A Friend in Need

"Stay there" I said, grabbing his arm. "You're not causing me any trouble by sleeping a little longer. You can go home when you're completely rested."

He hesitated. Then he thanked me, pulled the blanket back up, and closed his eyes.

Two hours later he walked into the kitchen as I was cleaning up from a late breakfast. "Boy, I've never slept this late."

"You needed it" I told him.

"I'll be getting home now" he said. "I'll wash the briefs you loaned me. Thanks a million for letting me stay, and for everything else you did. I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble, blubbering all over your shirt and waking you up in the middle of the night. I know it upset you, but I hope it wasn't too bad."

I took note of the fact that he had said 'letting me stay" rather than 'inviting me'. "You didn't cause me all that much trouble" I assured him. "And what makes you think I was upset?"

"All my carrying on has to have freaked you out."

I startled him by laughing. "Todd, after what you call all your carrying on, I invited you to stay the night. I invited you to share my bed for god sake! And as to your nightmare waking me, I told you that I was glad I was there. Does that sound like I was freaked out?"

"No, now that you explain it. I guess I was stupid to think that" he answered. "I'm sorry."

"Stop that" I yelled, so loudly that he jumped. "You weren't stupid, you were worried that you're a burden. Stop saying you're sorry all the time, you have nothing to apologize for. And you're not a burden."

"Ok" he answered, "I'm sor..."

We both laughed that he had been about to apologize for apologizing so much.

"Now sit down" I commanded. "I have eggs and sausage and rolls and yogurt and cereal and fresh fruit. What would you like to have?"

What I would have liked to have was Todd, but of course I didn't say so.

I had already eaten breakfast, but I had coffee while he ate. During the meal, we spoke of commonplace things, avoiding the topic of the previous evening. Then he got up to leave, saying "Thanks for breakfast. It was really good. And thanks for everything you've done."

"Are you going to find a therapist?" I asked.

"Yeah. You're right, I do need help."

"Good. Do you know how to go about finding someone?"

"When I went to the VA about my sleep problem, they gave me some names. I've got three possible choices."

"So they told you that you have PTSD?"

"No, they just said my problem was mental."

"Goddam Veteran's Administration. I've heard that they try to avoid issuing diagnoses of PTSD because that makes them fully liable."

"They did say the military would pay for up to a year of visits to a psychiatrist or a psychologist."

"Ok, at least that's better than simply cutting you loose. Start with that, and if it's not enough you can always appeal the limit. Do you want me to come with you?"

"You really would?"

"Yes, I told you I would. Yes or no?"

"Yes! That would be great!"

He opened the door to leave. I didn't want this to end, and I was hoping he didn't either: "Todd, being with someone seemed to help last night. Would you like to stay here again tonight?"

A big smile. "I'd love to" he answered immediately. "Being with you helped. It helped a lot."

"Good. We can have dinner together. It's no trouble to cook for two."

"Don't cook. I'll order takeout."

"That's not necessary."

"Yes it is. It's the very least I can do."

=====

After dinner we watched some television, but we were both tired. We decided to turn in early. Todd had brought his own clothes, so I didn't have to loan him anything.

"You can sleep in my bed again, unless you think you should give the guest room another try."

"I'd much rather sleep next to you" he said. "Maybe I'll have only one nightmare, like last night."

This time I didn't get to see him naked even from the back, because he showered and changed in the guest room. But when he came into my bedroom I got a brief look at the bulge filling out the front of his briefs. I could see that he was as well developed there as everywhere else.

In bed, I don't know how long he remained awake, because I fell asleep quickly.

I'm a light sleeper so a little later when he moved closer I felt it.

I kept still.

He gingerly put an arm around me. I took his hand and gave it a gentle, welcoming squeeze but immediately let go so that he wouldn't think I was expecting any further intimacy.

He did nothing more, and before long I heard his breathing settle back into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.

Some time after that, he had a nightmare. I brought him out of it, as I had done the previous night.

And as on the previous night, it was his only nightmare.

In the morning, I woke up needing to use the bathroom. His arm was draped over me. I moved it away cautiously but he stirred, and when he saw me getting up, he said: "Good morning. Time to go to work?"

"Not yet" I said. "Sleep a little longer. I'll wake you when breakfast is ready."

"I should help" he said, starting to sit up.

"No" I replied. "You need the sleep."

After a moment, he said "Thank you" and turned over.

In the cafeteria at lunch, he told me that he had been able to get an appointment with a psychiatrist for the following evening. He asked apprehensively if I was still willing to go with him.

"Yes, stop worrying about it, I won't change my mind. By the way, will you be staying at my place tonight?"

"If it's ok with you."

"You're welcome to stay anytime you want."

He flashed me one of his big, beautiful smiles.

He looks especially handsome when he smiles.

When we went to bed that night, he didn't wait before putting an arm around me. I took his hand, and this time I didn't let go.

=====

Tuesday morning, Todd again showered and put on a fresh pair of briefs in the guest room, depriving me of a chance to view his naked body.

He joined me in my bedroom, where we had hung his clothes. As we were getting dressed, I could tell that he was nervous. I knew what it must be, but I wanted him to tell me: "Something is bothering you."

"It's that obvious, huh? I'm kind of worried about the shrink. I don't know what they do. Someone said they inject you with truth serum and make you spill your guts."

"First of all" I said, "that's rarely used these days except with extremely uncooperative patients. And anyway, if he wants to give you an injection or do anything else you don't feel comfortable about, you have the right to refuse. Secondly, what's popularly called truth serum is not a serum and it doesn't make you tell the truth. It's typically a light dose of sedative, which produces a mellowing effect and reduces a patient's inhibitions. But it doesn't rob you of control: you can hold back whatever you choose not to tell the psychiatrist, and you can even lie. Though I don't know what would be the point of lying or holding back, because the more he knows about you the better he'll be able to help you. As to what they do, they encourage you to talk about whatever is troubling you so much that it interferes with your life."

"That's all, you talk?"

"You talk, they listen, and what else they do depends on the therapist. He might prescribe medication, he might guide you toward a realization of where your problems come from and he might give you methods of dealing with them, the specific approach varies from one therapist to another."

Todd nodded, and reached for his shirt. His back was to me. When I managed to raise my eyes from his briefs, which were hugging that spectacular behind as I wished I could be doing, I noticed the tension in his shoulder muscles. "Don't put the shirt on yet" I said. "I'm going to do something about those tight muscles." I walked up in back of him and began a shoulder massage, saying: "I'll be with you, Todd. If you find the psychiatrist or anything he wants to do objectionable, you can walk out and we'll go home. Remember that."

Todd turned his head and said "Shawn, you're great."

"I'm just a friend who hates to see you suffer" I responded, pressing and kneading where I felt the knots of tension.

"A great friend" he insisted. "And could you maybe keep this up for another few minutes?"

I was more than happy to oblige.

As I used my fingers and palms to work the smooth flesh, I could feel the tension melting away. Finally he felt relaxed, and I stopped.

He turned to me. "Thanks, that was wonderful."

=====

Todd walked back out into the waiting room from his first visit with the psychiatrist looking different - more confident, more assured.

While we were walking to the car, I asked "So? What do you think?"

"This guy is good" he told me with some enthusiasm. "I feel a little better already."

"No injections?"

He laughed. "No. I asked him about truth serum and he said he never uses things like that. Hey, thanks a million for coming with me."

"I was happy to do it."

On our way home, Todd said: "I'm really grateful to you for pushing me about this. If not for you, I don't think I would have gone. I should also tell you that the therapist said what you said: that if I didn't do anything about the PTSD, it would destroy me. Which means you probably saved my life."

I reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze. "What an awesome thing to say."

I glanced over at him. He looked elated, ebullient. "It's good to see you looking so much better" I told him.

We rode for some time in comfortable silence. Then suddenly he said: "When I broke down in that thunderstorm the other night ... Thanks for not telling me to just suck it up and stop being such a crybaby."

"Todd, that's the last thing I would ever say to you. As boys, we're told not to cry, but sometimes crying is exactly what's needed. Women are a lot smarter than us; they cry when they need to, and they're not ashamed of it."

He put a hand on my thigh and said: "You're not only a great friend, you're a wise friend."

As we continued toward my apartment, I wondered what our friendship would be like, now that Todd was getting help. Apparently this psychiatrist was good; very good. Todd had seen him for only one session and already there were changes: He was less diffident; he did not have the 'lost' air I had become used to; his voice was stronger, and his speech was no longer hesitant. Would he still want to sleep in my bed, or would he move to the guest room? Would he even want to stay at my apartment? I hoped that touching my thigh had been a signal. "Would you like to stay overnight at my place a little longer?" I offered. "Until you're comfortable being alone. Unless you'd rather try sleeping at home."

"I'd rather stay with you" he answered, "if that's ok."

This was promising. "Of course it's ok, that's why I asked. You have a standing invitation. You're welcome to stay as long as you want."

He smiled. That dazzling smile. "Thank you. Hey, let's celebrate!" And in his newly confident voice: "I'm taking you to dinner!"

"I know better than to tell you it's not necessary. By the way, did the therapist give you any medication?"

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." He took a prescription slip from his pocket.

We filled the prescription before we went to dinner. It was for a tranquilizer, and the instructions were to take it at bedtime.

By the time we got back to my place, it was fairly late for a work night. I had a few chores to take care of, but I suggested that Todd take the tranquilizer and go right to bed.

I went into the bedroom an hour later. He was sleeping peacefully. Looking at him, I felt a rush of affection.

The weather was warm, and he had not covered himself. I gazed at him for several minutes, particularly appreciating his muscular thighs, his broad, smooth chest, and his admirably flat belly, to say nothing of what his briefs indicated they held in check.

It wasn't easy to break away and go to into the bathroom to wash up and brush my teeth.

When I climbed into bed next to Todd, he remained asleep. For several minutes I watched him, then I started to turn away.

I slipped, and ended up plopping down hard. The abrupt motion of the mattress brought him half awake. He opened his eyes briefly, and smiled at me.

With a matching smile, I whispered "Good night".

Then I turned over.

He put his arm around me and went back to sleep, but after a few minutes he began mumbling. I couldn't understand most of the words, but with difficulty I managed to make out "feel safe."

Soon he was sound asleep again, and slept for the rest of the night.

In the morning, as on the previous day he was roused when I moved his arm, but he readily accepted my offer to let him stay in bed while I cooked breakfast.

When I went in a short time later to tell him that breakfast was ready, he looked particularly cheerful. I commented, and he said: "I had no nightmares, Shawn. Not one."

-------

Todd was getting up from the table after breakfast, when he sank back into his chair, clutching his side. I rushed over to him, but he straightened up and said "It's ok."

"What's ok?" I demanded to know. "What happened?"

"I get a twinge sometimes."

"That looked like one hell of a twinge! A souvenir from your military career?"

"Yeah. I'd rather not talk about it."

"Look, it might be none of my business ordinarily, but when I see you in pain I can't stand here and watch. How many times were you wounded?"

"A couple."

"A couple as in how many?"

"... Four."

"And they kept sending you back into combat?"

"After this one, they sent me home."

"How many of the wounds give you trouble?"

"This is the only one that's a real problem. There was a big piece of shrapnel. They got it out, but it did a lot of damage. Sometimes it hurts pretty bad."

"Like now."

"Yeah."

"Can anything be done, will it get better with time?"

"They said it would get better gradually, but for now I should use warm compresses."

"I'll heat up some water."

"We have to go to work."

"I'll call in and tell them we'll be late."

"But..."

"No arguments. Sit down, I'll be right back."

I called our office and told them that Todd was at my place and we would be delayed for about an hour. While the water was heating, I went and got a bowl and a washrag. "Stand up" I said, somewhat peremptorily, and put a towel on the chair where Todd had been sitting. "Now drop 'em."

He looked startled.

I explained: "A wet compress needs to be applied directly to the skin. Also, I don't think you want to go to work with wet pants."

He lowered his trousers. I saw a scar on his right hip that extended into his briefs

"And your briefs."

Todd gave me an impish look. "You aren't trying to seduce me, are you?"

I grinned at him. "I'm tempted, but I don't hit on straight men, not even hunks like you. And I wouldn't be this crude about it. Now take your briefs down."

Reluctantly, and with his typical shyness, he slowly lowered his underpants, murmuring "No one else has ever said I'm a hunk."

Two things were now revealed: One was the full extent of an angry scar that ran further down his thigh and obviously embarrassed him. The other was a 'package' that caused a stirring at my crotch. Below a medium-brown bush was an exquisite, circumcised penis that called to me, begging to be sucked. At the moment it was lying on two full, smooth balls.

After making sure the water temperature was right, I soaked the washrag, wrung it out, and applied it over the scar while he sat in the chair. "When did you get this?" I asked him.

"About four months ago. I'm just starting to get feeling back in the area. I can sense the warmth of the washcloth but I can't feel that it's wet. They said that full sensation should come back eventually but it'll take a long time because nerves repair slowly. Hey, thanks. This is helping a lot."

"We'll do another one when we get back home" I promised. "Didn't they give you medication for when the pain gets bad?"

"They did, but it ran out and I haven't gotten around to getting more."

"So you just grit your teeth and tolerate the pain?"

"I use Aspirin. It takes the edge off."

"If I weren't so polite I'd tell you what a dumb schmuck you are, not to get the prescription refilled."

For twenty minutes I rinsed the rag each time it cooled, and then reapplied it. I also gave him four aspirin. Thanks to that and the warm compress, the pain had subsided by the time we left for work, and as far as I could tell it was held in check for the entire day.

After work, I drove him to the Veteran's Administration office and had him get a refill of the pain medication, which the label identified as Percocet. The Dispensary pharmacist said not to drive or operate machinery within twelve hours of taking it. She also told him not to take the Percocet and the tranquilizer within twelve hours of each other.

On the way home from the VA, I saw that Todd was wincing with pain again. As soon as we got inside my apartment I did another warm compress and gave him two aspirin. Then I took his hand and said: "Until the aspirin takes effect, squeeze every time it hurts."

"Squeeze your hand? I'm not a little kid" he complained.

But he kept hold of my hand.

His comment reminded me of a scene in an old film, "I Remember Mama." The film was based on a novel about a Norwegian immigrant couple and their extended family. I summarized the scene for him: The youngest son, U.S.-born and about five years old, is in the hospital following surgery, and frequently has pain. His crusty old bachelor uncle is visiting him, along with a very proper elderly lady relative. The uncle tells the boy that it will make the pain less if he calls out the Norwegian curse word 'domyit' every time it hurts. Out of earshot of the boy, the lady chastises the uncle for teaching profanity to a young child. The uncle loudly asks her: "Do you know what 'domyit' means?" When she admits that she does not, he tells her pointedly that it means 'stupid old goat!'.

Todd appreciated the story and began to laugh, but it was cut short by another stab of pain. He squeezed my hand. Hard.

=====

That evening, Todd went to bed early after taking a Percocet. He was asleep when I came into the bedroom about an hour later. I stood watching him for a few minutes before lifting the blanket and joining him. He grunted when my weight tilted the mattress, but he didn't wake up.

In the middle of the night, I became aware that his arm was around me as usual, but I also felt his lips against the back of my shoulder. I lay awake for a while, enjoying the feel of his warm, moist breath on my skin.

The next day he was feeling much better. Although there was some pain, mostly in the afternoon, it was kept in check by the aspirin. He went to bed early again, but he didn't use the Percocet.

An hour later I went in to check on him. As I stood there drinking in the sight of this gorgeous man, he opened his eyes. "Hi" he said. "What's happening?"

"Nothing" I told him, "I came in to see how you were doing. I'll be back later."

I returned at eleven o'clock and got into bed. He didn't stir.

Later that night I found his arm around me, as was now usual, but this time instead of just lying close, he was spooned up against my back. Through both our briefs I felt his erect penis along the cleft of my behind.

My own penis had hardened as soon as I awoke and felt his body in full contact with mine. I lay there wondering if he was awake and his erection was personal, or if it was no more than the deep-sleep tumescence of a healthy young male.

He didn't move. I was unable to determine whether he was awake. Eventually I drifted back to sleep.

=====