Date: Thu, 13 Apr 2006 08:00:40 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Buffalo Boys 12

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is
entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to
accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or
governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a
sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships
offends you, then you should not read this story.
Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in
most state and countries, you are not allowed to read
this story by law. Check with your local laws
regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is
fiction. Use protection in real life. `Got condom?'

"Buffalo Boys" 12
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

Reaching the other side of the lake, the town triage
center, Nick, Dougie and Marat had been met with open
arms. At least two EMT's met each, appealling to each
to lie down on temporary cots. Marat right away pushed
aside the fireburn on his face, similar to a bad
sunburn, as he gazed up above him. He should had been
wincing in pain, but instead a big grin adorned his
face, smiling back at the young guy looking down at
him.

"I take it you're not in much pain?"

Thinking about it, Marat lost his smile to say, "Um, I
feel like I got a bad sunburn."

The guy put his hand on Marat's barechest.

"That hurt?"

"Um, not when you touch it!"

Marat's smile returned. It's amazing how gaydar never
turns off, even in the hairiest moments!

"C'mon more out the way, Adrian."

"Sure, dad."

It's then that Marat noticed the guy that peered into
his face, wasn't wearing any official medical
personnel garb.

"Dad?" Marat asked, pertaining to Adrian being his
son.

However, Dr. Joubert thought maybe Marat was having
delusions.

"I'm not your dad, son," then, smiling, went on with
the examination, "Do you hurt anywhere, other than
this bad burn?"

Dr. Joubert noticed something that the excitement of
the moment, plus the blotting out of most of the pain
by Adrian, excluded.

"Easy, dad," Adrian bent down next to Marat, asking,
"What's your name?"

After arching his back, growling from the open wound
on his arm, he calmed enough, though breathing
heavily, replied, "Marat... Saint-Marc..owwwwwch!"

"Hmm, looks like we've got ourselves a fellow
Frenchman here!" Dr. Joubert tried to make light of a
bad situation. Then he said, "Son, I need your belt."

Right away, Marat put two and two together. With
delerium setting in, he yelled out, "Nooooo... don't
whip me!"

"Whip you?" Dr. Joubert said, astonished. "Nobody's
going to whip you. Son, go fetch Werner, stat!"

"I'm on it!"

Looking across from his stretcher, after fussing with
Nick, Dougie could see Marat having problems. Rolling
over onto his side, he managed to upright himself.
With a needle in his arm, a bag dripping into him, he
then knelt down next to Marat.

"What happened to him? He wasn't like this in the
water."

"Shock, most likely, plus this."

"Shit! What happened to his arm?"

"This."

Dr. Joubert held out a little branch, a stub of a
thing, yet pointed enough to cause a sharp jab.

"You pulled that out of Marat's arm?"

Soon, Nick was kneeling next to Dougie, inquiring of
the same. Another minute passed and two guys from the
Buffalo Lodge joined them, asking the same question.

"What about the other guys?" Nick inquired first off.

"Jason was missing for awhile, but he turned up," Gil
replied.

Dario let on, "Yeah, he was sacked out with a dork!"

Right in front of Dr. Joubert, Nick cringed when Gil
explained, briefly, "Not a dork with a ten inch rod
like that!"

Joubert giggled, informing Nick, whom he sensed
embarrassment, "Nothing like a nice big one to keep
you warm on a cold winter night!"

With mouth gaping, Nick responded, "You?"

Moving his head up and down, nodding, Dr. Joubert
affirmed Nick's notion of him being gay.

Marat, still in some pain, nevertheless following the
conversation, says faintly, "But you've got a son."

"Got a partner, too. Male partner, that is."

Suddenly thinking of how fortunate he is, the outcome
of his harrowing experience, running in between walls
of flames, til he could jump in the cool waters of
Indian Lake, only to find his beloved, Nick puts his
arm around Dougie, saying, "Same here."

Not caring who saw, he leaned over and kissed Dougie
on the side of the face.

"Did I just see what I thought I saw?"

Dr. Joubert looks up and presents, "This is my son,
Adrian."

Right away, Adrian kneels down beside Marat, in the
one open space at his side. He places, his hand on
Marat's chest.

"How you making out, Marat?"

Even though they missed the prior conversation, they
can pretty well guess what the touchy-feely thing is
between the two.

Seeing the question on all their faces, Dr. Joubert
responds, "Yep! My son is too!"

"I'm what, father?"

"Never mind. Did you find Werner?"

"I did, but he was all tied up with some Arabian guy.
Man, is he burned bad!"

Nick tried thinking whom that might be. The only one
who could fit the description of being Arabian, was
the counselor from the Turtle Lodge, the mideastern
man named Dav Khan.

"Excuse me a moment," Nick said, rising up.

Dougie, still attached to his arm, got up with Nick.

"You wait here a minute, Douglass."

"No, I'm coming with you."

Nick didn't refute the point. Arm in arm, weaving
through some campers, some townsfolk, medical tech's,
they found an area one could call `over-illuminated',
compared to the darkness of the deep recesses of a
forest.
Along the way, they greeted some guys they knew,
Miguel and Juan Luis, some Buffalo Lodge members,
Coyote's, Jason and Sean Scully, with a minute
flashback to the ten inch nail. Finding the one Adrian
Joubert spoke of, they couldn't get near enough to
see, but asked an EMT his opinion.

"Say, do you know how's the fellow inside is doing?"

Nick and Dougie looked at each other, when the EMT
turned around. Somewhere between their ages, of
eighteen and twenty-five, his incredibly good looks
floored them.

"He's pretty bad. So is the other one."

"Other one?" Nick questioned, with a ghastly feeling.

"Young. We're presuming he's a camper."

"Anybody else in bad shape?"

"No. Not as bad as these two fellows. Sure, we've got
our guys with cuts and scrapes, but these two. The
burns are bad."

Dougie, filled up, but still strong, accompanied by
Nick's firm arm around his shoulder, aks, "They aren't
going to.. you know?"

"I couldn't say."

Looking to Nick, then Dougie, the EMT asks, "Say,
they've got some coffee and donuts over there," the
good looking stud-material guy shrugs his head over
one shoulder, "if you're hungry or thirsty?"

Naughty Dougie responds, "I think you better show us."

"No problem," the EMT responds, unwise to Dougie's
scheme to be in contact as long as possible, even if
it means he gets to only look and not touch the goods.

Nick bends into Dougie's ear and whispers, "Behave
yourself."

As a warning, he gently swats Dougie in the ass.

"I'm always on my best behavior!"

As they near the area, a coupla of men are serving
coffee, laying out fresh boxes of donuts. They come
upon some lodge members, woofing down the free
refreshments.

Nick could've clobbered Dario when he asked, "Where'd
you pick up the hot stud?"

The EMT turned fire-red, as did Nick.

Dougie scolded, "Where's your manners, doofus?"

"Oh... I thought maybe... never mind." Then, at least
to the one most affected, Dario says to the EMT, "Um,
sorry guy. Thought maybe you could be like the rest of
us."

They all got shocked out of their gourds, when the EMT
responded, "I am!"

Dario went on to further ask, "Hey, how old are you?
Maybe you're my age?"

Right away, Gil's hand nonchalantly weaseled it's way
down near Dario's crotch. He knew exactly where his
hand could make contact with the Italian's balls.

Waiting to see if some friendly persuasion was needed,
Gil comments, "He might be your age, but he's not your
IQ!"

The EMT joked, "One thing's for sure," seeing where
Gil's hand rested, "I'm not going `there'."

Dario was a good sport, laughing along.

With his flat hand, stuck out in the greeting
position, the twenty-five year old counselor
initiated, "I'm Nick Kyriospoulos."

Untying his arms from woven across his orange shirted
chest, the EMT states, "James Whatley's the name. Nice
to meet you." Then skipping right along, James readily
takes Dougie's hands, adding an extra shake, "Nice to
meet you too."

Nick points out, "This is Dougie, `my boyfriend'."

"Oh," James replied, as if a let down.

Dougie boldly states, "That's okay James. We can still
be friends, huh?"

Seeing what a jerk he's acted like, he smiles, saying,
"Sure. I'd like that." Then, as if secretively, to
Nick and Dougie, he confides, "Are there any of you
guys not taken?"

Again, Dougie brashly tells him, "Not that we know of,
but stick with us. We'll find some guy to fix you up
with."

"Cool!" James replies.

Come to find out, due to Dougie's habit of snooping
around, knowing the unknown, he gains the knowledge of
James, bored of this little town, picking up roots and
moving to the big city. Coincidentally, the same city
as they are headed for. They include him in on their
after-camp excursion.

"Dougie, we've got a problem," Dario informs him, on
the side.

"Oh? How's that go, Dario?"

"That stash of cash we have?"

"Oh shit!"

"Yeah. Up in smoke. Burned to a crisp. Like, a thing
of the past?"

"Oh, bummer. What are going to tell the guys?"

"What else can we do. The trip is off!"

The two sat there, drinking their third bottle of
Gatorade, heads hung down to their chests.

"Things can't be that bad, guys."

"Oh hi Nick," came Dario's solemn reply.

Dougie's equaly morbid answer followed.

"Okay, jigs up. Tell me about it or I'll have to start
giving out demerits!"

"You tell him," Dario insisted.

"Our trip to New York City is all burned up, back
there," Dougie nods towards the other side of Indian
Lake.

"Oh. Like I said..."

Before Nick could get it out, both boys chanted in
unison, "We know... you said put it in the bank."

Dario continued, "But did we listen?"

"No," Dougie finished out.

Smiling, Nick asks, "By the way, did I tell you that
my daddy is filthy rich?"

"No kidding? Really?" Dario's eyes lit up.

However, Dougie's response came with the opposite of
feelings, "We're not taking it."

"I'm offering it."

"It's not right Nick."

Then Dario, adds, "Dougie's right, Nick. Besides,
being college jocks, we wouldn't be able to pay you
back... right away."

"Who says I'm asking for you to pay me back?"

"Get real, Nick," Dougie continues, "do you know how
much a trip to New York City costs, putting eight guys
up in even a modest hotel would cost a bundle, not to
mention for two weeks?"

"Um, about fifty grand?"

"No," Dougie gave his final word.

Nick got adamant, telling Dougie, the first time,
overriding his set ways, digging his index finger into
the nineteen year olds chest, "You listen to me. If I
want to go and spend fifty... sixty... or a hundred
grand on my friends, of which one I am `really' fond
of, then I'm going to do it, no if's, but's, or
maybe's!"

He finalized his opinion with a noticeable tilt to his
head which signified, `thats that!'

In Dougie's warped way, he simple shrugged his
shoulders, saying, "Okay." Then, nonchalantly turns to
Dario, asking, "They have any more of this green bug
juice?"

Nick resorted to rolling his eyes.

"Hey, look who's over there."

"Where, Dario?" Dougie asks.

Nick questions, "Who?"

"11 o'clock. As much as I hate the bastard, still I'm
glad he didn't fry."

Searching over the heads and shoulders of guys, Nick
and Dougie pick up on whom Dario speaks of.

"Reinken?"

Dario says, "I betcha he knows something about all of
this."

"Oh?" Nick asks, quizzically.

"Yeah. The fire started in his area of the woods."

"What do you know about all this, Dario?"

"Well, I'm sure it wasn't our campfire. Miguel and
Juan Luis made sure the campfire was doused, before we
all turned in."

"Leitner mentioned something about an old cabin?"

"I don't know about that. All I heard is the Coyotes
coming over to our lodge and yelling, `run for your
lives'! Then we ran for our lives."

Dougie then said, with a melancholy undertone, "All
except for one." He looked at Nick.

Nick excused himself, saying, "With that note, I think
I'll go check up on our boy."

"Are you talking about Marat coming to save you guys?"

"Yeah. What do you know about it?"

"Naturally, we all wanted to stick together, til we
knew you and Nick to be okay. But Marat burst out
with, it would be too dangerous. So, he nominated
himself to go back for you two. It was pretty much a
done deal, since he started running and we got cut off
from him by the flames."

"Wow! I didn't know that had been the case. Was he
hurt when he was still with you?"

"What do you mean hurt?"

"That twig jabbed in his arm."

"No. That must've happened afterwards. Shit! I just
thought of something."

"What, Dario?"

"Marat's a hero!"

Taking Dario's arm, Dougie affectionately clamors,
"All of you guys are my heroes."

"How does that go, Dougie?"

"I know all of you wanted to save us."

"Yeah, but Marat was the only one who truly did it."

"I know, but all of you guys `would have' come to the
door, your spirits rallying behind Marat, putting your
lives in harms way, for Nick and me."

"Deep, Dougie. Where'd you pick up shit like that?"

"Textbook logic! C'mon. Let's go see how our hero is
making out."

Winding their way through the triage center, around
cots of boys with slight breathing problems, bruise,
cuts, scrapes, lying on stretchers, they happened by
James, attending to one of them. As they passed by,
Dougie let his hand flow over James' back, glancing
over his shoulder, smiling at the twenty-three year
old. He got a friendly smile back.

"Cute, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"Um, over the past seven weeks, I kind of got to know
you inside out, Dougie."

"Is that so?" He asks Dario.

"Yeah. So, what's your plan for James?"

"Plan?"

"Don't bullshit me, Dougie."

The nineteen year old renewed his smile, knowing Dario
had him.
Dario holds up, waiting for an explanation. Holding up
their trek until Dougie confesses.

Then, confiding in Dario, drawing him into his web, he
asks, "What do you think? Do you think James would be
a good match for Marat?"

One hand on his hip, his other wiping the sooty sweat
from his left pec, shaking his head, Dario replies, "I
don't believe it."

"What?"

"Playing matchmaker now?"

"Um, like you think the reason you and Gil are hooked
up is an accident?"

Mouth gaping, round like ready to go down on a thick
barrel, eyes wide open, Dario is flabberghasted.

"What'd you do, Dougie? Bribe him?"

"Get outta town, Dario! What guy wouldn't want a hunk
like you?"

Then modestly, he says, "True."

"You are soooooooo into yourself, Dario."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

Trekking back to where Nick and Marat conversed, the
two repeated their sing-song.

"What's this about?"

Nick looked up at the two.

"Nuthin'," they seemed to spell out simultaneously.

Dougie changed the subject, asking, "How's it going,
bro?" to Marat.

"Hangin' in there," Marat replied, with more `umph',
which showed the two friends he felt better.

"Got some good news for you."

Nick waited as well to hear, as Marat's face showed
the wonderment.

"Wait'll you hear this one," Dario said, earning a
fake slap on the face from Dougie.

"Owch!"

"That didn't hurt and you know it!"

"Um, anybody going to tell me?"

Smiling, Dougie broke the news, "Found a real hot guy
for you."

"You're giving up Nick?" Marat hoped!

"Not in your wildest dreams, Frenchboi!" Then, after
two seconds lapse, "Found a dreamy, sexy, hunky, dark
brown-haired EMT for you."

"The one with the blond highlights?" Marat replied.

As if a hound on a scented trail, both Dougie and
Dario look up, attentive, glancing around asking,
"Where?"

Both Marat and Nick giggle. Smirking, the two knew
they'd been had.

Then confiding in Marat, Dougie confesses, "If you
hadn't saved mine and Nick's life, I..."

"Wait... wait... wait," Nick cuts in, "what did you
just say?"

Staring Marat straight in the eyes, Dougie fills Nick
in, "Dario here told me the whole story of how Marat
jumped a wall of flames, running back to tell us to
get out. If he hadn't, I suspect that you and me both
would be toast."

Dario adds, "Burnt toast, at that!"

Placing both hands on Marat's shoulders, Nick tenderly
says, "Is this true?"

Modestly, Marat tells him, "I guess."

"I'm so proud of you, I could kiss you!"

Dougie says, "Go ahead. He deserves it."

Giving his lover a double take, he bends forth, laying
his lips on Marat's face. Even in the hours of strife,
pain, his wounded arm reaches around, with the good
one and holds Nick tightly.

"Heeey... hey now," Dougie unties the knot of arms
around Nick, "with moderation here."

Breaking free of Marat's grip, he tells Dougie, "Whew!
You're sure getting some hot kisser!"

"Um no comments about his hot, hairy chest?"

Just noticing that Nick's bare-chest confronted his
own, Marat reaches up and runs his hand over the
furball's pecs. Being a wiseass, Dario reaches over
and grazes Nick's hairy nip.

"Hey, touchy-feely time has ended." Dougie complains,
slapping away the hand.

"Marat touched Nick more than me," Dario whined.

Then it became a contest between the injured jock and
Dario, "Did not."

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did..."

"Excuse me, Dr. Joubert asked me to come over and
redress Marat's wound."

There, standing in front of the small band, Dougie's
pick-of-the-litter stood.

Putting it bluntly, Dougie spells out, "James,
remember you asked if there had been any others....
not taken?"

"Yep. I remember."

Dougie held out the palm of his hand, as if paving the
way for James to step into Marat's life.

Setting his plan in action, Dougie says, "James... a
hottie, looking for a hottie.. voila! C'mon Nick.
Let's leave these two to get to know each other."

Nudging Nick, Dougie grabbed Dario's arm, leading both
of them away.

"That guy, Dougie, thinks a lot of you," James told
Marat something he already knew, but didn't correct
him.

"Thanks for letting me know. Um, did you say something
about changing the bandage on my arm?"

"Oh, the bandage. Yeah. Almost forgot."

James couldn't fool Marat, with those eyes staring
into his, mesmerized by whatever he found to his
liking.

"This might hurt a little. If I had an extra hand, I'd
let you hold it."

"Thanks."

However, as James began to unravel the blood-stained
gauze, Marat gasped, arching his back, grabbing James'
forearm.

"Sorry, really I am."

Marat could sense, that deep within his eyes, his very
soul, James really did feel compelled to share in his
pain. By the time James finished redressing Marat's
bum arm, his body was covered with sweat. Taking a
fresh piece of gauze, he twisted off the cap of a
bottle of water. Wetting it, he dabbed Marat's
forehead, swabbing it around the rest of his face.

"Ooooooh, that feels good. Thanks."

"No problem."

More soothing occurred, as the twenty-three year old
EMT worked another piece of wet gauze down Marat's
neck, then dabbed it over his smooth chest. His eyes,
keen on the nineteen year olds face, his chest kept
sinking lower, until his lips levitated over Marat's
head.

Without hesitation, Marat said, "Kiss me?"

Smiling, James' hand dropped the gauze and took the
side of Marat's neck in his hand, reaching around the
back of his head. Their lips became as one.

"That didn't take long," Dougie said, in the distance,
as the three spied on the progress.

"Is that what you said about Gil and me?"

Nick looked at the two, replying, "I wouldn't put it
past you, Douglass!"

With a wry smile, he asked, "You mean when Gil was
kissing you or fucking you?"

"Take your pick!"

However, before Dougie had a chance to talk, they got
interrupted.

"Oh, we were just talking about you!" Nick informed
Gil.

Gil looked at them strangely, then said, "Somebody
went into town and brought back a slew of burgers.
Here, I have a couple for each of you."

He held out a hamburger, waiting for a payment of a
kiss from Dario, before forking it over.

Gil joked, "Later I'll pay you back with a hotdog!"

"More like a kielbasy, Gil?"

Shoddy comments flew, Nick wondering how come Dougie
seemed to know the cock stats of every camper!

%

12 Continued.....

Copyright 2006  T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold or made part of any
collection without prior written permission.