Page 8 of Unfaithfully Yours

There was a pizza place a block away and since it was still early, I led him down the street, knowing we'd miss the two AM crowd and wouldn't have to wait or eat on the sidewalk.

At twenty-nine, I was over the phase of closing out the club and struggling to get home by four in the morning anyway. We'd done enough of that in college.

Kamran was compliant, letting me lead him around and help to steady him. I had to catch him a couple times while we walked, but if he cared, he didn't say anything.

We were mostly quiet while we ate aside from when some young drunk guys ran by the window shouting and we both jumped and then laughed.

There were cabs waiting outside, so it didn't take long to get home. We were both quiet on the ride.

My house wasn't far, but I hadn't been expecting company. It was a bit of a shit hole at the moment but I forgot about that until I let Kamran in.

“It's a bit messy,” I muttered, but Kamran didn't seem to hear me.

He walked inside, all the way into the middle of the living room and then stopped, turning around to face me.

Neither of us had remembered to hit the light switch, so we stood in the dark, watching each other, surrounded by shadows and streaks of light from the streetlight outside.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” Kamran finally asked.

My mouth went dry, but I shook my head.

“No, Kamran,” I said gently. “That was a mistake, remember?”

After a long moment, he nodded.

“Yeah, I remember,” he muttered. “But it made me feel good.”

Heat traveled up my neck.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to ground myself.

“I think you need to sleep,” I said.

“In your bed?” he asked.

I groaned.

“Jesus, Kamran. No .”

He was going to give me a heart attack.

“You can sleep on the couch,” I said. “Or I can, and you can take the bed if you want.”

He shook his head.

“I don't want to take your bed from you.”

“Okay.”

A pregnant pause followed. It was so unlike us thatI tore my gaze from his.

Mostly to distract myself, I flipped on a light and went around, quickly tidying up, feeling his eyes boring into me all the while. Then, with an arm full of dishes from dinner and a pile of clothes that I'd changed out of earlier and left on the couch, I turned to him.

“I'll be right back,” I said.

It was a relief to get away for a few minutes.

Once the clothes were in the laundry room and I was alone in the kitchen, I took a deep breath.

“Kamran is drunk ,” I reminded myself quietly.

Even drunker than he'd been last week and at this point I was sober. As much as I didn't need the alcohol to want to kiss him, I had to stay away. It was wrong on too many levels.

The fact that we hadn't even spoken about what had happened without alcohol being involved didn't comfort me. Sure, a good few drinks in, he wanted a kiss, but that didn't mean he would be happy about it in the morning.

Kamran had been my closest friend for years now. I'd been his best man and everything. That meant preserving what we had mattered more than fulfilling desires I had already learned to live with.

Resolve strong, I finally went and got an extra blanket and pillow from the closet before returning to the living room to find him already spread out on the couch, half asleep.

He looked up at me as I pulled the blanket over top of him.

“There's a spare toothbrush in a pack under the sink if you get the energy to get up,” I said. “Here, lift your head.”

“Yes, Dad,” he chuckled and lifted up for me to slide the pillow under him.

Laying there, smiling softly up at me, his dark curls mussed and spread out, he looked like he belonged right here like this, sleeping in my house, on my pillow.

“Goodnight,” I said.

“Night, Ryan,” he murmured.

Something about his voice made me pause.

I didn't want to leave him...

“I'm sorry about everything you're going through,” I whispered.

He looked up at me but didn't say anything. After a minute, he just nodded.

I forced myself to move, to shut off the lights and go upstairs, into the washroom to clean myself up, then to my bedroom.

The covers were still a mess from when I’d gotten out of bed this morning, and I climbed under them, wide awake.

I stared at the ceiling in the dark for so long that I wondered why I was even trying. Then, a movement from downstairs got my attention.

I could track the sounds of Kamran fumbling in the dark to the washroom. The water running while he presumably used the toothbrush I'd told him about. Then, everything went quiet for a long minute and in that time I knew there was no way he was going back to that couch.

My heart raced in my throat at the telltale sound of creaking on the stairs.

Then, Kamran’s footsteps crept down the hallway only to pause outside my door, like he couldn't decide if he should do it.

Icould barely breathe until finally, the door opened, and he stepped inside.

He didn't say anything, just went straight to the other side of my bed and got in.

My body dipped toward him but I didn't move to face him. I couldn't.

“I didn't want to be alone,” he whispered into the silence and the tension eased from my shoulders.

Finally, I rolled onto my back, turning my head so that I could see his form in the darkness. Before I could say anything, he spoke.

“Are you sure you don't want to kiss me again?”

I groaned.

“Please. Just drop it, Kamran,” I begged. “You're in my bed. I can't just slide over and start kissing you without?—”

I cut short, realizing what I had almost said. Without wanting more. Had he caught where I was going with that?

“I'm just asking you for a favor,” he said, sounding pouty. “You did it once, so I didn't think you'd mind doing it again.”

I stared at his silhouette, trying to understand.

“You really want me to?” I asked slowly.

His shoulder lifted in a shrug.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I want to do it again. I feel like I'm going crazy.”

Going crazy with desire for me? Or because I'd confused him? Because he was in the midst of his entire life falling apart and his best friend had added to it by unexpectedly making out with him when he was drunk?

I opened my mouth, desperate to get clarity, my heart leaping despite myself at the prospect and at the stupidly selfish possibility that Kamran was on the verge of being single and that he liked my kisses.

His hand touched my arm, and he scooted closer. My breath caught as he leaned toward me, and I felt his soft breath on my skin. Then, his lips gently touched mine.

And really, I'd been such a good boy. How the hell was I supposed to stay well behaved when the guy I loved crawled into my bed and started kissing me?

He tasted good, clean and warm, and his lips felt perfect against mine. I forced my shocked body to move, to kiss him back while it felt like the world was ending and reforming around me.

The fact that he was kissing me, doing half the work by running his hand into my hair while I hastily followed his lead, sent a thrill of excitement through me unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

For years I'd wanted this. I’d dreamt of even coming close enough to feel his warmth on my body, of holding him, touching him tenderly. Oh God. I could do it right now, right this second and he would let me.

That thought took over my limbs and without any more input from my brain, my hands were on his hips, pushing him down flat as I rolled onto him, a continuation of last weekend.

Damn. His hip bones. The fucking V in my palms had me moaning against his mouth and I gripped them both while I kissed him like I was starving, and he was a tasty, home cooked meal.

He moaned in return, his hands reaching up and tangling into my shirt.

I couldn't stop.Not anymore. It was like a dam had been broken.

I ground down against his hips, moving until his cock hardened against mine and he pulled back with a gasp.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “It is better. So much better. Your lips .”

He moaned and pulled me back down, his arms both going around my neck, holding me there, stopping me from pulling away. Every movement of his lips and tongue, the stubble on his chin scraping me, sent sparks shooting to my groin.

“Why is it so good?” he gasped. “It's weird. Right?”

“What?” I gasped, still kissing him even though he was distracted.

“It's weird that your lips feel so much better than Melissa's.”

Reluctantly, I stilled.

“You think it’s weird?” I asked slowly and he nodded.

“Wait. Don't you think it's weird? You said you’re straight, right?”

I was pretty sure if he wasn't hammered, the answer to that question would have been pretty fucking obvious. In fact, the hard on I had pressed against his hard on would have explained quite a few things about this situation. But no. The bastard was going to make me say it, wasn't he?

“Kamran, I'm... not straight.”

He stopped breathing.

So much time passed that I was pretty sure he was dead from the shock.

“That explains a lot,” he finally said.

“Wait. What?” I demanded. “Like what?”

“Well, you're, like, shockingly good-looking Ryan. Why don't you ever date anyone? There's always been a lineup of girls waiting...”

“Kamran,” I said slowly, carefully picking what in that statement to discuss. “Do you really think guys that are not at all gayfind their friends shockingly good-looking ?”

“Yeah,” he said, simply. “I mean, I do.”

I bit my lip.

“Yeah but, do other not gay guys also have a hard on pressed against their male best friend’s hard on right now?” I asked, grinding pointedly down against him.

I had to bite my lip to stop myself from moaning, even still, the way my breath stuttered from the feeling was hard not to hear. He could feel how hard I was, how quickly my heart was pounding and likewise, I felt all of him in the same way. He was so sexy and welcoming under me.

Kamran didn't answer my question. When I stroked my fingers over his arms, he shivered and let out a long breath.

“No one's kissed me in a long time,” he said suddenly. “Or touched me.”

“Oh,” I whispered as his meaning registered. That he was just lonely. Actually, I got the sentiment. I couldn’t even be mad.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “It’s nice to feel wanted.”

I laid there for a minute, looking down at him, allowing myself to feel the skin of his arms, the soft hair on my fingertips.

Then I bent, pressed my lips to his for one long, lingering kiss, just for me this time, and forced myself to roll off of him.

My body practically screamed at the loss. My cock ached, but I reached down, squeezing it to relieve the pressure and then let go, determined to go back to being a good boy.

“What’s wrong?” Kamran slurred.

I shut my eyes.

“You shouldn’t need to let me get on top of you just so you can feel wanted.”

“But—”

“It’s not really what you want, right? You’re straight. And lonely. I get it. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

He didn't say anything. Deep inside, he probably knew I was right. For a second there, I’d almost forgotten the current situation. It was hard not to get swept up in the kisses you’d wanted for ages.

“Here,” I said, because I still felt bad about turning him down. I reached toward him. When my hand found his under the covers, he gripped it like I was about to pull him out of a high tide. Like my hand in his alone could save him.

Neither of us said anymore.