by A. R. Moler
~
Cam had to be at work earlier than Mason the following morning. The doctor was still in the shower when Cam went into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee before heading out. Leaning on the counter as he drank the coffee, he stared idly across the room at the wall calendar. There was something scribbled in the Friday block. He walked closer, wondering if Mason had plans for them to do something that night. He hadn’t been exactly with it last night. Mason had fallen asleep in Cam’s arms almost as soon as they went to bed. “1pm Oncologist” was printed in the square. Cam’s heart froze. Oh God. No, it couldn’t be. Oh, please God, no, his brain pleaded. Maybe Mason didn’t know for sure. Maybe that’s why his lover hadn’t said anything. Some cancers were more treatable than others. It would be just like Mason to say nothing until he had all the facts and all the options.
Cam fought the urge to stalk back into the bathroom and demand that Mason tell him everything right then. But what would that say about his trust? He needed to give his lover a little space, a little time. If Mason still didn’t tell him anything by the weekend, then Cam would drag the information out of him.
Walk into the bathroom and tell him you’ll see him after work, Cam told himself. And it took every ounce of self-control he thought he possessed to do just that.
“You sure? I thought you had that aerial fighting thing going on this afternoon.” Mason looked at Cam in the mirror as he shaved.
“ACM- 1v1.”
“Yeah that thing.”
“I do, but I’ll still be done by six or so. Last night you were dead tired, so I figured maybe we could make up for it tonight,” said Cam. Fuck, why hadn’t he realized there was something wrong? Every time Mason had talked to him this week, he had sounded distracted or tired. Mason was standing in front of the sink, towel wrapped around his waist, still looking somewhat drained, even after a full night’s sleep. As Mason wiped the remnants of shaving cream from his face, Cam put his hands on his partner’s shoulders and spun him around. He kissed Mason passionately. “See you later,” he said and walked out of the room.
Riding toward the base for work, Cam had to blink back the tears that threatened his vision.
~
Buttoning his shirt in the bedroom, Mason was slightly mystified by Cam’s behavior. Generally if the pilot spent the afternoon flying, followed by the usual dissection and analysis of the maneuvers, he tended to hang out with the other pilots and blow off steam or just go back to his quarters. Not that Mason wanted to complain about the promise to come by at the end of the day. He had been pretty beat last night.
The kiss in the bathroom was confusing, too. He had gotten used to the concept that if Cam was in uniform, touching was off limits. Now the guy was changing the rules in mid-stream. It seemed like a good change, but there was something wrong. Mason couldn’t seem to put a name on it. A hint of desperation? Maybe he could get Cam to talk to him more openly tonight. Pillow talk if it needed to be.
~
What did you call it when nothing went quite right, but nothing went horribly wrong either? Cam stripped out of his “speed jeans” and his flight suit. The dogfight practice hadn’t been anywhere near his best. Even his opponent had gone so far as to comment on Bradshaw having an off day. Every time Cam thought he had his focus down pat, the word oncologist flashed in his head and suddenly his concentration was all but blown.
Cam sat down on the bench in the locker room, elbows on his knees, hands dangling between. If Mason was dying... Nobody died of cancer overnight. They had to have at least a few weeks, maybe as much as years. There was chemo, and radiation and surgery. Some people lived for a lot of years after being diagnosed with cancer. He just couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea of losing Mason. They’d had their bad moments... the fight regarding Cam’s new motorcycle being the most vicious, and most recent. But he loved the man. He still had trouble with that concept at times. In the general public, homosexual relationships were not particularly well accepted. In the Navy... damn, why couldn’t they be like the British and not care what the sex of your partner was? If whatever Mason had was terminal, would the military even let him take time off to care for his partner?
~
“Damn, will you let me go long enough to put the dishes in the sink?” said Mason. Cam had pulled a plate from his hand, set it on the table and backed him against the kitchen wall, kissing him. They had finished dinner and Mason was making a really vain attempt to clean up.
“No. I won’t! The fucking dishes can wait. I don’t know how much time we have left and right this minute I want to spend it touching you!” snapped Cam.
Mason was startled by the intensity of hurt that seemed to be blazing from his lover. “What happened? Did somebody out you at work?” asked Mason carefully. He relaxed back against the wall. Cam’s hands were braced on either side of his shoulders.
“No. Why?”
“What you just said. Something about not knowing how much time we had left. I thought that meant the command was threatening you with transfer orders.”
“I meant how much time you have left to live. God damn it!” shouted Cam. Mason raised an eyebrow. The man was making no sense.
“Are you planning on killing me?”
“Fuck! Mason. The oncologist appointment. The cancer. You being dead tired! Why didn’t you tell me!?” Cam raged.
Mason took a deep breath. Man, talk about mixed signals and jumping to conclusions. He took Cam’s face in his hands. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen such raw grief from his lover.
“Listen to me. I’m fine. Honestly. You made a wrong assumption,” he said softly. “The oncologist thing, it has to do with one of my patients.”
Cam gave him an uncomprehending look. “You wrote it on your calendar. Here at home…” Cam whispered.
“I know. This kid, my patient, he’s four years old, and has osteosarcoma, bone cancer. I’m doing everything I can to improve this kid’s chances. I’ve been pouring energy into him, trying to stall the progression. It wipes me out, in a different way than short term emergency stuff does. I made a consultation appointment with an oncologist so I could discuss the case more objectively without the parents around. I usually try not to get so involved, but God, something about this kid just gets to me and I think his chances are pretty slim.” Mason pulled Cam tight against his body and wrapped both arms around him, drawing the pilot’s head down on his shoulder. “So don’t worry, it’s not about me. Not really anyway.”
They stood unmoving for a number of minutes. Mason could feel Cam’s chest heaving as he sucked in tense gulps of air. It had never occurred to him that a hastily written reminder combined with the fatigue of trying to heal the little boy would lead his lover to leap to such a devastating conclusion.
“I’m sorry I scared you. When did you see my note on the calendar?” Mason asked.
“This morning,” muttered Cam. His face was still pressed against Mason's shoulder.
“Ah, so that’s why you kissed me before you left.”
Cam finally lifted his head and looked at Mason. “What? I usually kiss you before I leave.”
“Only if you’re not in uniform.”
“Oh... um...” Cam looked away.
“It’s okay. I get it. That whole compartmentalization thing. I don’t fit into that part of your life.”
“Shit, I don’t want it to be that way. I flew like absolute crap today, ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I love you. And how I was so scared I going to lose you.” Cam sucked in another agonized breath. “I wasn’t going to say anything ‘til after the appointment on Friday. Then all through dinner you acted like nothing was wrong and I assumed...”
“Do you really think that if I had cancer that I wouldn’t tell you?”
“I figured that you wanted to wait until you had all the facts in a row. Then you’d try to present it as -- here’s the diagnosis and here’s all the options.”
“Am I really that much of a control freak
?” asked Mason.
“Yeah you are.” Cam kissed him softly. “But I sort of understand why. It keeps you together.” Cam buried his face against the side of Mason’s neck and leaned against his body, pinning him gently to the wall. “God, this has been a really shitty day. Can I have a nervous breakdown now?”
Mason’s hands stroked down his lover’s back. Despite finding out his horrible belief was wrong, Cam was still wound tight enough to knot every muscle down his spine. Mason nuzzled his mouth along his lover’s temple. All he wanted to do right that moment was soothe away the stress and the heartache.
“Come,” he whispered, and eased Cam away from himself a few inches so he could turn and guide his lover out of the kitchen.
~
The bedside lamp cast a warm light across the bed as Cam stood in front of his lover. Mason’s hands were slowly undressing him, pulling off his T-shirt, unbuckling his belt, pushing his underwear and jeans down over his hips. His cock jostled limply against the inside of his thigh as he stepped out of his pants. Mason pushed him down to sit on the bed and hooked a finger in a sock to take it off, then did the other one.
“Lie down on your stomach,” said Mason softly.
Cam felt the bed dip as Mason straddled his thighs and warm hands began to knead at his shoulders. Firm fingers dug into the muscles along his backbone and he could feel that subtle, familiar energy vibration that came with Mason’s healing talent. His breath hitched a little as too many thoughts churned through his head. If Mason had had cancer, could his healing talent help to defeat it? The doctor’s psychic healing skill was iffy at best when it came to fixing himself.
Cam squirmed beneath Mason and rolled over to face him. His lover had removed his shirt but still wore his slacks. Cam took hold of Mason’s wrist and bent his arm slightly to see the bandages that still covered the road rash from the motorcycle fall. Mason sat back a little against Cam's legs.
“It’s healing. Slowly. Normally. I haven’t had a lot of energy to spare to hurry things along,” said Mason.
Cam stared up into those intense blue eyes, slowly letting go of Mason’s wrist. “If...” he started and couldn’t get the words past his lips.
“I don’t know. Cancer can be a big thing, or it can be something tiny and localized. There are too many variables,” said Mason.
“Mmm, spoken like a doctor.”
“Uh-huh.” Mason shuffled back a few inches on his knees then lay down on top of Cam. He was a heavy, welcome warmth. Mason’s hands pinned Cam’s on either side of his head, fingers interlaced. Cam could feel the calm concern emanating from his lover. Warm lips grazed his chin, then roamed upward to his mouth. Mason kissed him with care, tracing Cam's lower lip with the tip of his tongue then softly pressing it against his teeth. Cam’s mouth opened willingly to the gentle invasion.
It was a long slow battle of tongues and teeth and lips and Cam slowly noticed the rest of his body responding to the assault. His hardening cock was being pressed along the fly of Mason’s pants and butting against his partner’s own arousal.
“You ha’ too many clothes on,” Cam mumbled around Mason’s tongue.
Mason made a noise of agreement and finally let go of Cam’s hands to struggle with his belt. It took another minute for him to shuck his pants and briefs and toss them off the end of the bed. Mason stretched out beside him. His hand skimmed across Cam’s chest and brushed along his nipple. It tightened in response and the tiny motion sent threads of heat straight to his groin. Cam rolled toward him. Mason crooked a leg behind Cam’s and drew their bodies tight together. Mason's hand cupped the back of Cam’s head and pulled him back into a deep open mouth kiss.
“Better?” was the whisper in his head. Cam’s hands slid around his partner’s body and reveled in the energy thrum that tingled his body every place they touched. His fingers had passed the uneven texture of scar tissue that a bullet had left on Mason's side. A bitter reminder of a narrow escape. Cam’s breath caught. That event had been very real. Mason rocked his hips forward a little, rubbing his own hard cock against Cam’s
“I’m here. I’m real and I’m safe,” his lover whispered.
“Fuck me,” said Cam. His voice was husky and uneven. “Hard.”
Mason gave him a long level look. “On your knees,” replied Mason softly. As Cam rolled to his hands and knees, he heard the slurpy sound of lube being squeezed from the tube. A cool slick finger pushed against his ass and slid carefully in.
“No! Just do it!” snapped Cam. He wanted it to hurt. In the morning, he wanted every move to remind him just how real and alive and healthy his lover was. Mason’s hand on his hip was motionless and he could feel the uncertainty his partner broadcast. Then came that slurpy blat of lube again.
“The safe word is ow,” said Mason softly, and this drew a convulsive snicker from Cam.
The cool press of something a lot bigger than a finger cut off the laugh. Cam gulped in a sharp breath as the burning stretch drew all his attention. Oh God, he hadn’t realized just how careful the healer had been in the past months to make sure he was ready the times he bottomed. Mason held himself still, waiting.
“More,” Cam gasped. Mason drew back just a little and when he thrust forward, Cam suddenly rocked back impaling himself on the full length of his partner. The mix of discomfort bordering on pain combined with the impact against his prostate and he let out a keening moan.
“God... shit...” Mason gasped, both hands clenching around Cam’s hips holding him immobile. “Slow down!” Neither of them moved for several seconds, before Mason withdrew a little. When he pushed in again, their bodies made a smacking sound as flesh hit flesh. And it escalated. A hard aggressive fuck that lasted only a couple minutes. Cam let out a choked cry of ecstasy as he spurted semen across the sheets. Mason’s orgasm was mere seconds later. As the echo of his partner’s climax washed through his nervous system, Cam collapsed shakily to the mattress, Mason on top of him. They were both fighting to catch their breath, hearts pounding hard.
Cam could feel Mason’s breath against the back of his shoulder and the slow slither of Mason's softening cock sliding from his body. It was too much trouble to move right then.
“You okay?” Mason mumbled in his ear.
“Fab.”
~
Gotta come up with a good story, Cam decided as he rode to work, because somebody was sure to notice that he was being a little careful about how he sat down. He was sore, with good and obvious reason. In the shower that morning, Mason had given him a guilty look of concern and offered to use his healing talent. Cam refused.
True to form, somebody did notice halfway through the morning.
“Hey Bradshaw, you break your butt or something? You’re sitting down as careful as some old lady with hemorrhoids,” said Curtis, one of Cam’s fellow pilots.
“I stepped backward off a curb last night. Fell flat on my ass. I probably bruised my tailbone,” said Cam.
“Even if you broke it, it’s not like they could put a cast on it,” snickered the other man. Cam just grinned. Inside, his chest tightened. Mason was healthy and whole and had practically pounded him into the mattress. Every moment’s physical discomfort was a welcome contrast to the heart-wrenching emotional agony of the day before.
~
The wind that blew across The Hague bordered on icy, as Mason stood with his elbows braced on the concrete railing. This inlet of water ran only a few scant blocks from Children’s Hospital of the King’s Daughters. The oncologist he had gone to see had an office close by. Evening traffic flooding off the Naval base toward the midtown tunnel was starting to cause a back up, and he wasn’t in the mood to sit in the bumper to bumper crawl right then. The cancer specialist had been helpful and sympathetic, but, ultimately, the prognosis was poor. Choices seemed to lie between aggressive chemotherapy with little chance of remission and amputation followed by radiation with only slightly better odds.