Road Rules: SP belongs to MTV and Bunim/Murray productions. The story is mine, but Dave and Chris aren't. I know you're smart enough to not think they're really lovers in real life, even if the thought gets you as crazy as it gets me. But just as a disclaimer...I'm not implying they are, OK? Do not read if you are not over 18. Use protection in real life.
This is a short chapter but is a stopgap chapter. The next chapter should be interesting. I'd love your suggestions on that chapter, as I have a few ideas of my own. I also would please like to know some details on gorgeous Marc, the host, in case I want to involve him later on. Has he been with the show before? Where is he from? I missed the first episode or two of this season, so if I sound like an idiot for not knowing these answers, that's why I don't know them.
The RV walls were closing in. Dave felt the claustrophia more than most. Genial, sweet, kind -- what the fuck did he do to deserve casting the fatal vote?
Cara or Donnell. Jokester, sensitive Donnell or shy, intriguing, gutsy Cara. Both important in their own ways. And Dave had had to choose. He couldn't get rid of Cara, no matter how much Chris and Cristena pitied Donnell. Donnell lost them missions. Donnell could lose them the money. This was a game, this wasn't just friendship. Everyone said that, so why was he the only one who remembered it at the moment of truth?
After his vote, there was a long hashing-out before Cristena finally decided to vote for Cara to stay. He saw the guilt in her eyes and knew their relationship would never be quite the same. But Chris, Chris was what still stung at him. After Chris had befriended him, even did...those things to him, Chris wasn't there when Dave needed him the most. Chris refused to vote against Donnell. Chris was with the girls now, soothing their wounds. Chris didn't care about him at all now, if he ever did.
Fuck Chris.
Slight wishy-washiness aside, Dave was the nicest person in the camper, and the girls couldn't stay mad at him for more than a day. Chris, on the other hand, made no attempts to play buddies, to do more than have the most primitive conversations. The two brooding men barely made eye contact with each other and suddenly torrid memories teased and shocked them all over again. To Cara/Mary Beth/Cristena, it was just a "stupid boy thing", and one day, they walked out of their home on wheels in a unified protest.
"We aren't going to let you leave this RV until you kiss and make up!"
As Cara shut the heavy door behind her, Chris wondered if she suspected just how truthful that statement could be.
Chris and Dave went to separate corners. Neither had anything to apologize for, at least not from their point of view. They each felt they were the injured party. And this simmering dislike was easier to deal with than simmering lust.
A few moments later, a slight shift in the ground underneath them sent Dave flying into Chris' arms.
"Deja vu," Chris whispered, huskily, faint hint of breakfast cereal on his breath.
Dave could melt into those arms. Easily. Too easily.
"Fuck you! Get your filthy hands off me!"
Dave tried to push himself away, but Chris - bulkier, more determined, more ferocious - held his wrist in a death grip.
"What's wrong with you, dude?"
Dave could feel Chris staring inside his every vulnerable pore. The heat was rising in both men, soaking through their jeans and t-shirts. Dave spit the words at him while he desperately worked to get his arm free and to avoid those eyes...
"Donnell is what's wrong, DUDE!"
...that mouth...
"You act like he was your best friend. Maybe he was, huh? Maybe I was just your little bitch?"
...that cleft in his chin...
"Get OFF of me!"
Not realizing what he was doing, Dave violently shoved Chris to the ground. But before he could run out of the cramped space, Chris yanked on his left ankle, hooking his prey and sending him crashing down beside him. Side by side they laid, surging with raw energy.
"Hey, listen to me, Dave!"
Dave tried to sit up, pushed Chris away again. Chris jumped on top of him, and they rolled across the floor, their armpits and foreheads drenched in sweat, their bodies primed and aching for the physical contact. Dave connected his hand with Chris' jeans bulge, but instead of hitting him, he squeezed. Hard. And Chris was suddenly hard, or maybe he had been since the fight started. So much like that night, but so different. Adrenaline and wrestling skills made Chris the victor, and after much struggling and pawing, Dave was on his flat belly, Chris straddling his backside.
"I'm gonna talk, Dave, and you're gonna fucking listen."
Dave grunted into the floor. He didn't want to hear.
"I can't articulate very well. I'm not into the high vocabulary shit. But I know what integrity is. I told Donnell I wouldn't get rid of him, and I had to stick to that promise. I thought you'd understand. We're both men. Instead, you pout and sulk and take it personally. Maybe you can't live with me now, but if I'd voted against him, I couldn't live with myself, just like you couldn't live with yourself if you voted against Cara. Get it?"
Dave nodded.
"Now, about that night..."
Dave struggled again, writhing in the strong hold on his hair and waist. His generous ass pushed against the ample crotch above him. Chris pushed back down, and a silent, harsh rhythm was born.
"This is what that night was about, Dave. Feel it. If you think this makes you a bitch, that's your deal, but don't put that on me."
His eyes fluttering, Chris began to push down hard on Dave's upturned, denim-covered buns. He hadn't worn any underwear that day and could practically feel his sloppy mushroom head sliding inside Dave's waiting crack. Only a few layers separated them. Dave didn't fight him, nor did he offer to help him. Chris took total control, reaching underneath Dave to unbuckle his jeans and roughly stroke him. A stroke for a stroke. He never wanted the feeling to end, being tormented by the closness to Dave's velvet glove, but he knew the girls were waiting outside. Speeding up his thrusts, he let out a hoarse cry as his seed spilled into his tight jeans and against his exhausted waist and thighs. Dave came a few moments later. Chris put his dirty, wet hand up to Dave's mouth, Dave not speaking as he lapped at his own seed. Chris retracted his wet digits, licking away the last few nutritious drops before he stood up.
Looking down on his lover, hopefully his friend, Chris held out his sopping hand. Dave turned onto his back, fumbling with the fly on his jeans. Staring, unsure, he took Chris' outstretched hand. Looked deep into those smoky bedroom eyes.
A loud knock scattered their remaining thoughts. After finding a few Certs, they quickly flung the door open. The girls were impatiently waiting, waving a flyer in front of them. Dave and Chris read the notice in unison. A chill ran up their spines. Below a photo of the two of them were the words:
Get naked. $5000. Surprise visitor.
What could that mean? And who could the visitor be?