Island Pleasures

by Noah Harris

  Xanathen’s eyes widened with wonder as he listened intently. He sat silently as Barry spoke, taking in every word.

  “There’s a group called the Coast Guard. They—”

  “Guard the coast!” Xanathen chipped in enthusiastically.

  “Yeah, pretty much. That’s what I’m a part of. We do a lot of stuff, but one of the things we do is make sure people don’t get lost out at sea. That was my job. At least, what I did best. We’d hear that someone was in trouble on the ocean, and we’d get in our choppers—helicopters, you know, that flew in the air—we’d strap in and go look for them. We’d fly out and come barrelin’ in, make sure they’re okay and bring ’em to land. That’s what I did. I mean, a lot of it was training, and there was other stuff we did too. A lot of studying and technical training...but that part—the rescues—is what everyone knows about. That was the part I liked best.”

  Xanathen’s eyes remained fixed on Barry, causing his face to flush from the unceasing attention. The fascination in that intense gaze silently urged Barry to continue. With only a few sentences, Barry had introduced Xanathen to a whole new world beyond the misty horizon. He hungered for more of this strange new place. He sat contently on the ground and surrendered his full attention to Barry.

  “One night, we got a call saying there was a man lost at sea. It was a dark night and there was a bad storm. But we’re trained for that, we know how to handle it. We weren’t expecting the winds to be as strong as they were. As strong as I’ve ever encountered, actually. I...I remember a screeching howl, and this booming sound, then all of a sudden I can’t see where I’m going, I can’t control the chopper at all, and then it’s going down! I hit my head on something and—”

  Xanathen’s eyes were glued to Barry with a silent excitement.

  “Next thing I know, I’m here. Can’t find my helicopter, my crew...no one. I’ve looked all over, and there’s no sign of any wreckage or anything. My best guess is that it sunk. I’ve been trying to signal someone…anyone really, so I can go home. But it’s been a month now, and no luck. I’m sure I’m probably listed as ‘assumed missing or dead’ by now. I wouldn’t blame’m for giving up after all this time. They’ve surely already had a memorial service, right? My Mom and Dad had to bury their only son…and I’m not even dead. My friends all think I’m gone…and I am really, I guess. Everything I know and love is gone.”

  Barry’s eyes stung with tears, but he choked as he held them back behind a thick wall of pride. He had only cried in public once, and he would never let that happen again. He was strong, he was in control of his emotions. Nothing would make him weak. He gritted his teeth as he reminded himself again and again that ‘men don’t cry,’ his eyes stinging from the salty tears that welled up. As he talked about all these things, his emotions gained momentum and he fought hard against them. Tears began to roll down his round cheeks and once they began, they couldn’t be contained. With a twisted sob, he continued to cry for the first time in many years.

  Xanathen’s brow softened, keeping silent to himself as Barry mourned his own ‘death.’ He sat calmly and allowed Barry to let his tears flow. He winced for a brief moment, but then his face expressed an almost knowing, familiar look. He examined Barry quizzically, debating silently what to do next. His eyes flashed wide when an epiphany flashed through his mind.

  Xanathen rose to his feet and elegantly strode behind Barry, then sat back down, wrapping his toned legs firmly around Barry’s waist, and pressing his strong chest against his sobbing friend’s back. The sobs slowly ended, but tears still ran down his face from his wide red-rimmed eyes. His breathing quickened as he felt a pair of fingers stroke his earlobes and a warm breath roll into his ears. Xanathen embraced him with his legs as he let his nimble fingers gently caress his lobes and he quietly whispered in his ears in a hushed and soothing tone.

  “Hushwa...Hushwa...It shall all be fine. Let yourself go. Let it all go.”

  The sudden embrace alarmed him at first. No one had ever held him like this before, especially not another man. There were lots of ‘bro-hugs’ and bonding of that sort among his comrades in the Coast Guard, but he avoided them. That was not his scene. A simple ‘good job’ was the only bonding he needed. This kind of support was foreign to him and unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The tears continued to flow as he let Xanathen hold him, whispering reassurance in his ears. The warmth enveloped him gently, it was a new sensation, putting him at ease. He gently grappled for Xanathen’s dark arms, glistening in the fire’s red-hot light, guiding them around his shoulders and clinging onto them desperately.

  Barry’s head bobbed backwards, reclining on Xanathen’s solid shoulder as he released the remainder of his tears. While he had not expected it to turn out this way, Xanathen did not seem thrown off and continued to hold Barry tightly. The warmth of the embrace soothed Barry and as each tear made its way down his cheeks, he felt almost happy to just lie there in the big man’s comforting grip. He sniffed and blinked away the rest of his tears, listening to their breathing.

  He melted into the new position, though it was alien to him, he was embracing how natural and wonderful it felt to be held like that. His face was reddened, though it was hard to tell if it was from the tears or from a different kind of flush. He looked up at Xanathen’s face and smiled delicately, fixated on the lulling qualities of the deep, soothing voice that seemed to gently rumble around him. Barry’s eyes were locked on his gaze, and Xanathen’s eyes almost seemed like rings of pure gold. They looked down on him with tenderness and concern. Barry felt hypnotized by those eyes and could feel his body lose all composure as they lay entwined.

  A wild stirring woke him from his trance and he loosened himself from Xanathen’s embrace in a panic. Xanathen didn’t seem offended, but rather he seemed as peaceful as he was when he’d started.

  “You seem better now.”

  “That was weird. I-is that like some sort of island thing, or…?” Barry stammered awkwardly, going to the other side of the fire.

  “It is one of our customs, yes,” Xanathen nodded.

  “Ah. W-well, if you’re gonna do something like that, don’t just spring it on me. In the states, we don’t just start groping strangers without asking.”

  “Tell me more about your States. I want to know all about it.”

  Barry paused for a moment, caught in a storm of raging emotions. His heart still beat wildly from whatever it was that just happened, and he still felt a twinge of the sadness that thinking of home had stirred in him. But the genuine look of almost childlike intrigue on Xanathen’s face drew him to continue the stories.

  Barry proceeded to tell him all about the United States, as best as he could. He went into detail about how it was a land made up of many different cultures all trying to live as one. He told how there were tall skyscrapers made from metal, that reached the sky, and how in the same state there could be wide expanses of mountains and flat endless prairies. He described the vast industry for invention and technology, telling him all about computers, television, movies, games and so on. He went into detail about how people lived in places made of brick and wood, giving them shelter, and how they would spend large chunks of their time doing tasks they didn’t enjoy, earning leafy green things they didn’t eat. They could use the leafy green things to trade for other things, so they could live in the shelters or get the food or do anything they wanted for recreation.

  He then went into detail about the Coast Guard and all the things they did as well, especially when it came to the helicopters and flight. He became more impassioned when he spoke about flying. He remembered the feeling of gliding through the blue skies and looking down on the world below. The sensation of being above all his problems and fears, and having total control of his life was compelling, and the thought of it brought a peaceful smile to his face.

  Xanathen heard every word, sinking onto the ground as he listened. His eyes gleamed with a surprising sense of familiarity as Barry described fli
ght. An almost whimsical smile spread across his lips as he let Barry’s words paint the scene, mentally allowing himself to picture these giant black flying things of metal, now letting himself soar through the skies in his mind. It felt as if an old simple pleasure were being described to him for the first time.

  “So does everyone where you come from—the states—fly?” Xanathen asked.

  “Hm? No, no, just pilots. But people fly in planes and helicopters, though,” he shook his head. “Like...I would pilot the helicopter. That’s the thing that flies. I would make sure it goes up, down, and wherever else. Other people would just ride in it. Not everyone knows how to make it fly.”

  “I see. That all sounds so needlessly complicated. Things here are much simpler. When you’re hungry, you find the food yourself and eat it. When you want a home, you make a home and you keep it. You are who you are, and nothing more. See? Simple! Why complicate it?” Xanathen described his home and customs with pride, though his curiosity of Barry’s world was still evident on his face.

  “Kinda, but that’s just how it goes. So why don’t you tell me about your people.”

  Xanathen froze, his shoulders tensing up as he looked at Barry. The two sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Barry leaned back against the trunk of a tree and lazily smiled, oblivious to Xanathen’s sudden quiet demeanor. The light-hearted feeling of the previous conversation abruptly crashed into an uneasy one-sided chat.

  “I don’t feel comfortable discussing that,” Xanathen said plainly.

  “Oh come on, I spilled my guts to you. That’s fair, right?”

  “Come on, I want to run more. Get up…let’s race again.”

  “Why are you being so defensive?” Barry grumbled. “You just don’t wanna talk about it!”

  “You are correct, I do not.” Xanathen slowly rose to his feet, glowering down at Barry.

  “Well, hold on, you made me talk! Fair’s fair, you learn about me, I learn about you!”

  “I didn’t make you talk. That was your own choice,” Xanathen sniffed with an air of superiority.

  “We talk and get to know each other, that was part of the deal, remember?” Barry was growing frustrated, remembering his own complete meltdown, and uncharacteristic openness.

  “The deal was that you entertain me. This is not entertaining me at all.”

  “I don’t feel like I was asking too much, I just asked about you and your people!”

  “You are asking too much. Don’t talk to me in such a way! I don’t like talking about this at all and I’ve made that very clear. Just drop it,” Xanathen growled. Turning his back, he walked away towards the depths of the forest.

  “Wait, wait…don’t go!” Barry shouted. Xanathen continued to move away. Barry stumbled to his feet and jogged behind him into the dark. “Look, Xanathen, I’m sorry.”

  Xanathen stopped in his tracks, but remained facing forward, into the dark of the trees. The light of the campsite glowed against his back. Barry continued on, “I pushed too hard. I shouldn’t’ve done that. I’m sorry. It’s just that…I’m just...I don’t think you’ll understand. I’ve lost everything in my life, and now there’s like one person. You. You are all I’ve got right now. I know, I know, it’s crazy. But I’ve been here alone for all this time…a whole month and I was losing my mind. Now there is you and it changed everything completely. I just...I just wanna know more about you.”

  Xanathen let Barry’s hurt tone of voice and slightly desperate words sink in, his anger quickly subsiding. His eyelids lowered as he sighed, Barry’s words and feelings resonating deep within him. His head slowly turned toward Barry, greeting the sad pleading eyes with his own. He moved closer, placed a large hand on Barry’s shoulder and a focused gaze on his face.

  “You’re not crazy. I don’t feel comfortable saying why, but please know that I do understand you…probably far more than you think,” he said, in a deep, rumbling tone. “I’m not in the mood to talk anymore. I’m going to leave now.”

  “Oh. Uh, already?” Barry asked, flustered with a tinge of disappointment. “I mean...you’ll be back, right?”

  Xanathen let the moment sink in. As he examined Barry and his sad expression, the big man softened. The unimaginable grief in Barry’s voice had a deep impact on Zanathen and he smiled at Barry reassuringly. “Of course.”

  Barry shrugged with a false air of confidence, first putting out his hand, then changing his mind and raising his arms, instead. He was unsure how to end this meeting. Even outside of the states some things never changed. Most of his departures ended like this…doing a strange dance in front of people that alternated between handshakes, high-fives and potentially some variation of hug…or more likely, ‘bro hugs’.

  Xanathen wrapped his big arms around Barry’s waist and brought him closer into another warm embrace. Their cheeks brushed against each other as they came closer still, held snugly in the big man’s protective embrace. Barry’s arms lay limply by his side as he stared off into the distance, unsure of what to do. His arms seemed to have a mind of their own as they rose into the air and coiled around Xanathen’s smooth chest and squeezed him back. The two held each other tight. Barry felt strange in the arms of another man, almost feeling weak in comparison to Xanathen’s enormous size, but he also felt right. He felt an exhilarating warmth he hadn’t known in his entire life, punctuated only by the rapid heartbeat in his chest. He felt himself silently speaking, practically begging Xanathen not to leave. He held tighter and pulled Xanathen’s chest against his face. If he held on longer, he wouldn’t leave. Maybe they could spend the entire night in each other's arms? Xanathen didn’t seem eager to ease up on the embrace, either. Instead, he just held him close and let the warm air flow from his nostrils against Barry’s cheek. The two stood there in the darkness of the night, with only each other for comfort against the mystery of the unknown.

  The grip around his waist finally loosened, and as Barry looked up there was nothing there but a rustling of the branches, gradually growing more distant, then followed by silence. A gentle breeze filled the air and nothing more. Barry turned back to the campsite, the wind blowing through his hair. He lay under the lean-to, crawling under some large leaves he had found. He stared into the fire with a longing gaze, thinking back on the exchange they had shared. It had been a long time since he felt so alive. There was something oddly liberating about Xanathen. How he held himself with such dignity and power, still resonated in Barry’s head. He seemed to be completely comfortable with himself. Something in those golden eyes radiated an unearthly wisdom. Behind that smirk was an unyielding passion that Barry suspected no one could tame. He shook his head, thinking, What are you talking about? You barely know him!

  Still, he continued to think of Xanathen and the experiences they had recently shared. The hearty laugh filled his mind, accompanied by the memory of the gentle sensation of warm breath flooding his ears. His skin tingled as he thought of the big strong body wrapped around his own, squeezing him tenderly. Those lips, brought so close to his ears, what if they had come closer and bitten playfully on his lobes. He grinned at the thought of a warm tongue lapping against his ear, and hot air rushed into him sending tingles down his spine. He felt those tingles work their way down his body as he continued to imagine Xanathen’s legs squeezing him tighter and pushing slowly against his awakened loins. Barry imagined that with a man that size, what he had to offer must be at least—he gasped as he recalled swimming nude in the lake, remembering his shock at the size of the man’s flaccid member. He imagined rubbing against it—now erect and throbbing in his mind—just like the one straining against his own pants.

  Barry’s eyes bolted wide open, shaking the daydream from his head. He felt hot and bothered, feeling a stirring in himself that he feared. He shook his head in denial as he felt something stir in his own groin. He cautiously peeked down to see his own member fully erect and sensitive. Grimacing in disgust, he turned away and focused all his attention on the howling of the wind
blowing through the treetops.

  Barry, what the fuck? You’re not like that! Come on...let’s think of some babes, he corrected himself. He let his hand drift to his shaft, focusing his mind on the models and movie stars he had seen so much of back home. Those that the tabloids insisted that every man desired, including him. But every time he thought of himself in the throes of passion with some beautiful woman, he felt himself going soft, deflating with disinterest until his cock eventually went flaccid. He gave a grunt of frustration and turned to his side. The howls of the wind grew louder across the sandy shore, as he tried to get comfortable on the ground. The winds started off as a low whisper, but grew louder and increasingly lively as time went by. The call of the wind sang around him as he closed his eyes in a dissatisfied huff, and eventually faded off to sleep.

  The winds grew louder and wilder as time went by, bringing with them the pelting of rain. The leaves he slept under were ripped away with a flurry. As they tore through the forest the winds blew the fire apart, strewing the smouldering contents about his campsite. The howling wind became violent, screaming gales, blowing whatever stood in their way completely out of sight.

  Barry woke up in a panic, his lean-to completely tossed by the wayside, relegated to the bundle of sticks it started life as. His fire was gone, by now all signs of it tossed deep into the forest. There were no caves to take shelter in, nothing to protect him. He pulled himself up against the harsh winds blowing in his eyes and blurring his vision. Squinting against the wind, he could only see the movement of things rushing by, but not what they actually were. Based on his limited vision and the battering against his body, he knew that trees, branches and even rocks were whipping through the air. With nothing around to give him shelter, he had no choice but to move. But where? There was nothing around for miles that could protect him from these shredding winds.

  In an act of desperation, he clung to the trunk of a tree, and tried to ground himself. The winds pulled and pushed at him as he held on tightly. The winds shrieked in his ears, leaving him nearly deaf to the world around him. He gritted his teeth as he felt himself being pulled away, the raging of the wind moaning around him.