by A. R. Moler
“Oh nothing. I’ll tell you in a minute. It’ll wash off in a day or so anyway.” Cam carefully printed out -- Property of Cameron Bradshaw -- on his lover’s skin. It was a block lettered label that followed the delectable curve of the left side of Mason’s tush. “There. Now your ass is officially mine,” said Cam.
Mason twisted enough to get a glimpse of the writing and began to giggle.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” Mason said between giggles. He squirmed beneath Cam’s spread legs to roll over onto his back.
“Damn right.”
“Hope you’re not planning on having me show that to anyone.”
“You sure as hell better not. Maybe I should add -- no looking and no touching?”
“That doesn’t include you, does it?” There was a definite smirk on Mason’s face.
“Huh-uh.” Cam lowered himself down to lie on top of his lover. His lips met Mason’s and the kiss started out gentle. Somewhere along the way it changed to hungry. Mason’s arms wound around Cam’s body pulling him down tight. The subtle thrum of the healer’s energy was crawling along Cam’s skin and it stirred arousal somewhere low in his belly. His jeans were getting uncomfortably tight as Cam’s body began to respond to the idea. Mason’s hand curled around the back of Cam’s head and Mason rolled them over so he was on top.
“How come you still have clothes on? We need to fix that,” said Mason as he began to push Cam’s shirt up. The shirt got dumped off the side of the bed, followed in another minute or so by Cam’s jeans and underwear. “Now since we’re behaving like juvenile delinquents tonight, where’s that marker?” asked Mason. Cam jerked a thumb toward where it lay on the bed.
Now it was Mason straddling Cam’s thighs, but Cam lay face up. His cock was bobbing, rigid against his belly. Mason was pointedly ignoring it, as he began writing letters down the front of Cam left hipbone. His lover wrote MASON at a slight diagonal downward and then CAM horizontally across so the names intersected at the “A”. When Mason popped the cap back on the marker, Cam took in what was written on him. Now it was his turn to laugh.
“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not made of wood and you’re the one with a penknife,” Cam said.
“You look like you have pretty good wood to me,” teased Mason.
“Are you planning on helping me with that? Or should I do it myself?” asked Cam. He made a gesture as if to wrap his hand around his own hard cock. Mason batted his hand away.
“Hands off.” Mason slid down Cam’s legs and blew a warm breath across Cam’s erection. It twitched happily at the attention. Mason started a trail of little nips and licks up the inside of Cam’s thigh. Cam groaned softly. The backseat adventure had taken the edge off enough that this might actually last a while. Mason’s tongue burned a slow path up the underside of Cam’s cock, swirling around the head and lapping across the weeping slit. Cam bucked into the sensation a little. Then his lover’s mouth closed down over his length. Ungh. Mason’s lips drew back up Cam’s cock at a snail’s pace and were gone. Cam blinked. Huh? It took a second for him to realize that Mason was groping in the nightstand drawer for the lube.
On his hands and knees above him, Mason gazed down at Cam. “Am I topping? Or you?”
Cam considered the question for a moment. Unlike some male couples, they didn’t have a set pattern. Neither of them consistently topped or bottomed, but it wasn’t taking turns either, it was some random combination that was somehow tied to situations and emotions. “You,” said Cam. He wanted to feel Mason without a rubber. Tonight was all about crossing that line, ditching the protection. The deal in the back seat had only been part one.
Mason squeezed out a generous amount of lube and took his time preparing Cam. The divine slide of fingers slipping in and out and stretching was taking Cam closer to the edge a whole lot faster than he'd anticipated.
“Damn, quit with the fingers already and get on with it,” Cam pleaded.
Mason gave him a wicked grin as his hand stilled. “I think I like it when you beg,” murmured Mason.
The low husky tone from his partner went straight to Cam’s cock which absolutely ached with the need for release. Cam gnashed his teeth in a mock snarl.
“Then screw me, please, before I start humping your leg,” Cam said.
“Roll over,” ordered Mason.
Cam groaned in frustration but complied. Stretched flat on the bed, his cock was trapped between his body and the blankets. He squirmed a little, seeking friction. Mason’s thighs straddled the outside of Cam’s hips and Cam moaned as his lover pushed his own erection against Cam’s ass. Mmph... damn... He could feel the head of Mason’s cock popping past his own tight ring of muscle. Cam’s fingers clenched into the sheets. God, his brain was just absolutely locking up with the sensation. Mason’s hand kneaded at his shoulder as his lover thrust deeper. Cam arched his back and their bodies slapped together. Cam could hear Mason’s breathing get more and more ragged as his lover was slowly losing the struggle to postpone his climax. Low husky panting groans became a violent gasp as Mason exploded within him, and the bright energy wash from his lover tore away the last shred of Cam’s control. They rode a blinding torrent as their minds and bodies came together.
Gasping and gulping for air, Mason sagged to lie sprawled on Cam’s back. Cam could feel the deliciously damp heat weighing him down, pressing him against the slippery wetness beneath him. They both lay unmoving for minutes. Mason’s softening cock was sliding from Cam’s body and his lover rolled a little to lie beside Cam. Mason’s face pressed into the nape of Cam’s neck and his arms circled around to wrap across Cam’s chest.
Sounding drowsy and spent, Mason whispered against Cam’s ear, “I love you so much. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Cam took Mason’s hand in his own and kissed the center of his lover’s palm.
~
The buzzing sound woke Mason. It took several seconds for him to realize the annoying little noise was his cell phone. He groped on the floor for his pants and dug the phone from the pocket. Squinting at the display, he saw it was the hospital.
“Dr. Flynn,” he answered. He had nearly forgotten that he was on call tonight. The voice on the other end informed him that he was needed to deal with a pelvic fracture case from a car accident.
Mason hauled himself out of bed and dressed. As he was about to head out the door of the bedroom, it occurred to him that Cam would wonder where the hell he had gone. He shook Cam gently by the shoulder.
“Huh? Wha’?” the pilot mumbled.
“I have to go to the hospital. I’m probably going to be gone a couple of hours,” said Mason.
“Uh, ‘kay. I’ll keep th’ bed warm,” Cam said, and fell silent.
Mason smiled a little in the darkness. There was a fifty-fifty chance the information had never actually reached Cam’s brain.
~
The X-rays of the pelvic fracture didn’t look as bad as Mason had feared. This might only take a couple of hours to put the stabilizing hardware in. He stood in the locker room, stripping to his underwear to put on scrubs. Dorval, one of the anesthesia guys came in to perform a similar task. When Mason glanced back over his shoulder, the other man was standing still with his head cocked at an angle.
“What’s up?” asked Mason.
“Did you get a tattoo across your butt? I swear it looks like it says Republic of China or something,” said Dorval. Mason suddenly felt his face flush with embarrassment. He’d forgotten about the “label”. Considering he was wearing white silk bikini briefs, it was undoubtedly pretty damn visible.
“It’ll wash off eventually. My boyfriend got hold of a permanent marker. I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t write something obscene,” replied Mason with as straight a face as possible.
Dorval merely chuckled and started putting on his own scrubs.
Later, in the OR, when Mason was finishing up, the tattoo idea flitted through his head again. The thought of Cam’s name written forever on h
is skin had a certain appeal to it. Not on his behind, however. Chances were he’d never actually go through with getting something like that done. Still... it was a thought.
~
The coffee pot was gurgling and glugging to a finish. Cam stood in Mason’s kitchen fishing mugs from the cupboard.
“Can we talk about dinner?” said Mason. Cam leaned back a little as Mason’s arms circled his shoulders from behind. There was a hint of tension in his partner.
“Yeah, sure,” replied Cam.
“I think it would be easier just to invite Nathan to have dinner here. We won’t have to think twice about what we say or who might hear.”
Cam was silent for a moment, knowing that thought was mostly for his protection. God, there were times when the constant need to think about how dangerous his love for Mason was to his Navy career was just agonizing.
“That’s probably a good idea,” Cam said.
Mason kissed him on the corner of his jaw just below his ear, then continued down the side of his neck.
~
The breeze blew the heavy scent of the grilling steaks across the patio behind Mason’s house. Mason leaned against the wall keeping an eye on the meat. Cam’s arm was draped around his shoulders and Mason had a thumb hooked in one of the belt loops of his lover’s jeans. Nathan was slouched in an Adirondack style chair, beer bottle in his hand.
“So I hear you’ve been on the receiving end of Mason’s magic fingers,” Nathan said to Cam.
Mason felt Cam flinch a little.
“More than once,” said Mason. “I’m still hurrying up the healing on his ruptured eardrum, so he can get back to flying.” He felt Cam’s fingers tighten against his shoulder. “I told you Nath’ is one of the exceedingly few people outside my family that ever knew before Division P recruited me” Mason reminded him.
“Not sure I’d even be here if it wasn’t for him,” commented Nathan.
“Okay, give, there’s obviously a story behind that,” said Cam.
Mason exchanged a long glance with Nathan. This was an uncomfortable memory for both of them.
“You tell it,” said Nathan.
“We were sophomores in college. We went out clubbing. Didn’t even try the fake ID thing, so we were actually both sober. We were being reasonably good, but on the other hand two horny twenty year olds on a Saturday night is probably tempting fate a little too hard.” Mason began.
“Groping each other in the parking lot behind the club seemed like a pretty harmless idea,” Nathan inserted.
“We even had all our clothes on. Apparently two guys in a lip lock, minding their own business, was morally offensive to a handful of redneck assholes looking for trouble. Next thing I know we’re being hauled apart and three guys are beating the shit out of us.” Mason hesitated. His gaze fell to the rest on the tips of his shoes. Visions of blood and darkness, pain and fear flitted through his head. Mason supposed that he must be radiating a certain amount of unease, because Cam’s arm slid down to curl around his body.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...” Cam said softly.
“No, it’s okay. You ought to know. It’s a piece of my history.” Mason blew out a breath and continued. “Anyway, one of them picked up a broken beer bottle and stabbed Nathan in the stomach with it. I think maybe one of the bouncers from the club found out there was a fight going on in the parking lot and called 911. Of course, by that time we’d attracted a few spectators and the three guys bailed. I held Nathan together until the paramedics showed. That came back to bite me in the ass, too, because between getting the crap beat out of me and the stuff I’d done to save Nathan, I passed out. Woke up in the hospital three hours later.”
“Not that I remember more than bits and pieces, but he’s also not telling you that without his intervention I probably would have bled out in the parking lot. It took something like three hours of surgery to put me back in one piece, and then I think it was two days in ICU and another week in the hospital after that.” Nathan swigged another gulp of beer as he added to the tale.
“I was wrecked. Between being in not so fabulous shape myself and so torn up inside about how close Nathan had come to dying, I told him everything. Every last detail about what I did for him and what my grandmother had taught me and how deep the secret was because I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life locked in a lab with a bunch of rats,” Mason finished. He picked up his own beer from where it sat near the grill and took a long pull.
All three men were silent for a long moment. Cam cupped a hand against Mason’s jaw and pulled him into a kiss.
“Somewhere you have racked up some serious karma points in your favor,” said Cam. “The number of people who owe their lives to you just goes up and up.”
A hint of an embarrassed smile tugged at Mason’s mouth. “I’m a doctor. It’s in the job description.”
“He’s got a point,” commented Nathan. “You have knack for being in the right place at the right time. If ever anyone was born to be a healer, it’s you.”
The steaks were done and the three men moved inside to eat, as the chill of the October evening was becoming uncomfortable with the setting of the sun.
After dinner, dirty plates were dumped in the kitchen sink to be dealt with later and the conversation had turned to silly embarrassing reminiscing. Mason was amused that Cam had practically dragged him onto the sofa to sit between his legs and lean back against the pilot’s chest. Both of Cam’s arms were loosely wrapped around Mason’s body, and his fingers tracing aimless patterns on Mason's chest. It was a totally blatant and possessive position that practically screamed “mine.” Mason was blissfully happy at the gesture. For Cam to be willing to be seen showing obvious attraction and affection by even just one other person was another inch toward what Mason constantly hoped for. A lifetime together.
~
Monday equaled surgery followed by office hours. Mason saw twenty eight patients in five hours. By the time the end of the day rolled around he was more than ready to be done. Tomorrow was going to be a whole different game. Instead of the weekly foray out to the Division P complex, he was set up to ride with the Virginia Beach EMS.
Leaning on the front reception counter to put his signature on a stack of paperwork, Mason crooked a finger at Tyra as she walked by.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“The DMAT people changed my training assignment,” he said, referring to the cover story he had been using to explain away the time he spent with Division P. “They’re sending me to ride with the EMS people on Tuesdays for the next few months. I left word with the hospital to notify me if Jason Ambers takes a serious down turn. But if they can’t get hold of me on my cell, they might call here,” Mason told her.
“I know this is the wrong question, but how’s he doing?” she said.
“Slowly but steadily creeping downhill. They have him on morphine. Some days he’s more lucid than others. I try to swing by every couple of days.” Mason didn’t say that when he went to check on the boy, he did what he could to block the pain and improve the quality of the short time the child had left.
“I am so sorry for him. He’s such a sweet kid and he deserved to have an actual life,” said Tyra wistfully. “God, talking about him makes me want to go get Lizzie from daycare and just hold her.” Tyra squeezed his hand where it lay on the counter.
~
The wind was blowing across the parking lot behind Station 14, a white cinderblock building with a green roof. Mason hurried across the lot to the back door. The street lights cast long shadows in the cold early morning darkness. It wasn’t like he didn’t get up obscenely early on a fairly regular basis, but somehow the white noise of the wind and the lack of traffic was vaguely eerie.
