The Passenger

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people/places is completely coincidental. No money is being made from this story.

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for the nice reviews on the last chapter =) Sorry if it sucked... Hopefully this chapter will be more to your liking. Also, I'm sorry if this first scene is a little confusing... I didn't remember all the rules of cribbage, and was writing around the rules I found online... Hopefully you can follow along without your brain exploding, like mind did at first!

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"So what's the deal, anyway?"

Johnny stared across the little wooden table in his Motel room, fingers fidgeting on his lap, waiting for his answer. The blue eyes across from him didn't meet his own, concentrating on his hand with a warlike determination. Slender fingers plucked a card from the fanned group of 4, and slapped it down carelessly.

"Eight. And I'm not entirely sure what you're talkin' about, Gramps."

Johnny's cheek twitched. Gramps? What the hell? He was so far from it! Under 30 years old, handsome and witty and charming.. the little shit was getting on his nerves. Smugly, he played a 7, grinning when he saw those fine, blond eyebrows curve down.

"Fifteen-two," Johnny snatched a peg and moved it across the bored, "and I'm talkin' about you're deal, kiddo. Here ya are, wandering across the State, without a story? I don't think so."

The kid chewed his lower lip, staring at the cards in his hand. Johnny wasn't sure if he was just concentrating on his next move, or if he was considering how much information he felt comfortable in liberating. That was something that bothered Johnny greatly... He just couldn't be sure about the brat. He was unpredictable, and that worried him.

He grumbled when his opponent slapped down another 7, "Twenty Two, pair is two," he matched Johnny's pace, moving one of his own pegs two spaces down the board, "And I still don't know what you're talking about. I don't know how it is in the old-folks home where you came from, but not everyone has a tragic story to tell, old man."

Johnny suppressed the urge to snarl. He was getting pretty damn sick of the knocks to his age. He didn't look old, did he? He didn't, last time he checked...

He laid down a 6, "Twenty Eight. Look, you don't have to be so stubborn. Who am I gonna tell anyway?"

The boy grinned, and laid down a Ace, "Twenty Nine."

Johnny swore. The boy laughed, and laid down his last card: Another Ace, making the hand an even Thirty. Still swearing, they counted points, and shuffled the deck for another round.

"Alright, how about this. You tell me something, I tell you something."

The boy stopped fanning his cards, peering over them in the way that he just seemed to know made Johnny's belly ache.

"...You show me yours, I'll show you mine?"

Oh, Johnny knew how loaded that question was. He knew that the affect it had on him showed plainly on his face. How could it not? Ever since he woke up to a pair of burning blue eyes, devouring him, he'd been aching inside.

After Johnny had figured out that the little shit had snatched the extra room key, he had let out a tirade of curse words that had disturbed even himself. After he calmed from his fit, he took stock of the situation. Granted, there was no more security there; the lock on the door was a useless deterrent. And going to complain at the front desk seemed useless at the time. Oh, sure, he could have just packed it up and left, but he refused to let one kid destroy whatever haphazard plans he had made for this roadside detour.

Even after his shower, he remained stubborn about it. If the little bastard wanted to come in and steal whatever Johnny had while he slept, then fine. It wasn't like it would be the first time something like that happened. It was an inevitability. And it wasn't as though Johnny had anything of value to begin with. He carried no credit cards, and the cash he had was less than fifty dollars. Sure, that would buy the kid a meal, maybe a place to lay his head for the night, but that's as far as it would go. Seemed almost pointless.

So, Johnny rubbed the last dry towel on his head, soaking up the excess water from his shower, and slid beneath the sheets of his double size bed, relaxing against the pillow and letting the strain of the day pass out of him. He was irritated in admitting that he hadn't gotten very far from his last stop, but then, that was his fault entirely. When he saw the exit on the highway, he had felt the urge to giggle in delight. Anything, anything to get him away from soft blond hair, tempting skin...

But, that hadn't worked. The little bastard had effectively forced his way into Johnny's current life, and it didn't look as though he would be leaving any time soon. He wasn't happy with it, but with so many things in this deadly dance, Johnny figured he may as well accept it and move on.

Of course he expected to see the kid soon. He snuck into the room during the night, quiet as a Church Mouse. Johnny hadn't even woken as a wash of light spilled in from the parking lot. He didn't stir when the boy's body sunk down on the bed beside him. He only realized he had company when he felt warm, agile fingers running up and down his own bare thighs.

Johnny grumbled, half asleep, and turned his head. The light in the room was almost nonexistent, but he could see those eyes perfectly. It was like they held a glow of their own. Icy and cold. And questioning. Despite his blatant disrespect for privacy and Johnny's wishes, he was still asking if it was alright.

Johnny swallowed hard, his mouth sticky and dry, and muttered, "S'fine... No funny stuff, kay?"

The boy nodded and sat up, pulling off his shirt, then squirmed beneath the blankets. He pressed against Johnny's naked body, not even caring that he was now laying with a naked man, and buried his face in Johnny's shoulder. He sighed, and snuck and arm beneath the boy's shoulders, wrapping it around him, and let himself drift back into sleep.

The quiet, peaceful feeling that they had attained was apparently moot when Johnny woke up later that morning. The sun was already up, peeking through the heavy wool curtains, sending sharp shafts of light across the small room. He sat up, groggy and feeling slightly hung over. His eyes opened wide, then narrowed, when he saw that he was alone. Instinctively he scrambled out of bed, not caring about his nudity, and made a dive for his duffel. If the little bastard had indeed ran off with his money... He had convinced himself, of course, that it didn't matter, but that didn't mean he wasn't allowed a damn good tantrum about it.

He had just fished out his wallet when the door opened. Johnny looked up, and felt an immense amount of guilt tear into his gut when he saw the boy, a brown plastic tray in hand. Sitting on the tray were two large paper cups filled with what smelled wonderfully of fresh coffee, and a plate filled with various pastries.

He opened his mouth to say something, what, he wasn't sure. An apology maybe. A welcome. But he didn't get to utter a single word, because those pretty eyes sharpened, and the door was slammed shut. Oh, there was no way to redeem himself right now, that was for sure. Johnny had assumed the worst when the kid had been trying to do him a kindness.

He set the breakfast down on the little table, ignoring Johnny's presence completely, though his shoulder brushed against his chest as the boy bent forward with his tray. He didn't even look at him as he sat, grumpily, in the little wooden chair.

"I didn't know what kind you liked. So I took a bit of everything." God, he sounded mad. Mad, and a little hurt. Pouting in a passive aggressive way. Even the way he bit into a jelly doughnut seemed angry, a stab at Johnny's personality.

Johnny sighed, and took a pair of clean jeans out of his duffel, "Thanks... Appreciate it."

The boy grunted in response, and took a swallow of coffee. Johnny pushed himself into his jeans; they were his favorite pair. Tight in all the right places, worn to a state of pure comfort. He didn't bother with a shirt right then. Not that it seemed to matter to the kid. His eyes were still fixed on the table top. Glaring a hole straight through it. They ate pastries and drank their coffee, the silence making Johnny imagine a thick layer of frost building up on the walls.

He couldn't deal with this. Really, truly couldn't. He didn't know what drove him to want forgiveness from this little trouble maker, and he refused to dwell on the why. Dwelling and brooding weren't his strong points, forever the optimist.

"I'm sorry, okay? I was just..."

"I know what you were doing." the words were sharp, filled with poison and needles, "Not the first time someone accused me of stealing. Probably won't be the last."

That intrigued him a bit. It was a fraction, a little shard of the whole piece of a giant puzzle. One that Johnny didn't know, until that point, he wanted to solve. He sipped his coffee, chewing on the last piece of a frosted doughnut hole, and tilted his head.

"Oh? You do a lot of thieving?"

Finally those eyes turned up to him. That defiance was still there, mixed with amusement and a dark laughter.

"Maybe."

And that was it. He didn't expand on that one little hint. Didn't give Johnny the opening he desired to press.

More time passed. Pastries were eaten, coffee cups emptied and discarded in the little plastic wastebasket. Then silence. Sweet, uncomfortable silence. Johnny knew that he should be out and about by now. Taking in the little settlement, searching around for a part time job to fund his ongoing adventure across the country. But for some reason he felt no desire to. All he wanted, in that moment, was to stay perfectly still and do nothing that needed to be done. The feeling angered him, and he turned that deepening feeling onto the kid who sat across from him. What did he want? Why was he still there? Surely he could have gotten a ride from someone else in this place. Started walking. What was keeping him there?

Johnny sighed again for what felt like the hundredth time, and went back to his duffel. He could feel the boy's eyes following him, wondering, questioning without words.

"You ever play cribbage?"

And so there they were, facing off, eyes locked over a freshly dealt hand, a wooden, battered cribbage board between them. Johnny was close to getting skunked, in more ways than just one. He ran the kids words through his mind once more, You show me yours, I'll show you mine, and that same shiver ran up his spine.

This was a horrible, horrible idea. And because it was so bad, so dangerous, it made Johnny want to do it all the more. He lay his hand on the table, face down, and shot him a sly grin.

"Fine. If that's the way you want it. Go ahead and ask me a question."

The boy returned his smile, and copied Johnny's tactic; laying down his cards, and leaning forward on his elbows.

"How old are you?"

Johnny blinked, surprised at the simplicity of the question. He really expected something more personal, more... sexual. But that was fine. He was playing it safe. Like little kids playing kissing games in the basement. Cheeks and hands kissed first. Always, always start somewhere safe.

"I'm twenty seven. How about you?"

The boy shrugged and leaned back, propping a foot over his knee in a comfortably relaxed pose, "Old enough."

Johnny scowled at him, "Not fair."

"Is it ever?"

"You laid down the rules. Now anti up."

The boy sighed, scratched at his cheek, "Fine. I'm twenty two."

Johnny scowled deeper, showing him that he obviously didn't believe that line of bullshit.

"...Okay, twenty one? Twenty?"

Johnny leaned back as well, crossing his arms. He was pleased when the boy whined and rolled his eyes.

"Shit, ok. I'm Nineteen. That make you feel better?"

He still wasn't sure that it was the truth, but he supposed that was as close as he would get. Besides, Johnny already knew that the kid was at least 18. There was no way he could have a body that developed and not be legal. He nodded and grinned. "Ok, your turn. Ask away."

The challenge was back in those sharp eyes, and Johnny knew the easy way was passed.

"How many hitchhikers do you finger-fuck? As a rule?"

He couldn't help it. The laughter burst out of Johnny's mouth before he could control it. It was so childish, a sad attempt to take a dig, and oh, so amusing.

"As a rule, none. You're actually the first I've played with. My finger-fucking tends to stay in a safe place. And you? How many drivers have you repaid with that dirty mouth of yours?"

The question got to him, Johnny could see it. He had insulted him, and it felt good to do so.

"I'm not a fucking prostitute. I don't fuck for money or favors," he turned his head, refusing to meet Johnny's eyes. He could swear there was a slight blush building on his cheeks, "I just... like sex."

"With me, or anyone? Male or female? Or both?"

"It's not your turn to ask!"

"You never answered."

The pretty flush was building, more so now that the boy had turned back to face Johnny head on. He was getting more angry by the second, caught up in the conversation. His fingers were trembling as they gripped the edge of the table, and Johnny wondered if this banter was like foreplay to him. The possibility was tempting. He clenched his teeth, spoke through a tight jaw.

"Male, exclusively. And of course with you!"

The admission seemed to frighten him, burst out on a bout of temper, and he quickly looked away again. Despite the terms, Johnny felt a wave of endearment. It was so adorable when someone got a crush. Damn cute.

"Ah, but you forget: we haven't had sex." he had almost added 'yet' to that reply, but caught himself before he could. Encouraging this wasn't a good idea.

But the boy wasn't deterred. It was like he could see that little word, just hanging in the air, and it gave him an advantage he promptly latched on to. He stood up, bracing his hands on the table top and leaning forward. This time, Johnny didn't back away. He wasn't going to give an inch just so the little shit could take a mile.

"We could always change that fact, old man. I'm very good at what I do."

Johnny exhaled, angry that it came out on a rattle. Oh, he knew the boy was good... he didn't have to fuck him to know that perfectly. It dripped from him; natural, and learned talent. A way of melting a man's bones down into useless liquid. An ability like that was maddening, irresistible. Even now he could feel it, creeping up his legs and nestling in his belly to fester and grow. He bit his tongue, trying desperately to distract himself from the growing erection inside his jeans.

The kid could see it, see the desperation in his eyes, and he pushed the advantage. His hand snaked up Johnny's shoulder, fingers buried in the hair at the base of his skull, kneading softly. He slipped around the edge of the table, straddling Johnny's lap and sitting gracefully down across his thighs. Johnny didn't mean to, didn't want to, but found his hands going to the boy's hips of their own accord.

"You little bastard. I fucking hate you." he meant his words to be filled with venom, but they came out in a whisper, not full of the conviction that they were meant to have. The boy laughed, a soft, throaty sound, telling Johnny that he wasn't fooling anyone.

"Yeah, well. Hate me all you want," he leaned forward, licked the shell of Johnny's ear, and whispered hotly, "It only makes me want you more."

Johnny shut his eyes tight, trying so hard to ignore the light kisses and nibbles the kid was giving his ear, his neck, his chin. God, it was so unfair. He growled and shoved at the boy's shoulders, earning him a gasp and a shocked, confused look.

He glared up at the kid, his own brown eyes darkening, "I don't want you."

At that, the boy smiled, his head tilting, lopsided, "Oh, please. You're not fooling me. I know better." he leaned forward for more, but Johnny held him back.

"You little fucker, I mean it!"

The smile left his face, but the pondering, satisfied look didn't. That only worried Johnny all the more, and found that the worry was justified. The kid leaned back, bracing his back against the table, still staring at him like the cat who caught the canary. Johnny stared, transfixed, as that baggy black t-shirt lifted and was pulled away, tossed careless onto the bed. Smooth skin, nearly perfect, with very few traces of hair was before him. His nipples were erect, reaching out for touches and kisses. He watched as one of those slender hands traced down that defined chest, down over a slightly developed six-pack stomach, curled in the tiny hairs that led down to a place full of promise and sin.

"What are you doing?"

The kid just kept staring at him, and unbuttoned his own fly. Long fingers slipped inside; he wasn't wearing underwear again, and Johnny wondered if he owned any at all. He stared, mollified and unable to look away when the boy released his cock. It was rock hard, turning an angry red at the lack of proper attention. And glittering in the sunlight, standing straight up, was a pretty little silver piercing.

Johnny was fascinated by it. A single hoop with a little ball, going into the hole at the tip, and coming out a fraction of an inch below the head. The thought of going through that made his inner male cringe, but the visual itself was almost his undoing. Especially when the boy ran his fingertips over it, playing with the ring. The motion made the cock twitch, and Johnny felt the body on top of him shiver.

He couldn't help it. He had to touch. He had to know what it felt like. So he did; his hand went straight to it, finger tip touching the little ball that connected the two ends of circular metal. It was warm, heated by the body it was attached to. Smooth. The boy froze, his muscles clenching for a moment, then relaxed into delightful tremors.

Oh man... This was definitely going to be the death of him. Johnny only smiled at the thought.

"Little pervert. Pain get you off?"

He glanced up, watching the boys face. His eyes were gently closed, his skin flushed. He was breathing a little fast, his chest heaving with the effort. The question made the blush intensify, and he refused to open his eyes.

"Ah!... A, a little, yeah..." the words were an explosion of breath, and his shoulders went red. Obviously, he hadn't meant to answer. The tables had turned, and Johnny felt the giddiness swell in his stomach. He was in the drivers seat again, and he planned on teaching the kid a lesson.

"Dirty little bastard. You're sick, you know?"

The boys eyes shut a little tighter, the shamed color spreading over his chest and down his stomach. When he blushed, he went all out, and his humiliation only turned Johnny on all the more. Who knew he could be this way? Stranger things had happened, he supposed. The boy nodded in answer, ashamed and excited all at the same time.

Johnny rewarded his honesty by wrapping his hand all the way around the kids impressive length, earning him a soft moan and a strong shudder. He had to admit, the brat was pretty hot like this...

"I'll make you a deal, then. You answer all my questions truthfully, and I'll give you a present. Deal?"

He didn't wait long for his answer. The kid nodded vigorously, eagerly. He wanted it so badly, Johnny could nearly taste it on the air. He had to put his own desire in check, or the game would end too soon, and he wasn't ready just yet. There was too much to explore.

He leaned forward, flicking his tongue across one tight nipple, and breathed heavily against the damp skin, "What's your name, kiddo?"

The boy whimpered, one last struggle against domination, but gave in almost as quickly. The want was too tightly coiled inside him to fight anymore.

"Christian... Ah! Chris... call me Chris..."

Chris, huh? Worked for him. Seemed the fit the blond hair, blue eyed good looks, anyway.

"Good boy. How old are you really?"

Chris whined again, not in resistance, but because Johnny had taken his nipple between his teeth after the last word spoken. He was biting now, none too gently either, and it was sending chills across his skin.

"I'm... I'm eighteen. Just... turned... two weeks ago."

Nearly ten years difference between them. For some reason, that made Johnny's groin tighten further. Something so young, so fresh, in his lap, practically begging to be taken.

"You want me to take you, Chris? Right here against the table? Pants around your ankles, like a filthy little whore?"

Chris cried out, gripping the table top as his hips thrust up into Johnny's fisted hand. God, wasn't it obvious? Did the older man want him to do a song a dance?

"Yes, you son of a bitch! Fuck me, God!"

Johnny smiled as he watched the kid break. He had done it, he had won again. The score was 2-0, and he didn't plan on ruining his average.

He stood up, hands holding Chris' hips securely, and pushed him further up the table, flat on his back. The cribbage board slid to the floor with a clatter, the deck of cards following suit. He pulled the baggy pants off of those shapely, muscled legs, tossing them across the room. He heard the bedside lamp tip over and hit the floor too, the idea amusing him at the back of his mind. He bent those long legs up, straight up in the air, exposing everything that he desired.

Chris whimpered at the air, thick and muggy as it was.

Johnny kissed the inside of his thigh, nipping at the sensitive skin, watching the kid's skin jerk and tremble in response. His cock had turned an ever darker shade of red, threatening to explode. He stared, his eyes going dark with his own desires, slipping his fingers into his mouth just as before, and seeking out Chris' anus. The hole puckered slightly at the first touch, then opened like a seeking mouth, wanting it just as badly as the rest of his body. Johnny happily obliged, sliding his fingers in up to the hilt. He pulled them in and out at an agonizingly slow pace, pressing his shoulders against the back of Chris' knees so he could loom over him.

Chris whimpered, staring helplessly up at Johnny, his hands running over the stubble on his face, in his hair.

"Please.. Fuck me. Don't tease me like this."

Oh, he could. He could fuck the kid until he was senseless, and that was certainly a tempting proposition. But not yet... not just yet.

Instead, Johnny moved back, pulling his fingers away with a a not too gentle jerk, relishing the sharp cry that Chris gave in response. He dropped to his knees, hands gripping the kids hips again, and buried his face between the soft cheeks.

Chris nearly sat up in shocked pleasure. Johnny's tongue, hot and slick sought against his anus like a thing alive. It felt so dirty, so unbelievably good he could feel his orgasm climbing its way up. He didn't want to be selfish; he wanted Johnny to pound into him like an animal, but he wasn't about to let things go like that.

Johnny seemed to sense his urgency, and smiled silently to himself. There was so much pleasure in this, so much power that it intoxicated him. He felt it all the way down to the soles of his feet, and no matter what the little shit wanted, he was not going to give in to it. That would make the strength recede, steal away what he had worked so hard for. He'd be damned if he'd allow that.

So he switched his position again, his fingers still wet with his own saliva, and pushed them back inside. Chris cried out, louder then before, when his own cock was sucked deep inside Johnny's mouth. The piercing was toyed with, mercilessly, and he felt a terrible sense of loss when it hit him.

He exploded, hot, heady, right into Johnny's mouth. He felt the older man swallow deeply, felt the sensation all around his dick. He squirmed, trying to remove the fingers that were still torturing his insides, but Johnny would have none of it. He planned to milk the boy for all he could.

And take it, he did. He continued to suckle, to push, to demand everything until Chris lay against the table, boneless and helpless, panting hard, his thighs shaking in the aftermath. He didn't think he could move, even if he wanted to.

Johnny licked his lips, the flavor of the kid still there. He gave his buttocks an affectionate pinch, then a pat, and stood. He strolled away from the table, from the tempting piece of flesh that lay splayed out before him. He stopped at the door of the bathroom, hand resting against the wall, and shot Chris a look over his shoulder.

"I'll let you clean up in a minute." he stated clearly, coolly, and ducked into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him, and hoping the sound wouldn't echo, leaned heavily against the cheap wood. He slid down, butt hitting the tile, panting like he had just run a marathon at top speed.

What the hell was that, he yelled to himself. What had gotten into him? He had set out to not even think about touching the kid, and what did he do? He came inches close to dropping his own pants and pounding into him until he died from exertion. And now he was sitting on the grimy bathroom floor of a crappy Motel room, hiding from what he wanted more than anything. Hiding like a child under the covers, frightened of the boogeyman.

Johnny groaned and shut his eyes, immediately seeing Chris' body, naked and flushed, begging to be fucked.

Johnny took a deep breath. He swore. Then, frantically, struggled with the snap and zip of his jeans. His cock ached, burned, it hurt so fucking bad... he had to do something. Anything, except go back out there and take what he wanted.

His hand felt ice cold against the bare, flaming skin of his erection, soothing the pain slightly. He stroked it hard and fast, just like he wanted to do to Chris. He let his imagination take hold, saw himself bending the boy over the table, or the dresser, against the wall... Fucking that tight ass until he went blind. And Chris would take it like a champ, he would cry and he would scream and he would beg for more. He would come first, all over the paint or wood or bedspread. And still he would ask for more. He'd beg Johnny to never stop fucking him, to keep pounding away at him until they both died from it.

Johnny let out a strangled growl, his back arching up, his fist tightening and speeding up. Then he exhaled loudly, his semen shooting straight up. He felt it spill on his hand, knew some hit his jeans, but he didn't care. All he cared about was getting it out of his system, of getting Chris out of his mind. That's all that mattered.

He heaved. His bones shook. And he nearly cried out when the image of Chris still did not leave. It wasn't fair. That's what it was; there was no fairness in this. His slow murder was not supposed to be this way. He should have just fucked the kid like he wanted, then dumped him on his ass outside the door. Then he should have gone down to the front desk, dragged the homely woman who ran the place to the floor behind her counter, and fucked her too. Hell, maybe he should go over to the cafe and just start bending patrons over, man and woman alike. He was turning into a sex addict anyway, so why not go all the way?

No... that wasn't true. He sighed, because he knew it wasn't. He was never one to live in denial, but something about Chris made him want to. It wasn't that he felt like a pervert. Chris was over 18, and obviously wanted more than the teases Johnny had given him. And Johnny couldn't lie to himself and say that he didn't want to reciprocate those urges.

Maybe he was just getting soft. He didn't know anymore, and that angered him. How could someone, some kid, make him reevaluate everything he had stood for in the past nine years? Out of all the people he had met, had slept with, not a single one of them had made him think twice. If he wanted them, he had them. But something about being with Chris made him want to go slow, to make it last, and that thought disturbed him the most. Sure, a few of his lovers had asked to go with him, as far as the wind could take them, but he had always politely declined and talked them out of it. He had a feeling that if Chris asked, he would agree before the words even left the kid's mouth.

For the first time in over a decade, Johnny felt like crying. He wasn't sad, he wasn't even all that upset really... but the tears wanted to come, along with a hail of insane laughter. It was so stupid. So fucking crazy. To think, him, brought down by pretty eyes and soft, masculine skin. Absolutely stupid.

He allowed himself a chuckle, and pushed himself up. He washed his hands, wiped what he could off of his jeans, and looked at himself in the cracked mirror. Well... it was now or never.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, he wasn't at all surprised to come face to face with Chris. He was still naked, completely unconcerned with his nudity. That fit him, Johnny guessed. The kid didn't give a damn about what anyone thought of him, and for some reason, that made him want to grin. They stood there for a while, staring at each other. Chris' eyes were sharp again, full of anger and betrayal, his arms crossed defensively. Johnny's own were reflecting that anger, though for different reasons. He shrugged, though Chris didn't say anything, and moved to the side so the kid could clean himself up.

Before the door could slam in his face though, he spoke, "After you're done, pack your stuff. We're leaving in thirty minutes."

Just as he had predicted, Chris stood absolutely still. Then, slowly, turned to face him, those beautiful eyes wide in confusion.

"We?"

This time, Johnny couldn't resist. He reached out and tweaked that cute little nose, and laughed when Chris' eyes crossed at the action.

"Yes, we. Now hurry up, we ain't got all day."

As Johnny would learn, later on down the road, Chris was full of pleasant little surprises. For this instance, though, the quick pounce and press of lips to his own was a welcome one. He was shocked at first, too shocked to do much but stand there dumbly. But he recovered when he realized what the kid was doing, and smiling into the kiss, wrapped his arms around the boy's waist. The skin was still a little damp from sweat, and it felt great beneath his hands.

The kiss lingered, and though Johnny knew it wasn't meant to, he hadn't meant to deepen it, he did anyway. He felt Chris stiffen, then melt against him, and Johnny took his opportunity to slide his tongue inside. The tongue that met his was warm, giving, much softer than Johnny had expected, and it sent heat right down into his groin again. But he wouldn't indulge, not right now. At the moment he was concerned with getting back on the road, away from this room, into the air. He didn't know why, but he wanted to take Chris as far away from civilization as he could.

He pulled away from the kiss, gently, and patted Chris' bare behind, "Hop to it. I won't wait on you."

Chris grinned, leaning in for another quick peck, then dashed into the bathroom. The door shut with a soft click, and Johnny went to go gather his things.