Page 123 of While I’m Still Here

When I come back to myself, I’m lying in a tangle of limbs, still trembling. Colin kisses my cheek. Danny presses his forehead to my shoulder. Marcus sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smiles at me like I’ve given him a gift.

“Good?” he asks.

I laugh, breathless. “You know it was.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t want to assume.”

The laughter breaks some of the intensity, but not all of it. Danny is looking at me with something like awe, and Colin’s arms are still around me, anchoring me to the bed. My body feels alive in a way it hasn’t in months—electric, present, and utterly mine.

I sit up, and they all react at once, hands reaching for me, eyes wide. But I know what I want next. “I want you inside me,” I say, looking from Danny to Marcus. “Take turns. Colin, I want you in my mouth.”

For a moment, nobody moves. Then Marcus rises, patient as ever, and begins to undo his shirt. Danny grins, that quick, reckless grin I know too well, and reaches for the button of his sleep pants. Colin turns my face toward his and kisses me, deep and slow, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as if he’s tasting the evidence of what just happened.

“You’re sure?” he whispers against my lips.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He nods and settles back against the pillows, guiding me to turn so that my face hovers above his lap. I feel the heat of him through his boxers, and my mouth waters. Colin brushes a thumb over my bottom lip.

“Show me,” he says softly.

I do.

His cock springs free when I pull him out, thick and already slick at the tip. I lower my mouth over him, and behind me, I hear the sound of a condom unwrapping—Danny, probably. Then hands on my hips, firm and steady, and the slow, careful press of him entering me from behind.

I moan around Colin, my eyes fluttering shut as Danny fills me. He starts to move, not fast, but deep, each thrust pressing me closer to Colin’s lap. Marcus kneels beside us, stroking himself slowly, watching everything. The room fills with the sounds of our bodies, wet and rhythmic, and I’m lost in it—full at both ends, surrounded by men who want me, who see me, who are here.

Danny finishes with a shudder and pulls away, just as Colin finishes in my mouth, and I swallow every drop. Then Marcus is there, turning me onto my back, lifting my hips, sliding into me with a kind of reverence that makes my heart stutter. Colin takes my hand and holds it while Marcus moves, each thrust measured and relentless, until I’m gasping and close again. “Look at me,” Marcus says, and I do. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re here. You’re so fucking beautiful, Bea. Our beautiful.” Thrust. “Strong.” Thrust. “Woman.”

I come apart under him, and this time I don’t bother trying to hide the tears in my eyes. I close my eyes and let myself feel it without trying to memorise anything. That's what the photographs are for. I don't need to turn this into evidence too.

Tonight doesn't need preserving.

It only needs living.

And when Colin eventually pulls the duvet over us, when Danny complains that somebody has stolen half his pillow and Marcus discovers there is apparently no dignified way for four adults to fit into one bed, I laugh until my stomach hurts.

Tomorrow morning, I will wake up and be frightened again.

Tomorrow morning, I will put on clothes and go to hospital.

Tomorrow morning, I will hand my body over to people I have to trust to change it so I have the best chance of still being here for all the stupid, ordinary mornings that come afterwards.

But that is tomorrow.

Tonight, I lie in the dark with Colin's fingers tangled through mine, Danny warm against my other side and Marcus close enough that I can feel him breathe.

My hand finds my chest one last time.

Left.

Right.

I don't count, and I don't say goodbye again; I’ve already done all of that. Instead, I close my eyes and let the tears fall because none of this is okay, and somehow admitting it makes me feel at peace for now.

Chapter 20

NO TITTIE BEA