Copyright 2012 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, “Perilous Journey” is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at

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[Author's Note: Thanks for joining me on another adventure! I look forward to hearing from you and comparing thoughts. And, say, where would we be without Nifty...especially when the times are rough and the crazies are out in full force? Will you join me in making even a small financial contribution to the Archive in order to keep this site free and, as it has always been, an important part of our lives? Thanks again, friend!]

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, please respect yourself and those around you by practicing safe sex.


(Revisiting Chapter 2)

There was relative quiet on the way home. Both men were feeling somewhat tense about how far...and how fast...they had come and the obligations they seemed to be assuming. They continued to talk about their dreams and how they perceived events and people in their lives. Supper was simple, but tasty. Afterwards, Rob gave some evidence that he did in fact enjoy wandering around in the "all together". Scott Thayer enjoyed every minute, as he did the lad's showing up at side of his king-size bed at the moment he climbed in between the sheets. With a perfectly straight face, Rob proclaimed that his "bones" told him another nor’easter was bearing down on them and that he needed protection. Scott suspected that the kid really wanted nothing more than to be held, but he couldn't refuse him succor. After all, as legend has it, it's dangerous playing games with a meteorologist!

(Continuing Our Story: Horizons)

The eastern sky was just beginning to show wisps of light when the two new Mt. Baxter housemates forced themselves to leave their warm bed and struggle down the staircase. Still half-asleep, Scott won the first race (of a long series) elbowing Robbie as he made his way around the china cabinet. After momentarily struggling over the coffee decanter, they added orange juice and bearclaws and limped over to the small kitchen table. Slowly, they sank into their chairs, groaning and softly snarling all the way. Need it be said that neither young man had paused to dress? Nor that neither one was a "morning person"? "Have you any idea of how heavy you are?" growled Scott. "Hell! I'm bruised. You lay on top of me most of the night - and there wasn't a hint of another big storm!" Rob didn't quite know whether to snarl or to snicker. He tried both at the same time...which didn't work out too well! "Come on, old man," he finally managed to choke out. "Every time I tried to move towards my side of the bed, a hand shot out, grabbed the only loose skin on my body, and tried to drag me back! I actually think you were dreaming about driving a car with a manual transmission!" Scott puffed up like an enormous pink balloon until Robbie feared he might burst. "Loose skin?" he cried incredulously. "I never found any loose skin, and I searched all night!" With that he burst into raucous laughter...which saw the youngster also collapse into wild snorts and snickers. So ended that morning's wake-up ceremony.

Pouring the last of the coffee into their cups, Scott said, "We're lucky inasmuch as I'm on sabbatical this year." [Author's Note: The sabbatical is a one semester or full year leave, usually with pay, given college professors every seventh year for research and writing and/or rest and travel.] "I think I'm going to do a rewrite of Bringing Up Baby," Scott joked, "but I do need some papers from my University office." Robbie grunted, unsure of the meaning of either "sabbatical" or of Bringing Up Baby. Scott explained, expressing how sorry he was that Rob was unfamiliar with the classic 1938 film comedy starring Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn - and one hell of a big cat! "Some evening we'll rent a copy and watch it," he promised. "Care to join me for a short trip out to the University. It's in Timothy, about eight miles or so further west."

Given the muscled one's emphatic "Yeah," the Professor told his charge go get upstairs and dress while he picked up the kitchen. As the lad passed him on his way to the stairs, there was a sharp "crack" whereupon Thayer fell to the floor, rolling over and over, groaning and holding his hand. Fearing for his mentor's health, Robbie knelt beside him, trying to find out what had happened. "All I did was give you a little pat on the rump as you walked by" was all the older man would say. "Your rump is as hard as steel! Clearly, it's a dangerous weapon." "The wages of sin," Robbie observed as he rose with a smirk of superiority and bounded up the stairs. (Flashing an evil little grin, the Professor halted his play-acting and returned to the dishes.)

It was a beautiful early summer morning. Though it would really heat up later in the day, the two young men gloried in the sunshine and the cool breezes as they made their way west through verdant farmland. For once, time passed all too quickly as they soon found themselves entering the streets of the pleasant college town of Timothy. The buildings and the crowds of students kept the youth's attention until Scott slowed and parked in a reserved spot beside an impressive high-rise. "This isn't going to keep me very long," he exclaimed as he exited the snazzy coupe. "Care to join me?" Realizing that the boy simply wanted to hold tight and enjoy the crowds of students entering the building for their eleven o'clock classes, he disappeared with a cheerful wave. He barely seemed to have left when he reappeared with a thick briefcase. "That's it, Muscles. Now I've got a few surprises for you!"

His arms around his boy's shoulders, Professor Thayer hurriedly guided Rob towards the building next to the one that housed his office. "Let's see if we can give you a little taste of what college is all about," he declared. "First, for a few minutes, we're going to sit in on a seminar for older undergraduates. You know... They're students who have been here for a couple of years, have decided on a major in history, and have taken introductory courses in their areas of interest. Professor Callahan, a colleague as well as a friend, has been offering an advanced seminar in the "Early Middle Ages," i.e., that period which people usually refer to incorrectly as the "Dark Ages".

Quietly slipping into a sunlit room that held a large table around which sat a dozen students and the professor. A couple of seats had been saved for them. "Ah, Professor Thayer," the instructor paused and looked over at his guests. "A fellow historian and a young man interested in history..." he murmured. "We were talking about the 'horde' of Anglo-Saxon gold discovered in an English field in 2009. Probably dates back to between CE 675 and 725... I mentioned that my studies in Birmingham led to our being loaned one piece." As he spoke, he projected a photo onto the screen at the end of the room that showed some of the glorious gold pieces, some decorated with garnets, some covered in fine filigree work, some carrying patterns made up of animals with interlaced bodies. "The Anglo-Saxons?" he asked quietly.

Students quickly established that the Anglo-Saxons were Germanic peoples who colonized England after the Romans retreated from the island in the 400s, developed kingdoms, and provided the foundation of the English language.

"Now you ladies and gentlemen know a little something about gold. I even notice a good chain on the neck of our student guest." He nodded over at Robbie who began to blush. "If you will don the white gloves now being distributed, I shall pass the Saxon piece around. Give me your impression of the quality of its workmanship."

After a few minutes, Professor Callahan paused, saying, "Very well. Any impressions? Mr. Lewis. You are wearing a handsome neck chain. What do you think of the quality of the Saxon piece?"

"Yes, sir," Robbie said, somewhat taken aback and confused. "I have my chain..." (Pause.) "A couple of friends in high school had really nice gold ID bracelets, but they don't belong in the same room with this Saxon piece!" "Yeah," agreed one of the older male students. Looking right at Robbie, he exclaimed, You're right!". A female student spoke up. Nothing that she had seen in American museums could compare with the workmanship of the Saxon piece.

Gradually, Callahan began relating the day's discussion back to an earlier theme (i.e., the so-called "Dark Ages" showed a considerably higher level of culture than they are usually given credit for). As he began to comment on some planned student presentations on the rich foundations the period provided for later developments in western governance, art, architecture, and literature, the guests quietly departed.

"So you like history?" Thayer asked with a slight grin. "Oh, yeah," Robbie answered enthusiastically...although I'm not quite sure why. The high school classes I had nearly put me to sleep! Maybe there were too many people in he room who really wished they were somewhere else," he grumbled. "Callahan (Sorry, sir. Professor Callahan) had some of us thinking." I tend to agree, Rob," his mentor retorted, "though one needs to remember that he only had twelve students to excite, not 35-135. The disinterested people here in Timothy might have been in seminars sponsored by other departments, in apprenticeship programs, or just messing around in town!" "Yeah," Robbie agreed. "I had a history elective in high school that was pretty good. At least it was a lot more exciting than the required crap." "Crap" Mr. Lewis? Careful, beast, or I shan't feed you until we get home, if then! If you'll try to be a 'good boy,' maybe the gods - that's me - will let you head for lunch in the new student union. Feel like some Mexican?" "Sure do, sir, though I'm not too sure about being a 'good boy'!" replied Robbie with a definite smirk.

After a great lunch - for Robbie had never had "Mexican" - the good Professor and he sat in on part of an introductory "Social Psych[ology]" course. Here - unfortunately in a packed hall that held about 150 students - a grad student was discussing the cultural conflict effected by deep differences over sexual orientation. When they came out of that hall, Rob was steaming! "I had a hundred questions and couldn't ask one of them. The people around me were just as frustrated as I - maybe more because they knew more about the subject than I did." The Professor interrupted: "Those around you knew more about the lecture topic than you?" Seeming to decide that the time was not right for tackling that topic, he mused, "Cost is a factor in these large, intro courses." Nevertheless, the negative effects can be minimized by learning some "student skills". For instance, you might take an elective seminar in the subject, or you might talk to one of the professor's teaching assistants, or you might e-mail the instructor. You might even turn to one of the 'search engines' on the Internet. The main thing is that you try never to let your question go unanswered, at least in an elementary way. It's an absolutely necessary part of education."

Having exhausted himself for the moment - and having been fed and watered not too long ago - the irrepressible one's next question came quickly. "What's next, boss?" "I could comment on problems with your use of the word 'boss', but I'll let that go for a moment," Thayer growled. "Dr. Ben Lawson is one of my better friends on the faculty. Additionally, he's seen as one of the finer wrestling coaches in the country. Cut his teeth at Iowa State, if I remember correctly. An All-American, Olympic champion, and so forth. Turns out fantastic teams, including quite a few Academic All-Americans. When I told him about you, his eyes lit up. Most faculty members always have to be looking for the 'good ones', you know. If possible, that's where you use your scholarship money. In any case, he asked to meet you when we were on campus. Interested?" "Holy cow!" Robbie sputtered. "What a day! You better believe I'm interested!"

(To Be Continued)