by A. R. Moler
"Wait until you see the surfers out in February."
"That's absolutely nuts."
A young auburn haired woman bumped into Mason. "Oh sorry. I was trying to avoid stepping on the little kid who went whizzing by."
"That was probably Libby," said Mason.
"I'm Charlotte, Steve Villetti's sister." She stuck out a hand.
Mason shook it. "Mason Flynn. This is Graham Chin. Steve, Kyle and I just hired him. I take it you're here for the holidays?"
She shook hands with Graham also. "Yes, I have a couple weeks off from work and I'm making the family rounds." She gave him a smile and tilted her head a little. He could tell she was seriously checking him out.
"What do you do?"
"I'm a buyer for Macy's. Now that the Christmas spending rush is over, I have a little breathing space before all the spring fashions start going full tilt," said Charlotte.
"Bathing suits in February and all that," Mason commented. Behind Charlotte, Graham looked highly amused. He made a gesture that he was going to go get another beer, and walked away.
"Something like that. Are you in the market for a new Speedo? I could get you a deal."
Mason was hard pressed not to laugh. That was as close to a pick up line as he'd heard recently. "Is the trade off that you expect me to model it?"
"That would be very nice." Her eyes skimmed the length of Mason's body a second time.
"Model what?" asked Cam, coming toward Mason.
"A Speedo."
"You don't own one, do you?" Cam made a little frown.
"Nope. Charlotte was making me an offer," Mason replied.
Cam slung an arm around Mason's shoulders and pulled him close, planting a kiss along the edge of Mason's jaw. "An offer of what?"
Charlotte gave him a dubious look and Mason sensed she was trying to decide if Cam's show of affection was by-product of too much to drink.
"A free Speedo for a free… show?"
"She's outta luck," said Cam. "Isn't she?"
Mason smirked. "Oh, I don't know. It depends on what kind of show she wants." Mason turned toward Cam and cupped a hand behind his head, leaning in for a long open mouthed kiss. A little thrill of happiness ran through Mason's gut; Cam barely flinched at the sudden aggressive display of lust. Mason spread his hand flat against the small of Cam's back, and dipped a couple of fingers beneath the top of Cam's jeans. His fingertips hit elastic that was nowhere near as wide as that on Cam's usual boxer briefs. "Are you actually wearing your Christmas present?"
Cam gave him a naughty little grin. "Yes, it seemed like a good way to celebrate the New Year. You should have provided a pair of pliers with them though; they don't actually qualify as comfortable."
"Damn… You would tell me this when we're standing at a party. Do I get a free show?"
"Later. Next year in fact."
Mason glanced back at Charlotte, who was looking both disappointed and amused.
"I always seem to pick the ones who are gay or taken, and it looks like you're both," she said and walked away.
"How long until midnight?" Mason asked, suddenly hot to escape the party and see Cam actually wearing the black thong.
"About half an hour," Cam replied.
Mason pushed Cam against the wall and leaned against him. "Were you going to tell me you're wearing the thong?"
"I was thinking about whispering it in your ear at midnight," Cam teased.
"Bastard." Mason nipped lightly at Cam's lower lip. Cam shifted slightly against Mason and Mason could feel the slight flex of Cam's thigh muscles as they were pressed together from hip to knee. He could also feel the hint of arousal hovering at the edges of Cam's mind.
***
They only lingered at the party until about twenty minutes past midnight, giving Cam's needing to get some sleep before his departure on the second of January as the reason.
"You don't have to offer excuses, Mason. I know what it's like to want some alone time before a deployment, even when it's a short one," said Tyra.
Mason gave her a hug and walked out to his car with Cam.
The drive home was quiet and Mason was torn between his lust for seeing Cam in that thong and the knowledge that they were going to be far apart for a while. Suck it up and be an adult, he told himself. It's only for a couple of weeks.
In the front hallway, Cam paused and turned to face Mason. "So, should I shuck my jeans right here?"
Mason chuckled. "I don't think that constitutes giving me a show."
"Ah , so what you're really looking for is a lap dance." Cam stepped closer to Mason.
"Do I even want to know about your lap dance experience?"
"I've only been on the spectator end. That was just once, in Naples, when I was on a med cruise."
"I think I could settle for watching you undress slowly." Mason dragged a fingertip down across Cam's lips. There was that hint of arousal again, and just a little dilation of Cam's pupils. Mason heaved an uneven breath, his own want curling low in his body.
Cam took Mason's hand and drew him toward the bedroom. Mason toed off his sneakers and sat on the bed leaning back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him.
The shirt went first. Cam pulled off the heavy polo and dropped it. The shoes went next, followed by the socks. Mason's mouth twitched in amusement. There probably wasn't any sexy way to take off shoes and socks, unless maybe there was a foot fetish going on. The belt, though… the buckle hanging open, but the length still thread the belt loops. That had implications. Mason could feel the blood stiffening his cock.
When Cam's fingers tugged down the zipper, Mason could now see the top edge of the silky black scrap of fabric hugged low across Cam's hipbone. Mason had to shift on the bed. His own jeans had gone uncomfortably tight.
"I take it this is getting to you?" said Cam.
"Um, yeah."
Cam hooked both thumbs in the top of his jeans and eased them down almost to his thighs, before turning his back on Mason and bending over to push them the rest of the way down. Oh hell, there was something hot about that triangle of black pointing from the waistband straight down between Cam's butt cheeks, those nice firm muscled curves. Mason palmed himself, cock aching. Cam stood back up, kicking free of his pants, and turned around. The elastic at the edges of the front pouch was straining a little. It was obvious that this was turning Cam on, too.
"So, was it worth whatever totally ridiculous amount of money you paid for this tiny thing?" Cam teased.
"Every penny."
Cam stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, then crawled up to Mason, ending with his legs straddling Mason's thighs.
"I think it is as close to a lap dance as you're going to get," said Cam. His hands settled on Mason's shoulders.
Mason grinned. He reached out and brushed his fingers down the front panel of the thong. Cam's already stiff prick flexed against the touch. Mason hooked a fingertip under the elastic that ran along the edge of Cam's groin. He ran that finger slowly between flesh and fabric, tracing a path down under Cam's tight balls and back along sensitive skin to where the slender strand of black was snug to Cam's entrance.
"I hope this thing is washable," commented Cam.
Mason noticed a large spot at the front of the thong was darkening with pre-come. "It is underwear after all."
"Just not particularly comfy underwear."
Mason grazed his finger across the tight pucker of Cam's hole, and Cam inhaled a little sharply, stomach muscles tightening. Mason bent his head forward and kissed Cam's belly. He reached for the tube of slick on the nightstand and coated a couple of fingers. Lifting the narrow strip of fabric between Cam's ass cheeks, he pushed his fingers inside. Cam groaned at little. Mason could feel the flare of pleasure from his lover as he spent a few moments working Cam open.
"You gonna get naked or just get off on watching me blow my load," muttered Cam, arching his back and rocking against the penetration of Mason's fingers.
"I t
hink you're begging."
"Pretty much."
"Can I do you up against the wall?" asked Mason, pulling his fingers free.
Cam raised an eyebrow. "Am I seeing some secret kink of yours?"
"My own personal stripper and some guaranteed privacy on New Year's Eve? That sounds like a fantasy to me."
"Sure, why not. I've already embarrassed the crap out of myself."
Cam slid off the bed and stood facing the wall. Mason shoved his own jeans and briefs down around his thighs and wrapped an arm around Cam, curled his hand around Cam's rigid cock. The thong had shifted and the tip of Cam's prick poked up above the waistband, leaking. Mason rubbed his already slippery hand down his own cock and pulled the back strip of the thong aside with a thumb before pushing into his lover.
There was a moan of pleasure from Cam and Mason could feel the wave of pleasure from Cam flare again. They were both pretty damn close to the edge. Mason snapped his hips and Cam huffed out a low noise that vibrated his body. Just a few more thrusts and Mason was slamming into Cam as his climax shook his body and stole his breath. Cam came just seconds later, and Mason reveled in the echo of a second orgasm washing through him.
The wall was probably about the only thing holding the two of them upright for the next couple of minutes.
"There's gonna be a spunk stain on the wall," snickered Cam.
Mason had to laugh.
Cam slowly turned to face Mason. "Do I dare ask if you've done some stripper against a wall sometime in your past?"
Mason shook his head. "I thought about it once. There was even sort of an opportunity, but no matter how hot that guy was to look at, doing something like this with a stranger... Just no." He kissed Cam, basking in the warmth of his lover's body pressed to his own. "Having you gone…" his voice broke.
Looping arms around Mason's neck, Cam said, "It's not really that many days. We'll get by."
Chapter 9
Mason was leaning against the wall outside one of the exam rooms of the orthopedic practice.
"Are you okay?" Tyra asked.
He looked up from the patient file he was scribbling notes into. "Yeah. Why?"
"You look tired and you haven't said but about five words to me all day."
Mason was silent for a moment. "I… having Cam gone is hard." He knew Tyra had a realistic concept of the emptiness. Her husband had only recently gotten back from a seven month deployment. Cam had only been gone for about a week.
She put a hand on his arm. "Do you want to come have dinner with me, Ross and Lizzie tonight? Eating dinner alone can really rub your nose in the loneliness."
"Thanks, but no, I have surgery in the morning. I'll probably try to make an early night of it." In one way he probably could've used the distraction, but over the past two days he'd been having shielding problems. The idea of spending extra hours in the company of other people was probably just going to make him more frazzled, even if those people were good friends. Headblind friends. The thought occurred to him that driving out to Division P and talking to Peter or maybe Danny might help him feel less like he was coming slightly unglued.
At the end of the day, Mason sat staring at MRI images on his computer. He had three new patients who'd had the scans done this week and he never trusted what the reports had to say. Too many radiologists blew through fifty scans a day and missed all sorts of things. A little chime from the Blackberry on his hip let him know he had new email. He pulled the phone loose and glanced at the screen.
There was one from Cam. Thank God for twenty-first century technology. Even though Cam wasn't volunteering information about his relationship to the Navy, before he left, he and Mason had agreed that they weren't going to make any extraordinary efforts to keep their feelings for each other out of their emails. So far the few emails that they had exchanged had been pretty low key and wouldn't have raised eyebrows for anyone.
Mason popped the new one open.
My day totally sucked. How 'bout yours? I pulled a bolter today. Yeah the deck was pitching a little but I've been doing this for a batch of years. No excuse. The LSO about chewed my ass off. Bolter =missed the wire and had to go around for another pass – I suddenly realized you probably have no idea what that word means.
LSO threatened to send me to the flight doc on board, says I look like crap. I'm having a hard time sleeping. Don't know why. Maybe the ton of people thing. You know what I mean. Sorry about dumping on you. Should be back in six more days. Miss you.
Those last two words were like a sucker punch. Mason had to get up from his desk and walk across the room to quell the surge of emotion in his chest. He stared out his office window into the dark parking lot.
Cam had been gone for nine days so far. The first four hadn't been so bad. Over the next three, the whole empty house every evening and empty bed every night thing had really begun to get to Mason. He spent more time at work and more time at the hospital trying to take his mind off the loneliness. It had helped in one way, but then the shielding problem began creeping in. Jesus God… he felt pathetic.
How did Tyra cope with having her hubby gone for months? Did the fact she was headblind make a difference? Tyra was one of Mason's best friends. She had been newly married when she first started working for the practice. He'd known her through one deployment, the birth of her daughter and then another deployment. They'd taken a dance class together for a couple of months in an effort to help her weather her husband's absence. That thought made him grin just a little. Ross, Tyra's husband, had been surprisingly amused by that. He had laughed and said it got him off the hook and since Mason was gay, he was no threat to their marriage.
Mason's thoughts circled back to the hollowness he was feeling with Cam's absence and he was uncertain what he should put in his reply so he procrastinated and called Peter.
"Hey, what's up?" Peter answered.
"Are you going to be around for a while this evening? I… I need… an opinion," Mason said. He knew he was being vague but it felt hard to explain his problem over the phone.
"Yeah, I've got nothing much going on. Danny's in Baltimore and I'm at loose ends."
"I'll see you in about an hour then."
***
When Mason showed up at Peter's apartment, Peter immediately knew there was something wrong. Okay, it didn't fall in the dripping blood, grab a crash cart category, but it raised red flags. Peter and Mason had an odd friendship that had started out in the mentor-student category and had segued sideways into something closer to colleagues over the past half a year.
"Come in. Take a load off. Want a beer?" Peter offered.
"That's sounds like a good idea." Mason sank into a chair in Peter's den. Peter returned from the kitchen and handed him an open bottle. He also took that opportunity to wrap his fingers around Mason's wrist. Mason gave him a slight glare, but made no move to pull his hand free.
Peter got a flash of unhappiness, annoyance and resignation in one quick pass. There were hints of something subtly wrong underneath, but he couldn't quite place it.
"You know, you could just ask me why I'm here," Mason said.
"Okay. So why did you drive the better part of an hour rather than talk to me on the phone?" Peter let go of Mason's hand and sat on the sofa across from him.
"Having Cam gone… I miss him. I know that's not your problem, nor is it something you can actually help me with, but the past couple days… I feel like I'm having shielding problems. I'd chalked it up to my own pathetic-ness, but Cam sent me some email that implies he's having similar issues." Mason handed Peter his Blackberry with the email opened. "You have some idea how hard-ass he is about trying to hide anything that implies he's in pain. If he mentioned it, it must be close to driving him up a tree."
Peter read through the email. "Have you been doing any of the grounding exercises?"
"Yes, I tried that. It doesn't seem to help. It's not awful. It's not like taking codeine or some other narcotic. It… it just feels wrong and difficult and I
don't know why it's happening."
Peter handed the phone back to him. "Are you having trouble getting the shielding up or keeping it up or what? Be more specific."
"Up and down seems fine as an action. It seems more like a strength issue or maybe it's a permeability thing. The background noise is louder and more abrasive. It makes me feel edgy."
"Are you having sleep problems like Cam?"
"No, nothing more than just sleeping alone sucks. But I'm at home and he's on a ship with a few thousand other people." Mason picked at the label on the beer bottle with a fingernail.
"Good point."
"It seems like with him it may be leading to flying mistakes. Although I don't know how to separate serious fatigue from whatever distraction effects he's experiencing from shielding problems," Mason admitted.
"I'm not sure the two are capable of being separated. I think the whole vicious circle thing may come into play. Lack of sleep leading to trouble focusing leading to protection issues and on around."
"Yeah, I suppose."
"Do you think this is going to get worse? Or is it just going to take a while to adjust?" asked Peter.
"That was supposed to be my question to you."
"Well, fuck…. I don't know," said Peter.
"The first few days I didn't really notice any problems, but the last two days... it feels progressive. From the purely medical point of view I know that can be misleading. Take a total knee replacement for instance. A lot of people experience a couple weeks of increasing pain as they try to regain mobility, then it starts getting better."
"True. I don't suppose you can actually talk to Cam on the phone while he's out?"
"No, not unless I can justify this as an emergency. We're stuck with email. At least this is a short cruise. Fifteen days."
"What can I do for you? Do you want me to mess around in your head and see what I come up with?" Peter asked.
"Oh, now you actually ask me," replied Mason with a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
"You could talk to Stephen. He may be able to tell the difference between what's emotional and what's more physical."