Camp Refuge - 4. The Red Knight

May 12 (Saturday)
Greg was more than happy with their progress at the end of the day. Cabin Four looked great, and Clay had even started on Three as well. He would finish that one the following day. Then all they'd both need were bedding, mattresses, and a few random things to round out the spaces.

He'd go into town on Monday and do some shopping at the Crescent City thrift stores for most of it. Greg noticed that one of the thrift stores carried new, unwrapped mattresses. He suspected they were donations, and tax write-offs for the companies doing the donating. That worked for him, and the prices were great.

They sat in the slowly darkening evening, discussing their next steps. Both Jameson men wanted to go with him to town on Monday when he did the thrift store run. Clay planned to help Greg while Mason wanted to drop by the local medical clinic in Crescent City.

"I've been doing a little research." Mason put his phone down on the patio table and stretched in his chair. "I want to talk to whoever runs this 'Raven Project' place. It's a program for at-risk gay kids here locally. They've got an office at the clinic in town." He looked at Greg and shrugged. "If that's alright with you."

Greg nodded, a little surprised at Mason's initiative. "Well, yeah. That'd be perfect, Mason. Just let me know what you find out." Greg looked past them at the campground. "I think we'll be ready to go by the end of next week. As in, open for business the Monday after Clay flies back."

Clay nodded. "I think you're right. The kitchen will be a little rough, but it'll be up and working." He frowned down at the table. "I'm bummed I won't be here to see it open up."

Greg felt the sting of the realization that Clay would be back in Alabama soon. He already knew it intellectually, but he wasn't ready for the emotional impact of it. Clay's presence there was already something he felt was natural and right. Before he could stop himself he said how he felt. "It's gonna suck when you leave." He blushed a little at baring his feelings in front of both of them, but he really couldn't help it.

Mason sighed and nodded. He looked at the now-introspective men as they stared down at the table in front of them. "When do you think you can come back, Dad? Maybe for a visit before the summer is over?" He noticed Greg perk up at the idea, and Mason smiled slightly to himself. 'Aww. He really does like Dad.'

"Not sure." Clay shrugged. "But I don't have to worry about the time off." His face cracked into a smile. "I've got a lot of vacation time saved. Haven't taken much in the past few years." Clay had twenty-two years on the force, and he accrued vacation time quickly - far more than he would ever typically take. Last time he had checked he had just over four months of vacation saved up.

"Well, how about we plan on you coming back out next month? Spend another week here?" Greg looked at Clay, his face hopeful.

Clay nodded. "That could work." He smiled slyly and looked over at Mason. "Someone has a birthday next month. June eleventh. I think it's on a Monday this year. I'll try to make it work to fly in the Friday before. He grimaced. "Though plane tickets out to this little airport are horrendously expensive." He sighed. "I'm putting as much away as possible toward retirement right now, so that'll be my limiting factor - funds for the flying."

"I'll pay for the flights," Greg answered quickly. Before Clay could argue he held up a hand. "I'll also put you to work when you get here. The plane ticket will be your payment for the work." He smiled at the big man. "There will always be things that need to be done."

Mason looked back and forth at them and sipped his kombucha. He could tell Clay liked the idea. So did Mason; he wanted to spend his eighteenth birthday with his dad.

Clay chewed on his lip in thought, then nodded. "Okay. Thanks for that. I'll still need to get approval for the time, but it shouldn't be a problem." He looked at Greg and smiled. "Let's just plan on it."

Greg grinned. "All right!" His excitement was a little more obvious than he would have liked, but both of the Jameson men seemed to share it. Greg suddenly felt lighter - simply knowing he'd see Clay again fairly soon soothed him. "Once you get approval for the time off, let me know. Then I'll book the flight." Clay nodded and sipped his cider.

They continued to relax while it darkened and Greg's solar lights kicked on, one by one. It was now eight p.m., and the Alabama men began to yawn. They were adjusting to California time, but slowly.

"All right, guys. Time for bed." Greg stood up and finished his cider. He and Clay both had only drunk two, and Greg still had his wits about him.

Clay rose from his chair and looked over at Mason. "Son, just so you know I'm going to do everything I can to get into bed with that man over there tonight." He jerked his thumb at Greg. "So, knock first." He grinned at Mason's expression. Greg only pursed his lips and put his hand on his forehead.

"I did knock!" The teenager shook his head and laughed.

Greg did the same and then gave Clay a judgmental look. The big man shrugged at Greg's expression. "What? Life's too short for me to waste more time." He stepped close to Greg and put his arm around the man's shoulders. "Though if you'd rather sleep alone tonight I guess that's all right."

Mason got up. "Aaaaand watching my dad trying to get into a guy's pants is not on my bucket list." He turned and waved a hand goodbye. "Goodnight!"

Greg snickered and turned his face toward his old partner. Clay stretched to gently kiss him.

Greg's head tingled as they made out, and his hand migrated up to the back of Clay's neck. Their hips were together, his cock filling out. He felt Clay's harden up in his pants too, and the big man ground his groin into Greg's.

After a very intense kiss, Greg took a breath. "You're making it really hard to imagine sleeping alone."

"That's the idea." Clay smiled. His eyes flicked to the Airstream behind Greg. "Your place or mine?"

Greg laughed and rubbed Clay's short salt and pepper hair. "Mine." He took Clay's hand. "Come on."

The two men entered and Greg shut the door. He led Clay to the foot of his bed at the end of the trailer and looked up at Clay's green eyes. "What would you like from me tonight, Officer Jameson?" He smiled as he said it, and Clay grinned along with him.

"I want to get to know what it feels like to touch you." Clay pulled him close and he rubbed his now-stubbly face against Greg's neck. "Last night it went pretty fast, and it was all you." He pulled back and looked at Greg. "Tonight is going to be a little different."

Greg kissed him while Clay ran his hand through his hair. He finally pulled his lips away and breathed deeply. "That sounds great to me."

"Good." Clay's eyes narrowed. "Now stand there. Let me do what I want. Tell me if I do something you don't like."

Greg nodded. Clay turned him then hugged Greg from behind. As much of his body as possible pressed against Greg. It was easy to tell Clay was turned on. Greg felt his desire through their clothes, as his hard penis pressed against his rump. Clay's hands roamed over Greg's chest and then down to his waist.

Greg inhaled as Clay slid his warm palm over the front of his jeans. The big man made a low growling sound in his ear, and he gripped Greg's crotch. Greg's breathing picked up, and Clay moved the heel of his hand slowly in a circle across the length of his cock.

That was a huge turn-on for Greg. This man, who had been his partner on the force for twenty years, explored his body slowly and thoroughly. Greg was happy to stand there and let Clay do whatever he wanted.

"Okay. It's time for you to strip," Clay whispered in his ear with a barely restrained need.

Both of the men removed their clothes, and Clay was right back to his exploration. He made Greg stand in front of him, then he dropped to his knees. He tentatively reached and took Greg's cock in hand and stared up at him. He was rewarded by Greg's expression as he exhaled and his jaw worked.

Clay looked back at Greg's dick, as he held it right in front of his face. He had seen it before in the locker room over the years, but never like that. That moment was the first time he had ever held another man's penis in his hand. Normally, the thought was not appealing, but the fact that it belonged to Greg, and the noises Greg made when Clay began to stroke him, hooked into a primal and primitive part of Clay's brain. Quite simply, he craved more of it.

Clay had wondered for years what he tasted like. He leaned forward and carefully took the head of Greg's penis into his mouth. Greg made a surprised noise and he looked down. "Ah… ah god." His throat moved as he swallowed. "I can't believe you've got my cock in your mouth."

Clay didn't answer. To prepare himself for what he had fantasized about, Clay had already tasted his own semen. But this taste was different. It was sweeter. He realized it was Greg's precome. He almost grinned but didn't want to scrape Greg's cock with his teeth. Clay took more of it into his mouth, then slowly pulled back until just the tip was in. And he did the movement again.

Greg rocked back on his heels and pushed his hips forward. "Oh shit." One hand found the back of Clay's head and the other he put on the big man's shoulder. "Clay, you keep doing that and I'm going to get off." Greg was already excited from Clay's earlier attention and the simple fact that his burly ex-partner was somehow pushing all his buttons.

Clay continued. He added a hand and moved it along with his mouth on Greg. He went slowly, carefully, and set a near-torturous pace. Greg made incoherent noises, and his balls began to pull up close to his body.

The big man stroked himself with his other hand, his cock drooling precome as it hung down between his legs while he worked on Greg. It wasn't going to be long for him.

That was also the case with Greg. "Clay… last warning." Greg's voice was shaky. "I'm gonna blow my load in your mouth." Clay kept at it and Greg's Adam's apple bobbed. His abdominal muscles tightened until they stood out in stark relief. Greg's head went back and he held his breath.

Greg let out his breath in a rush, and Clay tasted the now-familiar flavor in his mouth. He continued to slowly milk the fluid out of his new lover, and Greg trembled in the euphoria of his release.

Finally done, Clay pulled off of him, looked up, and gulped down Greg's semen. He smirked at Greg's incredulous expression.

"I can't believe you did that." Greg grinned at him, and Clay stood up. "You sucked me off and swallowed my come." Instead of responding, the policeman pulled him close and kissed him.

Greg enjoyed tasting both Clay and himself on his tongue. They pulled apart and Clay smiled at Greg. "I can't believe it took me this long to." He shook his head. "I should have done this a couple of years back. When I first started to wonder."

Greg shook his head. "Hey, no regrets man. We're here now." He reached up and put a hand on the side of Clay's face. "I'm really thankful for that." He smiled at Clay. Then he shifted and frowned. Greg looked down at the floor, past Clay's dripping cock.

"Ah, that's what I stepped in." Greg laughed and moved his foot out of the puddle Clay left when he came while he sucked Greg off.

"Oops." Clay grinned. He stared at Greg, then hugged him to his chest and closed his eyes. The two of them stood that way for a time. "I like this," Clay whispered and rubbed his face against Greg's neck. "I like this a lot." His voice was subdued - calm, yet there was a note of fear in it as well.

"I like it too." Greg pushed back and looked at Clay's face. "You okay?"

Clay frowned and looked down. He nodded, but his expression was nervous. "I'm just a little weirded out by how, ah, how strong this feels." His eyes glanced up at Greg's. "Sorry if that sounds strange."

Greg smiled. "It's not strange." He shrugged. "We've known each other a long time, Clay. We've already been through the tough parts of learning to live and work with each other." He gently rubbed Clay's head. "It's gonna move fast. It's gonna be strong." Greg took a breath and let it out. "I'm ready for that."

Clay smiled, relief on his face. "Yeah? Well, okay." Then he made a face as he stepped into his own cooling puddle of semen. "All right, I'm gonna clean that up."

Greg laughed as Clay moved to get a washcloth.

For Greg, being there with Clay felt right, and so much like a puzzle piece. He hadn't known the piece was missing until he held it, there in his arms. Where his life had been good before, now it was effervescent.

Once Clay finished cleaning up, the two went to bed. Greg smiled as Clay lay down. "Turn over." He patted Clay's hip. He did, and Greg scooted next to him to spoon the bigger man. His hand draped across Clay's chest, and Clay's closed over it. He entwined his fingers in Greg's.

"You know I love you, yeah?" Clay murmured, his voice soft.

"I know." Greg swallowed, impacted by the emotional moment. "Me too, Clay. I love you too."

Clay squeezed his hand a little and sighed. The sound was deeply contented. The two men dropped off to sleep, wrapped in one another's arms and mired in each other's hearts.

⇔

May 14, (Monday)
At nine a.m. on Monday morning, they all rode into town in Greg's truck. The day was clear, warm and bright. Both Greg and Clay wore shorts and a t-shirt, but Mason had on his nicest clothes. The boy wore his tan Dockers and a light blue, short-sleeved collared shirt. On his feet were a nice pair of low-rise boots that he polished to a low shine.

"I hope you get the job, son." Clay joked with Mason about his clothes as the teenager got out of the truck. Mason looked at him with an irritated glare reserved for the relationship between a boy and his father.

Greg leaned across the cab of the truck. "Mason, let us know when you're ready and we'll come pick you up. You've got our numbers."

Mason nodded. "Will do. Thanks, Greg." He narrowed his eyes at Clay but then smiled. He turned and walked into the clinic where he was supposed to meet the administrator of the Raven Project in Del Norte County.

Over the weekend, Mason had left a message on the phone number he found online for the Raven Project. He had briefly explained what Greg was doing, and the overall idea behind the campground - to be a gay-friendly space, and specifically to be friendly to younger folks who might need a little extra help. He got a return call right at seven a.m. that morning, and the excited fellow on the other side of the call asked if he could meet with him today.

The young man entered the waiting room. The space was large, with polished cement floors, and was well lit from overhead fluorescent lighting high above. He looked around and then walked past groups of people waiting in a bank of chairs to the front desk staffed by three women.

He stopped at the first window. "Uh, hi. I'm Mason. I'm here to see Jeremy Adams." Since leaving Alabama, Mason had become more aware of his own accent.

The dark-haired woman noticed too and smiled in surprise when he spoke. "Oh. Hello, Mason. Jeremy said to expect you." The door beside the desk buzzed and she motioned at it. "Go on in. I'll let Jeremy know you're here, and he'll come to get you."

Mason nodded in thanks and opened the door. The hydraulics on the door closed it behind him. He saw a number of clinic employees as they walked the halls. Some wore scrubs, others were in what he would call business casual attire. All wore lanyards with name badges attached.

After about a minute, a short, red-headed man walked up to him and extended his hand. His deep blue eyes contrasted against his pale freckled skin and the color of his hair. He had a short, thick, well-trimmed beard that was a slightly darker red. His face reminded Mason of porcelain. The man smiled, his teeth incredibly white and straight. He looked to be about five-seven, and had a thin build. Mason felt a bit like a giant next to him, at a gangly six-one. Mason reached for his hand and stared at him.

" …to meet you." The man said.

Mason blinked. He had almost completely missed what the man just said. This had to be Jeremy, and he inferred what he thought he'd missed, "I'm Mason. Good to meet you too."

Jeremy's smile became a grin. "Wow. Nice accent, I love it." Then he frowned slightly and looked down. Mason still gripped his hand. The teenager hurriedly released Jeremy.

"Ah, sorry." He fidgeted nervously. "So, about the Raven Project?"

Jeremy's eyes lit up, and Mason could tell the program was one of his passions. "Yes!" He reached up and put his hand on Mason's shoulder. "Come to my office and we'll talk. This campground sounds great, and Greg's mission lines up with ours really well."

Mason let the man lead him through the hallways of the clinic. They entered a small, organized office with a desk and an extra chair. Jeremy shut the door behind him as he entered and walked around the desk. As he squeezed past, Mason noticed he smelled faintly of soap and coffee.

Mason sat and took a breath while Jeremy settled behind his desk. The teenager looked at him, and those blue eyes again gazed back at Mason. He forced himself to function.

"Okay. So we think the campground will be up and ready by next Monday…" Mason began. As he continued to go through the activities and things planned for the campground, Jeremy got more and more excited. Jeremy took notes as they talked, and Mason used those opportunities to try and refocus.

"…okay?" Jeremy looked at him, his expression concerned. "You sort of drifted off there for a minute."

Mason blinked. He had simply lost a chunk of time as he stared at Jeremy. He felt flustered and unfocused. "Ah… yeah. I'm fine. Sorry, just tired. A lot of work in a short span." He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way, but he had the weirdest feeling in his gut, and his heart jerked around in his chest.

Mason stumbled through the rest of his session with Jeremy. When they had finished up, Jeremy stood. "Mason, this campground sounds exactly like something that would help my program participants. Though I'd need to come out and view the space, and see what Greg has planned for them."

Mason nodded. "Yeah, not a problem." He stood up and reached out a hand. "It was nice to meet you."

Jeremy smiled, the expression genuine and easy. His eyes flicked down then back up to Mason's face, and his smile broadened slightly. Mason had to fight to keep his knees from buckling as he looked at him. Jeremy took his hand and gripped it, firm but not too hard. "Nice to meet you as well." Then his expression shifted. "Oh! Before you go..." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small cardstock rectangle. "Here. My card. My number and email are on there. Let's coordinate a visit to the grounds sometime soon."

Mason took the card and left the office as soon as he could do so without offense. He walked quickly through the hallways of the clinic and out the door. Soon he stood outside, and he took in lungfuls of air. He felt as if his chest had been squeezed by a giant hand and he could only now take a full breath.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" Mason whispered and he found a seat on the bench outside the clinic. He shook his head and he pulled out his phone. 'Hey, ready. I'm outside the clinic.' He sent the text and then leaned back on the bench.

He felt something else in his hand and looked down. Jeremy's card now had a few stains on it from his sweating palm. Mason looked at it. Slowly, he brought it up to his nose.

'Soap and coffee.' He inhaled the scent then swallowed. Mason took out his wallet.

Carefully, he put the treasure away where it would be safe.

⇔

Greg drove by the clinic and picked up Mason. The boy was even quieter than usual, and after a few single word responses, both he and Clay left the teenager to his own thoughts. The trip back to the campground was peaceful and Greg relaxed as he drove.

They had everything they needed in the back of his truck to outfit the two cabins Clay had repaired. That was the number one goal for the day - to assemble furniture and get them completely livable.

While shopping, Greg had been stunned to find an old, dinged up Martin acoustic guitar at the thrift store. Someone had priced the instrument at $50. He knew just enough about them to know it was a hell of a deal, even with the scrapes and the imperfections. The body and the neck were sound so it would probably be fine.

The guitar rode with Mason in the back seat and the young man idly picked at the strings as they drove. Clay looked back at him, though Mason didn't seem to notice his dad. His face had a blank, somewhat lost expression as he stared down at the guitar. Clay frowned and silently turned back around in his seat. He knew Mason would talk to him if he needed to; until then, he would leave him alone.

They arrived and Mason seemed to snap himself out of his reverie. The young man took the guitar and got out of the truck. "Which cabin will be the music room?" He looked at Greg.

"Well, I thought we'd move down the line. Cabin Two, yours. That okay?"

Mason nodded. He felt a little more like himself, though the giddy feeling in his gut was still there. "Yeah. Sounds good. I'll drop it off, change and go over to help with the other cabins."

The teenager entered his cabin and he gingerly laid the guitar flat on the bed. He'd have to find a spot for it - maybe hang it on the wall later. Plus there would probably be other instruments in there too. So he'd really need to figure out a way to live among them all.

Mason thought back to Jeremy and breathed deeply. Then he frowned. His cock was getting stiff in his slacks. He looked down, and it was obvious he had an erection. Mason was well proportioned, and his long cock was hard to conceal. The material did little to hide his excited state, even though he also wore boxers.

Mason had a sudden, mortified realization. "Oh no." The color drained from the boy. He thought back to the funny glance Jeremy gave him when Mason stood up in his office. "I totally had a boner while I was shaking his hand." Mason let his head loll back and an anguished grimace was on his face.

"Fuck!"