Salvation

Disclaimer: Work of fiction. No profit. Good to go.

Richard is so drunk. I don't tell him this, for even if I do, the guitarist will just laugh at me and nod. Inebriated as he is, it doesn't take anything away from him in the least. The whole band went out and out of all of us, Richard got hammered hardest, laughing about how he is glad to be divorced now.

I lost count of how many drinks Richard downed. He was sitting with his head on the bar, body shaking with quiet laughter when I told the others I was going to take him back to his room.

So here I am. I load my bandmate into the car and take him back to the hotel. He's in the passenger seat with his spiky head against the window, face in profile and shadowed, his eyelashes fluttering then shutting. When we arrive, I lock Richard's muscled arm behind my neck, wrapping my own around his waist and we walk to his hotel room.

I'm trying to make sure that I don't lose grip on my drunken bandmate, because I have the eerie feeling that if I loosen my hold on my friend, he'll hit the floor pretty hard. On top of that, I'm enjoying having Richard's warm body so close to my own.

I pause in front of Richard's room, hearing the guitarist's deep breathing and his drunken, breathless giggles and chattering to no apparent person.

"Richard," I say and he keeps making low, incoherent hums,"Where is your key card?"

By some divine miracle, he answers,"My pocket," Richard laughs again and I lose the connection with him. I manage to move enough to slide my hand into Richard's pocket to get his card and he giggles at me. I slide the card in the lock and we both enter the room.

I dump Richard onto the bed and sit down next to his relaxed form that's draped on the bed, legs hanging off about two inches from the carpet. I'm not trying to pin everything on him entirely, either. I had a few drinks too, enough to feel pretty good, but not enough to laugh at the ceiling like my friend.

Up until now Richard's been silent, now he is laughing again. I chuckle a little at his infectious mirth as well and ask,"Are you alright?"

Another burst of laughter. "Yeah, I'm just so fucking drunk.." Suddenly he stands up, and for a moment I am certain that my bandmate will eat the hotel room's carpet, but he doesn't fall. Richard walks off to the bathroom, closing the door.

I sit there and hear the sink turn on. The water runs and runs, for about seven minutes. I hear an alarming thump from the room and stand up, crossing to the door. I stand closely, listening. I start to say Richard's name until I hear a soft whimpering noise. Is he crying?

I strain to hear and find that he is crying. Richard never cries. I open the door without asking and see that he's turned the water on so I wouldn't hear his sobs. The guitarist is on his knees on the tile floor, head on his arms that are resting on the closed toilet lid.

I touch his shaking shoulder tentatively and he makes a muffled squeak, most likely from being caught crying. I turn off the faucet before I get down on his level and ask him,"What's wrong?"

He looks at me briefly with shimmery eyes and shakes his dark head. The action is so childlike that I can't help but feel sad and endeared to him at the same time. I grab some tissue and hand it to him, suspecting that he'll be more willing to face me if he isn't tear-stained.

I'm right and he breathes shakily, not quite done crying yet. I move closer to my friend and ask him what's bothering him again. "Caron," he whispers.

Caron. I should've known. Richard had seemed to close up a bit when they'd filed for divorce, and when it was finalized about a week and a half ago, his mood only worsened.

"I can't help missing her, Till," he chokes out, "I thought I loved her and maybe that she and I would work out, I really did.." His eyes were welling up again. So I just gather my friend into my arms, holding his sad form to my chest.

"I don't know what to tell you, Richard," I say to him,"but I know it'll get better." Richard's wet face presses against my chest. A small trembling whine escapes from him and I tighten my arms around him. One of his arms snakes out to wrap around me and tug me even closer. I rest my cheek on the guitarist's spiky hair, listening to his sobs taper off slowly.

Richard wipes his face again and breathes in deeply. I barely hear him say,"Thank you." Richard raises his face to look at me and I give his a small smile which he returns. Then there's this silence and some feeling that both of us seem to acknowledge is born.

Like we're given a cue, Richard's lips, swollen from crying, meet mine. Such a sweet, chaste kiss, but good enough to make us both tremble. Our lips linger for a second longer until we part and stare at one another.

I can all but feel the blood starting to rush through my veins, especially when I see Richard cautiously lick his lips, as if to discern whether we really kissed or not. Richard's eyes are a little less saddened as they were before, and suddenly I feel that I can make him feel better.

I draw our mouths together once more, placing pressure on Richard's lips, which the guitarist returns. I slide my hands up to cup Richard's face as I feel his warm lips part and his tongue slide out to enter my mouth and meet mine.

Richard's pulse is racing under my palm when it rests on his neck. My own keeps ratcheting higher and higher as my tongue caresses Richard's. I suckle on his tongue briefly and am rewarded with a small groan from my bandmate's throat. I lower my hand to Richard's hip and squeeze lightly, hearing a sigh and my hand moves over more to rest on his crotch.

Richard's breath hitches and he arches his crotch into my palm. I suddenly feel I might've gone a little too far and removed my hand. Richard moves away and rests his head on my shoulder. He whispers close to my ear,"Don't, Till, please don't stop."

I nod, but stand up. I grasp Richard's slightly rough hands and hoist him up. Richard sways a little and giggles out,"I don't think I can stand up right now."

I can't help but be amused. I pick him up and he gasps in suprise as I carry him into the room and lower him on the bed. Things are a little awkward when I lie down next to him, like neither of us know what we should do.
Richard has sobered a little, but is still more alcohol-charged than I am.

My friend rests his face near my ear once again and whispers,"I didn't want you to stop touching me..." and he trailed off. But then Richard's kissing me, taking more control than he had before, moving faster and more urgently with his tongue on mine. Richard bites my lip and I groan into his mouth, feeling a surge of lust sizzling through me as he runs his tongue over the mark.

Before I realize it, the guitarist has me on my back, and is between my legs, undoing my pants. My erection his released from its confines and I see Richard's eyes widen, glittering with wicked intent as he helps me tug my pants off.

He reaches across me and turns the lamp down until the light is barely on. While Richard's leaning over me, I start to undo the buttons on his shirt and he lingers in that position until I finish and rid myself of my own shirt.

Richard hovers over me and murmurs, his lips brushing mine,"I'm going to show you what I wanted you to do to me." He shifted back down to my cock and his fingers skim up and down my shaft lightly before wrapping them around me.

The friction of Richard's hand is perfect and in the dim light, I can see his chest moving quickly from his excited breath. He tightens his hold and pumps his hand faster, squeezing the head of my cock.

I inhale sharply as my bandmate lowers his head and takes me into his mouth, sucking cautiously at first, then getting braver. His tongue slides against my flesh, following the trail his lips take. I start to move my hips, fucking his mouth, and he takes it with enjoyment, judging by the moans vibrating against my cock. I arch up and release my seed into Richard's mouth, feeling him swallowing around me until my come is gone.

I breathe rapidly and feel Richard's breath feathering against my abdomen. I draw him up and kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue as well as the barest aftertaste of alcohol. I'm not done yet, though. My hands undo his pants as he did mine. He raises up and discards them along with his shorts.

Richard sits on my chest and I touch him, traveling over his pulsing member almost adoringly. My fingers become slick from the liquid on his head and Richard reaches down to grasp my hand and bring it away from him. I understand what he wants and take him in my mouth, mimicking the motions he used on me.

Still grasping my hand, Richard brings my slick fingers to his lips and sucks on them in time with my motions on his cock. My free hand rests on the small of his back, fingers flexing and digging into the skin, holding his body close. I groan and release his erection from my mouth, rolling him underneath me. He looks confused for a moment until I part his legs and rim his asshole with the fingers he was suckling on.

Richard gasps when one of my digits enters him. When the second joins it, he appears caught between ecstacy and pain. The pain must have left him, for he starts to push back on my fingers and breathe faster. I twist my fingers slightly and start to pump them in and out, touching his prostate each time.

His gasps turn to moans and then finally into a yell as I fill my mouth with his seeping member in time for him to come as my fingers strike his vulnerable insides, pushing him over the edge. The warm liquid jets into my mouth and I swallow, mildly suprised at the taste.

We lie together afterwards, cuddling. Are we cuddling? This seems mildly shocking to me even with what we just did together. I think there's more meaning behind what we did than either of us had first thought it would. I'd gone into it looking to comfort my bandmate. Richard had gone into it seeking comfort I was offering.

But things are definitely different right now. When I look at Richard, his eyes are so warm and open, his lips curving into a sweet, sleepy smile and his body molding to mine. I know that I must look the same to my lover.

Lover? Yes, we are, I'm sure now. Our relationship has changed from a strong friendship into something much stronger, even something nameless, perhaps. All in less than an hour. For the time being, I don't think it will be spoken between us, but there is love now.

I love Richard. Maybe I have all of this time and didn't know it. Richard smiles at me again, such as sweet smile, I can't help but think, and return it. He was so heartbroken earlier, but his eyes seem lighter now.

Something was born between us tonight. A newborn love, something new, but strong. Something able to fill the void in his heart, and the one I didn't even know existed in mine.

Tonight we both know we've saved each other. And I am so glad.