by A. R. Moler
“I’m not ready to ditch my day job,” replied Mason.
“I know, I know. But hear me out. Benford and I have been discussing an idea with the head honcho. Over the past year, we’ve had a half dozen serious medical incidents with our personnel. Since we farm them out to about fifty different agencies, in spots all over the world, care specific to psi can be dicey. We never know if one of our own is going to have a really bad time with standard medical care. We’ve been thinking about putting together a mobile trauma team of sorts. One healer, two corpsmen or nurses and somebody on security detail. Before you even ask, the last incident we had was in Afghanistan. Somebody to watch our backs is a necessity, especially if we’re distracted with patient issues.”
“I take it that I’m supposed to fit into this scenario?”
“I hope so. The majority of what’s occurred has been on domestic soil or friendly nations. And the stuff I’ve done has been a kind of emergency damage control and get our people back here sort of thing. Medivac type stuff.”
“Flying.”
“Yeah, sometimes,” admitted Peter.
Mason grimaced. “I’m not a real big fan of anything that leaves the ground.”
“I know, but there’s only one of me. The other two healers we have are fair, but they don’t have the same level of Talent as you. How’s that for an ego stroke?”
“I’m gonna have to think about this,” Mason said slowly.
“I figured. Here’s an additional thought though. We normally use Cam for his 'finder' Talents but on a more practical level, a psi pilot could be a really useful thing for a medivac team.”
~
“Here,” Cam said, handing the helmet to Mason. He watched the other man take a deep breath before pulling it on. “Thread the strap back through the D-rings. It should be snug but not tight enough to hurt. I forgot to buy a speed clip for it.”
“A speed what?”
“Speed clip. It’s kind of like a seat belt buckle, well sort of anyway. It’s faster and a lot less hassle. Get on behind me and put your arms around me.” Cam slung one leg over the motorcycle and sat there pulling on his gloves. He felt Mason gingerly ease onto the seat behind him. “Another thing, going around a turn, lean with me. It’s counter-intuitive. You lean into it, not away. Got it?”
“Um, guess so,” replied Mason. The bike was sitting face out in Mason’s driveway. Cam fired up the engine and adjusted the choke just a little. “Ready?” he asked.
“No, but go anyway.”
Cam laughed and squeezed Mason’s hand where it wrapped around his chest. He eased out of the drive and down to the end of the street. He could feel Mason’s heart hammering against his back, where their bodies were snug together. Pausing for a moment at the intersection, he pulled out onto the main street. Mason’s arms tightened around him. They rode along Atlantic Avenue for a couple of miles before coming to the area where the main density of beachfront hotels were. Stoplights and a certain amount of traffic slowed them. Cam pulled into the parking lot at the south end of the beach and shut down the motorcycle.
“Want to get off and stretch your legs for a few minutes?” he asked. Mason slid off from behind him and took his own helmet off. “So? What’d ya think?”
“I looked over your shoulder at the speedometer. I can’t believe we were only going like thirty miles an hour. I kept expecting the jump to hyperspace,” replied Mason.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“I liked it. Sort of. It’s also fairly scary.”
“Kind of like flying?”
“No. Not like flying. If the engine stopped working, I’m hoping we could safely coast to a stop on the side of road, rather than fall out of the sky like a brick!” Mason bared his teeth in a mock snarl.
Cam snickered. “Guess I’m never going to get you voluntarily on a plane again. Although, you have to admit, we did come up with a way to pass the time.”
“I liked that part just fine. I also didn’t mind the part I was unconscious for. Now if you can find a way to combine the two...” Mason suggested.
“I’ll see if I can come up with an idea. You know, you could learn how to ride by yourself.”
“Uh-huh. I can just see myself getting hosed off the highway in about six pieces.”
“Come on. It’s like when you first learn to drive a car. We can go to some nice quiet school parking lot and you can just cruise around at like five miles an hour. Minimal risk.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. Isn’t there an elementary school about two blocks from your house?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s Friday. Nobody’s going to be there. It’ll be perfect.”
“I must be out of my freakin’ mind.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, okay,” agreed Mason.
Cam threw an arm around Mason’s shoulders and rubbed his knuckles across the top of Mason's head. “It’ll be cool.”
~
In the deserted parking lot of the elementary school, Mason sat astride Cam’s motorcycle. The sun was beginning to set, but it was still fairly light. Hands sweating inside his gloves, Mason began to relax his left hand and the bike began to move. Yipe! And as he let the clutch out the rest of the way, the engine promptly stalled out. Fuck. Okay, squeeze the clutch and the brake and push the starter button. The engine grumbled and restarted. Try again. Let go of the brake and try to let out the clutch. The bike lurched forward and died and he suddenly had to brace both feet on the pavement to prevent it from tipping over. Oh God, why in the hell had he let Cam con him into this? Cam walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Relax Mas’. I don’t care if you stall it out twenty times in a row. You have to get use to the deal of releasing the clutch and giving it just a little gas.”
“I feel like it’s going to take off at like ninety and throw me over the handle bars!”
“It’s in first gear, dude. You can’t go ninety in first gear.” Cam smiled at him.
Mason gnashed his teeth. “Says the guy who thinks Mach one is a nice safe cruising speed at work!”
“It’s not like this thing has afterburners. 1000 ccs. Smaller than the engine of your car.”
“My damn car has four wheels. And seat belts!”
“Uh-huh. Lots less fun, too.” Cam tipped the face shield up on Mason’s helmet and leaned down and kissed him on the nose. “Try again,” he said. Mason made a growling noise and started the engine again. Cam stepped back a few feet.
He opened his left hand at slowly as he could manage. He was rolling. Aaah! His feet were just barely off the ground.
“Put your feet on the pegs!” Cam yelled from halfway across the parking lot. He fumbled to comply and it took two tries to figure where his right foot was supposed to be. He was heading toward the far end of the lot. Brake, brake, brake, his brain shouted. His right hand clenched around the brake lever and he stopped somewhat abruptly as the engine coughed and died. Shit. He was supposed to do the clutch thing, too, to get it out of gear. God, he was hopeless. Cam jogged in his direction.
“Hey, that was a little better. Believe it or not, speeding up just a little will make it feel less wobbly. Bend your knees a little more, too. Your legs are a little bit longer than mine. It’s gonna put your knees a little closer to the gas tank,” Cam commented.
“I’m just pathetic,” grumbled Mason. He hadn’t felt this uncoordinated since high school.
“It’s just like driving a stick. Only it’s with your hands not your feet,” Cam said.
“I can’t drive a stick.”
“What?”
“Slowly now, for the hearing impaired -- I -- can’t -- drive -- a -- stick. Hence the reason I have a Mustang with an automatic transmission.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I had a boyfriend who tried to teach me. But after a couple episodes of grinding the crap out of his transmission, he quit.”
“Damn Mas’! You’re a surgeon.
It’s not like you have eye/hand coordination problems. You just need some practice,” said Cam. Mason flexed his fingers. They ached from the death grip he’d had on the handle bars. “It’s getting dark. Let’s head back. You can try again when it’s daylight.”
Mason put down the kick stand and got off so Cam could drive. God, the man made it look simple.
~
Cam and Mason rode the brief way back to Mason’s house and went inside, peeling off helmets and gloves along the way. In the kitchen, Mason set his helmet on the table and yanked open the refrigerator.
“Want a beer? Cause God knows I need one,” Mason said. He was bent over beside the open door. The denim of his jeans pulled tight across his butt, and Cam had to swallow hard before he could answer.
“Yeah. Give me one,” Cam said.
Mason straightened up and handed him one. He had apparently run his hand through his sweat damp hair after taking off the helmet and his hair was sticking out in all directions. It reminded Cam of how Mason looked wet and just out of the shower. And suddenly his jeans felt way too tight.
He pushed Mason back against the counter, and set the bottle down. His hands clasped his lover’s head, holding Mason immobile as he kissed his lover with enthusiasm. Cam pushed his tongue against Mason’s teeth and plunged his tongue inside as the doctor’s mouth opened to him. His head was tilted back just a little as he nipped at his lover’s soft lips. Like it hadn’t been when he kissed Sonja. This was the one he loved. This was the one that felt right. Just the right combination of hard muscle and intense care.
Cam leaned his head back and looked at Mason’s face. Eyes so blue focused all on him, pupils blown wide in desire. He rubbed his hand down across the fly of Mason's jeans. He was every bit as hard as Cam. Cam yanked open the button and slid the zipper of Mason’s jeans down. He jammed his hand down inside his lover’s briefs and palmed the hard cock trapped inside. It was already slick at the tip. He shoved jeans and underwear down over his partner’s hips. Mason’s breathing sped up a little as Cam’s fingers wrapped around his erection. A slight flush was spreading across his face. Cam thought it was one of the most erotic things he had ever seen.
He stroked Mason and his lover bucked into the rhythm. Teeth clenched, then parted as he panted for breath. Cam nipped at his exposed throat as Mason’s head hung back. He was making little gasping moans, and then his body froze for an instant before he exploded, spurting warmth all over Cam’s hand and shirt. Cam watched his face. It was amazing. That contortion that almost looked like pain, followed by the eyes rolling back and the completely blissed out relaxation of muscles. He pushed his thigh between Mason’s, who looked for a moment like he might slither bonelessly to the floor. Cam kissed him.
“Unh... God... Does this mean giving me riding lessons counts as foreplay?” Mason said between gasps.
“Mmm, maybe, I‘d rather have you ride me at the moment,” replied Cam.
Mason gave him a wicked grin, pushing Cam’s T-shirt up and off. He walked Cam backward until his legs hit one of the kitchen chairs. He sat down somewhat abruptly.
“Stay put,” said Mason and vanished toward the bedroom. He was gone just long enough that Cam was beginning to wonder where the hell he'd gone. He finally returned, buck naked, with lube and a condom in his hand.
“You could’ve have just told me to follow you, instead of leaving me out here in agony,” Cam teased, having some idea where this was heading.
Mason merely smiled and hauled him to his feet, yanking his pants and briefs down around his knees and pushed him back into the chair. Mason popped open the condom packet and put it on Cam. He squirmed slightly as those long slender fingers tightened around his cock for a moment. Mason slicked him with the lube and then straddled him. He lowered his body onto Cam’s, slowly impaling himself until he sat on Cam's legs.
Cam breathed hard. Fuck. He almost came right then, but Mason didn’t move, except for nipping down the side of his neck. His urgency calmed a little. Mason began to move, in an excruciatingly slow rhythm. Cam’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him down with more force. Mason’s cock bobbed between their bodies as the friction reawakened that part of his body. The chair creaked ominously with their combined weight.
Cam buried his face against Mason’s chest. The dark curls of chest hair rubbed his nose and mouth. Mason smelled of sweat and come and that scent that was all male. Cam could feel the thrum of his energy and the lust distracted caress of Mason's mind at the edges of his own. All of this was melting his brain into incoherence.
Mine, was the whisper he heard in his head as the rest of conscious thought was ripped away. He came hard enough to black out his vision and leave his body clinging to his lover’s, hips jerking in a few brief reflexive thrusts.
Mason’s mouth brushed along his hairline and down the side of his face, kissing, nibbling. It was another several minutes before either one spoke.
“Should I be amazed we didn’t break the chair?” Cam said with a smile.
Mason slid off his legs and chuckled a little. “Guess maybe I should have aimed you at the bed or maybe the floor. I wasn’t exactly thinking structural integrity at the time.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had sex on a kitchen floor.”
“We’ll put that on our to-do list then,” said Mason, giving him a leer.
Cam rolled his eyes and stood up. He pulled up his pants enough that he could walk without falling over. “I’m thinking a shower ought to go on our do it next list. Guess it’s a good thing I brought a couple of changes of clothes over, cause this shirt’s not fit to wear,” said Cam. He scooped his sticky T-shirt up off the floor.
“Throw it in the hamper in the bedroom. I’ll toss it in with my next load.”
“Oh, are you volunteering to do my laundry now?”
“Only cause the mess is fifty percent my fault.” Mason grinned.
“Only fifty percent?”
“You’re the one who started this.”
“Yeah, guess I am. No, wait, you’re the one who bent over in front of the fridge.”
“So now it’s my fault you decided to jerk me off against the kitchen counter?”
“Uh-huh. Cause you’re so hot I couldn’t help myself.” Cam backed Mason against the wall of the hallway that led away from the kitchen, planting a soft kiss on his mouth. “About that shower...” he whispered.
~
Mason lay sprawled across his bed watching his lover dress in his uniform. It was Saturday. He didn’t have to work today, but Cam did.
“What did you want me to do with the extra clothes I brought over?” asked Cam. He gestured at the backpack sitting near the wall.
“Let me grab some stuff out of my bottom dresser drawer. You can put it in there.” Mason got up and pulled a batch of sweaters out and went to stick them on a shelf in the closet.
“Next thing you know I’ll be leaving my razor in your bathroom and my undies stuffed in between the sofa cushions,” said Cam.
Mason’s stomach clenched. That was what he wanted. He wanted Cam to live with him, but knew that his lover hadn’t quite reached that step yet. “Okay. Just so long as your lipstick and mascara don’t end up in the bathroom, too,” said Mason.
Cam laughed and put his clothes in the drawer. “I was thinking, I could leave my bike here today and borrow your car. You could go putt along the street and down to the school parking lot and just mess around. Try to get used to the clutch and all. Maybe you’d be less stressed about not knowing what you’re doing if nobody’s watching,” Cam suggested.
“I guess maybe I could,” replied Mason. The thought put a mix of butterflies and a vague tingle of excitement in his gut.
“Go for it.” Cam picked up Mason’s wad of keys from the dresser. “Gotta go. I’ll see you later.” He smiled and walked out of the room.
Mason could almost see Cam erecting those mental walls. What did he call it one time? Compartmentalization. The job and personal life didn’t intersect,
except in the most casual way. He was in uniform, and the uniform meant Mason was off limits. No touching, no kiss goodbye, even though they were alone.
Chapter 3
The late afternoon sun had warmed the seat of the motorcycle, Mason noticed as he turned the key in the ignition. He pushed the starter switch and sat listening to the engine warm up for a couple of minutes. Here goes, he thought, letting out the clutch. The bike eased forward and he guided it out of the driveway. Cool, he was moving. With a combination of thrill and fear, he rode down the quiet residential street at about ten miles an hour. It wasn’t very far to the school, and he could practice for a little while.
