Camp Refuge

Chapter 17 - Camp Refuge

June 06, 2018 (Wednesday, 6:00 AM)

Mason's alarm started to chime on his phone, and the teenager reached across Jeremy to silence it. Jeremy moved a little, and he made a contented, sleepy noise. Mason smiled and rubbed his face against the back of Jeremy's neck.

'Coffee and soap.' Mason smiled. 'And a little whiskey.' His smile became a smirk.

Chill bumps rose on Jeremy's neck, and he shivered. He rode the line between waking and sleep, and Mason saw Jeremy's jaw move as he smiled.

Mason's hand slowly began to rub Jeremy's furry chest and then down to his equally hairy, flat belly. The teenager licked his lips, and he ground his groin into Jeremy's backside.

Even though they were both in their underwear, the friction and motion felt good. Mason's long, thick penis naturally found the groove of Jeremy's rear, and he rubbed against the sleepy redhead.

Before Jeremy could completely wake up Mason's hand slipped past the waistband of his briefs. His movements had caused Jeremy to react, and he already had an erection. For the first time, Mason touched the skin of Jeremy's dick, and he wrapped his hand around it.

Jeremy came awake as Mason began to stroke him. He made a surprised noise, and he put a hand on Mason's arm. "We're not supposed to do this." Mason noticed Jeremy wasn't trying to stop him.

"I'm not gonna tell anybody." Mason's voice was strained, and he started to pant as the pace of his hips increased.

Jeremy arched his neck, and he let go of Mason's arm. Then he reached under the blankets. He slipped off his underwear.

Mason stopped for a second, and he quickly removed his too.

"No penetration. Not yet." Jeremy said, his voice shaky.

Mason moved right back against him again. His hips drove his member up and down against Jeremy, skin on skin. Mason marveled at the increase in sensation, and he stroked Jeremy in time to his body.

Mason kissed the back of Jeremy's neck. He leaked fluid, and that smoothed the way for his member to slide easily against Jeremy's very hairy body. Though the amount of friction was still incredible, and it pushed the teenager toward his finish quickly. He felt his balls begin to ascend as his body prepared to release.

Jeremy uttered a long groan. "God … I'm gonna come." He threw back the covers, and he looked down at Mason's hand as it slid up and down his cock. It started, and he grunted as semen flew from him in a streak across the sheet.

Mason buried his face against the nape of Jeremy's neck, and he moaned. The teenager got off, and his load shot into Jeremy's crack. Mason continued to pump. It smeared on his cock as he pushed back and forth through it, and all along the groove of Jeremy's rear. He finally came to a halt as he finished.

They lay there and rested. Both now bore a sheen of sweat, and Jeremy was definitely stickier than when he started.

Jeremy chuckled. "You're a bad boy."

Mason grinned. "You didn't fight very hard." He rubbed his lips against the skin of Jeremy's upper back and neck.

"Yeah, I guess I didn't. I'm bad too." Jeremy rolled over, and the two guys pulled close.

Mason grinned at Jeremy's erection that refused to abate, even after he got off. It pressed into the teenager's groin. "That thing doesn't know when to quit."

Jeremy laughed. "Yeah. I can usually go a couple of times before it's done." He nuzzled Mason, and the lanky young man giggled at the way Jeremy's beard tickled his neck.

The redhead pulled back and looked at Mason. "Did that tickle?" There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Mason instantly noticed the look. "No, I just …"

Jeremy pounced and pushed the startled teen onto his back. He was on top of the boy in a second, and he rubbed his bearded face against Mason's neck.

Mason thrashed and howled with laughter. "No!" He was nearly paralyzed as he ineffectively fought against the smaller man. Jeremy laughed evilly, and now he also tickled Mason's ribcage with his free hand.

"Ah! Hahahaha!" Mason twitched and streamed tears. "No! Stop!" He tried to roll around to dislodge Jeremy, but the naked man on top of him managed to ride out his attempt.

The lanky teen was nearly breathless. And Jeremy finally stopped his torture. He grinned down at Mason as the boy panted. Mason finally took a full breath, and he looked both betrayed and joyful. "You're mean!" He pushed at Jeremy, though it was gentle, and he grinned back at the redhead from below him.

"That's me." Jeremy smiled with a fond and elated expression. Then it slowly melted away as the young men stared at one another. Jeremy reached and gently rubbed his thumb on Mason's cheek to wipe away a tear. "But, I'm your meanie."

Mason licked his lips, and there was hope on his face. "Really?"

Jeremy continued to softly stroke Mason's cheek. "If that's what you want." He nodded. "Yeah. I don't know what you see in me, but I can't deny that I'm glad you see it."

Mason felt indescribably happy. He wrapped his arms around Jeremy. They lay there, Jeremy stretched on top of Mason. The teen had a slight smile on his face as he enjoyed the warm contact. Then he felt Jeremy's hips begin to move.

"What are you doing, humpy?" Mason smiled.

"Sorry. I'm not done." Jeremy kept sliding his cock against Mason's groin. "Hold still."

Mason laughed and held on.

__________________________________

The day promised to be a beautiful one. The sun had almost burned off the early morning mist, and the campground was awash in light. Birds sang, and hopped about in the grass between the trees as they looked for breakfast. And drops of dew sparkled like little jewels on leaves and blades of grass.

Greg and Clay sat at the patio table next to the Airstream. It was still early, and nobody else was up and about yet. Though both of the men had heard Mason howling with laughter a few moments ago.

Greg looked over at Clay, and the big man gazed thoughtfully at Mason's cabin. Greg reached and patted his leg. "You all right?"

Clay took a deep breath. It was apparent to Greg that he struggled with Mason and Jeremy. He knew Clay still had a way to go to acceptance of their paring. "I guess I have to be." He looked over. "Am I worried for no reason? Is he really safe?"

Greg smiled at him. "Everything I've read says he is." He pulled out his phone and brought up the email with the links Mason sent to him. "Here. Read this stuff." He slid the device across the table to Clay. "Your son did his homework."

Clay's face was serious, but he looked slightly more relieved. He took the phone. "Okay." He selected the first link, and he started to read.

Greg watched him for a bit, then he pulled his chair closer, so they were right next to one another. He put his hand in Clay's lap, so his arm lay along his leg, and he leaned his head over against the man. "I'm proud of you, Clay - for trying to understand. I know it has to be scary."

Clay sighed. "What scared me more was what Orson helped me to understand. That Mason would cut me out of his life if I didn't get on board." He picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip. Clay stared down at the liquid as it steamed. "I know I can't stop him. And since that's true, I'm going to try and be okay with things." He glanced at Greg, smiled, and leaned in for a short but sweet kiss.

They pulled apart, and Greg smiled back. "You're a good dad." His eyes wandered over Clay's face. "And Jeremy's a good boy, you know. Mason could do a lot worse."

Clay nodded. "I know." He went back to reading. "He's got his demons though." He grimaced. "I didn't help much in that respect. I hurt that young man." Greg could see the regret on his face.

"We all fuck up, Clay. Jeremy doesn't seem the kind to hold a grudge." He patted Clay's leg and took a drink of his coffee.

A few minutes passed, and Mason's cabin door opened. The teenager stuck his head out and saw the men at the patio table. After a moment of hesitation, he gave them a wave. Then he stepped out with his sheets wadded in a ball under his arm.

Clay's eyes narrowed. "Didn't you do laundry yesterday?"

Greg patted his leg again. "Yes. And we can do it again today if we need to." He chuckled. "Don't give them a hard time."

Jeremy followed Mason out, and he too waved at the men. Then he and Mason walked over to the laundry room. Greg had converted one of the bathrooms attached to the shower into a laundry room. There was a coin-operated washer and a dryer in there. Though, at this time of year, most of their wet clothes dried quickly on a clothesline.

A couple of minutes passed, then they watched as the boys left the laundry room and entered the shower - together.

Greg felt Clay's leg stiffen under his hand. "Relax." He chuckled. "Keep reading."

Clay sighed and went back to the phone.

__________________________________

Jeremy was ready to face the day, though he wasn't sure about facing Clay. Mason insisted it was okay that they shower together, and otherwise be seen paired up. So Jeremy acquiesced to the headstrong teenager.

"He's fine." Mason smiled reassuringly at Jeremy as they dried after their shower. "It's going to be fine."

Mason's confidence helped a little. Jeremy sighed. "Okay." They dressed in shorts, t-shirts, and tennis shoes, and they left the shower. Jeremy spied a full French press on the patio table, and he started to walk over.

"Aww. What's going on with Orson?"

Jeremy turned at Mason's voice, and he looked at the picnic table. Orson sat alone there. The man was slumped on the bench, and by his posture, he appeared to be miserable. Jeremy frowned at the sight of him.

"Hey, go on over to the guys. I need to tell Orson about some of the resources I found for him anyway." Jeremy patted Mason's back. "I'll be over there in a minute."

Jeremy peeled away from Mason and made a beeline for Orson. The man looked up as he approached and he straightened his spine. Jeremy knew a show when he saw it. "Hey, Jeremy." Orson tried to smile, but even that seemed as if it were too much effort for him.

"Hey." Jeremy had a seat next to him on the bench. "You okay?"

Orson glanced over at Jeremy then his eyes went back to the table in front of him. "Not really." He took a deep breath. Jeremy waited while Orson thought about what he wanted to say. "I keep thinking about all the things I'm not gonna be able to do anymore." He shook his head. "I know that's not helping anything, but I can't stop myself."

Jeremy put a hand on Orson's back. "I know it's hard right now." The redhead felt an instant kinship with Orson's situation. "I had similar feelings when I was first diagnosed with HIV. All I could see were the obstacles. All I knew was that my life had changed." He patted Orson's back. "I got through that." He smiled a little. "I've still got my days, but mostly, I got through it. And you can too."

Orson looked over at him and then nodded. "Yeah." He hung his head. "I guess my biggest problem is that I don't have a purpose anymore. Nobody needs me. Nobody depends on me. I don't have a use." He bit his lip. Jeremy could tell the man struggled on the edge of an emotional moment.

"From what I hear, Mason and I have you to thank for Clay coming around." Jeremy looked at Orson's face. "And you don't even know how much that means to me." Jeremy put his arm around Orson's shoulders. "So don't think you are purposeless. You did something so perfect for Mason and me."

Orson quietly looked down at his hands on the table. Then he finally nodded, and the barest of smiles twitched on his lips. "Thanks for saying that."

"Sure." Jeremy squeezed him a little. "And I have some information for you about your prosthetic visits. Are you okay to go over that right now?"

Orson perked up. "Yeah. That'd be great. I'm looking forward to that." He looked at the crutches propped nearby. "Those things suck."

"I can imagine." Jeremy smiled. "We're isolated up here from most specialists, but this time we're pretty lucky. We have a place in Redding. It's a little over two hours away, and I think they'll be able to help you."

They discussed the next steps he'd need to take to be fitted to a prosthesis, and Jeremy was glad that Orson was so engaged in the process. He could tell the man needed this as something to look forward to. It was the next step in his recovery.

By the time they had finished Orson seemed a little better. He wasn't laughing and smiling, but he also wasn't as down as he had been. "Hey. Let's hang out with the guys. That sound all right?" Jeremy stood up and looked down at Orson.

The black-haired man nodded. "Okay." Orson got up, and Jeremy noticed that the movement was a lot smoother than it was just a few days ago. He was getting better at moving around on his one leg. Orson gathered his crutches, and the two went over to the patio table.

Greg had made a fresh French press full of coffee, and Jeremy smiled as they found seats. "Good morning. Thanks for the coffee."

Greg nodded. "Good morning, guys." He'd seen them approach, and there were a couple of mugs already out for them. They both poured coffee and dressed it up how they liked.

Jeremy took a sip, and he sighed. He had avoided it until now, but he forced himself to look up at Clay.

The man looked back at him. When their eyes met, Jeremy saw the faintest of smiles. "Feeling better, Red? You were still a little rough last night," Clay asked and took another sip.

Jeremy blushed a little. "Yeah, I'm fine. I appreciate what you guys did for me." Inwardly he was oddly pleased that Clay would give him a nickname.

Clay nodded. "Well, it was the least I could do. And I mean that."

Jeremy saw Mason grin at his dad, and Greg smiled at the man. The ice was broken, and things thawed nicely. The men chatted around the table for the next half hour, and the topic turned to Mason's birthday which fast approached.

"I thought maybe the Raven kids could stay over on Monday night?" Greg asked. "No charge for their sites. They'd be here as our guests."

Jeremy nodded. "That sounds great. Thanks for the free stay. That'll make my grant dollars go further." He looked thoughtful. "I already let their guardians know we may take another camping trip. And work has approved me to be here Monday and Tuesday so that I can watch them." He looked a little sheepish. "I, ah, I planned to stay over the weekend prior too, on my own dime." Jeremy glanced at Mason. "If you want me to."

Mason nodded vigorously. It was obvious he was excited. He was very smiley and often grinned as the discussion went on.

Everyone seemed happy that the kids were going to be there. Clay and Orson had never met them, and they were eager to do so.

"I'll be nice to meet them." Clay looked at Mason. "I know from what Mason told me they're a good bunch."

Jeremy agreed. "They are. Though, I need to warn you ahead of time about Elias. He's just a bit phobic when it comes to touch. He doesn't like it."

Mason nodded in agreement.

Orson frowned. "Really? Do you know why?"

Jeremy felt a little uncomfortable discussing it, but he trusted those around the table. "I don't know for sure. But I suspect it has to do with something traumatic that happened to him." He shrugged. "It's sad too because I watch him when the others play and roughhouse. It's obvious he craves the same sort of interaction. But there's just something there that won't let him."

"Poor kid." Orson shook his head. "Well, what about the others?"

"Avery is a ball of energy. He'll get into everything and anything if you let him. But he'll get bored fast too. Patrick is a sweet guy, and he loves to camp. He's a trans boy, so try to watch your pronouns with him. He may arrive in a dress, but that's not his choice. Samantha is quiet, observant, and can cook. She and Patrick hang out a lot." Jeremy looked at Mason and smiled. "And they ALL love Mason. They're ecstatic to be here for his birthday."

Mason smiled. "They're all great. I'm glad they're coming." He looked over at Greg. "Can we get a badminton game or something? Maybe string a net near the picnic table, between the trees?"

Greg made an approving face. "Yeah, that sounds like a good plan." Then he narrowed his eyes. "Weren't you on some team for badminton?"

Mason grinned. "No. That was some other kid you're thinking of who went to compete at the state level." He polished his fingernails against his chest and blinked innocently at Greg.

Clay shook his head. "Mason is excellent at badminton." He looked over at the teen. "You're not allowed to win every game, Mason. We want the kids to have fun too!" Clay glowered at him. "I'd like to actually win a game too."

The lanky young man shrugged and smiled. Jeremy found the slight smugness in his expression incredibly cute. He also noticed the rascal promised nothing when it came to badminton.

After a quick breakfast of oats or bagels, the group broke up to do their own thing. Clay had some work he wanted to do on a couple of cabins. Greg was going to town to pick up party supplies, and Jeremy rode along to drop in at the clinic for a little work that couldn't wait. Mason was busy with some meal prep for lunch and dinner.

This meant Orson was left to his own devices. He went into his cabin, and he carefully got down on the floor and unrolled a padded mat. Then he began to go through the workout regimen Greg designed for him.

At first, the torso flexing seemed ridiculous and easy. But a few repetitions in and he began to sweat. Soon he was drenched, and as he panted on the mat, he began to grin. It felt good to put his body through its paces. His heart rate hadn't been over 120 in weeks, and now he could feel it hammering in his chest as he did a one-legged modified bridge.

Finally, he was done. What he thought would take a ½ hour took a little over 40 minutes instead. He got to his foot, and he steadied himself with one hand on the back of his futon. He blew out a breath, tired, but happy. He had missed physical activity!

Orson toweled off his face. Then he gathered his shower kit and a change of clothes. All of that went into a mesh bag that he held in his hand. Then he held the end of the bag and let it dangle as he used his crutches to ambulate out of his cabin, down the path, and to the shower.

Mason waved at him from the kitchen as he entered. Orson smiled and nodded at the teenager. He liked Mason. The boy was smart, a good person, and headstrong. Those were all qualities Orson admired.

He went in, leaned his crutches against the wall, and began to remove his clothes. He had learned to dress in easy to handle items - sweats, t-shirts and the like. It just made things simpler.

He got his change and plugged a buck in quarters into the shower. It kicked on, and a stream of water shot out. He loved the water pressure at the campground. It was always very high, and it helped him feel clean after his shower. He hopped in and held on to the rail in the space.

Orson quickly soaped and rinsed. He liked a leisurely shower, but today he only brought a dollar in quarters. So it was going to be a quick one. Sure enough, as soon as he had rinsed the water cut off.

He hopped back out to the benches where his clothes and crutches were. And he dried himself. He was better at balancing on his leg, and he toweled dry without issue. He also noticed his leg was stronger and had more endurance than it did before.

'Adjusting,' he mused while he sat on the bench and put on his clothes.

Orson was dressed, and he opened the shower door. Greg and Jeremy were still gone. Clay was busy in cabin #4, and Mason had his head down, chopping something in the kitchen. Orson crutched over to his cabin and dropped off his shower shoe, and his bathroom kit. Then he grabbed a small leather journal and a pen.

He hadn't even seen the river yet. He didn't want to ask anyone to help him get down there, and he hadn't trusted himself to do it on his own. But now he was pretty sure he could handle the path down. It didn't look too tricky, and he was stronger than he was when he had first arrived.

Orson made his way along the asphalt loop, and he got to the river path. He bit his lip as he looked down the narrow way. It was framed on each side by weeds and briars. Someone on two legs would have no trouble. But a guy on crutches would have a harder time - only because he needed a wider thoroughfare.

Orson's face went from unsure to determined, and he started down the path. The first few steps were okay. He brushed the tall grass with the metal posts of his crutches, but it didn't stop him. He kept going and could see the end of the path ahead. He grinned and pushed forward.

A crutch caught on a root hidden under the high grass, and it twisted out of place. Orson had a surprised expression, and he turned from his forward momentum as the crutch was yanked from his hand. He went down with a thud and a yelp on his left hip and then onto his back. He felt blackberry thorns as he fell, and they raked the skin on his back, arms and his face.

Orson lay there a moment. He mentally assessed himself, and he decided that he had mainly injured his pride. He frowned grimly at his predicament. He had fallen into a blackberry thicket, and thorned berry vines were above his head from where he lay on the ground. His leg stuck out onto the path while his torso and head were under the umbrella of the vines.

He tried to turn on his side and then sit up, but the vines were too close, and he lay back down after one snagged in his hair. He worked his jaw, and frustration began to build. 'You're fine. Relax, and do it.' He took a calming breath, and he tried to crunch his body forward, and duck under the vines at the same time.

No good. Again, the vines were too low. "Fuck." He frowned, and his frustration mounted again. He looked around for his crutches. One was nearby, and he grabbed it. He used it to push the berry vines back off of himself. He used his one good leg, and he slowly wormed his way out from under the briars.

Orson lay in the middle of the path and was now covered in scratches, dirt, and grass stains. He felt a trickle of blood from a cut on his face, and he swiped at it with his hand, annoyed and upset. He sat up and looked for his other crutch.

The tool was deep in the weeds on the other side of the path. Orson gritted his teeth and barely held off the soul-crushing impotence that threatened to overwhelm him. He pushed himself up to a standing position, and he leaned on his single crutch. He looked at the other one. It was simply out of his reach. If he tried to get it, he'd probably fall and be in the same position he had just left.

He hung his head and made a frustrated sound.  Then he turned and slowly hobbled back up the path toward the campground.

Orson made it back up to the loop, and he saw Clay walking toward him. Orson threw up his hand, and Clay picked up his pace. As he neared, Orson saw Clay's eyes widen.

"Orson! Buddy, what happened?" Clay reached him, and he looked appalled at Orson's condition.

The black-haired man shook his head, and his jaw worked. "I had the illusion that I could function as a normal fucking person." He stared down at the ground. "Would you mind getting my other crutch? It's in the weeds on the right side of the path."

"I'll get it. Stay there." Clay disappeared. He returned quickly with the crutch. "Here." He handed it back to Orson.

Orson nodded his thanks and turned. He headed straight for his cabin. Clay walked behind him. "Hey. You're all cut up. Let me help you get ..."

"I'm fine," Orson said. His voice was tense, like a drum stretched just a bit too tight. He continued on his way, and Clay stopped.

Orson didn't look back. He got to his cabin, entered and shut the door. Then he threw the crutches on the floor in a clatter of metal.

He lowered himself down to his futon. And quiet, frustrated tears streamed down his face.


Author's Note:

Please let me know your thoughts on the chapter at the following email address link.   Wayne Gray

And thank you for reading! 

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