What If?

What If? Part 2

   Martin? DYING?  thought Chris as he ran back towards home.  Inconceivable.  Martin had the biggest, strongest heart of anyone he knew. Even though Chris was younger and smaller, Martin had never made him feel as though Chris dwelled in Martin's shadow. Chris WAS Martin's shadow.

Chris tripped and pitched forward onto the road. When he got up, he was scraped and bleeding. It was at that point Chris realized he could not go home. Tania would see his face, and get it out of him. Martin had a right to tell his news as he saw fit.

Martin wrote most of the scripts for Wild Kratts. Chris decided then and there that Chris would write them all, taking any responsibility off his sibling. Martin could focus on getting better. Chris got in his car and drove to a hiking trail. He parked and walked into the woods, going far off the trail. He did not stop until he could no longer see or hear any traffic. Chris sat down and took a long drink from his water bottle. He ensconced himself under a rock outcropping, ensuring he would not be seen. Being a creature adventurer had certain advantages. He tapped his pencil on the pad, drawing a blank. How could he get inspiration at a time like this?

Caught off guard, his mind wandered back to a time of forbidden lust practiced over and over on a subtropical island that might as well have been another planet. And, in the Arctic, where they huddled together in a tent for warmth, but ended up naked because they were so VERY hot. A smile crept across his face as he remembered a time they did it a little differently.

The two were in Canada. The deep forests, the tall trees, the abundance of fauna was exhilarating. The crew member this time was very helpful – and very dense. Despite the Kratts' insistence they could  and would do fine by themselves on the trek, the crew member insisted on carrying the  equipment. So they basically ran the crew member down, until he called uncle. By that time, their sexual tension had reached fever pitch. They could hold back no longer.

Chris and Martin made a beeline for a large beaver lodge they had spotted the previous day. They crawled in one a time. Inside it was dry and comfortable. "No beavers," said Chris. "Except one," said Martin, grabbing Chris' butt. Chris laughed and slapped Martin's hand away. The tussled until Chris had Martin pinned on his stomach .

"Ok, bro, you win !" laughed the older man.  "Now roll over."

"No." Chris kissed Martin's head and the nape of his neck. "Not this time." He slowly grinded on Martin's waist until the sensation made him hard. Chris pulled Martin's shorts down, exposing dat ass he loved. Slipping off his own shorts, Chris positioned himself for entry to the blonde's "special place."

"W-wait, buddy," stammered Martin. "What are you doing? That's my job!"

"Shut up, Martin. I want to do it to you. I've wanted to for a while." He guided himself into his brother's tight opening and exhaled. He started to move his hips back and forth.

"No, a little to the left," ordered the blonde. "A little to the right. There. There!" Thankfully for Chris, Martin finally shut up and the only sound they heard was Chris' slim hips slapping with surprising force against his brother.

"Aah! Uhhh." Chris came in Martin and stayed, spasming for a while afterwards. He could feel his brother's post-quake tremors as well.

"Damn. I should let you do that more often," said Martin.  "I can still hear the slapping, you were that good."

"Wait. I can hear it too," said Chris, alarmed. They screamed, "Beaver tail warnings!" and barely made it out of the lodge before it collapsed.

They had had to drag the crew member back to help rebuild it. And that had made it in a Wild Kratts episode – at least the accidental demolishment and the subsequent rebuilding. But not exactly.

Chris wrote and wrote. By the time he had five episodes meticulously drawn-out, it was dark. He figured he would just close his eyes for a minute, before he went home. But there in the woods, he was drawn into a fevered dream.

It was their grandfather. He spoke a single word: "VERBOTEN!"

TO BE CONTINUED