"…99 bottle of coke on the wall, 99 bottles of coke! You take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of coke on the wall!" sang James, in behind his dad.

"Okay, James, that's enough!" begged Peter, as he turned on the radio in an attempt to try and distract James from singing another verse.

"Aw, but Dad! I'm not done!" James whined.

"You started at 500! At least sing something else."

James crossed his arms, thumped his back up against his seat, and glared out the window. "Are we almost there? It's boring in here, and I need to pee."

"You just went!" Peter replied in disbelief, as he glanced over at Brittany. "I told you we shouldn't have let him drink that soda."

Just as Brittany was about to reply, Natalie jolted forward and threw her arm out in front of her, pointing to a large, green sign on the side of the road. "Wait! Turn here!" she demanded, while already unbuckling her seat belt.

"What? What is it?" asked Brittany, peering out the window to try and see what Natalie was looking at.

"Take the next exit! It leads to a small town… Holmur, I think. That's where they went!"

Without hesitation, Peter shifted lanes toward the next exit. "Are you sure? This doesn't look like a bus route."

Both Natalie and Brittany glared at Peter. "Of course she's certain!" Brittany said sternly. "Look! There's the turn off, Peter!" she continued, pointing at the exit. "Take it, Peter! Take it!"

"I am taking it! Bloody hell, Brittany!" Peter yelled in frustration. "There's only so fast I can go!"

Realizing that her tone had seemed much harsher than she had intended, Brittany placed her hand on Peter's knee and gently squeezed. "I'm sorry, Pete…"

"It's fine," replied Peter. "I deserve a bit of scolding here and there," he decided, slowing the vehicle as they approached a stop sign. "I find it oddly comforting."

Just as Peter turned left, James sat back up in his seat to look out the window. "Oh! Ninety-eight bottles of coke on the wall, 98 bottles of coke…!"

"James!" interrupted Brittany. "Cut it out!"

Once again, James crossed his arms and thumped his back against his seat. "But Mum! I need to finish!"

Turning onto a small street, called Brooks Road, Peter entered the small town of Holmur, Ontario, which seemed to be nothing more than a single street of small shops and a tiny restaurant. "This place is deserted, Natalie," said Peter. "Are you sure the boys came here?"

Natalie nodded. "Positive. This is just where everyone comes for camping supplies, really. There's several small, residential communities that are just up the road, though."

"Which places do you think the boys would have gone in?" asked Brittany. "We can pop-in and ask if anyone has seen them."

"There's a restaurant up the street. Brady would have gone there for sure, and maybe the general store, too."

James tapped the headrest of his father's seat. "Dad? Can we stop for food? I'm starving," he said, holding his tummy with both hands.

"Yes, James. Just a couple more minutes, all right? Just don't start singing again," bargained Peter, who then glanced in the rear-view mirror, at Natalie. "Shall we stop somewhere else, before we stop to eat?"

Natalie shook her head. "We'll have better luck at the restaurant, if someone's seen them. But we'll need to pick up a few supplies before we start our search. It's getting late, and I'm not sure if we'll make it before it gets dark."

Peter scratched his forehead, trying to work out what he was supposed to do, as he neared the general store. "So - are we going to the shop, first?

"That's probably the smart thing to do. I'm not sure when it closes," replied Natalie, looking at the radio clock. "It's already coming up to five."

With that said, Peter turned the vehicle and parked in front of the store. "All right, everyone out," he announced.

Without a moment's hesitation, James opened the door and jumped out of his seat. "Goh, I thought I'd never get out of there!" he said happily, kicking the ground with the tip of his shoe against the dirt and watching a small cloud of dust rise into the air. "Where is everyone?"

"They're probably at their cottages," replied Natalie, who had just circled around the vehicle toward James. "Everything should be closing soon."

James looked worried and grabbed at his stomach. "But I'm hungry!"

"Don't worry, silly. The restaurant's always open," Natalie assured him. "Now come on, we've got some shopping to do."

The four of them entered the empty store and were greeted by a middle-aged woman, who looked disappointed to see them. "Can I help you?" she asked, while closing the register's tray, which she had been tallying in order to close up early.

"I'm sorry," said Natalie, approaching the counter. "We're looking for our sons," she explained, while reaching into her purse to find a picture. "Two boys, thirteen years old, one blond with a British accent, and…"

"Oh, yes," the woman recalled. "They were here just this morning. Did they forget something?"

Hearing this, Brittany stepped closer to the counter. "They were here? Were they okay?" she said in fast yet worrisome tone.

"They seemed fine to me. Why? What's going on?"

"They ran away from home," Natalie explained softly, as if she were admitting to being the world's worst mother. "Did they say where they were going?"

The woman shook her head. "No, but they couldn't have travelled far. They bought several cases of water, and a lot of groceries, too. Looked quite heavy for a couple of scrawny boys."

"Do you have a map of the area?" asked Natalie.

"I do," replied the woman, pointing at a tall, metal rack of post cards, maps, and batteries, "but it's not a very good one. It's more of a road map than one for trails. But the gift shop down the street should have something more reliable. If you hurry, it should still be open."

"All right, thanks," said Natalie. "Do you mind if we pick up a few things here, or have you already closed the till?"

"It's fine, take your time," said the woman. "Let me know if I can help you find anything."

Natalie thanked the woman once more and then turned to Brittany. "I'm going to run over to the gift shop for a map, it's just down the street. Can you and Peter grab some water, matches, and a few things to eat?"

"Of course," agreed Brittany. "We'll meet you outside in a few minutes."

Mark and Brady stood on top of a tree that had partially fallen into the lake, fishing with two homemade fishing rods that Brady had made with two long sticks. "Dude, we're never gonna catch anything with these," said Mark in frustration, after his fishing line fell off his stick for the third time.

"Probably not," giggled Brady, lowering himself and sitting down on the trunk. "Just thought it would be fun."

Mark looked at Brady in confusion. "But I thought we were trying to catch dinner."

"Kind of, I guess. I mean, it would be cool if we caught something, but these sticks probably aren't strong enough."

"Well… What's the point then?"

"To sit back and relax?" tried Brady.

"I'm not feeling too relaxed."

"Well," Brady pulled on his stick to retrieve his line, "we could always do something else."

Mark perked up. "Like make supper?"

"Seriously? How are you always so hungry?"

"We haven't eaten since lunch!" Mark reminded him.

"Yeah, but we had a late lunch, like three hours ago."

Jumping off of the tree trunk, Mark placed his fishing stick on the ground. "Well, can we at least start the fire?"

Brady sighed and slid off the edge of the trunk. "Yeah, okay."

"And then we can tell each other ghost stories!" Mark said happily. "Do you know any good ones?"

"You can't tell ghost stories until it's dark out, otherwise they're not scary," Brady pointed out. "But, I guess we could do something else."

Mark turned around with a grin on his face and took Brady's hands in his own. "Are you being dirty?"

"I could if you want me to be," replied Brady, unable to prevent himself from blushing. "But I was actually talking about something else."

Mark looked intrigued. "Like what?"

"I dunno," shrugged Brady, blushing even brighter.

"See!" shouted Mark. "You were being dirty!"

"No I wasn't. I was, umm…"

"Being dirty," said Mark with a nod. "Now - do you think we can actually get this fire going properly?"

"Geeze, I hope so," replied Brady, walking over to Mark's massive pile of sticks. "We definitely have enough wood for it." Just as Brady bent over to collect some fire wood, Mark reached forward and pinched his behind, causing Brady to jump straight up into the air with a loud, high-pitched yelp. "Hey!" he said in protest. "What did you do that for?"

Mark grinned cheekily. "You mean, what didn't I do that for."

"What?" asked Brady, who was slightly flustered, "I don't get it?"

"Forget it," decided Mark, as he stepped closer to Brady and gave him a hug. "That's all I wanted."

Brady shivered and smiled. "How are you still all wet?" he snickered, feeling the bottoms of Mark's shorts brush against his knees.

"I'm not wet!" giggled Mark. "I'm just happy to see you."

"What?"

Mark patted the top of Brady's head. "There-there, it's okay."

"Hey!" Brady chuckled. "Shut up!"

"You gonna make me?" challenged Mark, already stepping back.

When he noticed Mark backing away, Brady slowly moved closer. "Maybe…" he began, just as Mark twirled around and ran toward the tent. "Hey! Get back here!"

"No!" Mark shouted, while looking over his shoulder to see where Brady was. "You can't make me!"

Before Mark could make it to the other side of the tent, he felt Brady's hands grab and squeeze at his shoulders. Mark wailed in a sudden surge of uncontrollable excitement. He could feel his body being forced to turn around, but he still attempted to stay in control. As a result, in a desperate attempt to loosen Brady's grip, his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground.

Without a moment's thought, Brady dropped himself down on top of Mark's body and pinned him to the ground with the use of all his weight. "Let me go!" Mark pleaded through a fit of giggles. "I'm sorry!" he shouted, while wiggling and squirming against the ground.

"You gonna make me?" teased Brady, staring down into Mark's eyes.

"Yeah!" replied Mark with a partial nod. "And you better watch out when I do!"

"Oh yeah?" asked Brady, in an all-too-cocky tone.

Suddenly, Mark thrust his hips upwards, catching Brady off guard, and then wrapped his legs around Brady's waist, before turning himself over and rolling Brady onto his back. "Yeah!"

Brady stared up at Mark, stunned and disorientated. "What the hell just happened!?"

"You got owned," replied Mark with a large, proud grin on his face.

Instead of retaliating, Brady smiled and reached his arms up, wrapping them around Mark's shoulders, and pulled his head down toward his own to give him a kiss. Mark hummed, as if tasting a wonderful dish for the first time, and loosened the hold he had on Brady. He could feel Brady's fingers slowly trailing back and forth against his back, causing his muscles to relax and his body to become limp over Brady's.

"We should lie like this forever," he whispered softly into Brady's ear.

"Yeah," Brady agreed, and placed a kiss on Mark's cheek. "But first we should get the fire going."

"What?" replied Mark, as he felt Brady's body begin to stir. "But I don't wanna anymore," he grumbled, but reluctantly rolled off of him.

"It was your suggestion, remember?" said Brady. "Besides, it'll be better with the fire."

Mark raised his eyebrow and grinned. "What will be better with the fire?"

"Everything."

"Eighty-one bottles of coke on the wall! Eighty-one bottles of coke! You take one down, pass it around…"

"James! Cut it out - please!?" begged Peter, as he attempted to hop over another mucky patch in the trail that they had been following for nearly two hours.

James grumbled and scowled. "But Dad! I'm almost done, and I'm tired, and my feet hurt, and…"

"Natalie!" Peter shouted, just loud enough to get her attention. "We better stop for another rest soon."

Looking at her watch, Natalie shook her head. "It's already eight. We should keep going - just a little bit further," she said, while readjusting her backpack. "There should be a clearing where we can set up camp for the night coming up. If we don't get there soon, we'll run out of daylight."

Both James and Peter groaned in unison, as Brittany sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow. "Are you sure we're still on the right path?" she asked. "We still haven't found that lake you said we were meant to see almost an hour ago."

"We are," Natalie said in confidence. "I remember this path."

"So what happened to the lake?" asked James, sounding disappointed. "I want to go swimming."

Peter reached out and ruffled James's hair. "Thought you were tired, though, James?"

Violently shaking his head to remove his father's hand, James twirled around and glared at his father. "I am!" he shouted. "I just want to float!"

"Okay boys," interrupted Brittany, "play nice."

"But Mum! I'm tired, and my feet hurt," whined James, as he turned back around.

"It's okay!" Natalie shouted from twenty feet away. "The clearing is right up here!" she announced in relief.

Brittany raised her hands in the air and shook her fists in victory. "Thank goodness. I'm not sure how much longer I could have gone on."

At the sound of Natalie's voice, James's tired, lead-weighted feet became as light as a feather, and he quickly scurried ahead. "I'm gonna win!" he shouted excitedly, as he disappeared behind the trees.

"James!" yelled Brittany, "not too far ahead!"

By the time the adults caught up with James, he was lying on his back, sprawled out in the grass. The clearing was a small, but it allowed enough space for sunlight to break through the thick branches and leaves above. "There's no lake," said James, in disappointment.

"No," replied Natalie, as she approached. "I'm sorry. I must have led us the wrong way at first, so we missed it."

"It's all right," said Brittany, dropping her bag on the grass. "So long as we're back on track, now," she added.

Natalie nodded. "We're definitely headed the right way. This is the path that my husband made on the way back from his secret campsite."

"How much further are the boys from here?" asked Peter, as he carefully lowered himself to the ground, next to James.

"About an hour and half, if that," said Natalie. "But we'll never make it before the sun goes down." Natalie paused to gulp down half a bottle of water. "I'm sorry. We should have been there an hour ago. I just…"

"It's fine, Natalie," said Brittany. "We're a hell of a lot closer to the boys than we would have been, if not for you. We'll catch up with them in the morning."

James sat up in one, quick motion. "When we find them, can we stay for a while?" he asked in a hopeful plead. "Then we could go swimming!"

"We'll see," said Peter, looking up at his wife to see what her reaction was.

Natalie knelt down next to her bag and unzipped the top. "All right, let's setup camp," she declared. "We've only got a half-hour before we run out of sunlight, so we better find some wood and pitch the tents."

With the fire burning brightly, Brady held a pot of beans and chopped wieners above the flames. Mark had found a smooth, four foot long, log that had become wedged between two rocks near the lake's bank, and dragged it back to camp for them to sit on. And the two were now sitting side-by-side in front of the warm fire, waiting for dinner to heat up.

"So, what are we going to do when we run out of food and money?" Mark asked out of nowhere.

Brady looked at him and pretended to think for a moment. "Well, we could always learn how to fish and live off the land," he said jokingly.

Mark sighed and sat up straight. "We're gonna have to go back eventually, aren't we?"

"Probably," replied Brady, while slowly stirring the beans.

"We're going to be in so much shit."

Brady smiled and nodded. "Definitely."

"What do you think they're going to say?" asked Mark, feeling his insides become tense.

"That we're a couple idiots," Brady replied plainly. "And we'll probably get grounded for the rest of the summer, and our parents will say we can't see each other anymore - but that will only last a while. Don't worry."

"Don't worry? Are you crazy?" asked Mark in disbelief. "You do remember my dad, right? He nearly threw himself out the window… or us."

Brady snickered slightly, while placing the pot down on the ground. "What did you expect him to do, though? Shake our hand?"

"No," Mark grumbled and scratched at his head. "I don't know."

"Shut up and eat," said Brady, jokingly, as he scooped some beans on a plate. "There's no point worrying about this now. We're still here, and we still have enough food and money for another week, at least. Besides, we've got more pressing matters to worry about."

"Like what?" asked Mark, sounding intrigued.

"Like, how the hell are we gonna get this gunk off of our only pot?" replied Brady, attempting to scrape a thick layer of burnt beans from the bottom of the pot.

Mark looked down at the sludgy mess, then back up at Brady, then at the pot and then back at Brady. "Hey! Don't look at me!"

By the time the sun began to set, Natalie had managed to coordinate the full construction of their campsite, while James and Peter gathered wood from nearby fallen branches. But, despite the fact that the two, two-person tents were the pop-up sort, she and Brittany had somehow managed to prevent that from happening. However, with the help of a few trees and some fishing line, Natalie had managed to secure both tents in a semi-upright position.

"I remember this being a lot easier," said Natalie, with both hands on her hips, in a triumphant, almost heroic stance. "But, on the bright side, those tents won't be blown away by the wind."

Brittany smiled and lightly chuckled. "No," she agreed. "But I bet they'll fly just as good, if not better, than any kite ever built."

Natalie's forehead wrinkled as her eyebrow attempted to rise. "Are you mocking my securing rope?" she asked in humour. "My husband always said that, 'fishing line is the duct tape of the wilderness.' I'm yet to prove him wrong."

Just then, the sound of a branch snapping, followed by a howling moan, was heard directly behind them. Both Natalie and Brittany spun themselves around, half-expecting to see a pack of angry wolves, only to see James lying flat on his back, with twigs and branches scattered all around him.

"James?! Are you okay?" Brittany immediately asked. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Although his eyes were red and teary, James sat up and nodded, while rubbing at his throat. "Something tried to cut off me head, Mum," he said weakly.

It was then that Brittany noticed the fishing line, positioned just above James head, as he sat on the ground. Unable to stop herself, she started to chuckle. But it didn't stop there. Within seconds her laughter evolved into a near-hysterical cackle, complete with gasps and belly heaves and all.

Placing her hand on Brittany's shoulder, Natalie peered down at the woman to see if she was okay. "What?" she asked. "What is it?"

Taking a deep gasp for air, Brittany ran her index finger under eye and wiped away a tear. "It's the line," she soon managed, pointing toward her son.

James stood up with a cross expression on his face and slapped his hands on his hips. "That's not funny!" he declared, angrily. "Stop it!"

"Careful, James!" warned Natalie, as James began to walk closer. "There's fishing line holding the tents up."

In response, James froze where he stood and cautiously raised his hands out in front of him. "Where?" he asked. "I can't see anything!"

"It's getting dark," replied Natalie. "Just keep your head low and you'll be fine."

James slowly waved his hands from side-to-side, out in front of himself, as he slowly walked toward his mother, who was trying to stop herself from laughing. "Mum," said James as he neared her. "Better stop. You'll pee your pants, Mum."

At the thought, Brittany crossed her legs and turned around. "I'll be okay," she lied, already sensing herself nearing the point of no return. "I'll be right back," she decided, just as another loud, leaves-rustling, branches-breaking ruckus was heard from the other side of camp.

"Bloody hell!" yelled Peter in a deep, crackling voice. "Who did this!"

Brittany stopped in her tracks and stared over at her husband, who was sitting dumbly in the grass, below the fishing line, and, through another outburst of giggles, ran off into the trees.

"Careful, Dad!" warned James, who had finally made it to safety. "The mums are trying to kill'us!"

Mark and Brady sat next to each other, sitting on the ground and leaning against the log in front of the fire, where the burnt pot sat, filled with lake water, in an attempt to cook away the filth. Brady leaned comfortably into Mark, with his head resting on his shoulder, as the two silently watched the fire dancing in the night.

The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon nearly half-an-hour ago, leaving their surroundings feeling dark and lonely, as the moon struggled to climb the stars into the sky.

Placing his hand on top of Brady's head and gently stroking his fingers through his hair, Mark exhaled with a calm and relaxed sigh. "This is nice," he whispered and pressed his lips against Brady's forehead.

"Yeah," agreed Brady, snuggling deeper into Mark's chest. "I missed this."

"I wish we could stay out here forever - just the two of us," Mark added dreamily. "It's too bad we can't stay."

"We'll come back," promised Brady, as his fingers absentmindedly circled Mark's naval.

"Yeah. But that also means we have to leave first."

"True," agreed Brady. "But that way we'll always have something to look forward to."

Suddenly, Mark's hand stopped twirling in Brady's hair. "Hey! What's that supposed to mean? You don't look forward to seeing me?"

Brady pushed himself up to look into Mark's eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Of course I do. I just thought that went without saying."

With a grin, Mark pulled Brady back down against his chest. "Okay. You may live," he teased and then resumed playing with Brady's hair. "Tell me a scary story."

The fire crackled as its flames voraciously devoured the neatly staged pyramid of wood below, while James danced in circles around its stone border, telling his audience a dark and ghastly tale.

"…while the two boys ran through the trees, they could hear the sound of the monster gaining on them! It didn't matter how fast they ran, they could tell that they could never, EVER get away!

"In a bit, they were walking through the woods and found a tiny log cabin - in the middle of NOWHERE! But they were dumb and went inside anyway! When they got there, they closed the door and wiped their feet and then pushed a really big… MOOSE HEAD against the door, so that the monster couldn't get it - and if he did, it wouldn't matter because the GIANT moose head would scare the monster away forever!

"The two boys ran and hid in the upstairs bathroom, but one of the boys forgot his shoes at the door! So then when the monster got inside he could tell that they were up to no good 'cause he saw the shoes at the door! And then, when he put the MOOSE HEAD back on the wall, the evil monster tiptoed up the stairs, 'cause he could tell they were there, 'cause of the shoes and 'cause he could hear weird slopping noises all over the place! And it really grossed him out!

"The monster made sure to be extra quiet when he got upstairs, and carefully walked down the hall - 'cause there was fishing line tied to all of the walls, and he didn't want to get his head chopped off! - and when he got to the door, he could hear that the slopping sound was even louder, so he dropped the shoes then KICKED THE DOOR DOWN!

"BUT! When he opened the door, the boys didn't get scared at all! Instead, the monster screamed like a little girl and ran away, 'cause when he saw the boys kissing in there it really freaked him out, and he ran down the hallway and got stuck in all the fishing line!

"When the boys heard the noises in the hall, they went out to see what it was. And when they got there, they saw the monster trying to get out of the fishing line. But they didn't help the monster because they found out that the monster wasn't really a monster, and now the monster thought that the boys were monsters because only monsters kiss boys!

"And then," James stood still, with his hands held out at his sides, in the shape of claws, "the two boy monsters started to laugh and pulled the fishing line and chopped off the not-monster's head!"

After a long, awkward silence, Natalie and Brittany began to clap for James's performance, while Peter sat quietly. His face was red, but he couldn't tell if he was angry or embarrassed, though he felt that it was a little bit of both. "That's not funny, James," he finally said, and climbed to his feet. "I'm going to bed."

"…and there, dangling from the door handle, was a large, bloody hook."

Mark stared at Brady with his eyebrow raised up high on his forehead. "Seriously?" he asked. "Is that the only story you know?"

"Mostly, yeah," replied Brady with a shrug. "Why? Have you heard it before?"

"Uh, yeah! That's like the oldest sleepover story ever!"

"Really?" asked Brady. "I was kinda hoping that they wouldn't know this story in England. Want me to try for another one?"

"Nah," decided Mark. "I'm getting tired. We should, uh… go to bed now," he suggested with a sly grin on his face.

Brady removed his head from Mark's shoulder with a grin on his face so large that it would make a clown blush. "You're dirty," he said happily, then quickly jumped up to his feet and dumped the water from the pot down onto the fire.

"You know you like it," replied Mark, as he rolled onto his knees and slowly pushed his body upright. "Now hurry up! I'm bound to fall asleep any second!" he announced, and quickly crawled inside the tent.

The second the flames had diminished, Brady ran toward the tent and dove inside. By the time he entered, Mark had already removed everything but his underwear. "Should we throw this junk outside?" he asked, holding his clothes and shoes out in front of him.

"Go for it," said Brady, as he struggled to remove his shirt.

Crawling over to the tent's exit, Mark crammed his things in his bag and tossed it outside. "Hurry up!" he demanded, watching Brady slowly take off his shoes and socks.

"I'm sorry! I didn't want to shake my shoes too much, in case there's dirt in the treads."

"Goh! You're such a girl!" Mark teased through impatience. "Here, let me help," he said, and crawled over to Brady and grabbed the legs of his shorts.

"I can do it!" Brady shouted in giggling-protest.

Mark, however, didn't care, and yanked Brady's shorts right off of him, then quickly chucked them out the tent. "There! Was that so hard?"

Brady stared down at himself and then up at Mark. "Well, yes, apparently it was."

With a quick chuckle, Mark crawled over Brady, so that his arms were on either side of him, and slowly lowered himself down on top of him. Brady responded by lying back and wrapping his arms around Mark's shoulders, and then reached up with his lips, enticing Mark to come closer.

When their lips met, Brady slid his hand down, over Mark's behind, and played with the cotton fabric of his dark-grey briefs. However, the moment he tried to slide his fingers underneath the plain white waistband, Mark hummed and rolled onto his side.

"Hey, what are you doing?" whined Brady, attempting to pull Mark back to where he was.

"I'm protecting my innocence," replied Mark, with a snicker.

Brady rolled his eyes, but quickly dismissed his thoughts when he felt Mark's fingers prying their way beneath his own underwear. At first, he had wanted to roll over and deprive Mark of the same thing he had taken from him, until he could feel Mark's hand wrap itself around his length.

Without hesitation, Mark began to slowly massage Brady's stiffened centre, while carefully sneaking his other hand under Brady's waistband, which he soon began to lower. His thumb gently slid against the bare skin of Brady's backside, which caused them both to gently shudder from the touch. Soon, Brady could feel his boxer-briefs lowering past his thighs, and he gently raised his hips to help Mark get them off completely. The moment this was done, Brady had planned to do the same to Mark. However, as he struggled to kick the garment off of his ankles, Mark removed his own underwear.

"Well that's not fair," pouted Brady, as Mark lied back down. "I wanted to do that."

"Oh - I'm sorry," Mark replied, while reaching out toward Brady. "Let me make it up to you."

With a grin on his face, Brady rolled onto his side, so that his chest was pressed firmly against Mark's. His hand automatically placed itself on Mark's hip, and slowly travelled downward, along his thigh. "I love you," Brady said out of nowhere, while looking deep into Mark's eyes to study his reaction.

"I love you, too," Mark replied, without a moment's hesitation. "I'm glad you brought me here. Even if it's only for a while, and that we're definitely going to get in heaps of trouble, it's worth it."

All Brady could think to do in response was to smile. He felt like he should say something back, something equally amazing, but nothing came out. Instead, all he could do was smile stupidly, while circling his fingers against the smooth, warm skin of Mark's behind. And with that, he was reminded of that soft, silky skin that he had daringly explored earlier that day. The thought, however, made him feel terrible. Here was Mark thanking him for his love, and all he could do was think about touching his unmentionables.

"Are you okay?" asked Mark, seemingly sensing his conflicting thoughts.

Brady softly nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Do you want to stop? You seem a little blah."

"No," I'm good. Just a new kind of happy, I guess," decided Brady, just as Mark squeezed his left buttock.

Without another word, Mark pressed his lips against Brady's and waited for them to part. Their tongues met and gently slid and spun against the other, while Mark slowly caressed Brady's erection with the tips of his fingers. The stiff length bounced and twitched in anticipation, until, finally, Mark wrapped his hand around it and began to gently stroke.

Brady's thoughts were becoming foggy, and slowly drifting off into the nothingness of his mind, as his hand slowly travelled along the smooth skin of Mark's behind, until his fingers finally made contact with its parting. Brady froze, unsure if he should continue. However, Mark's hips were rocking back and forth, pressing into his groin just a little harder each time, causing Brady's apprehension to gradually dissipate.

Not wasting his mind's silence for another second, Brady firmly pressed his hand against Mark's backside, allowing the tips of his fingers to gently sneak between Mark's gentle fold. The moment this was done, Mark's leg lifted and wrapped itself around Brady's waist, as his hips thrust forward even harder than before. Unable to stop himself, Brady slid his fingers deeper, until they finally touched the same soft and silky skin as before. His heart was pounding, as if he were about to be caught stealing, but he couldn't resist the temptation.

Mark's hard, heated length had become slick with pre-cum, enabling his movement to increase its speed with greater ease. And with every backward motion, Brady could feel Mark pushing himself harder against his fingers, as if demanding that he continue. Using this motion to his advantage, Brady pressed his middle finger forward, so that it was positioned directly above Mark's entrance. With every movement to follow, Brady could feel his finger slowly being guided forward, until he suddenly felt the familiar sensation building deep in his loins. Following this realization, Brady began to panic. He was so close that he couldn't bear to see it end so soon, yet the feeling resumed its growth and spread throughout his nerves. His speed increased, and his hands grasped against Mark as best they could, just as he reached the point of no return.

Within a matter of seconds, Brady could feel his testicles draw in and tighten against his body. His pace increased, and his hardened length pressed heavily against Mark's groin, until his entire body became suddenly stiff and refused to respond to command. Eventually, as his muscles began to grow limp, Brady could feel his tingling nerves become less intense, which is when he realized what had happened.

Mark remained still against him, with his head buried against his shoulder, as Brady slowly withdrew his middle finger from Mark's backside. It hadn't travelled far, like Brady had originally feared. No more than the bend of his first knuckle. Nonetheless, Brady felt as if he had hurt Mark, especially considering his unmoving body.

"Are you okay?" Brady finally managed to ask, despite the fear of Mark's answer.

Mark stirred against Brady's chest and hummed a quiet 'mmmhmm', with a nod. "Why?"

Brady suddenly felt guilty, but wasn't sure what to say. "Did I hurt you?"

"Huh?" Mark raised his head and looked Brady straight in eye. "How could you have hurt me?"

Looking down at his finger, Brady shrugged and looked away. "Because my finger…"

"Oh that!" Mark interrupted. "No, I'm okay, silly. Just made me go a little faster than I wanted," he explained, almost shyly.

The relief that Brady experienced, literally felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest, but still he felt guilty for his actions. "I'm sorry."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Don't be," he assured him, and sealed it with a kiss. "I… kinda liked it."