over Chris's cock and
balls.  He giggles as Chris reacts to the cold, cold honey.  

Chris squeaks, but there's nothing he can say, since he's fucking
*gagged*.

JC finishes, Chris now nicely hardening.  "There!"  He stands up
and stretches.  "Okay.  Now will you give me the keys?"  

Chris shakes his head again.

JC shrugs.  "Okay."  He tosses his sleeping bag up on top of the
RV.  "But if you do -- I'll clean up my mess.  Yell if you change
your mind."  He starts climbing up the ladder on the back of the
vehicle.  

Chris sighs and sags into his bonds.  His dick looks sadly back at
him.

JC really, really doesn't like this.  What if there are, like,
scary birds or something?  What if bears can climb ladders?  He
curls up on his side in his sleeping bag.  "Keys, Chris?"  

Chris just shakes his head.

JC whimpers very, very quietly.  "I'll clean you up, promise.  I'll
make it all nice, too."  

Another shake.

"Fine!  Fuck you!"  JC rolls over and pulls the sleeping bag up to
his nose.  "Stubborn *ass*!" he adds.  

Chris mutters something, but it's lost to the gag.

JC tries to sleep, but every little sound jerks him back to
wakefulness.  

Chris can't sleep.  He's too damned uncomfortable and his dick is
cold.

Finally, JC falls asleep.  He dreams that he's laying on top of the
RV, awake.  

Chris shivers.

JC whimpers.  "No, no, don't.  Leave Chris alone," he mumbles.  In
his dreams, a bear is coming.  

Chris listens to JC.  It's better than paying attention to the
mosquitoes and the horseflies who would no doubt find his dick to
be a very tasty snack.

"No, don't.  Don't."  

Chris wonders what JC dreams about.  Probably pretty little
butterflies and kittens and shit like that.

The bear eats Chris, and all JC can do is watch.  No matter how
hard he tries, he can't move.  He starts moaning, fighting so hard
against whatever is hurting him.  

Maybe JC's having a wet dream, Chris thinks.  That'd be kinda cool. 
They've messed with each other's heads while someone was sleeping
lots of times.  It's blackmail material galore if JC calls out a
name.  Like, say, 'Carson' or 'Justin'.

JC finally breaks free, screaming, "Chris!"  

Chris' eyes get wide.  Wow.  He hadn't expected *that*.

Sitting bolt upright, JC trembles.  "Chris?" he whimpers, afraid to
look over the side and see Chris's mutilated body.  

Chris lifts his eyebrows.

JC creeps to the edge slowly.  Chris doesn't look dead.  "Chris? 
Are you alive?"  

Chris snorts.  Like he can answer that.

"Thank God!"  JC scrambles off the RV and over to Chris, removing
his gag.  "I dreamed that a bear ate you," he says.  

"No, a bear did *not* eat me, you freak.  I probably have bites in
places that shouldn't *have* bites, but I wasn't eaten."

"Do you want to be?" JC asks.  

Chris raises his eyebrows.  "I haven't given you the keys yet."

"That *is* the deal."  

"Jayce--"

"Yes?"  

Chris bites his lip.  "I'm torn between letting you carry on your
sick sado-masochistic ritual for the sake of my own eventual sexual
pleasure, or telling you the sad, pathetic truth."

"No," JC says, aghast.  "You didn't!"  

Chris nods.  "I'm afraid so.  I accidentally locked the keys in the
RV."

JC whimpers.  "Chris!  *Bears*!"  

Chris rolls his eyes.  "Which one of us has the honey on his dick? 
You're perfectly safe, Jayce."

JC nods.  "I'll clean you up, if you help me get into the RV."  

"Lemme think about this for a second."  Chris tilts his head. 
"Sick sado-masochistic sexual pleasure *and* I get untied.  Yeah. 
I can deal with this."

JC nods.  He doubles over, carefully holding his hair out of the
way, and licks until Chris is clean.  And *very* hard.  "There, all
done."  He straightens up, closes Chris's pants, and starts picking
at the knots that bind him.  

"No fair!" Chris complains.  "You didn't do all of it!"

"I did so.  You're completely clean.  I even checked to see if
anything still tasted like honey."  JC pulls a hair out of his
mouth.  "Thoroughly."  

"There's still some inside," Chris says solemnly.  "I think you
should try to get it all out.  Like suck it out like people suck
venom out of snake bites."

"Chris, I did suck.  You were there.  Now.  If we get in the RV, I
might be willing to check again."  JC finally picks apart the last
knot.  "There."  

Chris tries to straighten his arms.  They creak painfully.  "Try,
if *you* get in the RV.  I can't move my arms."

JC looks at Chris.  "Tough cookies for you, then, huh?"  

"It's your fault."

"It's your dick," JC says.  He starts trying to find a way into the
RV.  

"Jesus.  Get the pot.  Smash a window."

"It's tempered glass," JC says hesitantly.  He takes the pot and
tries to smash in a window.  The pot bounces back and nails him in
the side of the head.  JC falls to the ground, limp.  

"Oh, that was real smooth," Chris says, hobbling over.  JC's lying
on the ground.  Chris looks at the window and looks at JC.

JC groans and tries to sit up.  

"Okay, maybe I should do the stupid parts from now on?"

JC presses a hand to his head and stands up slowly.  The forest
wavers, then solidifies.  "Now what?" he asks.  

"Just sit there.  I'll think of something.  Fuck, Jayce, you coulda
waited for me to tell you this earlier instead of tying me up so
that my arms are all useless and stuff."

JC sighs and lifts the pot again.  "Move, Chris."  

"Sit *down*.  I'm serious.  We're not going to be devoured by bears
in the next five seconds or anything.  Gimme a minute to think."

Chris steps away.  JC sets his feet and slams the pot into the
window again, ducking immediately after.  The window shatters.  The
pot flies away.  JC looks proud.  

"Never mind then.  You probably don't want to know that the top
hatch was most likely unlatched.  If my arms worked, I coulda
climbed up there and found out.  But, no.  You have to be a
he-man."

JC looks like he's gonna cry.  

"Aw, cheer up, Jayce.  You promised me a blowjob if I helped get us
in the RV.  And it was my idea."

JC sighs.  "Well.  Open the door, dude."  

Chris lifts his hand painfully.  "I'm deeply frightened for my
masculinity, Jayce.  I think maybe I want a massage more than I
want a blowjob."  He considers the broken glass and takes his shirt
off in slow, jerky motions, wrapping it around his hand before
reaching in and turning the latch.

JC watches Chris.  "I'll climb up first and give you a hand, then." 
He does so, gently tugging at Chris's ribcage rather than his arms. 


Chris sighs as JC helps him inside.  "Thanks.  That's nice of you,
especially considering that you were planning to let me spend the
night tied to the tree with my dick hanging out in the breeze with
'come eat me' written in honey on it."

"I dreamed you were dead," JC says.  "Besides, I thought you'd cave
before that."  

Chris snorts.  "I didn't *have* the stupid key.  Plus, y'know, it
was kinda kinky."

JC nods, then presses his hand to his forehead.  "Ow."  

"Ice," Chris offers.  "In the fridge.  You need some."

"Blowjob," JC replies, pushing Chris down onto the couch.  He
kneels carefully and ducks, reopening Chris's pants.  

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but no.  *Ice*."

"I'm already here.  Shut up."  

"Shutting up.  Being positively quiet and meek and... Eep!"

JC finishes Chris off quickly, but completely.  He makes sure Chris
is completely relaxed when he's done.  "There."  Then he crawls
over to the minifridge and carefully makes an ice pack.  

Chris turns on the small couch, puts his knees over the arm and
lays back.  "Bury me here.  I go no further."

JC finds Advil in the bathroom.  After taking two, he offers two to
Chris.  "Take these.  Go to sleep, sore man."  As for JC, he starts
taping a flattened box over the broken window.

"Don't I get a massage?"

JC finishes and comes back.  "Chris, my head really fucking hurts,
okay?  I'll give you a massage some other time."  He starts trying
to find blankets to sleep in, then pauses.  He tries to not care,
he really does.  With a sigh, JC caves.  "Do you really need one?"

"Never mind," Chris says in a small voice.  "Go to sleep.  You can
have the bed.  I'll stay right here."

"I'll do it, if you really need one," JC says.  

"No, no.  Go to bed.  I'm being selfish."

JC crawls into the bed.  After a few minutes of listening to his
pounding head, he whispers, "Chris?"

"What?"

"Will you come sleep with me?"  

Chris gets up.  Slowly, but he gets up.  A smile's forming on his
face.  "I was just waiting for you to ask."

"I was scared when the bear got you," JC says sleepily, making room
for Chris.  

"There was no bear, but you rescued me anyway."  Chris kisses JC on
the side of his temple, near his battered forehead.  "My hero."