Camp Refuge - 7. Bogeyman

May 19 (Saturday)

It was early in the morning. Greg woke in a warm, comfortable, secure place - Officer Clay Jameson's arms. The man slept behind him, one arm around Greg's middle, and their naked bodies pressed together. Greg lay there and relished the moment.

'This feels so right.' The thought ran through Greg's mind, and he shifted himself slightly. Then his eyebrows went up. Clay's meaty penis was hard as a rock and now lay along the groove of his ass. Greg licked his lips and his breathing increased.

They had yet to do penetration. Greg wanted to take things slowly with Clay, as it concerned the physical stuff, so they had focused on oral sex, frottage, and mutual masturbation. But now the desire for anal sex sparked in his mind and his own dick hardened into an erection.

They'd already had the talk about status. Greg hadn't had sex in over half a year, and he was tested during his outgoing physical when he retired. Though he had played safe with his various encounters, he had been happy to see he was negative across the board. Clay had gotten tested a week before he flew out. It had been years for him, but he wanted the results in hand. He really had planned things out.

Greg had never had sex without a condom. He was curious what that would feel like, and he had a big, strong man with a big stiff cock nestled behind him. He grinned and reached for the drawer of the nightstand. Greg felt the bottle of lube and pulled it out. Clay shifted, but he didn't wake.

He poured a palmful of the stuff and he waited for it to warm to body temp. Then he carefully reached below the blanket. He moved his hips forward and rubbed the lubricant against himself, then he settled back into position. Clay shifted again, and his cock rubbed against Greg a little.

Greg bit his lip and put his hand on Clay's hip. He gripped and ground his hips back, then up and down. Clay's member slid along his slippery ass, and the big man exhaled in his sleep.

After about thirty seconds, Clay's hand moved to Greg's belly. "Mmmmm… what are you doing to me?" Greg could hear his smile as Clay whispered in his ear.

Greg turned his head so Clay could see his grin. "Sorry. I'll stop if you want."

"Hell no, don't stop." Clay rubbed his chin against the back of Greg's neck, and he planted a tender kiss there. Then he left his lips against Greg's skin and breathed. "Oh, that feels good." Clay's hand slid down and wrapped Greg's hard cock in a warm and firm grip. He began to stroke Greg, and to move his hips.

Greg knew what he wanted. He pushed his hips forward a bit and positioned Clay's lubed dick at his entrance. Then he exhaled and pushed back.

Both men inhaled sharply when Clay entered him. Clay licked his lips. "Are… am I inside you?"

Greg chuckled and tried to relax. "Just the tip." He breathed. "Let me do this. It has been probably a year for me … so I need to go slow."

"I'm not hurting you?" There was a note of concern in Clay's voice and barely controlled lust too.

"Not if we go slow," Greg said, and Clay froze in position. Greg knew Clay was trying to ensure he wouldn't be hurt by their lovemaking, and he smiled to himself. Greg swallowed and pushed back a little more. Another inch slid inside him, and Clay grunted.

"God… you're… it's so tight." He licked his lips and fought to keep his hips from bucking forward. "I'm really not hurting you?" Greg could hear the hopeful tone in his voice. It was obvious Clay wanted this.

"Not yet. Shhh. Let me concentrate."

Over the next couple of minutes Greg worked until finally, Clay's groin pressed against his glutes. He sighed and nodded his head. "Okay, Clay. Go slow."

There was a tentative movement behind Greg and Clay's cock slid back and forth. Both men groaned, and Greg leaked fluid onto Clay's fingers wrapped around his erection.

"Ah. Ah fuck." Clay held still and breathed. "This is crazy." There was a hint of wonder in his shaky voice.

Greg growled, impatient at the pause and he moved back and forth, so his dick was stimulated by Clay's closed fist, and his prostate by the big man's cock. Clay uttered a breathy noise behind him and he kissed Greg's neck.

After only about a minute, he said, "Oh god." Clay's mouth was open, and his breath puffed, warm and moist on Greg's skin. "Greg… ah god." He began to stroke Greg faster. It was clear that Clay was close.

As Clay's tempo increased, Greg threw back the covers and looked down at Clay's hand as it worked his cock. His teeth gritted and then his mouth opened. Grunting in his release, he sounded almost purely animal. A rope of semen blasted out of him and landed in a streak on the sheet. Greg's eyes closed and he continued to get off as Clay mercilessly pounded him from behind.

The policeman thrust his hips as far forward as he could, and Greg felt him shudder as his orgasm hit. After a slight pause, he continued thrusting and panted heavily as he drove himself to completion.

They lay there, both breathing deeply, both in a haze of euphoria.

Greg recovered first and patted Clay's hip. "Now you know what to look forward to when you come back to me."

Clay laughed, then gently kissed the side of Greg's neck. He lay back down with a sigh and his hand rubbed Greg's chest and belly. "I'm going to think about this a lot while I'm away from home."

Greg put his hand over top of Clay's. He had called this place "home" so naturally Greg nearly missed it. But he didn't. And that hit Greg in a powerful and emotional way. He lay there and barely managed to avoid showing just how emotional it was. Greg cleared his throat. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Not for long, you won't." Clay nuzzled the nape of his neck. "I'm selling the house, and coming back here as soon as I can." He squeezed Greg. "I'm not living without you. Not any longer than I have to."

Greg laughed softly, the sound quiet but joyful. Otherwise, he didn't answer. He only lay there, content, relaxed… and loved.

⇔

Mason sat up, blinking and tired. He let his eyes close again and he sat in bed, willing himself to get up and get moving. He remembered last night, and he needed to talk to Jeremy. He forced his eyes open and looked at the window. The sky had lightened some, and by his estimate it neared the time a tent sleeper would be awakened by the brightness as the day began.

Mason stood up beside the bed and worked his mouth, then grimaced at the residual taste there and took a long drink from his water bottle on the small nightstand. That was better, but he'd be happy to brush his teeth later.

That would wait. He pulled on his jeans, thought again, took them off, and put on underwear first. A comfortable long sleeved shirt followed along with his socks and tennis shoes. He looked at himself in his phone camera. His hair was a little crazy, and he pawed at the black mop on his head, glaring at the unruly mess. He needed a haircut. Once he had it somewhat presentable, he put away the phone and opened his door.

Jeremy's tentsite was just across the paved loop and a little diagonal to his cabin. He nervously walked the short distance to the tent. Quietly, he looked in through the mesh top that Jeremy had left open to the air. His face betrayed his puzzlement.

'Where'd he go?' Mason looked from the empty tent to the Airstream and Greg's patio table. Nobody was up and around there yet. Next he walked a few steps toward the center of the campground. He could now see into the kitchen area, and Jeremy wasn't there either.

He looked to the south, where he heard the river as it flowed beyond the trees and shrubs between the grounds and the water. He turned and walked toward the trail that led to the river.

Jeremy sat on Greg's favorite stone and watched the water flow by. He hadn't slept well, and when he had awakened at four a.m. he had gotten up. He had made his way to the riverside, letting his mind churn through his thoughts. Mainly they centered around Mason and what he would do about the boy's attraction. He grimaced at himself. 'Our attraction.' He felt guilty at the way Mason made him feel, but that didn't make it go away.

There was a rustle behind him and Jeremy sighed. His expression was sad, and he had to force himself to remain with his head up and his spine straight. He wanted to cave in on himself. He wanted to avoid this. But he knew that he couldn't.

"There you are." Mason walked around and he sat in the sand in front of Jeremy. The teenager smiled at him - a tentative, 'feeling the way' sort of expression. "You okay?"

Jeremy brought his eyes up to Mason's. "Not really." He swallowed and rubbed his face. Mason gazed back at him, waiting for him to explain. Jeremy took a breath. "I want to… god, that's really the wrong word." He shook his head. "I don't want to tell you this, but I have to."

Mason's eyes locked onto Jeremy's and he nodded. "Okay. What is it?"

'Here we go. This is where it happens. This is what you deserve.' Jeremy flinched at his own thoughts but soldiered on. "Mason, I know you like me. And, I'm really flattered…"

Mason's face fell. "You don't like me." The boy slumped, dejected.

Jeremy shook his head. "That's not true." He laughed, the sound anything but happy. "I wish that were true. It'd be easier."

Mason frowned. "What then?" He perked up. "If it's because I'm seventeen, well, that's going to fix itself here real soon. I'm eighteen next month."

Jeremy held up his hand. "Mason, that's not it." He grimaced. "Though… yeah, that would throw a wrench into things too." He shook his head. "I assumed you were already eighteen." Jeremy shook his head. "Seventeen, jeez."

"Then, what?" Mason rose up onto his knees his green eyes earnest. "Tell me."

Jeremy seemed to lose something vital. The blue of his eyes was a little duller, and he let his posture go a bit. He stared down for a few beats, then nodded to himself. Finally, he raised his head and stared Mason in the eye.

"I have HIV. I've been positive for six years, since I was sixteen years old." Jeremy watched as that registered in Mason's brain and the teen's mouth opened slightly in disbelief.

"Wha…" Mason shook his head. "But," he shook his head again and frowned, "you look fine. You're not sick."

Jeremy nodded and tossed a pebble into the water. "First, you don't have to look sick to have HIV. And second, I take Anti-retroviral Therapy. The clinic calls it 'A.R.T.'. Keeps me healthy, and the virus in check. But I'll probably never be cured. I'll always have it." He looked back at the stunned young man in front of him. Jeremy stood up and dusted himself clean of sand. He looked sadly at Mason, who still stared forward, his mind whirling. "You should find someone else to be interested in. Because, me? I don't deserve your attention. I'm damaged goods."

And before he started crying, Jeremy turned and quickly walked away up the path.

⇔

Mason felt as if he had been slugged in the gut. He sat at the river edge, and did his best to process what Jeremy had told him. He wasn't sure how long he sat, only that when his feet fell asleep he came back to the present.

He gingerly stood up and waited while his feet woke up in pins and needles of pain. Then he walked up the trail.

Mason exited the trail to see Jeremy put his cooler into the trunk of his car. He walked over to him. "What are you doing?"

Jeremy looked at him. "I'm going home." His jaw clenched and relaxed as he turned his head. "You don't want me here." He started to walk away and Mason gently put a hand on his shoulder.

"Why wouldn't I want you here?" Mason shook his head. "Just because you have…" he tried to find another way to say it, "because you have this condition?"

Jeremy stood there, his back to Mason and uncertainty in his eyes. He pointed his face down. "I don't know." He shrugged. "I just assumed you'd be like, well, like everybody else I've told."

A pain for Jeremy burned through Mason's chest. He turned Jeremy around and the redhead looked up at him, unsure of what he intended. Mason leaned forward and hugged him. "I want you to stay." Mason squeezed him and Jeremy's arms returned the favor to the teenager.

In Alabama and many other places in the southern United States, HIV was sometimes used as the 'bogeyman', the 'proof' that gay men are inherently wrong. Though Mason railed against this idea he also didn't know too much about the disease, not anything real at least. But he was smart enough to know propaganda.

Jeremy clung to Mason, his face against the tall boy's chest. Outside of medical circles or other positive folks, he had never found anyone who had simply accepted his status without judgment. Yes, some slowly came around. Though it was always a process, and always a struggle to educate through the ignorance.

Not this time. His face screwed up and he felt the tears start. Jeremy squeezed his eyes shut and tried to stop them, but that didn't help. One, lonely sob escaped and Mason squeezed him reassuringly.

"This can be your refuge too, Jeremy," Mason said quietly. Jeremy squeezed him back in response.

After some time Jeremy released him. He wiped at his eyes, then looked up. Mason smiled at him. Then the boy turned and took the cooler out of the trunk of Jeremy's car. "Where you want this?" His smile became a grin and Jeremy laughed.

The two walked with the cooler back to the patio table and sat it down. Just as they did, the Airstream door opened and Clay paused as he looked at them. His expression was guilty, and Mason instantly narrowed his eyes in suspicion at his dad.

"Ah… hey, guys," Clay smiled, the expression way too forced.

"Hey, Dad." Mason cocked his head. "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" Clay shrugged and wet his lips. "Just curious, how long you guys been standing there?"

"We just got here?" Mason still looked confused.

Realization settled in on Jeremy's face and he grinned. "Don't worry. We didn't hear you guys."

Mason glanced at Jeremy, confused, then his mouth dropped and his face changed to an impressive grimace. "Ugh! Dad!" He shook his whole body, as if something disgusting was on his skin.

Clay blushed and glared at Jeremy. "Thanks for helping me out there, Red." Then the big man laughed and shrugged. He really wasn't too ashamed of himself.

The three sat at the table and Greg soon exited the Airstream. His trusty French press was in hand, and it was already full of coffee grounds and hot water. "Hey guys." He sat the press on the table. "This will be ready to press in a couple of minutes. Be right back with cream and sugar."

Greg went back into the trailer and Clay inhaled appreciatively. "Mmmm… coffee smells nice." He looked at Jeremy and then at Mason. Both of the young men stared down at the table, seemingly lost in thought. Clay watched them and neither seemed to register his scrutiny. "You guys all right?"

Mason jerked, the reaction out of place. He quickly nodded. "Yeah. Just…" He glanced at Jeremy, who looked back at him with a pleading expression. Mason turned back to his dad. "Just thinking."

Clay's fingers drummed on the table, slowly. He wasn't one to beat around the bush. "We saw you guys wrestling last night." His eyes landed on Jeremy. "Is that all that happened?"

Now it was the redhead's turn to blush. "Yes!" He shook his head. "I'd never do anything to risk…" He stopped himself and gaped like a fish for a moment.

"He means," Mason cleared his throat, "he'd never do anything with a minor." Jeremy nodded along with that statement.

Clay clenched his jaw. Greg came back with the cream and the sugar. "Sorry, guys, took awhile for me to find the sugar." Nobody said a word, and he looked around the table. Clay's eyes shifted between the two young men. Both of them stared at Clay as if he were a rattlesnake. "Uh… everything okay?"

"Sure." Clay smiled. He focused on Jeremy. "Why don't we get our coffee and go for a walk?"

The redhead went even more pale than he normally appeared. Mason shook his head. "Dad, there's no…"

"Son," Clay's eyes didn't leave Jeremy, "Jeremy and I are gonna go for a walk."

Jeremy took a breath and he glanced at Mason. "It's okay." Mason didn't look convinced, but Jeremy turned back to Clay. "A walk sounds good."

The two of them poured their coffee, and they both left the table to start a slow walk around the loop. Greg looked over at Mason, who stared nervously after Jeremy and Clay. "Okay, what's going on?"

Mason turned, his eyes filled with trepidation. "My dad is just… he thinks Jeremy and I did something." He looked down at the table, "Like, something together."

Greg sat and poured his coffee. "Yeah? We talked a little about that last night after you guys disappeared." Greg looked carefully at Mason. "You are underage, Mason. It could get Jeremy in a lot of trouble if you guys did anything."

He shook his head. "We didn't!" He bit his lip and clung to his coffee cup with both hands as if it were a life preserver.

"Okay. That's good." Greg cocked his head a little confused by Mason's obvious nervousness. "Then what's the big deal? Clay's not a monster. Jeremy will be fine."

Mason's eyes as he looked at Greg were alarming in their near-panic. Greg frowned at him. "Mason. What's wrong, man?"

The boy took a breath and shook his head. "I can't tell you."

Now alarm bells were going off in Greg's head. "Has anybody committed a crime? Has Jeremy?"

Mason shook his head. "No. Greg… I can't tell you." His voice had a pleading tone. "Please." His eyes widened. "It's like what you shared with me. It's something he trusts me to keep secret."

Greg sat back in his chair. He could respect that. But, he had to know one more thing. "Okay, I'll leave it alone if you answer one more question." Mason didn't respond but nodded tightly. "All right. Is keeping the secret going to hurt you or Jeremy?"

Mason thought, and his eyes shifted. Greg did not like how long he took thinking about it. "I… I don't believe so?" Mason seemed to struggle hard with this.

Greg was not encouraged. "Mason." He got up, then got on his knees in front of the boy. Mason's eyes were almost frantic. "That answer was not a good one." Greg put a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me what's going on." Greg squeezed his shoulder. "It won't go any further if it's something that should stay a secret."

Mason stared back at him. Then he took a resigned breath.

⇔

Clay sipped his coffee and looked over at Jeremy. The young man held his mug with both hands against the center of his chest, and he stared down at the asphalt as they walked. Clay cleared his throat. "Okay. So what's going on with you guys? It's obvious you both like each other, and there's nothing wrong with that." Clay held up a finger. "Except, if it gets to be something physical." He took another sip of coffee and blew out a breath. "Next month, Mason can do whatever he wants. But till then I'm his guardian, and I have to protect him."

Jeremy sighed. "I've not done anything with your son. I'm not going to do anything with your son. Not this month, or next month. Or any month."

Clay frowned at that response. "Uh, okay." He thought a moment. "Does… does Mason know that?" He motioned at Jeremy with his free hand. "That you're not interested?"

Jeremy shook his head. "I didn't say I wasn't interested. I am saying that I won't do anything with your son." He looked meaningfully at Clay. "I said before… I won't do anything to put Mason at risk."

Clay frowned at the statement. They continued to walk and Clay thought about what Jeremy had said. 'I won't do anything to put Mason at risk.' He stopped in his tracks as realization hit him.

Jeremy took a step, then realized Clay hadn't followed. He looked back at Clay and he could tell from the big man's face that he had figured it out. Jeremy took a drink of coffee and drew in a breath. "Not all of us have been lucky enough to escape our earlier years unscathed." He looked down at the road. "Like I said, I won't do anything with your son." He worked his jaw. "I'm going back to the table, unless you wanted to talk some more."

Clay shook his head. His face still showed that he was processing this new data. Jeremy quietly walked past him and rejoined Mason and Greg at the table.

Mason looked at Jeremy, his face guilty and miserable. Jeremy noticed and he smiled sadly at him. "It's fine, Mason." The redhead sighed and he sat in his camp chair. He lay his head back and stared up into the trees. The wind blew the tops and they swayed back and forth.

Greg cleared his throat. "Hey, Jeremy." Clay was just walking back to the group and he found a seat next to Greg. Jeremy sat up and faced the two men, his features an unreadable slate. Greg continued, "I want you to know you're welcome here. Anytime."

Jeremy's eyes slid over to Clay. "Am I?"

Clay hesitated only a moment. "Yes, of course. There's no reason you can't be here."

Jeremy sat very still and only his eyes moved between Greg and Clay. Then finally he nodded. "Okay." He exhaled and finally smiled - a real one. "Okay."

Mason grinned. "Jeremy!" He stood up. "Come on. I wanna tell you all the plans we have for the cabins. You still need to know for the kids, right?"

Jeremy smiled. "Yeah." He stood alongside Mason. "I do. Let me get my notebook and we'll go see 'em."

Jeremy walked down the road toward his tent. Mason watched him, and when he got a few steps away, he turned to his dad.

Clay was surprised when Mason knelt in front of him and he hugged the big man. Clay gingerly put his arms around Mason.

"Thanks, Dad." The teenager squeezed him, then he quickly got to his feet and dashed off down the pavement.

Clay watched him go. Greg reached over and patted Clay's leg. "Hey." The policeman looked at Greg. He smiled at Clay. "I'm proud of you." He rubbed the big man's leg affectionately. "You did really well."

Clay nodded. "Thanks." Then he turned his eyes back to the two young men as they disappeared into the "Clay" Cabin.

It was all he could do to control the near-paralyzing fear for his son.