The Jeep

 

At first, it was weird, sure.

Sometimes, Martin would resist the urge to open his eyes at night and would just lay there quietly, listening to the soft chirps of nature… and crickets. But, occasionally, he would hear something else. At first, it was a soft shuffle of clothing-on-clothing. He summed it up to Chris shuffling in his sleep, like he did all the time.

Most days, he could find Chris sprawled out, his clothes in a constant state of dishevel. More often than not, he’d have to rearrange Chris by himself so that he could lay down too.

But, as the days went on, the sounds became more and more odd.

One night, when the awkward shuffling sound was gone, he heard the zipper being pulled up, slow and delicate; a soft sound against the backdrop of crickets chirping. He could have ignored it, sure… but what if Chris was sick? And he was trying to keep it from him? Maybe he should go check on him and see if he could help. As it was, he always felt Chris shifting in his sleep, doing his best to keep quiet whenever Martin made a sound here or there.

Quietly—as a mouse named Martin—he pulled at the left open folds of their tent, awkwardly pulling it to the side to sneak a peek outside. Chris wasn’t anywhere near him, or the tent? And the fire was put out nicely. So, where could he be? He never knew how awkward it felt to have to shuffle out of the tent so quietly, always paranoid he’d accidentally brush up against something and send himself sprawling out of the tent. But with a ton of luck, he managed to make it! Kind of said something about him, didn’t it?

Now, to find Chri---

Why was the Jeep’s backseat door wide open? He could see the small, faint silhouette of light coming from the front, and the little lights on the bottoms of the doors.

As he shuffled closer, ever so carefully avoiding even the smallest pebble and rock that could potentially cause him to fall and ruin his little track-record of successes; he neared the Jeep. As he grew closer and closer, he could hear small sounds coming from the seat, and a form laying strewn across it, hiking boots splayed off to either side. Upon closer inspection, he could see… Chris’s tan khakis covering his knees. That wasn’t right, since they usually went just above the knees, and from what Martin could see? The belt-line curled along the upper knee.

“C---“ Any words he had in mind died down in his throat, a new sound being heard instead of the usual chirping. It was like a moan, but hushed to the point that it was just above a whisper. Edging ever closer, he lay his hand on the side of the door, using it to keep him from falling or tripping as he grew closer. By now, he could see his brother’s legs clearly, mostly helped out by the thin veil of moonlight bouncing off the seat. It wasn’t enough to illuminate everything, but… it helped him see everything.

“Martin…” Again, his brother’s voice, but this time Chris spoke his name. Instantly, his hand came up to his mouth to quiet himself and stop from replying. He could clearly see everything now, Chris’s left hand digging through the olive folds of  underwear, subtle movements sending the disheveled clothing back and forth, his brother’s other arm up, forearm laying across his eyes. By now, Martin’s heart was beating in his throat, eyes following every movement, watching every rise and fall of his brother’s underwear, imagining his hand stroking across his—Shaking his head, he finally pulled his hand from his mouth. Stepping back, he turned and made his way back to the tent—as silent as he had come.

However, he missed Chris’s final moments. The stain on his underwear, drops of cum trailing across the fabric of his underwear, trails of cum dribbling down from the very tip of his tented underwear. He also missed the smirk that Chris had.

“Sorry, Martin, guess I got a little carried away.”

He knew his brother was there, and that just drove him even wilder. Several times, he had tried to make enough noise to get Martin to wake up and check on him, and most of the time he had an excuse ready.

‘I’m sick.’

‘Yeah, it was kind of hot.’

And so on.

But, the reality of it all? Chris wanted his brother to catch him, to see the things he did whenever they were together long enough—God, they were together a lot more than they should be—and maybe get him to see how he affected his body.

Unknown to Chris’s little post-orgasm train of thought, Martin was in their tent, doing the one thing that Chris had wanted him to do all along.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need new shorts soon.” And, he agreed with himself. Odd.

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Yeah, it's a work in progress. BUT! Also uploaded here.