Ellen and Dean learned to be subtler after that first night. Neither of them appreciated the looks they got from denizens of Dean's neighboring tents. Especially Sam.
Dean loved it when she told him what to do. Loved it even more when she just took what she wanted.
They had to be careful, not to play harder than they should. Even a minor injury could be an issue in the world they lived in. And real bondage was out - that five seconds it took to cut up a rope could get them killed. Reflex time was everything. And it's not like they had all that much rope to spare either.
They started taking walks together. A walk to check the grounds was the closest thing they had to privacy.
They were lucky enough to have a few trees on the camp grounds. Tall and stout-trunked, they were gifts, reminders that good things still happened. Trees survived, so people could too, perhaps. Even the air smelled less sickly around them. Most camps made the mistake of sitting under them all day, damaging the roots and the trunks and the leaves until they weren't any good. Ellen's camp left them alone, to be enjoyed by one or two people at a time, and only in those rare moments of free time.
That was the other thing that Ellen's camp did well, that too many others failed at. It kept people busy, since throwing a bunch of people into a hard space with nothing to do with themselves but remember what they used to have was one of the biggest cruelties of the age.
But sometimes, they would get a few hours to just be. And she and Dean would spend that time together.
They only tried it by the tree once. Too much risk for being caught off guard, embarrassment and danger the twin possibilities. Plus, she didn't think the poor tree should have to deal with it too often.
They went at night, sharing a thick white candle for light. There was enough soot in the atmosphere to block out some of the glow at night, so they never knew when they'd hit a dark patch.
They kissed leaning against the trunk, and it felt like old times, like when things were growing everywhere, and you could just bump into them.
She told him to strip, to lean back against the trunk. She told him to put his hands above his head and grab the lowest branch, to hold on like he was tied to it, and don't he dare let it go.
Bondage in the age of kidnappings and random attacks.
He didn't mind. He stretched up to obey her, and his chest and stomach were a broad plane in front of her. Breathing hard, waiting to see what she would do.
She smiled at him, and he swallowed. Nervous. But a happy nervous.
She poured a wide gush of hot wax onto his chest, fast. A surprise of burning heat, and he screamed. His body recoiled at the pain, reflexively curled up away from her, but he managed not to let go of the branch, to obey her order.
She smiled again, and brought her hand to his chest, running her fingers up the sternum before pressing her thumb in the wax streak and spreading it across his nipple. He gave a low groan, and she saw the bulge in his jeans.
She flicked her wrist and the candle splattered several dots of heat onto his stomach, and he all but whimpered. It had taken weeks to get him to do this for her, to show his pain without embarassment or shame. Her fingers again traced the wax, spreading the heat around, then reaching with the half-dried but still warm wax along the muscled line where his torso met his hip, following it down until her grip warmed his dick without burning it. She held him tight in her hands and whispered in his ear, "You belong to me now."
He managed to focus long enough to smile at her, to say, "I noticed."
She smirked. She put the candle on the ground, dug a hole so it would tip over. "Let go of the tree. Get on your knees, under my skirt. Finish before the candle burns to the ground or I'm dipping my fingers in hot wax and fucking you with them."
He fell and gripped her knees, mouth working on her slowly. Lusciously. He probably was trying to build her up slow, trying to get her to punish him as threatened, but his compliance, his ready submission, had her halfway there by the time he started, and the motion of his tongue and fingers worked her into an orgasm before the candle had barely diminished at all.
