Luttepor Fairlamor

Immediately Camp 12 erupted in raucous cheers, stomping their feet in overjoyed approval to see one of their own boys win the round. With a scream of delight Evie went through the fence and plastered herself against Lee, kissing him firmly on the cheek.

"Congratulations, Lee," she whispered, the only one present who truly knew what this meant to him. And then the cheering faded into dead silence as the spectators finally realized who the other winner was, and he was no woman.

Lee gazed around him in stunned surprise, scarcely hearing the applause. He accepted Evie's praise with a dazzled smile and felt like he was riding one of the air currents whipping around and chilling his sweaty body now that the bout was over andd his adrenaline was ebbing. As tirelessly as he had worked out and as much as practiced and strategized, he knew his chances of winning a Fairlamor had always been slim to none. He was amazed that he had managed to beat Virgil. That he would stand in the winner's circle as one of two male champions was an impossible quirk of fate.

But the other winner of the round was... Will. A man he didn't know and who, in all likelihood, could be one of the nicest people he'd ever want to meet, but still male. Normal heterosexual male. Lee didn't dare look directly at him and was afraid to, afraid of the horror he'd see etched on his expression. It was a double-edged sword because, as much as it was his heart's desire, he knew Will would never accept him. Even now, he was probably wondering how to get out of the contract. There were legitimate ways.

Half a shocked minute went by and the onlookers began to bray in anger. Two men! To the best of everyone's knowledge this had never happened before. There were cries that the round should be declared illegal for several reasons; even from the get-go that men and women were both registered. Virgil's overly aggressive attitude came up, and finally the perspective that the spirit of the Fairelamor would be tarnished by letting the win stand.

As the spectator's ire was unleashed, Lee stood with his head bowed in humiliation. He might be the dark horse, but he'd won the Fairlamor round fair and square. To listen to those around him he was a villain who cheated much like Virgil always did. He struggled not to cry as the mob tried to snatch his victory from him and even Evie's hand on his arm did little to comfort him. He still had not hazarded a glance at Will, and for all he knew, he agreed with the rest of them. He could do little but hope the officials stood firm, but even if they persisted, it was going to be a hollow victory once the dust settled.

Cecil Peltiere, Camp 12's leader, waited for the hubbub to die down and the crowd to quiet. He huddled with the rest of the officials who knew of no precedent to this situation. He was the kind of leader who found humor in many instances where it didn't occur to others, and to his mind this had a touch of the absurd. However, he had made it very clear at the beginning of the Fairlamor that he would honor the pact that the participants of the bout had entered into. There were ways either Lee or Will could deal with it privately, but Cecil refused to nullify the results.

This left a lot of people, particularly the women involved in the final round, seething, but everyone saw Florence and the Camp 9 woman take each other out. There simply were no female champs. Florence wasn't even in the majority of the naysayers; she was friends with Evie, admired Lee and had guessed his secret by the way he didn't treat the females like chattel nor indulge in the frantic hook-ups that went on behind the backs of the leaders. No offense, but the last thing she wanted was to be mated with a man who wanted another man and would have to force himself to enjoy being with her.

So while the grumbling participants of the other camps were escorted back to their trucks and buses and Virgil was summoned before a tribunal of officers to be told that his unsportsmanlike behavior had earned him a six-month suspension from the competitions, the champions prepared for their special night.

~*~*~*~

The usual procedure following the Fairlamor was that officials met with each victor separately to explain the course of events for the next twenty-four hours and give him or her a chance to buy out the Fairlamor contract. It was not uncommon that a potential pair already knew they were not suited. They might have day-to-day contact from working in the same camp and not get along or, by whim of fate, be two previous mates who found themselves winners again. For the cost of fifty credits, you could have done with it and try again at a later date.

After the private meeting came a quick, tepid flow-down shower, the only kind to be had in the camp, and change of clothing, and the mated pairs were brought together. Even though the Fairlamor duties were drummed into the ears of every member from the time they entered their camps, there were always a few questions about the six-month courting procedure. This usually went quickly, and in no time they would be escorted to their private room where they would be served a hot meal and spend the night.

None of this transpired with Lee. As soon as the Fairlamor arena emptied he was unceremoniously shoved into a locked room and left alone. The floor was bare. There was a large bed in the corner that at any rate appeared freshly made with a nightstand next to it. A scarred dresser with empty drawers stood between the window and a vacant closet. On the other side of the closet, a closed door led into what would probably be a primitive bathroom. Off to the far end of the room Lee spied a very rundown couch and rickety end table next to a cookery cabinet with a single gas-burner, a large set of open shelves and an old-fashioned sink that dripped water. He chose to sit near the picnic table on a wooden bench.

A few minutes later a young woman with thick auburn curls and pale brown eyes whom he suspected might be one of the leadership clerks walked in and dropped a small bag of his clothing that two of his bunkmates had hurriedly packed. She also set down the standard Fairlamor contract in front of him, many of the legal phrases that would not apply to a same-sex mating crossed out, and she made a face when he insisted on reading it before signing with the stub of a pencil she provided.

Next up, she passed him a piece of paper and a plain envelope with instructions to write down his sexual requests. Lee, who had never heard of such a thing and suspected she might be pulling his leg, had to ask again what she meant, and she rolled her eyes impatiently. "Write down what you want that other guy to do to you." Lee blushed bright red but complied quickly. She put the paper, unseen, into the envelope and left.

Lee sat huddled on the bench wondering what was going on. It was apparent that the officials considered the outcome of the last round a joke. The Camp 12 leader might rule them with a more humorous hand than the other leaders did, but Lee had been able to read in his eyes how ludicrous he thought the idea of two men spending the night together as Fairlamor mates could be. Except in terms of harassment, Cecil wouldn't care that Lee was gay or that he yearned with all his heart for a man like Will to love him. It was why all these months Lee had kept his secret. But if a miracle happened, a one in a million chance where Will took him up on his offer, that Lee liked men would be broadcast all over the district. Despite the probable consequences, it was worth the sacrifice if Will would follow through.

Ah, but who was he kidding? Will would definitely not go through with this mating. He'd buy his way out and the camp would be fifty credits richer. That was the answer; knowing Cecil, he was probably looking at financial gain from this, expecting the dual buy-out. Lee would never foolishly consider squandering his own meager wealth to do the same. He was looking at the loss of his concealment and his pride taking a huge hit, but he had too much self-respect to back down. He wanted this night with Will so badly, so why would he sabotage it? Even if Will didn't want him.

He allowed his dreams to fill him. The note he'd sent to the other man had been short and concise if not very adventurous. Since Will would probably be repulsed by any form of affection from him, Lee didn't want to frighten him away. His principal desires weren't even overtly sexual. Lee wanted to be held in the arms of a man who could at least pretend to love him, and he wanted to trace his fingers over that man's bare skin and make a memory. One that would probably have to last the rest of his life.

He was pacing the room twenty minutes later when the same overly self-important secretary walked in and passed him a sealed envelope with the words 'Will Theriot- Requests' on it. "From the other man," she said succinctly before turning and edging through the door.

He opened the letter to find an empty piece of paper, and his nerves took flight. A blank request page—what did that mean? Lee wasn't feeling very good at the moment. The only thing that made sense was that this other man... this Will Theriot... was so horrified at the thought of being with him that he couldn't itemize a single request. Or he had no intention of going through with it. He was going to buy his way out of the night; Lee was sure of it. He had gained nothing with his win. His first and only chance of obtaining what his heart desired, and it would be wasted. He was so distraught he wanted to cry.

He didn't get a chance. The door opened to the young clerk, and she was beckoning to somebody in the hall. "Come on," she said earnestly, and Will stood there, looking embarrassed. The two men regarded each other in silence across the five feet of wooden floor, and Lee saw in Will's eyes the same uncertainty he felt. He blushed and tried to make his body stop shaking, finally turning to look out the window into the inky night.

The door opened again, and Cecil and another Fairlamor official stepped inside. They both had jovial smiles on their faces. The stranger tugged on his collar in an impatient way like he had much better things to do, and Lee figured he was anxious to return to his camp. His own leader looked between the two uncomfortable young men and rubbed his hands together.

"Well, men, you both know the rules," Cecil smirked. "I'm not sure what mating regulations apply to you, seeing as how neither of you can bear children, but to each his own. Now, I am a busy man so let's get this started."

Lee's mouth went dry. Common decency said he should arise to be dismissed, but his shaking limbs nearly wouldn't allow it. He bravely met the other men's eyes before fixing his gaze back on Will; he would keep eye contact so the man knew exactly what he felt being refused.

"Lee Boudreaux, are you willingly entering into this arrangement?" the official intoned in distaste.

"Yes," he whispered, trembling and swallowing hard. Let this man know that he was ready to go through with the bargain.

"William Theriot, what about you? Do you agree this is what you want?"

Here it comes, thought Lee. The refusal. The money that would be exchanged so he wouldn't have to sully himself.

"Yes." The voice was clear and decisive, a baritone that did not waver. Lee's eyes went wide, and Will smiled at him.

"As you wish," the man said and left the room. Cecil stared at them both, his eyes going cold before his training as a leader chased the unpleasant grimace off his face. Turning, he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

"You... you didn't back out," Lee stuttered in disbelief. He looked up at Will's toned body towering over him by a good eight inches and couldn't help but notice his broad, bronzed shoulders spreading out of the torn armholes of his shirt into the sinew of a long back and ripped abdominals. Arduous labor and durability transferred into lightly-furred, ropy, vein-crossed arms and bulging thigh muscles beneath his shorts. Wide hands with long fingers and elegant feet incongruous with the rest of his body.

Now up close and indoors, Lee finally got a good look at the man who agreed to spend the night with him. His blonde hair fell into loose waves just above his shoulders and he was square-jawed with a slightly crooked nose, as if it had been broken in a fight at one time. Will had a tidy sparse ring of pale blonde hair circling his mouth with pouty lips a natural, dark pink. His eyes were the brightest sky blue against deeply tanned skin. The eyes drank him in, crinkling in pleasure without a single doubt or worry.

"Why would I back out?" Will asked, staring at him firmly. "I've been trying to trying to work up the nerve to speak to you for months. I know who you are, Lee Boudreaux."

Know him or not, what Will saw for the first time this close up was so beautiful it took his breath away. Lee was a quiet, well-spoken teenager with a slender form who could nestle into him and give Will someone to hold and cherish. It was clear that he pushed himself, building strength where it was needed. Lee was all muscle and no fat, the result of hard work in the fields and barns, and he had a healthy glow from spending all his time outside. He had deceptively delicate features that spoke of a patrician ancestry long ago and the most fascinating silver eyes below impossibly long eyelashes. Will wanted to run his fingers through his glowing brown hair that was fine and straight and pulled back into a messy ponytail. Slim hips flaring into a firm ass and what he was sure would be a package proportioned to his body barely hidden in his cut-offs. He assumed that Lee was probably untested in a relationship.

"What do you know?" Lee asked in a hushed voice. How could anyone outside his camp know him when no one he worked with was familiar with who he really was?

Will gazed at Lee as if seeing him from far away. "Seven months ago I watched my first Fairlamor at Camp 11. I had only been in the area for three days so the leaders suggest I just observe, even though I was familiar with the competition from the last district I lived in. I was, uh... curious to see if it was different. What I saw was discouraging because of the way they matched the winners. It was all going by the book and male with female and that wasn't what I wanted."

Lee gaped at Will in astonishment. Could Will be saying what he hoped he had heard?

"I saw you with your sister, Lee. You fought the eighth round that evening, and you were taken out hard by Virgil Camden from Camp 7 when he pushed you. You hit your head on the fence and got a gash here." He pointed to a spot on his temple; a scar of that night still remained. "You were bleeding, and Evie was holding a rag to the wound to mop up the blood. She was upset that he'd hurt you... again. She asked you why you kept trying so hard when winning wasn't even going to give you what you wanted. You got mad at her and asked, 'Why bother with what I want when there are no other men like me in the district who could love me back? At least winning will get me out of the adult camp and back into a family village even if it's with a women. It might not be personally satisfying, but at least I'd be out of this shit hole.' You walked away hurt and angry, but it gave me hope for the first time."

Will stared directly into his eyes. "We have been searching for each other our whole lives, Lee."

Lee opened his mouth to speak and closed it. There was a ringing in his ears that must be affecting his hearing but the movements of the man's pretty mouth matched the sounds he was making, and Lee thought he was going to stop breathing. Or begin to bawl like a baby. After all the waiting and anxiety that he would never find that special someone to love him, here was the most incredible twist of fate to bring such a person directly into his life, into his arms.

He held up the blank request form, confusion battling his hope. "You didn't write anything, and I thought..."

Will looked at him with sympathy. "I'm sorry if you misunderstood, Lee. I could hear the officials talking outside my door and making fun of us. They were calling us names and taking bets on whether either of us would go through with the ritual or ask to buy out. I didn't fill it in because I thought they might open it and didn't want to give them any more reason to act like assholes."

Lee nodded because it made sense. He could see his own request list lying on top of Will's bag of belongings, the envelope slit open, and he felt sick.

Will caught the look. "Don't worry, Lee, I opened it myself." He smiled. "I liked your requests. A little general, perhaps, but that's understandable."

Lee looked at Will shyly and saw no taunting there, just complete understanding. He felt himself start to relax and believe that maybe this was real. Maybe they really were each other's answer to unspoken prayer.

"So what should we do now?" he asked shyly, biting his lip and.

Will felt his heart racing. Lee was so adorable when he was nervous, and the way his cheeks blushed just the lightest shade of pink above the tan made him even more lovable. It would be important not to push too hard or frighten him by acting overly aggressive. If he was as chaste as Will suspected, he would need time to grow accustomed to the pleasure a man could provide. He could picture Lee in his bed moaning with need and seeking his release from Will's body, and it made his cock twitch and fill. But slowly, he had to go very slowly and teach Lee how to love.

Will did not trust the leaders, least of all the oily Cecil Peltiere who ran Lee's camp. The Fairlamor gave them tangible rights, but whether or not the letter of the law would be followed and they would receive the same consideration as the other mated couples was unclear. He and Lee certainly deserved every minute of the six months of the ritual to get to know each other, even if he already instinctively believed they would make a compatible couple. It was probably a pipe dream that after the night was over the camp officials would be lenient in their treatment of them. As oddities, they would be tormented in the camps and unwelcome in the villages, no matter what kind of people they were on the inside. But Will had already sworn to himself that he would protect his new mate no matter what.

Lee was still staring at him with wariness written all over him, and Will tried to put him at ease. "Let's sit down and get to know each other first," he suggested. He guided Lee over to the ratty couch and they sat next to each other without touching except for their thighs. He began to speak.

"My name is William Thomas Theriot, and I'm twenty-five years old. Like most, I have been on my own since I turned eighteen."

He talked of coming of age in the dead of winter, and his home district was the North Woods in old-word Maine near the Canadian border. His family loved him and did not want to send him out, but that was the law. However, they knew he would perish if he tried to leave in sub-zero weather, so they waited for the spring thaw. When it was time, he traveled in a southerly direction, hoping the climate would cooperate.

"Even with waiting until spring it was a difficult trip outwards. Not long after I took to the road I was robbed, beaten and left for dead by an itinerate teacher who had befriended me. Like most bandits he was after my knapsack and took everything I owned. I stumbled towards a nearby family village I had just passed through, and when I collapsed again two boys out hunting took me home. The community let me stay until I healed. They were kindly people and two weeks later when I departed, they gave me a new pack and supplies. I eventually found my way to a camp in the Mohawk Valley."

Will talked about being conditionally accepted, and he began to learn a trade in leather-working and made a few friends. Because of the proximity to what had once been New York, the largest city in the country, it was a rough place, and Will began to notice the disorganization and lack of firm leadership. Without a mating ritual like the Fairlamor system; couples were allowed to fall in love, and along with the toxin-induced hostility, it led to explosive violence. When his camp mates found out he preferred men, they quickly advised him to leave because many of the residents were known to be extremely intolerant.