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"Oh, Canada." Blair sounded satisfied. "Hey, Jim, this is our turn." They pulled onto dirt.
"Explain to me again why this thing had to be across the border?" Jim gestured out the window. "It looks exactly like it did a mile ago, only now the pine forest's, what, particularly Canadian?"
"Liminality. Transgression. The deeply satisfying feeling of crossing over." Blair glanced, saw Jim wsn't buying it, and rolled his eyes. "I just thought it'd be fun."
"So whaddaya think?"
Jim considered carefully. It was small, wooden, featuring a woodstove and a futon (not a cot, thank God; those tended to creak, or, worse, collapse) and a set of bare shelves. It was a shack, pretty standard-issue. What was he supposed to think?
Blair took his silence as answer. "Help me get the stuff in and the fire started, and I'll show you why I picked this one."
"What do you hear?"
"Fire," Jim said automatically. The woodstove roared, in comparison with their little fireplace at home.
"Past that."
Filtering out the fire, Jim heard...almost nothing. An owl. Small feet skittering over crusty snow, a mouse maybe, or a small fox. That was it. "Nothing," he said.
Blair grinned. "And you know what the corollary of that is, don't you?"
What was Blair going on about? Jim shook his head.
"No one can hear us, either." His voice soft but silky with intent. "Strip."
Jim shivered as his hands obeyed. Behind him he heard Blair sliding out of his own clothes, rummaging in their bags, placing something near the edge of the mattress. Fire warmed his front side; his back side was cold.
Not for long. Blair was behind him, and Jim felt his heat, even from inches away. Blair reached around and cupped slick fingers over Jim's cock. Jim gasped.
"You want this?"
Jim sighed a yes.
"You're going to have to want it a lot more than that."
The hand slipped away. Jim sighed in protest.
"Hands and knees." Decisive.
The mattress was stiff, but gave slightly under his weight. Blair's hand returned to pump Jim's cock, once, and Jim moaned softly. A tug at his balls, and he gasped.
And then Blair's hand was gone, and before he was prepared for it the first smack came down. It wasn't long before his breathing was heavy. His ass was hot and his cock and balls dangled down, the lack of stimulation almost unbearable.
"Please," he managed.
"Please what?"
God, he loved this. "Please touch me. Blair."
But instead of the anticipated stroke along his erection, Jim felt wet fingers gliding into him, sparking fire along his spine. He groaned.
The rhythm was fast, Blair's strokes were deep, and Jim discovered that once he'd started making noise, he couldn't stop.
"Yeah? You like that? You want more of that?"
Jim moaned a desperate reply. Just then the fingers were withdrawn, and he opened his mouth to beg for their return, and then he felt Blair coming up behind him and pressing inside. Two hard strokes and Jim came, helplessly, keening a long string of "oh"s into the silent Canadian air.
Blair kept fucking him; boneless with pleasure, Jim sighed into the pillow, which smelled like woodsmoke. When Blair came, his shout would have woken two floors of neighbors. But of course, there weren't any.
And they'd be here until Tuesday.
Jim fell asleep with a smile on his face.