Come Whatever Storms

by J. M. Snyder

  Ronnie also pulled out a bottle of baby shampoo, and damn, one of those loofah things Court had mentioned. It was pink and girly and looked so out of place against Ronnie’s battered knuckles, Court had to laugh. “What the hell’s all this?”

  “I told you, we stink.” Ronnie stood, and leaned past Court to place the messenger bag inside their tent. He snagged his backpack and Court’s, and shrugged both onto one shoulder before taking back the jeans and bath towels. “Can you carry those?”

  Court held the shampoo bottle in one hand, the loofah in the other, and squinted up at his friend. “I think I can manage.”

  Without warning, Ronnie gripped Court’s elbow and hauled him to his good foot. For a second, Court felt woozy, almost airborne, but Ronnie placed a firm hand on the small of his back and he caught his breath. “Where are we going?” he wanted to know.

  “You wanted a hot shower, didn’t you?” Ronnie wrapped an arm around Court’s waist and helped him as they headed away from the camp.

  Court laughed. “Don’t tell me you found a working shower.”

  “I didn’t,” Ronnie assured him. “This is the next best thing.”

  But when Court saw the rushing waters of the creek come into view between the trees, he shook his head. “Oh no. A cold dip in the river is a far cry from a hot shower. I’m not getting in there.”

  Ronnie’s hand fisted in Court’s shirt where it bunched up at his waist. “You will if you want to share my tent any longer. You’re getting pretty ripe.”

  “I was wounded,” Court reminded him. “I can’t go in the water—doctor’s orders.”

  The undergrowth gave away to a dry, sandy shore. The creek gurgled over rocks at a swift pace; it wasn’t very deep, maybe waist-high in the middle, if that, but Court didn’t need to stick a hand in to know it would be downright icy. This late in the year, the morning frost would be melting into the creek, and even though the sun was warm above them, the water would be cold. He might splash some on his arms and face, but there was no way in hell he’d get in it completely.

  Ronnie had other plans.

  There was a package of plastic wrap in Ronnie’s backpack; he took it out and wrapped Court’s bandage tightly so it wouldn’t get too wet. “This won’t work,” Court announced, watching Ronnie.

  “Adam said it would,” Ronnie told him. So there went that argument. “He said to cover it to keep it as dry as we can, and make sure we change the bandage before you get dressed again. He said you’ll be fine.”

  “That water is freezing,” Court pointed out. “I don’t smell that bad.”

  Ronnie smirked. “Yeah, well, you don’t smell good, either.”

  “I’m not the only one,” Court said. “We all stink—you, too.”

  “I know.” Standing, Ronnie pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. His eyes held Court’s, the challenge in them bright and clear. As Court watched, Ronnie unbuckled his belt and pushed down his jeans. He stepped out of his shoes, then out of the jeans, his gaze never leaving Court’s. Then he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and, bending over, slid those down his narrow legs, as well.

  Court’s mouth went dry with longing and sudden lust. Ronnie stood before him, nude and glorious like a virile young god. Hands on his hips, cock beginning to stir between his legs, nipples pert and erect. Every ounce of fight went out of Court at the sight of his friend. What was better than a hot shower, by any stretch of the imagination?

  Ronnie naked. Holy fuck. Don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t—

  But he was, he couldn’t help it. He was.

  With a grin, Ronnie turned and walked into the creek. His ass cheeks clenched as the cold water swirled around his legs, and he glanced at Court over his shoulder. “Are you going to sit this one out or are you going to join me?”

  “I’m…uh, I—” Court’s mind fizzled as if it had short-circuited. He couldn’t find the words to answer; he wasn’t even sure he still knew any words at all. For one of the only times in his life, he was speechless.

  Ronnie splashed him playfully. “Um, um, uh. Real intelligent. Now get over here and let’s get cleaned up, or you can sleep with someone else tonight.”

  With numb fingers, Court hurried to comply. He unzipped his jeans and managed to shuck them off without standing, briefs, too. When they were halfway to his knees, he stopped to tug his shirt over his head. He couldn’t move fast enough, and was soon completely tangled up in his clothes. “Ronnie, help!”

  He heard more splashes as Ronnie returned to the shore, then felt his friend’s sure hands on his arms. “Stop wriggling. You’re only making it worse.”

  Court froze and let Ronnie pull off his shirt. The moment the fabric cleared his eyes, though, he found himself face-to-crotch with Ronnie’s half-hard dick. Oh, God. He knew just what that felt like against his back and ass and leg—he’d felt it often enough while they slept. What would Ronnie do if he touched it now? Caught it in one hand, ran his finger down its length, pinched the bulbous tip? Or—God forbid, the thought made his head swim, but what if, what if—what if he kissed it? Pursed his lips and touched them to the purplish cockhead? What would Ronnie do then?

  He didn’t get a chance to find out. As soon as his shirt was off, Ronnie moved to Court’s feet, well out of reach, and squatted in the sand to tug off Court’s sneakers. His socks followed, then the jeans and briefs slid down his legs. Ronnie tossed them aside and stood over Court, holding out both hands. “Let’s get you up.”

  Too late.

  The sight of Ronnie in the buff had turned Court on more than he cared to admit, and when his friend hauled him to his feet, Court’s dick stood first. He shook one hand free from Ronnie’s and pushed down his erection, little good it did. He was hard as stone and the slightest touch made his tip weep. Suddenly he wanted to be in the water, no matter how cold it might be—the chill would wilt his dick and shrink his balls, and even if it didn’t, at least his dick would be out of sight, hidden from view. Leading the way, he half-stumbled, half-fell towards the creek. His whole body flushed with embarrassment, and Court didn’t even feel the cold at first; he just didn’t want Ronnie to know how hard he was at the moment.

  If Ronnie knew that, he might not want to share a tent with Court any longer.

  Court tripped and fell, face-first, into the creek. Icy water splashed over him, chilling him to the bone and dousing any ardor he may have been feeling. Even Ronnie’s strong hands on his bare hips and back couldn’t reignite the flame. “Are you trying to drown yourself?” Ronnie wanted to know.

  He helped Court stand, then led them deeper into the water. Court sputtered and shivered, arms clasped tightly around his chest. “This was a stupid idea,” he muttered.

  “We’ll make it quick.” Cautiously, Ronnie let go of Court and stepped back. “Can you stand there without falling long enough for me to get the shampoo?”

  Court nodded and wiped water from his eyes. He kept his head turned away from the shore, away from Ronnie’s naked body glistening with beaded water in the dappled afternoon sun. I can’t look, he told himself, pressing his fingers against his eyelids until the darkness behind them turned red. I shouldn’t look. I can’t. I won’t.

  He heard Ronnie splash into the water again, but refused to open his eyes until he was sure his friend was beside him—far enough into the creek so there would be no temptation to stare. He tried to ignore the fact that Ronnie was right there, without clothes on, without anything to separate his skin from Ronnie’s. He couldn’t think that way. He wouldn’t.

  “What’s wrong now?” Ronnie asked.

  His voice was so low, Court almost sobbed. “Nothing,” he mumbled, wiping a wet hand down his face. “Let’s just get this over with already, okay?”

  Court peeked at Ronnie, who had an odd expression on his face. He knew something was bothering Court, and damn him, but he’d get it out one way or another. Now he held the shampoo and loofah almost negligently in one hand, as if they weren’t e
ven there. His whole being was concentrated on Court. “What is it?”

  Court shook his head. “Nothing,” he said again. It really did sound like a sob this time. “I don’t—no, it’s…really, Ronnie, let’s just hurry up out here, please? I’m freezing.”

  But Ronnie wouldn’t be rushed. “Something’s wrong. Something’s bothering you.” Court shook his head again, no, nothing, please, but Ronnie insisted, “Tell me.”

  “Nothing.” The word was a whisper, barely there, nothing more than the shape of Court’s lips around his breath.

  Ronnie took a step closer. Damn it. “Listen to me,” he said, still speaking softly. “Listen, will you?”

  Court nodded. Yes, he was listening.

  “You’re all I have left in this world,” Ronnie told him. “You’re it, and you know that. If you don’t trust me, then I have nothing. I am nothing without you. So don’t shut me out, you hear?”

  “It’s…”

  Ronnie’s voice sharpened. “Don’t say it’s nothing. If something’s bothering you, I have to know what it is. Don’t—”

  Without warning, Court grabbed Ronnie’s face in both hands and pulled him closer. Eyes shut tight, lips puckered, breath held fast, he pressed his mouth to Ronnie’s and flinched, waiting. To be pushed away, maybe. To be dunked under the water, or punched in the face, or something, anything, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stand it any longer. If he didn’t kiss Ronnie now, he knew he would never be able to ever again.

  For a long moment, they seemed frozen—in time, in space, as the world stretched around them into eternity. Court didn’t dare believe anything more might come from this simple kiss, but he wanted to do it, needed to do, since before the virus, before their weddings, before college, even. The first kiss they shared had also been a stolen moment waist-deep in chilly water. It seemed only fitting their last would be, as well.

  Then Ronnie surprised him. Instead of pulling back or pushing Court away, Ronnie eased an arm around Court’s waist and hugged him close. Where their skin touched, Court felt his body burn with lust and desire, and despite the cold, his libido came soaring back. Ronnie opened his mouth, taking Court in, his tongue licking between Court’s lips with a possessive air that made Court’s knees weak. The arm around him tightened, keeping him upright; he felt Ronnie respond lower, too, as his friend’s dick twitched alongside his.

  When they finally parted, Court blinked away water mingled with tears of relief. A faint smile tugged at the corner of Ronnie’s mouth; Court wanted to kiss it away, just to see how it might taste. Instead, he sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin things between us but God, I just—I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now.”

  Ronnie’s lips twisted into a smirk. “I wondered when you’d get around to it.”

  Court stared at him, nonplussed. “Wait, what? You know?”

  “Who doesn’t?” Ronnie said with a laugh. “Bree and Adam already think we’re together, so we might as well be. If you waited any longer, I was going to have to say something about it myself.”

  “But—what?” Court couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around what his friend was saying. “You knew? Jeez, Ronnie, what the fuck?”

  Ronnie’s arm around Court’s waist tightened. “You just lost your wife—”

  “Three months ago!” Court cried.

  “Well, I didn’t want to rush in,” Ronnie said. “I thought you’d clue in eventually. I mean, Jesus, we sleep together every night. I just didn’t think you’d be so damn thick.”

  “I didn’t want to ruin things!” Balling his hands into fists, Court hit Ronnie in the chest—not hard, not really, but hard enough to get his point across. “Here I’ve been hating myself every minute of every day because I want so much more from you, and you already know? And you did nothing? What the hell? Were you just going to wait until—”

  Court got no further; Ronnie silenced him with another kiss. It was as tender and sweet as the first, with just an undercurrent of demand that made Court’s blood pound in his ears. It nearly took Court’s breath away, and when Ronnie stepped back, Court was too flustered to speak.

  Ronnie’s smirk was back. “If I had known that would quiet you so quickly, I would’ve done it years ago.”

  “God,” Court sighed, smoothing his hands over Ronnie’s chest, no longer angry.

  Ronnie said, “Let’s wash up already, can we? It’s damn cold out here.”

  Court could only nod in agreement. Whatever Ronnie wanted.

  Thank God he wants me.

  Now that everything was out in the open between them, Court couldn’t remember what it was he had been afraid of—the kiss changed nothing. Ronnie was still protective and gruff, and now that he no longer had to hide his feelings for his friend, Court was back to his old talkative self. He complained about the cold water, the smell of the baby shampoo, the rocks under his feet, even the plastic wrap and the way it felt around the lower part of his leg. Ronnie listened stoically as he lathered Court’s hair with the shampoo.

  With the loofah, Court collected the suds that dripped down his face and scrubbed Ronnie’s chest. Soon the creek was filled with soapy bubbles that raced away on the current. Court ran the loofah over every inch of Ronnie he could reach—everything above the water, that was. When Ronnie pushed his head down into the water to rinse the soap out of his hair, Court scrubbed Ronnie’s hips and thighs, as well. He moved quickly, eyes shut, finding his way by touch alone.

  More than once, his hand brushed across Ronnie’s crotch, and he felt his friend stiffen with arousal. Court resisted the urge to grab Ronnie’s dick; the water really was too damn cold, and besides, he didn’t want to rush into anything. He’d been waiting all his life for this moment, and he wanted to draw it out between them, make it special, make it memorable. Maybe later in the tent, when they were alone, he would allow himself the luxury of lingering over every inch of Ronnie’s perfect body. He still had that box of condoms in his bag…

  Strong hands under his arms hauled him to his feet. Court came up out of the water spurting and dripping, the loofah washed clean. While Ronnie washed his own hair, Court held onto his shoulders to keep from falling. Then Ronnie ran the loofah over Court’s body in brusque, no-nonsense movements that didn’t allow either of them to savor the sensations.

  “Not so rough.” Court complained as the loofah scraped over his backside.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s cold,” Ronnie told him. “My balls are about to crawl back up inside me. You want someone who’s gentle, get Bree to do it.”

  Court shuddered. “Are you kidding me? She’s the one who killed the chickens. Adam’s gentle. She’s a brute.”

  “You want me to get Adam out here, then?” Ronnie teased.

  Court slapped the water to splash him, then wrapped an arm around Ronnie’s neck. Pulling him down in a mock choke-hold, Court held him still to grab a quick kiss. “Let Bree have him. I want you.”

  Ronnie’s hands trailed down Court’s sides. His touch was almost ticklish and made Court wriggle. He didn’t relax his grip, though, and pressed his lips to Ronnie’s again. “You have to do better than that.”

  “How’s this?” Ronnie strummed his fingers low across Court’s belly.

  Now that was ticklish, and Court let go with a surprised yelp as he fell back into the creek. For a second, his head was under the water again, but this time, he didn’t feel Ronnie’s comforting touch. He couldn’t tell up from down or right from left, and felt the current sweep him off his feet. Rocks bumped his knees and butt as he tumbled around. His lungs screamed for air, and he flailed his hands, searching for something…for someone…for Ronnie…

  And then Ronnie was there, hauling him to his feet. “Get back up here,” his friend said, brushing hair and water from Court’s face. His fingers were gentle as he touched Court’s cheek. “You okay?”

  Drawing a shuddery breath, Court nodded. “I’m done. Let’s get out of here.”

  Back on the s
hore, Court held onto Ronnie’s shoulders again while his friend dried him off with the bath towel. Ronnie rubbed warmth back into Court’s feet and legs, then wrapped the towel around his waist and pulled it back and forth, from side to side, drying him with friction as much as with terry cloth. Up his back, over his shoulders, onto the top of his head, where Ronnie rubbed the towel into his hair vigorously. Court laughed and took a step back, almost stumbling.

  Ronnie dropped the towel back down around Court’s shoulders and caught him with it before he could fall. “Careful,” he said, lowering the towel further, until it was back around Court’s waist. Then he fisted his hands in either end of the towel and used it to reel Court in closer.

  Suddenly their faces were inches apart, and their damp skin warmed where it touched. Court felt Ronnie’s bony hips push against him, then felt the limp length of Ronnie’s dick alongside his own. He eased his arms around Ronnie’s neck, eager for another kiss. Had he seriously ever thought he was content to just be friends? Because he couldn’t seem to stop touching Ronnie, and each kiss was as heady as the first, and he didn’t know how he could ever live without this man beside him, touching him, loving him—

  “Knock, knock,” Bree called out nearby.

  Court almost fell as he staggered back; only Ronnie’s grip on the towel kept him from falling. He hadn’t heard her approach—how much had she seen? Doesn’t matter, he reminded himself. She already knows how I feel about him.

  Still, he didn’t want to give her an opportunity to remind him how right she had been.

  “Bree, Christ!” he cried, taking the towel from Ronnie and wrapping it around his waist. It barely covered him, but he managed to tuck the ends in at his waist, hiding his budding erection.