"I told you so," Kyle said, hugging his freezing, wet coat around him.
Ryan squeezed his eyes shut to break the frost forming on his eyelashes. "I know you did."
"I told you we'd fall in."
"I know you did."
"I told you the ice wasn't thick enough."
"Is saying 'I told you' so keeping you warm?"
"It's not not keeping me warm."
Ryan pulled his friend tighter against him as they held each other to get over the uneven ground. The crisp white snow made everything look flat and every few steps their numb feet stumbled on a hidden branch or rock. They shook and bumped against each other, their frozen limbs uncooperative as they tried to make it back to camp.
Kyle may have warned Ryan about the thin ice, but he hadn't been dragged on this trip against his will. The boys had been planning a post-grad camping trip for months but their summer schedules and then the first semester of university had flown by before they had a chance to catch their breath. So a summer camp turned into a winter camp with a bit of ice fishing to relax with.
Unfortunately the winter was one of the warmest on record, leaving the ice too thin. It was an irony Ryan figured they would laugh about if they made it out alive.
Luckily the boys were well prepared, not the type to panic. The situation sucked, but after a few minutes of uncomfortable trudging they were back at their arctic-certified tent.
Kyle reached out for the zipper and they stepped-tripped inside.
Most of the interior was occupied by the queen-size memory and two sleeping bags, but there was a foot of space by the door where the boys knelt as they closed the flap behind them and started removing their wet clothes.
Pink fingers shaking, they dragged their winter coats off and shoved them into the corner of the tent. Then came their boots, in a tangle of frozen limbs they knocked against each other trying to drag them off, the laces too frozen to untie.
Kyle tried to undo his own pants but found his fingers shaking too much to operate the zipper. Ryan saw his friend struggling and reached over to help.
"I got it," Kyle said, annoyed.
"We gotta help each other out of this stuff," Ryan said.
Kyle knew his friend was right, so he made a noise somewhere between an agreeing grunt and an annoyed groan. He pushed his black hair out of his face and then he almost gasped as he felt Ryan's cold fingers slip into his waistline and tug.
Ryan's dexterity wasn't much better than Kyle, so even though he only intended to pull his friend's pants down he found the boxer briefs coming too. That first tug was enough to pop Kyle's shrivelled cock out over the waistband and the boys both halted in shock.
Kyle tried to cover himself, "What the fuck, man."
"Sorry, but we gotta take it all off anyway, right?"
"I mean, we can still wear underwear." Kyle's teeth chattered as he spoke and Ryan just looked at him with cold exhaustion. They had taken the same survival course, they both knew what they were going to have to do.
"Please, Kyle, come on."
"Fuck, ok. But you could have at least bought me dinner first."
Ryan scoffed and continued undressing. He pushed his own pants down and let his briefs go with them, there was no more time for modesty as his equally-shrunken cock hit the air.
After struggling with his shirt buttons for a minute, Kyle finally asked, "Can you help me take this off?"
Ryan grabbed Kyle's shirt collar and pulled. The cold water had sapped what little colour Kyle's skin usually had, so as Ryan pulled off his friend's last piece of clothing he revealed the cream-white, hairless chest that could have been made of marble. Kyle's time on the track team had kept him lean and wiry.