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Camping Tricks	By : CeeCee Category: Comics > Archie & Co. Views: 4545 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the Archies Comics fandom or the characters. I make no money from writing this work of fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Camping Tricks
- 1
“We should have just borrowed Daddy’s RV.”

“Wuss.”

“Seriously, Betty. This sucks. I hate this…” Veronica’s tirade was interrupted by a brief slap. “Frigging mosquitoes!”

“They like you. They really like you,” Midge deadpanned as she stirred a tin saucepan of beans over the low fire.

“You’ll take all the fun out of it that way,” Miss Grundy added as she dug in the first aid kit. She tossed Veronica a tube of anti-itch cream. “Knock yourself out.”

“Next time I’m going on the ski trip instead,” Veronica grumbled. Riverdale High School raised funds for the field trips that the students voted on each year. Since fewer students knew how to ski, the camping trip to the lake had been the most popular choice.

The lake front was dotted with roughly two dozen tents. The fire pit was wide and lined with stones. Moose’s CD player blasted tunes over the chatter and echoed out over the water while the students scorched marshmallows and weenies.

It gradually grew too dark for Frisbee. Mr. Wetherbee blew a tin whistle around his neck and clapped his hands sharply.

“I realize you’re enjoying the festivities, folks, but it’s time to wrap things up. Everyone’s responsible for cleaning up their own areas. Make sure you get out your lanterns and find your flashlights now, because we’re extinguishing the fire for safety. Anyone who needs extra blankets, speak up!” A chorus of “awww, man!” met his announcement. Moose turned down the volume on the music.

“Duh, why do we hafta go ta bed so early?”

“His mommy didn’t dress him in his PJs with feet and tuck him in,” Reggie muttered unkindly. Jughead snorted before greedily cramming the last two bites of hot dog into his mouth.

“We have an early day tomorrow, kids. We have a morning hike. That trail’s three miles long.” They protested even more loudly. “It’ll be worth it. There’s some nice hot springs and an archery course once we get there. We’ll be canoeing the day after.” Miss Grundy gestured to one side of the camp. “Ladies, hit the showers!” Her expression pinned every boy in a fifty-foot radius. “No monkey business.”

Despite their earlier arguments that they weren’t tired, the kids stretched and yawned as they went about the chore of gathering up dishes and trash. Furtive, brief goodnight kisses were exchanged as token couples let go of each other, plans for midnight “visits” squashed. Betty glared as Veronica whispered with Archie, giggling at something he said before giving him a much longer hug goodnight than necessary.

Reggie looked on with equal amounts of contempt. There went Carrot Top, making himself a nuisance again. Reggie contented himself with the fact that during the day, he’d have his chance to outshine him six ways from Sunday. Reggie was a stronger hiker, faster swimmer, and better ultimate Frisbee player. Veronica would see which one was more worth her time when the sun came up.

Still…

Sometimes it wasn’t about impressing a girl, or in Reggie’s case, several girls.

Sometimes it was all about showing up Archie Andrews because it was so much fun.

Messing with Arch was an art form, one he’d perfected after years of painstaking practice and dedication. Spitballs, hiding frogs in his lunch bag, running off with his clothes in the locker room when he was in the shower, all of it was part of Reggie’s burgeoning repertoire. Archie made it even more satisfying by not just by falling for it, but by cutting up and spazzing out every time. His creamy skin grew so red it was hard to see his freckles.

Reggie couldn’t explain it. There was just something about the redhead that drove him nuts. At bedrock, he was a goodie-goodie. Archie was the Cub Scout with a sash full of badges and the kid everyone patted on the head as they filed out of church to have their coffee. Arch played fair at every sport and kept his curfew to the second. He was a suck-up. Reggie had little use for that trait, when subterfuge and convenient lies were more readily available and took less energy and effort.

Then, there were the girls.

They treated Arch like he had a cock that squirted maple syrup. They ate him up. Reggie was the big dog, damn it. Arch was just a mutt. So why did he keep showing him up? Veronica and Betty mooned over him. Fought over him. What the heck for?

Everything about Archie frustrated Reggie.

His voice. It walked the edge of being too deep for a tenor, but lacked the heft of a true baritone. He was a decent singer, Reggie would hand him that, but every time he opened his mouth to talk, he just wanted to smack him. His demeanor was “aw, gee shucks” when he spoke. Completely open. He didn’t even have the decency to make girls work for it when they flirted with him by acting “distant” like Reggie did, or by redirecting the attention toward himself by fishing for compliments.

That bastard.

Reggie watched him retreat to the porta-john, mind racing. There were too many opportunities that Reggie couldn’t let go to waste.

The fire still crackled; Wetherbee hadn’t shown up yet with the bucket of sand he planned to extinguish it with. Hmmmm…

Reggie found a spare commuter cup among the stack of dishes beside a large blue cooler. He walked to the water’s edge and went in up to his ankles, shivering as he bent and dipped the cup into the cool liquid, filling it. He found the saucepan Midge used for the beans, empty now, and used a tiny bit of his water to swish out the broth residue. Then he filled the pan with more of the water and allowed it to boil slightly, anticipation building in his chest.

This was going to be so great.

Wetherbee eyed him curiously as he approached with the sand bucket.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed?”

“Er…I was thinking about a cup of tea,” he offered innocently. Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Mr. Wetherbee didn’t seem to notice the mischief dancing in his coffee brown eyes. Or perhaps he’d chosen to let it go, needing a break from the sound of his own voice after barking orders and lectures over the course of a long, hot afternoon and too many hot dogs.

“Be quick about it, Mr. Mantle. Chop, chop!”

Reggie dutifully retreated with his cup (sans tea bag) to his tent. He was sharing with Chuck, which suited him fine, since Chuck was relatively neat. No one was sharing a tent with Jughead, not surprisingly, since the lanky loner snored like a grizzly. Reggie snorted about his ulterior motive of wanting more room to store his snacks in the middle of the night. Reggie covered the cup with a lid to seal in the heat and set it aside. Chuck was yawning and changing into a pair of flannel boxers and a tank top.

“What’s that? You sneaking a beer?” he asked with mock enthusiasm.

“Nah,” Reggie smirked.

“Don’t drink that now,” Chuck suggested. “Gonna be a long night. You don’t want to be up in the dark using that john outside. It’s nasty,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “I hate that. That, and having to climb into and out of my sleeping back more than once. It’s a pain.”

“Need Nancy to tuck you in?”

“Bastard,” Chuck muttered, shaking his head. “You know it sucks having a chaperone.”

“Grundy’s a barracuda,” Reggie agreed.

“All those girls in shorts and nighties just a few yards away. That ain’t right,” Chuck sighed.

“You’re only interested in one of them,” Reggie reminded him.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view.”

“No shit.” Reggie peered out of the slat of their tent, watching several pairs of bare legs retreating into their tents. He briefly saw Midge’s silhouette against the side of her tent as she appeared to take off her top, but then the lantern inside was extinguished. “Eh. Never mind.”

He continued to watch the ground periodically, hunting for his prey. Reggie smothered a laugh when Wetherbee caught Archie trying to sneak a peek into the girls’ tents, too, shooing him away.

Archie was alone in his tent. Beside him, Chuck’s breathing was slowing down as he rustled around in the nylon sleeping bag, trying to get comfortable.

Within ten minutes, the lanterns went out a few at a time until the campground was pitch-black. Reggie smiled in the dark, lying on top of his sleeping bag. Finally.

He was actually loathe to move. The light breeze blowing inside felt good against his hot skin after such a sultry night. Like Chuck, Reggie favored boxers, but they were stiff new cotton, purchased by his mother for his trip.

Chuck’s light snore was Reggie’s signal. Reggie slipped into his sneakers and padded out of the tent.

Carefully he sidled up to Archie’s tent, mindful of his shadow. He leaned down and listened closely, picking up his sonorous breathing, not quite a snore. Miss Grundy and the Bee were nowhere in sight.

Perfect.

Slowly, Reggie leaned around the flap, peering inside. Archie left it partially unzipped to enjoy the cool air, too, from the look of it; Reggie used that to his advantage to let himself inside almost soundlessly.

There he was, completely oblivious and relaxed. Archie’s firm chest rose and fell evenly and he smacked his lips in his sleep. For just a moment, Reggie felt a strange pang, staring at him. It was almost a shame to play such a trick when he was just laying there, so placid.

Archie at night and Archie during the day were two different people. Archie lacked that goofy “aw, gee shucks” look in sleep. His closed eyelids were long and smooth, and Reggie noticed how bushy and firm his brows were, a slightly deeper copper than the rest of his hair. Reggie squatted down and stared his fill. There was a feeling of dangerous anticipation in lingering long enough to get caught. Archie moaned in his sleep, a deeper, more masculine rumble than his day time voice.

Reggie’s gut tightened. Why was he reacting like this?

He shook himself. Back to business. Monkey business. He unscrewed the cap of the commuter cup and crept alongside his slumbering bulk, pulse racing in his neck. Reggie’s lips twisted in a smirk as he gently prodded his wrist. Archie didn’t even flinch. More bravely, he gently clasped it, impressed with how broad and sturdy it was in his grip, how warm his skin was even in the cooling night.

He lifted it. Archie snorted slightly in response but didn’t wake. Slowly, carefully, he maneuvered his hand until his fingers dangled into the warm water. Archie flinched. Reggie bit back the laughter that threatened to claw its way out of his throat.

Panic hit him as Archie flailed loose, hand escaping the cup and Reggie’s grip. He mumbled something that sounded like “mmmmnn, nuh-uh, Jug-go-way!” before tossing his arm over his head.

“Damn it,” Reggie hissed before he could stop himself. His damp fingers glistened in the dim light slicing inside the tent. He eyed Archie and decided to see if his effort had been fruitful. Gently he peeled aside the unzipped flap of his sleeping bag until his flat belly was exposed.

Damn it. Dry as a bone. Reggie couldn’t stop himself, though, or his hand from uncovering him further, just to take another long look.

His tank top flipped up slight at the hem, exposing fair, smooth skin. His navel was an inny, and there was a tiny, sparse trail of hair descending from it, leading below the waistband of his red briefs.

Red briefs…

They surprised him. He’d seen Arch often enough in the locker room to know that he usually favored tightie whities. The Calvin Klein label parading around the gray band of elastic mocked him with this lack of knowledge.

They were dry, but they still hid nothing.

“Damn,” Reggie breathed. Archie wasn’t flaccid.

Or small.

Reggie was spellbound. His sac cushioned the curved, stiff knot of his cock, appearing domed and wrapped snug as a sausage in the tight little briefs. Archie smacked his lips again and groaned, seeming to dislike the chill he was getting from being exposed.

His nipples didn’t mind at all. They stiffened beneath the white, ribbed Hanes cotton in response.

Reggie felt his stomach twist with…need.

Need?

His hand drifted down to the hem of Archie’s tank without either of their permission and slid it centimeter by centimeter up, up, over his rib cage as it rose and fell, away from his taut pecs. His chest was smooth except for another sparse fuzz of hair that ended a few inches below his collarbones.

Reggie let go of the shirt, content just to watch him. Stiffness grew between his legs, which were already cramping from squatting, so he sat and stretched them instead. His heart hammered in his chest and his skin suddenly felt flushed.

Looking at Carrot Top sleeping was doing something to him; being in the tiny tent alone with him intensified the strange sensations pricking at the nape of his neck. Outside he heard the faint breeze pick up and what sounded like chirping frogs and crickets.

He remembered the cup of water, but he forgot its original purpose.

He dampened his own fingertips in it and reached out, hand shaking as he painted one of the tiny, beige-pink nubs in liquid warmth. His captive arched into his touch with a low moan.

Reggie was in control, and it was a heady feeling, arousing him even more.

He painted the other hard little nub, flattening the tiny hairs circling it with moisture. Reggie stroked it lightly, amazed at how taut it felt, the way it pushed back at him slightly when he pressed it. He rolled it experimentally between his finger and thumb, tempted to pinch it. Reggie lowered his mouth carefully, his hot breath misting Archie’s ribs, and he open his lips and tasted the tiny kernel of flesh.

In the back of his mind, Reggie remembered reading about something called “intromission.” The body reacted just as sharply to touch and arousal during slumber as it did while it was awake. Sometimes those feelings and that pleasure followed you into sleep, flavoring your dreams and introducing the physical pull of another person’s touch.

And sometimes, it was a fantastic way to wake up, having sex without foreplay as the middle man.

But Reggie wanted so badly to play.

His skin tasted slightly salty, and he picked up the scent of Archie’s deodorant and his natural pheromones. He’d never paid much attention to how he smelled. He wet his fingers and let them ghost down his bare abdomen. Archie quivered and jerked, mumbling again.

“Mmmnnnh…don’,” he muttered. His eyes stayed close, and his face grimaced in annoyance. Reggie drew back a moment, then continued.

He was getting so hard, nearly bursting. Heat pooled in his loins as Archie began to writhe beneath him. He hovered over him, wanting to take a gamble.

He knew Archie well enough to know that once he realized his situation and their respective positions, he wouldn’t cry out, not at risk of them both being caught in a suggestive one.

His fears became unfounded as Archie’s hand cupped Reggie’s neck in sleep, impulsively holding him immobile, even bringing himself closer to the source of that damp heat. Archie’s arm convulsed around him, and Reggie lost his balance slightly, collapsing against Archie’s body.

Shock gripped him as he felt Archie’s previously limp fingers thread themselves through his dark, silky hair, clutching it and combing through it. Reggie moaned this time, letting the sound resonate through Archie.

“Mmmmmmm…” Sounds, not words, were what Archie had to exchange for more of Reggie’s erotic treatment. He couldn’t control himself. He had to touch him, to taste him, explore his dense, compact muscles and his skin that was gradually becoming hot to the touch again, despite the cool night. Reggie’s mouth trailed fire over his abdomen, the tip of his tongue swiveling in his navel provocatively.

“Yeah,” Archie groaned hoarsely. There it was again, that voice, so much sexier when it was full of interrupted sleep.

The urges sweeping over Reggie were frightening and new. He didn’t even like him, but he craved him. It defied logic and sense and what he knew about himself: Reggie was infatuated with Veronica Lodge, but first and foremost, he wasn’t into boys.

…was he?

But this one was responding openly to his touch, hand winding around his shoulder and making him shudder. He explored the faint hollow of his collarbones, then each prominent knob with his lips. His rival arched and bucked beneath him, because during the course of his ministrations, he’d slid his body over his, molding it to him. Both boys kicked the sleeping bag the rest of the way open, freeing their legs.

Archie hadn’t opened his eyes; he didn’t know if he was in the middle of a particularly good dream, but someone’s mouth was on him, driving him crazy, and he wanted more. His dick swelled and throbbed, rubbing against something firm, not quite rigid, that seemed to pulse and twitch against him. The polished cotton of his boxers slid over the tighter, softer weave of those hot red briefs, enflaming him. Nipping bites scorched their way up and down his throat, then traveled lower. Archie instinctively clasped Reggie’s head, fisting his hand in his waves, and began to press it south, encouraging him…

He was rewarded by the feel of steam, then hot wetness pooling in the divot of his navel as Reggie licked him. He teased it, then followed the sprinkle of crisp hair down to the waistband, which he worried slightly with the edge of his teeth. Archie gasped.

“Shit!” he yelped.

“Sshhh, shhh,” Reggie warned him, then suddenly froze.

Shit. He’d let Archie hear him.

The spell was broken, too soon. Archie jerked awake, staring up at the roof of the tent. His eyes drifted down, lower, then found Reggie’s dazed face looking back up at him.

Lounging in the nook between his bare legs.

One hand idly tracing the border of the leg of his briefs, barely skimming his fingertip beneath it.

Reggie swallowed.

“What…?” Archie closed his eyes and scrubbed his face, then peered down at him again, to confirm what – who – he saw, nestled so close to his privates.

Reggie said the only thing he could.

“You were expecting maybe Veronica?”

*

They’d reached an impasse. Mixed emotions flitted over Archie’s features, and his blue eyes were troubled. But to Reggie’s relief…they weren’t angry.

“What’s this about?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.

Archie stirred beneath him. Reggie diligently sat up, backing away, but he hated leaving the warm of his pliant body.

“What were you doing in here?”

“I got lost,” he deadpanned. Archie did scowl this time. He leaned up and yawned, propping himself on his elbows. Then he spied the commuter cup, noticing some of the warm water spilled onto his sleeping roll. He reached down and dragged his fingers through the damp sheen.

Warm.

“Jerk!” he accused. “You tried to make me piss myself!”

“It almost worked.”

“The heck it did! I wasn’t gonna fall for that!”

“Wanna bet? You were out like a light.” Archie swallowed hard, and a knot formed in his stomach.

Reggie was right. He slept so soundly that he didn’t know dream from reality. Warm, panting reality. To his embarrassment, he was still slightly out of breath. What had Mantle done to him?

His cock was screaming at him, hating the neglect. Bring him back, it whined. It’s fun time.

“Why were you on me, then?” Reggie sat back, and to Archie’s confusion, hugged his knees to his chest.

Reggie? Looking unsure?

“I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t help it.”

“You couldn’t.”

“You were just lying there. You just looked –“ Reggie was caught and hating every minute. Archie wanted him to explain the impossible, when he didn’t have the foggiest what the answer was, either.

“How the heck can I look? You’re in my tent, in the middle of the night,” Archie grumbled. Reggie mumbled something under his breath. “What was that?”

“Fuckable,” he repeated. Archie’s mouth dropped open, then he shut it. “You looked fuckable.”

Blue eyes probed deep brown. Something sizzled between them. Archie’s nostrils flared. Reggie’s pupils dilated.

Archie’s hand shook as he reached for him, whipping out and ringing his upper arm. He jerked him forward before Reggie could even decipher what he was doing.

“Arch, wha-“

Some voice in the back of his mind simply muttered “oh, just shut up, already” as Archie rolled onto his back once more and brought Reggie with him. He cupped the back of his head and pulled him into a hard, drugging kiss that made the throbbing flesh between them spring back to life.

Their long, muscular legs tangled together and they grappled, sighing into each other’s mouths and sharing breath. The faint scent of musk in the confines of the tent grew, born of heightened pheromones and a hint of sweat. Archie didn’t fight it when Reggie slipped his tank off over his head and groped him, pinching and rolling his cooperative nipples again. Archie had other ideas. He firmly took Reggie’s wrist and thrust it down, down over the hard, smooth knob between his thighs.

“Do it,” Archie rasped, his face strained and pleading with him.

“How do you want it?” Reggie was already freeing him of the tight knit, forcing it down. Archie’s dick snapped free, erect and bobbing. Reggie ran his fingertip up its length, flicking the side of the smooth head. Archie jerked, then closed his eyes and moaned.

“I don’t care. Just do it.” Reggie gave him another hard kiss. He felt the blood rush into his nerve endings as he bowed his head and carefully took the tender knob into his mouth.

It felt strange there. Reggie accustomed himself to its girth and shape, giving it a test taste. He was salty, almost tart, something Reggie wouldn’t have imagined, but this wasn’t an everyday occurrence. When he woke up that morning, he wouldn’t have believed anyone who told him that he’d jump Archie Andrews in a tent. Ever.

Archie made guttural sounds of need as his hips rocked up with each stroke of Reggie’s tongue. He stroked the length of his thighs as he worked, exploring their contours and the layer of coarse hair. Archie lifted up for him a bit without being asked as Reggie eased his palm under his ass, kneading it. It was ripe and firm, satisfying to grope and stroke.

“God, that’s good,” Archie whispered. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop, Reg.”

His hands fell away from Reggie’s head, and he just laid back and enjoyed the ride. Archie whimpered when Reggie stroked his sensitive taint, amazed at how satiny it felt. He handled his sac with care, rolling and cradling it in his hand, enjoying the texture of coarser, thicker hair and leathery skin. There was so much about Archie’s body that he wanted to experience in full. It excited him. It still defied reason.

Didn’t they hate each other? Archie’s whisper of his name cleansed that thought from his mind.

Archie rode Reggie’s mouth, completely vulnerable to it. He felt fingers gently probing him, grazing the cleft of his ass and stroking the tiny pucker inside. It enhanced the pleasure of Reggie suckling him, something Archie didn’t expect, and he squeezed those muscles around Reggie’s digit as he worked it inside. Reggie gave an experimental thrust of his hand, then was rewarded by a whimper.

“Please.”

Reggie was about to come undone himself. Heat was pouring through his veins, culminating in his own hard cock. The inevitable result of their coupling, if he could indeed call it that, loomed near and tempted him, toyed with him.

The sheath of muscle felt velvety and surprising soft, yielding only slightly to his entry. Reggie thrust in a little at a time, kneading the column as it squeezed him. He murmured into Archie’s skin that it was all right, to take it easy, that he’d make it good for him. It was just a matter of, how. Archie was trusting him, something he could tell from the way his leg drifted up and looped itself over Reggie’s shoulder, heel resting against his strong back.

He felt Archie shuffling something above him, making a rustling noise against the sleeping bag. Archie dug into his duffle for something to the extent that his arousal would allow, since it was becoming impossible to think past the seductive pull of Reggie’s lips around him.

Reggie paused as Archie handed him a white plastic bottle. He looked curious as he read the label. “Sunscreen?”

“It’s slippery,” Archie offered hopefully. It dawned on Reggie what he was getting at. “Try it. Feels good so far.” Moments later, he moaned as Reggie’s fingers returned, this time thrusting deeper and more slickly into him, moving faster. It felt so good, speeding more pressure into his dick as Reggie found a sweet spot inside him, pressing it. “Please,” he told him again, more desperate this time.

Reggie’s face was just as strained as Archie’s when he lifted his face from him and leaned back on his haunches. He fiddled with his shorts, jerking them off without even taking off his sneakers. Archie would have laughed at the sight he made if he wasn’t so turned on. Reggie was sculpted and physically perfect. His skin was mildly tanned and golden except for the lighter flesh of his groin and ass. Archie watched, transfixed, as Reggie took a generous handful of the sunscreen and slathered his dick with it; it jumped in response, and Archie responded to the sight of Reggie pleasuring himself, albeit briefly. The angry red, plump head peeked over the ring of Reggie’s large fist as he pumped his cock, readying them both.

“How?” was his one question.

“Like this.” Archie didn’t flip over to his stomach. He needed to watch him. He spread his legs, almost butterflying them to give Reggie room. Reggie knelt before him, clasping his knee and dipping his fingers inside him again. He dilated him carefully, suddenly nervous but still wanting this joining so much.

“Arch…I’m afraid.”

“I’m trying not to be,” Archie admitted back. “Try it. If it sucks, we don’t have to –“ His words were cut off as he felt Reggie leaning in, rubbing his erection against his entrance. The head teased him, just kneading and stretching open the tiny hole. Archie gasped and closed his eyes, anticipation quickening his heartbeat.

Sharp, tingling pain invaded him as Reggie breached him, and Archie squeezed those muscles when he should have relaxed, but he was still aching even more for this new partner, wanting to consummate what was happening between them. Sweat broke out Reggie’s brow at the feel of Archie slowly swallowing his stiffness; he grunted involuntarily, then recoiled at the pain he saw wracking Archie’s features.

“Sorry,” he hissed, about to stop. Archie stopped him from withdrawing.

“Don’t go,” he begged. “Please.” By degrees, Archie forced himself to relax.

“I’m hurting you,” Reggie said flatly, but his guilt warred with the sweet feel of Archie partially wrapped around his dick.

“It’s…okay,” he groaned back. “Just…stay there.”

Incrementally his hips rocked up, engulfing more of Reggie in the process. Reggie choked back a cry and his eyes shuttered. He had an impossible time holding himself still. Archie let out mere fractions of hitching breaths as he tried to adjust to the discomfort. The “stuffed” feeling was frustrating, like his muscles were cramped up in knots, but Archie mentally coached himself to relax, easing the careful push of Reggie inside him.

So he continued to breathe, and to rock. Painstaking. Patient. Determined. Reggie’s face gradually changed from guilt to mere worry, then on to wonder as Archie took him deeper, not quite halfway. It felt incredible. Reggie’s eyes closed in pleasure and his breathing grew choppy. Watching Archie’s abdomen flex and settle with his movements was a complete turn-on, seeing color flood his fair skin.

His hips began to move, finding the subtle rhythm Archie set. His fingers dug into Archie’s thighs.

“Easy,” Archie reminded him hoarsely. Then, “Touch me.” That made Reggie’s eyes snap open and darken.

“If you want it.” Reggie’s fingers were still slightly oily as they closed around Archie’s turgid shaft and pumped him.

“Oh, God!” he blurted. Reggie was so surprised at the change it created in how Archie snuggled him in his heat that he almost jerked him off too quickly, too firmly, but he remembered himself and followed the changes in Archie’s face.

He thrust deeper, then leaned down to kiss him, a hot, velvety joining that made Archie moan. Reggie enjoyed that sound, and together they moved past earlier pain.

His thrusts lengthened and sped up, sheathing himself completely within him, hitting a snug little knot inside. Reggie found nirvana, swallowing guttural cries and pumping himself in and out. Pressure built up in his shaft, and his sac was a stiff ball, colliding with Archie’s each time he rutted into him. Archie came undone beneath him, never having felt someone pounding up against his prostate before. His climax loomed in the base of his spine, making him clench harder, more tightly around Reggie’s invading flesh, pushing himself more desperately into Reggie’s squeezing grip...

Reggie watched as a mixture of helplessness and wonder suffused Archie’s face as he came, mouth agape and eyes disbelieving. His breath shuddered out of his chest, and Reggie released his dick in surprise as thick, warm stickiness dribbled over his fist and more spatters of it laced his abdomen. The resulting contractions of Archie’s muscles around him pushed him inevitably over the edge.

“Hnnnnnggghhh…” he rasped. He spasmed in short bursts as his seed flooded out of him in a rush, then again, and again. Archie grimaced at the sensation of that strange warmth filling his insides, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Reggie’s face.

Archie took savage pride in owning that moment of satisfaction that he saw there, knowing he was the cause and that it was as intense for him as he’d felt. Reggie’s eyes pleaded with him through the aftershocks, making his hips twitch and jerk until every muscle in his body went deliciously limp.

Their chests heaved and their sweaty skin began to cool. Reggie slipped free of Archie’s crevice, spent and faintly sore, but he wasn’t sorry. Archie almost protested as Reggie backed away from him until he saw him reach for the forgotten cup. He dampened his fingers and wiped away the sticky drops of Archie’s seed from his belly and chest, then performed the same task for Archie. He winced, still overstimulated as his hand swept over his abdomen. Reggie tsked in apology.

“Geez…”

“Wow,” Archie murmured in reply. Then, “Ow.”

“Ooo. Hurts?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“S’okay.”

“You cold?” The question surprised Archie.

“Kinda.”

“Get in.” Reggie straightened out the sleeping bag and encouraged Archie to climb inside. He found his abandoned briefs and his own shorts, tossing Archie his. Reggie stood and crouched slightly to accommodate the low roof of the tent and fumbled his way back into his boxers.

He felt at a loose end, and he found the same disjointed unease on Archie’s face as he gazed down on him. Then Reggie looked away.

“Reg…”

“I’m gonna go.”

“Reg…”

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite, Arch.”

“Can I say something?”

“What?” Reggie asked defeatedly.

“I’m not sorry,” Archie said awkwardly. “Not about this.” They shared a measured look.

“How nice for you.” Archie leaned up on his elbows and watched him, hopes slowly growing dashed. His sleeping bag suddenly felt empty, even chilly. “Good night.”

Reggie turned his back on him and climbed out of the tent, but not before Archie’s voice beckoned to him.

“You could stay, if you want.”

“What if that’s not what I want?”

“Fine, then.” He was cavalier enough. Reggie’s ego picked up the hint of disappointment. He stalked off. The mosquitoes were already waiting for him…

Reggie didn’t make it even six steps before he stopped, turned and stared at the lonely green tent. He heard the rustle of Archie getting comfortable again.

His sleeping bag did look roomy. Warmer than his.

Archie turned over onto his back at the sound of sneakers crunching through grass. Reggie loomed in the darkness, staring down at him.

“Move over.”

FIN.

*

I would like to thank my friends CDawg and Rixis for encouraging this story and appreciating my other Archie/Reggie fics. Artwork might follow if I find reference pics and some “alone time” to sketch them out.
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Camping Tricks