I'll be there
She's lying there right next to you, finally sound asleep like an angel with her wings broken. Or at least that's what she looks like save for the reddened eyes and the dried traces of bitter tears on her cheeks. How delicate she is, how small, fragile even. Fragile like James.
Carefully, you brush back her hair to place a light kiss on her forehead before grazing down to her eyelids. She doesn't move, doesn't make a sound in her exhaustion, but you can feel her tremble. She's taking it hard, and who wouldn't. You do yourself, and the worst thing is that there's nothing you can do about it. No words and no solace would be enough to straighten things out or to change reality. Your best friend is dying, slowly and painfully, bit by bit. Every day is torture, not only for him but for those who have to watch him disappear with every minute, every hour of the day, to witness how his illness progresses and how it takes away what once was your anchor.
James. Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night, startled by your own screaming in horror of what will inevitably happen to him. It just wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. Perhaps that's one of the reasons why you decided not to spend the nights alone anymore but with the person who's been knowing James from the start, someone who wasn't capable of picturing a life without him. Someone who will always be there for him to the end, no matter how high the cost.
I'll be there.
Words whispered into James' ear, born out of some romantic notion when both your bodies were shaking, overly sensitive and overflowing with endorphins from the prior sensation of the unknown, and a promise you were not able to keep. Coward, you say to yourself. You're one of a selfish bastard, that's what you are.
That day on the beach will be stamped into your brain for as long as you live. You hang unto it like a life raft, memorizing it meticulously while you look down at Chloe, watching her. Guarding her sleep. Because that's all you can do. God, it hurts to be weak.
Summer. The surface of the sea shining like liquid metal so you have to squint when looking into the light. Reflecting rays of sunshine dancing and glistening in every colour of the rainbow on languid waves.
His birthday. He was turning twenty-five, a young adventurous spirit and your friend for nearly two decades. Somehow you didn't make anything of the fact that he didn't invite any other guys to the beach, which had been his favourite place since he was a little boy. You were fooling around like innocent playful puppies, skin-dipping and plunging and laughing until you were out of breath. James' lips had turned blue from being too long in the cold water, so you suggested to get out and have a beer.
He follows, deep in thoughts, obviously, for he doesn't say a word when you sit down and look up to him, patting the space next to you to make him join you. There is the hint of a smile on his face, and his bright eyes are sparkling in a way that you have never seen before. Suddenly, for the first time in all those years you realize the sensuality of his mouth, his soft dark curls that are plastered in neatly encircling lines around his neck. Shocked by your feelings and observations, you retreat a bit to maintain your distance. For heavens sake, he's your friend, and what's more, he's a man! Of course there had been games, rubbing each others shoulders and a good-humoured ruffle of hair, but this was different. This was by far beyond your boundaries.
After a manly sip of Guinness, James tilts his head, scrutinizing the expression on your face, which you hope won't give away too bluntly what you're fantasising about. Entangled limbs, bodies gently moving and flipping on the beach in a mesmerizing rhythm, shallow breathing and a passion so bottomless you fear you will drown in it.
As much as you are a master in disguise concerning your thoughts and the upper part of your body, the lower part betrays you without any intermission. You're horny and bursting with hormones for James. It's mortifying, humiliating and plain for both of you to see. James puts away the beer. His eyes are fixed on your increasing erection. He seems somewhat distressed but flattered all the same. You'd rather get up and run to the end of the world until you collapse and be dead.
"I'm sorry", you mutter huskily, struggling for words, and it's the most awkward moment in your entire life. Even your cheeks start to flush with shame. Or is it lust? Resentful, you bit your lip.
"It's all right", you hear him say, his voice soothingly calm. "There's nothing wrong with it, you know."
Before you have the chance to interfere, he reaches out for your shoulder and catches you off-guard. The subtle smile on his face broadens as he straddles you. Good Lord! It feels so right and yet so embarrassing that you try to get rid of him by seizing his elbows in a firm grip and lift him over your lap.
"Don't…"
Instead of an answer, he cradles your face in his palms, locking eyes with yours. There's a hunger in them that you share. He gets closer, breaking your defences almost tenderly when he starts to move his hips and settles your hands on them for support. You hold him tight as if you would never be willing to let him go, fingers buried deep into his flesh. In an unexpected bold move he claims your lips, biting and chewing them. At first, you feel the urge to back off. It's so rough and untamed like he never has kissed anyone, and maybe he hasn't, really. There had never been any bragging or gossiping about James and a girl being sexually involved. You took it for granted that you were the centre of his life.
Then again, you're not exactly the gentleman either. Tearing at his hair now that you have found your rhythm, you keep intertwining wet streaks of his around your fingers, caressing them ruefully afterwards just to start all over again. There is an inebriating touch to the way he pushes you back and forth across the sand just by using his hips. You suppress a groan on his naked shoulder, pinching his pale skin with your lips and teeth to mark him to be yours. It's a reaction James reciprocates with a raucous laugh that sounds almost triumphant. Heat is rising between you, and you can smell the stimulating scent of bodily fluids.
"Stop it", you gasp. "James, please."
He doesn't listen, but to both your relief and disappointment, restrains a little. "All I ever sought after", he says, circling his fingertips absently over your chest and abdomen, "was to be here with you. You're mine. There's no way denying it."
Underneath his mischievious demeanour you sense something that almost rips your heart out. Insecurity, and shame. The same humiliation you felt a few minutes ago.
You're lost for words in surprise about the discovery, but your body begs to differ. Regaining his confidence by the sight of it, James quietly forces you to stretch out flat on your back. Then he starts to flicker his tongue over you, and it's the most arousing sensation you ever experienced. There's no place for shame any longer. Just pleasure and a nearly unbearable pressure building up inside you as he wanders deeper and deeper, sucking the head of your now fully erected cock.
He seems to enjoy it, getting bolder and more to the point with every encouraging thrust you make. His hands are everywhere, stroking your rigid belly and thighs, and what he does with this sensual mouth of his you're too overwhelmed to describe. You never expected your best platonic friend to be living up to a man's fantasy, and here you are, offering him your vulnerability, displaying your feelings towards him that had been concealed in the darkest corner of your heart much too long. When he gets up to seal his lips with yours, he gives you a taste of yourself, and it's not even repulsive, on the contrary. It feels… natural, creative and charming. Besides, you would have taken anything as long as it was a gift of James'.
"I want you to fuck me," he declares after breaking the kiss that has made you swallow your pre-cum. "I want you to fuck me so bad. So I have something from you that no other guy does."
Jesus! You hold your breath, not used to the subject James is talking about. Bewildered, you avert your eyes, most of all not to stare at that bloody erection that literally agrees to alter friends into lovers. You can't remember a time when you had that much stamina ever before.
A soft, childlike noise from James' mouth makes you turn your head, and before you're on familiar ground, you lift his chin by affectionately nibbling on his full upper lip.
"I never have-…"
"Neither have I", he cuts you short, snuggling up, wrapping his arms around you. He's like a purring cat that knows for certain how to get to the bowl of cream. "That makes it just what the doctor ordered, doesn't it? Just once. We'll keep it a secret. My birthday secret." He gets hold of your poor hard cock again, squeezing it optimistically in perfect tension. "Don't tell me you don't want me."
"Things will be different, later", you warn him, slightly worried. Sex with mates has never been an option as far as you were concerned.
"They'll never be different between you and me", he pledges as you half apologetically and half delighted start to kiss the line of his neck from ear lobe to collarbone. It's like exploring forbidden territory, but enthralling nonetheless. "What we have is something special. I've known you too well to fear you'd hurt me. I trust you, and I've been waiting much too long for this to happen. Please. Can you do it?"
He leaves you no other choice but to nod with a lump in your throat. He shifts his weight and smiles again, that smile that you have been longing to see, and it's giving you what you need to feel confident about the impending twist of fate.
"Just a minute" he says, scrambling to his feet to make his way to the scattered pile of clothes near your tent. "I'll get the lube."
Sneaky little bugger. He had it planned all along.
You had ventured into foreign land that day after knowing each other more like brothers than friends. It had been special, and it wasn't just a foolish boyish flirt or a meaningless favour. Whenever you and James were alone for the time to come, he would attack you, sometimes in a swaggering or teasing fashion, sometimes more sincere, but always with a kind of devotion that all your girlfriends have been lacking ever since. He had given you all he had, and in return, you let him down when he needed you most.
Chloe sighs and tosses in the sheets. You hear her muffled cry as she whimpers her brother's name in despair. When she wakes up from her nightmares (which might be the ones that are haunting you yourself), her big brown eyes dwell in tears. She clings to you, helplessly sobbing. It's tearing you apart, and you know that you have to grasp the opportunity to prove you're no coward after all. You're her anchor now as James had been for you.
"It's all right", you whisper into her hair, rocking her gently back to sleep. "I'll be there."
The End