4. In the Middle of the Night
Bill inhaled sharply at the unexpected interruption to his alcohol-laden sleep. His hand automatically closed around the metal handle of the .45 caliber pistol that lay at his side. A second later, his eyes opened to a dark figure hovering near the edge of his bed.
"Shhh," a familiar voice shushed. "It's just me."
Bill felt the fingers of the intruder wrap around his own and gently push the pistol out of his grasp.
"Frank?" he said as his squinted toward the shadow. "What're you doing?"
"Something I've wanted to do for a long time," said Frank with a discernible slur in his voice. He continued to advance onto the mattress until they were just inches apart.
Moonlight shone through the window, strong enough for Bill to make out the other man's features. Frank's eyes were fixed on his own, unmoving, searching.
Bill felt his heartbeat quicken. His temples pounded from the beginnings of a hangover. He could smell the strong scent of liquor on Frank's body. An image of the empty bottle of Johnnie Walker flashed in his mind. Had they really finished the entire bottle by themselves?
"Look," he said, aware of the growing perspiration in his hands. "We've both had a lot to drink. In fact, that scotch pretty much kicked my ass. We should call it a night and sleep this off…"
Frank shook his head, still staring into Bill's eyes. "No more excuses. That's why they call it liquid courage, right?"
Bill swallowed what little saliva was left in his mouth. He suddenly felt parched. "Frank, I don't know what you think you're doin', but you're goddamned as hell gonna regret it in the mor—"
He was so taken aback at the kiss that he forgot to breathe. Frank's lips were equally soft and moist next to his own, yet full of authority and hunger. They lingered for a second before fully pressing in. Somehow, it was the perfect combination of touch.
Frank pushed forward with surprising strength until he was on top of Bill. Their breaths puffed out in soft clouds, warm against the cold air. He hesitated at Bill's jacket, then slipped the zipper down enough to reach inside. Bill's hand tightened around Frank's in hesitation, but slowly gave way as the other man explored his body. Each part that Frank touched tingled to life, and the electricity spread in waves throughout his body.
Bill forced himself to take a breath. He studied the dark brown eyes that never left his own. They held a vulnerability that Frank had never let himself show before. After a moment of stillness, he leaned in to return the kiss.
When they finally separated, it was Bill who was left wanting more. For the first time in his life, he was speechless.
"I've always wondered what that felt like," slurred Frank, with a wide grin.
It took a moment for Bill to find his voice.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Your beard. It's not as prickly as it looks."
"Oh," Bill replied. He licked his lips. He could still taste the other man.
Frank rolled to the side and pressed their bodies close together. "I'm sleeping here tonight," he said, neither a question nor a request.
"Okay," said Bill.
Frank searched the darkness until he found the other man's arm, and wrapped it over his own body.
"Goodnight, Bill."
He pulled up the blanket to cover them both. His breathing slipped into an even cadence as he stumbled into sleep.
Bill felt the soft rise and fall of the other man's chest underneath his arm. Their man-made cocoon radiated a warmth that made him equally drowsy. He lowered his head next to Frank's, and tightened his hold.
"Goodnight, Frank."