Camp Refuge - 23. Officer Wells

June 25 (Monday, 9:22 a.m.)

Orson relaxed at the kitchen picnic table and stretched in the sun. He felt good, and he had something very exciting to look forward to. He took another drink of coffee and looked over the information on the prosthetic specialist Jeremy provided.

Friday, he was scheduled to see the specialist in Redding. His leg was finally healed enough, and it was time. Jeremy had already sent Orson's medical records, x-rays, and all other pertinent information for the prosthetic fitting. At least, all the information possible without a hands-on examination.

Orson also religiously performed the exercise routine Greg had created and the physical therapy movements which Jeremy had provided. He knew it wouldn't be as simple as strapping on a leg and going for a jog. But he was hopeful it would be better than walking with the crutches.

What he found ironic was at this point he was stronger than he had ever been. He focused on improving himself, and his daily exercises were an excuse for him to move, and expend effort, and to feel in command of his body. Elias watched him the first day, and then the boy joined in. So now, the two of them performed the core work and bodyweight routine Greg had made every day, shortly after they got up.

Elias was in the Clay cabin. His work with the clay seemed to soothe him, and the things he created now were leaps better than they had been only a couple of weeks ago. Elias produced things which were beyond merely practical; he created art. There were thin-walled, delicate glasses - as thin as he could create. There were sturdy mugs, with beautiful and functional handles. He created bowls, plates, and experimented with more substantial pieces as well. All were simple, yet took an exceeding amount of understanding of the material, which Elias seemed to possess naturally.

Orson started to purchase the clay Elias used too. He didn't want the camp to take a hit financially due to Elias' prolific artistic expression. Additionally, Orson funded the firing and glazing of the ceramic as well. Elias had interest in various glazes, and Orson prepared to draw the line at some point on cost. Some of the glazes cost quite a bit of money, so he hoped Elias' pottery would sell in Gary's shop. If so, then the boy could entirely fund his enterprise.

Orson smiled to himself. 'What a wonderful problem to have - how to support real talent and passion of a young man I care for.'

Elias slept in Orson's cabin and stayed with him. The boy wanted to be close, but there was minor progress on that front. Orson only woke up one night to Elias in bed with him. The rest of the nights he slept on the pulled out futon in the living area.

Elias also made it a point to ask Mason if he needed help with anything. At first, Mason seemed unwilling to make the boy work, but after Orson spoke to him, he started taking Elias up on his offers. Now the pair often walked the camp, cleaning, doing chores, and they otherwise maintained the place. It was needed. More and more sites were populated with campers. Currently, there were a half dozen taken and a couple of cabin rentals. Greg joked that the young men were putting him out of a job, and that stirred a strange pride in Orson's chest. It was almost the feeling he imagined a dad would have for a son who is doing his part.

His moment of introspection was interrupted when another vehicle crept around the loop past the picnic table.

"Howdy, Orson." He looked up at the face of Officer Joseph Wells. The man was behind the wheel of his old Honda Accord, and he grinned at Orson.

Orson smiled back. "Hey!" He reached for his crutches and stood. "What's up?" He started to make his way over to the car.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You didn't need to get up." Joseph got out of his car. He wore tan cargo shorts and a t-shirt that hugged his chest a bit snugly across his pecs.

'Whoa. He's built.' Orson noticed.

The blonde officer motioned at the campsite near Orson's cabin. "I think I'm gonna set my tent up close by you. I've got the next couple of days off, and felt like a little more sun and fresh air."

Orson grinned. "All right! Sounds good." Orson liked Joseph. He was non-judgmental about the purpose of the campground and very open. 'He's essentially the perfect straight guy. Wish all of them were like him.'

"I'm gonna head over and get the tent up. See ya later?"

Orson nodded. "Yep. Definitely. If you wanted in on dinner tonight, toss a fiver at Greg. He's making these crazy, herbed feta burger things for anybody who contributes."

"Ohhhh … okay. Will do. That sounds like a deal!" Another smile from the blue-eyed man. He patted Orson's shoulder. "See ya in a bit."

Orson watched him go a little way farther on the loop, and he parked at the tent site closest to the cabin. It was also one of the closest sites to the shower/bathroom facility and the kitchen. It was farthest from the river, but it was still a good site.

'Could have a worse neighbor.' Orson swallowed, and then his face took on a perplexed expression. His stomach felt strange - almost upset but not quite. He passed a few more minutes, lost in his head, standing there a few steps from the pavement, and he merely watched Joseph as he set up his tent.

He came to his senses as Joseph waved at him. The man must have seen Orson as he had stared. Orson blushed mightily and waved back. Then he shook his head at himself and went back over to the picnic table.

He sat, and his eyes shifted around. 'What's wrong with you?' Orson frowned. That feeling in his belly remained, and he had the urge to look again at that tent site.

He did; this time he was a little less obvious. Joseph was done setting up his new-looking tent. The man now stood and surveyed his work. Orson swallowed, and he looked back down. He tried to refocus on the information Jeremy had provided, but he had one more distraction.

His cock was hard, and it needed to be freed from its awkward position. He pulled at himself and got it situated in a more comfortable spot.

"What the fuck?" Orson whispered. He glanced over one more time as Joseph was on his way to the table.

As Joseph approached, Orson felt thrilled, nervous, and confused. When Joseph arrived at the table, the blonde flashed that easy, perfect smile at Orson. As Joseph sat across from him, there was only one thought in Orson's mind.

'What the fuck?'

⇔

June 25 (Monday, 7:25 p.m.)

Jeremy parked next to Mason's truck at the cabin, tired and frustrated. He'd had to work late. Thanks to a change to the qualifying criteria, he now competed with religious schools and after-school programs for his Raven Project grant funding. Most of the second half of his day he had spent sending in a huge amount of justification, updated deliverables, and some depersonalized real-world examples of what the program has done so far.

He had a terrible feeling about his chances. He wasn't a trained grant writer, so the only thing he could do was hit all of the required documentation and pour out his heart to the funder.

He wearily got out of his car. It wasn't the length of his day, really. It was how much the loss of that little grant would impact his Raven Project kids. It only amounted to fifteen thousand dollars annually. But with it, he had done so much for those young people. They took trips, they camped, they learned new skills, they could be with others who accepted them. Most importantly, it helped keep them out of trouble and danger.

He had a dozen queer and trans kids in the program - all high risk for teen suicide, running away, physical or sexual abuse, and alcohol or substance abuse. They were on the fringes of society, and some were barely hanging on, even with the outlet of The Raven Project.

Jeremy opened the cabin door and immediately frowned with confusion at the interior. It was lit only by candles and the scent of juniper hit his nose.

"Hey. Welcome home." Mason stood up from his futon and Jeremy couldn't help but take him in. The teenager wore only a pair of form-fitting gray trunks which showed off his ample package. He smiled at Jeremy as the redhead gawked. "Well, come in and close the door." He chuckled.

Jeremy shook himself and entered, then closed the door. He turned to look at Mason again and smiled. "What is this about?" He motioned at Mason and the candles.

"It's about you, and that you didn't have the best day," Mason said and stepped close to Jeremy.

Jeremy had called earlier in the day to tell Mason he'd be late. It had been obvious from Jeremy's tone that he was upset and frustrated. He hadn't told Mason why, because if there was a chance the grant could be saved then there wasn't a reason to worry anyone else. And there was still a chance. A very slim one, but a chance.

Jeremy's expression softened and he let Mason envelop him in his arms. He stood against Mason - warm, protected and loved. Mason's hands rubbed up and down his back and Jeremy made a small, satisfied sound.

Mason gently, unhurriedly, stripped his lover. Then he pushed his own trunks off his body. He smiled at Jeremy. "Go lay down. On your belly."

Jeremy gave Mason a smile of his own, and he went to the bed. He lay down and Mason took a small bottle of clear liquid from the nightstand. Jeremy turned his head so he could watch, and the teenager rubbed the stuff between his hands. The smell of citrus joined that of juniper and created a heady but lovely blend of scents in the cabin.

Mason sat on Jeremy's naked rump, facing backward. Then he started to rub the redhead's hairy legs with his warm and oil-coated hands.

Mason had strong, long fingers, and he patiently worked on first one of Jeremy's calves, then the other. All the while, chill bumps broke out in waves on Jeremy's skin as the endorphins flowed from Mason's touch.

"Ah god. That feels so nice." The smaller man lay in a stupor.

"I'm glad you like it." Mason shifted and turned around. Then his hands began to knead the tense muscles of Jeremy's back.

Jeremy moaned, groaned, and purred as Mason worked. His cock was hard under him the entire time, and Mason's heavy, stiff penis slid around on his lower back. He already knew how this would end and welcomed that thought.

Nearly on cue, Mason slid his slippery and oiled organ in Jeremy's well-lubricated crack.

Mason lay on top of him and Jeremy loved the sensation of the teen's weight on his body. "Is this what you want tonight?" Mason's voice was low as he spoke into Jeremy's ear. Mason's hips moved slowly, and his dick rubbed up and down against Jeremy. The redhead heard Mason's mouth move as he smiled. "Or … would you rather screw me?"

Jeremy grinned. "It's nice of you to ask. But that'd be a real waste of your fantastic cock." He made a lustful sound. "But if you want me to screw you, then I'll happily do so."

Mason exhaled, and his hips continued to work. "I think, maybe another night. I got myself too worked up, and I wanna put my fantastic cock in you."

"Less talking, more screwing." Jeremy rolled under him, and the two kissed.

Mason maneuvered them both into position as they made out. The back of Jeremy's legs rested on Mason's thighs, and it wasn't long before the teenager began the process of entering him.

He lay on his back and looked up at Mason. Steady and slow, Mason slid into Jeremy, and as he did, he touched, kissed, and stroked Jeremy's face and beard.

Once he was totally inside, Mason leaned over. "I love you." His eyes stared down into Jeremy's, and his hips began that very familiar motion.

Jeremy groaned at the sensation. In response he gasped, "I love you." His head rolled on the pillow. "Fuuuck."

"You love my cock." Mason grinned down at the nearly incoherent Jeremy.

The man beneath him laughed in response and he began to pant immediately when Mason gripped his penis.

It wasn't long for either of them. Mason gritted his teeth, and the hand on Jeremy's member picked up in tempo. Then he grunted, and Jeremy felt the powerful expulsion of semen from Mason. The simple knowledge that Mason had orgasmed and the sensation inside him pushed Jeremy to his own finish. He spasmed and he couldn't help but cry out as he came. He hit himself on his bearded chin with his first volley, and the rest landed in the hair of his chest and belly.

They sat that way for a time, both panting. Jeremy tingled with the endorphins of his release, and enjoyed Mason still inside him.

Their heart rates slowed, and Mason slipped out of the redhead. Mason leaned over and gently kissed Jeremy.

After they wiped themselves clean, and after Jeremy returned from the restroom facility, Mason pulled him down onto the bed and spooned with his lover. As Jeremy lay there, Mason planted gentle kisses on the back of his neck.

Maybe it was the feel-good hormones talking, but he felt a tiny bit more optimistic about his grant. With a satisfied and tired smile, Jeremy dropped to sleep.

⇔

June 25 (Monday, 9:10 p.m.)

"Oh, man that's cool." Joseph nodded at Orson from his seated position. "So do you think they have your leg already made, ready to go?"

Orson nodded. "Yeah, they should have it done. And unless there's something wrong with the materials, or they got it wrong I should literally be able to walk out with it!" He grinned and then laughed. Joseph gave him a high five from his seated position.

Orson and Officer Joseph Wells had spent the better part of the day together. And the longer Orson was around him, the more sure he became.

'I'm attracted to this guy.' Orson watched out of the corner of his eye as Joseph turned up his beer. They sat in camp chairs around Orson's fire pit while a flame crackled there and threw light over them both.

Elias had spent quite a bit of time with them as well. The boy seemed to like Joseph well enough, and the young cop showed an interest in Elias' work with ceramics. In fact, he bought a couple of Elias' mugs, which had recently made it back from the kiln in town. Elias seemed to be at a loss and didn't know what to do with the thirty dollars he held in his hand. He finally handed the money to Orson. It promptly went into Elias' ceramic fund Orson had started.

The boy had gone to bed a few minutes ago and that left the men to themselves, and the other campers who were still up. Though nobody was close enough to the guys to hear their conversation.

"What's the first thing you're gonna do with your new leg?" Joseph sat forward, his elbows on his knees, totally engaged in Orson's response. His half-full beer dangled from one hand, and his eyes were bright and reflected the light from the fire pit.

Orson had to look away from him, so he stared at the fire. "Ah … I guess just walk without those damned crutches." He threw a nasty glare at the tools as they leaned against a nearby tree. "I'm definitely sick of crutches."

"Yeah, I bet." Joseph leaned back, his head resting against the back of his camp chair, and continued to look at Orson. After a long moment, he turned his head and looked at the cabin. Then he took another drink of his beer. "It's pretty awesome that you're helping Greg and Clay by renting that cabin all the time."

Orson almost laughed. "Uh, what?" He grinned. "They're the ones helping me. I mean, I had nowhere to turn to. No family. Nobody." He shook his head. "I don't know what I would have done without them."

Joseph took on an incredulous expression. "Seriously? You had nobody to help you?" He obviously looked Orson up and down, then his eyes settled back on Orson's face. "You're a great looking guy. I'm surprised you're not paired up."

Orson's brain began to short circuit and he wet his lips. "Ah … I, uh …"

Joseph could tell Orson was suddenly uncomfortable. "Oh, I'm sorry." He looked down at the ground, then back up at Orson. "Was that too personal?"

Orson was thankful for the dark because he had a nervous sheen of sweat on his forehead. "It's not." He laughed a little. "Thanks for the compliment, by the way. But … you're right, I'm not paired up."

Joseph stared at him, and Orson could see the blue of his irises even in the darkness. "Can I ask why?"

Orson suddenly felt his asexuality was a deep and terrible secret. But he determined to soldier on. "I … I am not attracted to … well, until recently, anybody. I'm asexual." He shook his head. "Or, I thought I was."

"Oh." Joseph looked down at his beer and cocked his head in thought. Then his eyes narrowed and he looked up. "You thought you were?" He slowly grinned, then turned and put one leg over the arm of the camp chair. His foot moved back and forth a little as he eyed Orson. "Who's the lucky guy?" He seemed to catch himself. "Oh, or girl. Sorry for assuming."

Orson licked his lips. "Ah, it's …" A maddening fear gripped him and he finally shook his head. "Okay, sorry. That one's too personal." He looked down at his hands in his lap. 'How the fuck did I get into this?' He took a breath intended to calm his hammering heart.

Joseph took another drink and drained his beer, then the man sighed. "Well, that's fair. Sorry about that." He lay his head back and looked up at the stars as they twinkled into life in the clear night sky. "For what it's worth, anybody would be lucky to have you, man." He said the words as if there was no doubt and no argument.

Orson frowned, and his emotional state swung from nervous to angry. "Are you fucking with me?"

Joseph heard his tone and his head snapped up. "What? No!" He sat up and leaned forward. "Dude, you're a fucking hero." He shook his head. "You have no idea how much I admire what you did." Joseph's face was a study in earnestness. "You are the bravest man I've ever met. To have gone after that councilwoman in a hail of gunfire." Joseph took a breath and nodded as he looked at Orson. "You did something nobody else I know would have done."

Orson's anger evaporated, and instead, he felt gratitude toward Joseph. That Joseph would recognize and revere what Orson did meant a lot.

He slowly nodded. "Thanks." Then he grimaced and wiggled his shortened right leg. "I think maybe this will make any guy I find interesting think again." After he said that Orson realized he had outed himself as attracted to a man.

"If it does, then fuck him," Joseph said. "You shouldn't be with some dick who sees you that way." Again, he stared at Orson. "I hope, this guy you like? I hope he knows what kind of catch you'd be." Then he grinned. "Because the bravest man I know won't let a chance pass by. And when it happens, this dude will be the luckiest bastard out there."

After he spoke Joseph seemed to realize he said more than he planned. He looked embarrassed and chuckled at himself. "Ah … I think maybe I had one too many beers."

Orson laughed. "Well, I'm glad you did. It might be vain, but it's nice to hear nice things about me." He looked down at his leg and sighed. "This thing is a real bummer, you know?" Orson had less defense against his emotions thanks to the alcohol, and his eyes stung. "Ah, shit." He rubbed his face. "Fuck. I'm sorry. Just feeling sorry for myself, and I need to stop."

Orson finished wiping his face and he opened his eyes. He inhaled in surprise. Joseph knelt in front of his chair, his trunk straight, so his eyes were almost level with Orson's while he sat in the chair. The two stared at one another. Then, carefully and with a lot of trepidation Joseph reached out.

His hand rubbed Orson's face very softly, and it settled on his left cheek. Orson blinked slowly, and his heart felt as if it would burst out of his chest.

"Maybe it's my own vanity, but," Joseph frowned and shook his head, "I'm hopeful enough to wish," he leaned forward until his lips were but an inch from Orson's, "that I'm that lucky guy."

Orson attempted to speak, but nothing came out. And Joseph leaned forward.

The gentlest, most tender kiss came from those lips Orson admired. And Orson's eyes closed.

Joseph pulled back after a moment and he searched Orson's eyes when they opened. Orson licked his lips, then he pulled Joseph in for another kiss.

Shortly after, though he had a perfectly good cabin, Orson crawled behind the blonde man into Joseph's tent. He lay on the air mattress and he let the policeman undress him.

As Joseph lay down, and as their bodies met in the darkness, that same thought rolled through Orson's mind.

'What the fuck?!'

⇔

June 26 (Tuesday, 6:12 a.m.)

The patter of rain on the tent was the first thing that registered in Orson's mind. He opened his eyes and blinked in the bright, yet diffuse light of a gray dawn.

He lay there a moment. A strong arm lay across his middle and a warm body pressed against his rump and his back.

'Holy shit. That wasn't a dream.' Orson swallowed.

He must have moved when he woke because Joseph shifted behind him. A voice, deep and gravely from a lack of use during the night greeted him. "G'mornin, Orson." Joseph snuggled against him, and Orson felt the man's half-awake cock against his rear. "You doing all right?"

Orson rolled over to face the officer. Joseph's blue eyes met Orson's brown ones. "I … didn't expect this to happen." He took a breath.

Joseph reached and rubbed his hand on Orson's face. "Is it okay that it did?"

Orson laughed quietly. "Yeah. But … ah, I thought for sure you were straight."

Joseph shrugged. "I've found I prefer guys, though I've experience with both." He smiled at Orson and he leaned in close. "Really glad I came camping."

Orson grinned. "Me too." He took a moment, then he closed the remaining distance between them. And he kissed Joseph.

One thing led to another, and soon, he was on his back. Joseph was on top, and the young policeman ground his groin against Orson's.

As Orson looked up at him, and as Joseph's orgasm approached from their frottage, he pulled Joseph back down for another kiss.

The young cop groaned around Orson's mouth as he came, and made a mess on Orson's groin.

The blonde man sat up, then took Orson into hand. Joseph watched Orson's face as he stroked his hard, drooling member.

Orson let his head loll back, and he grunted. His semen ran down Joseph's hand, and the man finished Orson.

"Now it's a good morning." Joseph grinned, and as Orson watched, he put a semen coated finger in his mouth. Orson made a face, and Joseph laughed.

⇔

The two men giggled like kids in the tent, and Clay stood on the paved loop. He looked quizzically at the gently rocking tent, then slowly a smile spread on his face.

With a final, satisfied smirk he walked on to the kitchen. He had a feeling at least a couple of the campers would be hungry for breakfast soon.