Let the Good Times Roll Part 40
Title: Let the Good Times Roll
Author: Concupid
Pairing: Howard/Vince
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: non-con, dub-con, trauma, explicit sex, angst
Summary: Vince proceeds with caution and reflects on the traumas he and Howard have been through.
Author’s note: I said this would be all fluff and sex and I was half right…
Of Vince’s many youthful dalliances, the most regrettable was the man who sounded the most like Howard. He looked all wrong, but he was from Leeds and his hands were roughly the size of Howard’s. When Vince closed his eyes, it was easy enough to pretend he was listening to Howard call him Little Man.
He didn’t remember the man’s name, if he ever knew it, because the man was so very eager to slip into the role of Howard. He used everything Vince told him to bring the character to life and even years later, Vince was begrudgingly impressed by how well he seemed to understand what Vince wanted and needed.
It wasn’t long before Vince was at the strange man’s flat and in his bed. He told the man to wear a condom, but the man kept up his Howard persona.
“You’re safe with me, Little Man. I’ll always take care of you.”
Vince was drunk and high and sad and confused and he really wanted a Howard that would whisper tenderly in his ear instead of yelling at him to go to school, so he ignored the Howardy sounding voice in his head telling him to run in favor of the Howardy sounding voice whispering in his ear and telling him to just give in. The man promised in dulcet tones to pull out before he came, but Vince wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when he didn’t.
Vince didn’t remember going home, but he remembered the morning after and the horrible realization he’d had unprotected sex with a manipulative stranger at least twice his age. He went to the clinic and got himself tested on his own, determined to hide his secret from Howard.
Then the doctor said he had Chlamydia and he went home to his real Howard and cried like a baby. Howard awkwardly patted his shoulder and promised everything would be all right. It wasn’t until Vince was calm that Howard started asking questions.
Vince told some of the truth, that he’d been out of his mind, but he had asked his partner to wear a johnny. He was embarrassed to tell the story. He felt stupid for giving in instead of holding his ground.
Howard wanted Vince to press charges against the man who “assaulted” him. The more Vince argued that he’d been a willing participant, the more vehement Howard became. Howard said an underage boy under the influence of drink and drugs couldn’t consent, full stop, and that giving in to coercion was not consent under any circumstances.
The whole conversation did Vince’s head in. Howard lost some of his conviction when Vince pinned him down on whether or not Howard believed a police officer would share his view of the situation. Vince knew damn well that once he went home with a stranger, he would be held accountable for anything that happened to him, no matter how messed up. The letter of the law didn’t matter, because Vince had been in a gay bar, looking to pull. That was just how the world worked.
At least, that was how the world worked for everyone but Howard, who insisted Vince had been violated. He was so passionate, Vince might have followed his advice and gone to the police if it weren’t for all the horrible facts that would likely come out in the process. He couldn’t have Howard knowing he was shagging total strangers just because they were from Leeds and said the things he wanted so badly to hear from the real Howard.
So Vince kept his mouth shut, and he never saw the man again, but he never stopped thinking about that night. His actual memories were fuzzy, but over time, he constructed a memory where the man was the spitting image of Howard and shared his voice. He could hear Howard saying, “I’m going to take care of you, Little Man. I know what you need.”
The more he wondered if Howard was right, if he should feel angry at the stranger rather than himself, the more confused he felt and the more he acted out. He was awful to Howard, but Howard was never unkind in return. He was frustrated and brittle, but he never gave up on Vince.
And when Howard dream walked into Vince’s nightmare and found Vince trying to get out from under Howard’s doppelganger without actually having to use the word, “No,” Howard looked so devastated that Vince was knocked back to reality even as he continued to dream. He and Howard held one another in silence until Howard’s alarm went off, waking them both. For the next few days, Howard doted on Vince during the day and had terrible nightmares at night. When Vince tried to comfort Howard, the Northerner insisted it was Vince’s “turn” to be taken care of. It didn’t matter to Howard that he’d been taking care of Vince for his entire adult life, he never seemed to believe he was doing a very good job.
So Vince allowed himself to be coddled and he basked in Howard’s tender and gentle affection. When they made love, Howard was even more eager to please than usual, as though atoning for the fake Howard’s selfishness.
Vince had been confused at fifteen and he was only more confused at the age of… twenty-two. He had always thought love was complicated but sex was easy. Being with Howard taught him that sex could be just as complicated as anything, even Sudoku. As Vince struggled to understand the gray area of consent, he better understood Howard’s struggle with the same issue. Howard had a different set of rules for himself than he had for Vince. While he was always willing to see Vince as an innocent party, he never, ever granted himself the same tolerance.
So, even as Howard carried him up the stairs, insisting he wanted a bumming, Vince wondered why. He knew damn well why Howard was talking about it in relation to their anniversary. Vince had said he thought it would be a year before Howard would be ready for full on sex, and apparently Howard took that to mean he had exactly one year to be ready for a bumming from Vince, or else. It was typical of Howard to be so black and white when it came to his recovery. Howard had trouble focusing on the process, he wanted results. It was Howard’s obsession with being ready for Vince that led Vince to dream about topping Howard. He wanted so badly to sooth Howard’s nerves and show him that it could be tender and romantic as opposed to Howard stoically offering himself up like a virgin sacrifice to appease an angry volcano. Vince wanted to top Howard and he wanted to tie him up with scarves and he wanted to role play that they were back at the Zoo and doing it in the Keeper Hut and he really, really wanted to get Howard back in his goth make-up for a shag - but Vince was happy to wait for the right time. He had decades to get Howard into some black eyeliner.
xxx
When Howard tossed him on the bed, Vince laughed as he bounced, while Howard watched and looked proud of himself. He looked hot when he was proud of himself. Vince had Howard’s trousers and pants around his ankles before the Northerner had time to react. Vince took Howard’s cock in his mouth while Howard was still making surprised noises. Howard groaned quietly as he gently stroked Vince’s hair. No matter how many times he gave Howard permission to mess up his hair, Howard rarely forgot to be careful. He’d ghost his hands around the perimeter of Vince’s hair so gently, it felt like butterflies landing on his barnett.
But sometimes, Howard would forget himself and run his fingers through Vince’s hair or even tug at it a little. Vince liked it when Howard forgot to be careful
Howard said, “Whoa, there,” as Vince took him all the day down his throat. He wrapped his fingers in Vince’s hair and tugged.
“Don’t choke yourself, Little Man,” Howard said in a strangled tone. He was either about to come or laugh. By the grip he had on Vince’s hair, it could be both.
“Better slow down,” Howard whispered.
Vince made a noise that he hoped conveyed his dissent. If Howard wanted a bumming, it would be better if he got off first so he’d be nice and relaxed.
And if he changed his mind about the bumming, Vince would happily take a handjob and cuddle. Or a wank in the bathroom while Howard slept. He’d be able to get off just thinking about being carried up the stairs like a South London Scarlett O’Hara.
“Should I…?” Howard whispered. When Vince nodded, Howard obliged almost immediately, coming so long and hard, Vince was ready to put money on ‘having a wank while Howard slept’. The big man already looked a little unsteady on his feet by the time Vince licked him clean, so he pulled Howard down onto the bed.
Howard held him tight and apologized for pulling his hair.
“You’re allowed to pull my hair,” Vince reminded him. “My hair is a precious gift that I saved for Mr. Right.”
Howard chuckled and said, “Well, you can pull my hair as well - but be gentle. It’s like cornsilk. It’ll pull right out in your hand.”
Vince gave a loving pat to Howard’s soft and fine curls. When Howard used the right shampoo (when Vince hid his favored shampoo/conditioner/body wash/anti-fungal cream/remedy for poison oak bottle), his hair looked full and bouncy, but it always felt a bit like brown smoke.
“Like I could get enough of a grip to pull,” Vince teased. “It’s like trying to catch a ghost with your hands.”
“Should I, you know, or do you want to…?”
“My anniversary gift to you weren’t a bumming, you know,” Vince clarified to be on the safe side. “I got you a proper, thoughtful, romantic gift.”
“I know you aren’t pushing the issue,” Howard sighed. “It’s just always on my mind.”
Vince curled into Howard’s side, “Why?”
Howard was quiet for a long time.
“Why is it such a big deal to you?” Vince prompted. “Is it because of my dreams?”
Howard hugged him tightly, the way he often did if Vince implied he was anything short of perfect. “It’s not you, Little Man. It’s just…”
Vince let the silence continue, fighting his urge to yell, “Spit it out, Moon!” Instead, he rubbed Howard’s belly like he was a dog. Howard wasn’t good at soothing himself, but Vince had learned several tricks in the last year.
“It’s my dreams,” Howard finally replied. “I’m worried about having a flashback or a panic attack and having it set us back. The longer we wait, the more of a big deal it becomes. We should have done it straight away…”
“But you’ve had the EDM treatment now,” Vince reminded him. “Now you don’t have hardly any flashbacks.”
“It’s EMDR. I hardly think an EDM treatment would have helped sooth my jazzy soul,” Howard teased.
“Whatever it’s called, Saboo snapped his fingers at you and you stopped having so many flashbacks. It was smart to wait,” Vince pointed out, feeling quite sensible. Saboo had resisted using EDMR, because the mystical, alien Shaman considered it “crazy”, but it worked. Howard had the occasional episode, but he was so much better it was remarkable.
“If I hadn’t pushed so hard early on, things wouldn’t have been so… upsetting.”
Vince no longer got whiplash from how quickly Howard found new ways to blame himself for his problems. Overall, he’d gotten much better and more optimistic, but when he was feeling fragile, Howard was again full of self-loathing.
“You was just saying we should have bummed straight away and now you’re saying the opposite,” Vince pointed out.
Howard looked sheepish, “You got me, sir. Old habits and all.”
Vince kissed the tip of Howard’s nose.
“I love you, Howard.”
“I love you, Vince.”
Vince had seen more than enough of Howard’s dreams to understand the big man’s fears. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the violent dreams of the Hitcher or the dreams in which Howard was being topped by a cold and hostile version of Vince. The Vince of Howard’s nightmares came and went with Howard’s recovery, and his hair color was no longer black, but changed to reflect Howard’s current fears. It was a golden blond Vince with green and purple highlights who indifferently mounted Howard while coldly demanding to know why Howard couldn’t “get it up” when he should be thrilled someone still wanted to touch him. It was a demon Howard hadn’t managed to exorcise, the idea that he was sullied and that it was possible for him to disappoint Vince in the bedroom.
Suddenly, it was easy. Vince used an absurd amount of lubricant and spent more than half an hour stretching Howard, and carefully arranging him into position with pillows, but it was well worth the effort when Howard shuddered without so much as a grimace as Vince slid inside. Vince had been a student of the art of bumming for many years, but in the past year, he’d been involved in some pretty advanced study. He had a variety of lubricants and pillows of assorted shapes and sizes aimed for maximum comfort. While Vince sometimes liked it a little rough, Howard had to be half in the bag to fuck Vince without preparing him like it was their first time.
Vince had been tempted to take Howard from behind, like in the “fire extinguisher dream” as Howard euphemistically referred to it, but he wanted to watch Howard’s face for any signs of discomfort or panic. Howard’s knuckles were white as he clutched the bedsheet and he was cursing through clenched teeth, but it was undoubtedly a positive reaction.
Vince had endured a few bummings by closing his eyes and thinking about Howard before he found out what all the fuss was about. He’d begun to think anal sex was something he would simply endure for Howard because that was what pretty boys did for their big, strapping boyfriends until someone showed him how it could feel like a religious experience. He still remembered how shaky and weak he felt as a stranger with fine and curly hair went from slowly stimulating every nerve ending in Vince’s body to making his eyes roll back in his head with every well aimed thrust. After that eye opening (and rolling) encounter, he was better able to tell his lovers what he wanted and what felt good, but it was rare he found someone willing to take the time to really do it right.
He was going to do it right for Howard. He wasn’t going to leave any room in Howard’s brain for the Hitcher or Old Gregg or evil Vince. He never admitted it, but Vince was pretty sure the times with Old Gregg where it hadn’t hurt too badly were Howard’s idea of how it was supposed to feel and that the dreams he shared with Vince were unrealistically enjoyable.
Vince wanted to put the fire extinguisher dream to shame. He never wanted Howard to cringe and ask, “Are you sure?” again when Vince said he wanted Howard inside of him.
Of course, when Vince imagined showing Howard how good it could be, he’d imagined Howard being a little reticent and nervous. He wasn’t prepared for Howard to wrap his legs around Vince’s waist and try to pull him in deeper.
“Whoa, there!” Vince teased, mimicking Howard’s usual caution. “Patience is a virtue and all the rubbish…”
Howard dragged him down for a passionate kiss and then began thrusting his hips upwards. Vince distinctly felt he was losing control of the situation.
Howard whined like a puppy when Vince pulled out, but he rolled over and got on his hands and knees without a question. The position gave Howard more freedom to control their pace, and Vince resigned himself to hanging on for dear life. When Howard reached back to stroke Vince’s thigh, and rear end, Vince cooed a mixture of loving and obscene statements. He didn’t want Howard to forget for a second who he was with and who was making him feel good. He felt a bit dim when Howard had to drag Vince’s hand to his cock (helping your partner get off was kind of step number one in a proper bumming), but it didn’t take long to get Howard hard and keening like a wild animal.
Their shared dreams were uncannily realistic at times, but always a bit blurry around the edges. While Vince had topped Howard in dream walks, he wasn’t prepared for the full intensity of his tight muscles and the incredibly soft and warm flesh that gripped him. He really wasn’t prepared for the way Howard’s entire body clenched with his orgasm. Vince clenched his eyes closed so hard, he saw stars as he came, and once he was able to move his wobbly legs enough to lay down next to Howard, he couldn’t wait to tell the big man.
“You made me see stars. For real. Genius.”
Howard was a bit trembly and his eyelashes were wet, but he smiled.
“Worth the wait?” Vince could hear the self-deprecation in Howard’s voice, but he didn’t understand it. He was resigned to the fact there were things about Howard he would never understand, no matter how much they shared.
“Christ, yes,” Vince answered, as he tried to burrow into Howard’s chest. He couldn’t seem to get close enough. “That was amazing.”
Howard chuckled and kissed the top of Vince’s head.
“Hold me tighter, Howard. I feel all loose, like I might fall to pieces.”
Howard didn’t ask for an explanation, he just held Vince tight enough to keep him from breaking apart at the seems.
Author: Concupid
Pairing: Howard/Vince
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: non-con, dub-con, trauma, explicit sex, angst
Summary: Vince proceeds with caution and reflects on the traumas he and Howard have been through.
Author’s note: I said this would be all fluff and sex and I was half right…
Of Vince’s many youthful dalliances, the most regrettable was the man who sounded the most like Howard. He looked all wrong, but he was from Leeds and his hands were roughly the size of Howard’s. When Vince closed his eyes, it was easy enough to pretend he was listening to Howard call him Little Man.
He didn’t remember the man’s name, if he ever knew it, because the man was so very eager to slip into the role of Howard. He used everything Vince told him to bring the character to life and even years later, Vince was begrudgingly impressed by how well he seemed to understand what Vince wanted and needed.
It wasn’t long before Vince was at the strange man’s flat and in his bed. He told the man to wear a condom, but the man kept up his Howard persona.
“You’re safe with me, Little Man. I’ll always take care of you.”
Vince was drunk and high and sad and confused and he really wanted a Howard that would whisper tenderly in his ear instead of yelling at him to go to school, so he ignored the Howardy sounding voice in his head telling him to run in favor of the Howardy sounding voice whispering in his ear and telling him to just give in. The man promised in dulcet tones to pull out before he came, but Vince wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when he didn’t.
Vince didn’t remember going home, but he remembered the morning after and the horrible realization he’d had unprotected sex with a manipulative stranger at least twice his age. He went to the clinic and got himself tested on his own, determined to hide his secret from Howard.
Then the doctor said he had Chlamydia and he went home to his real Howard and cried like a baby. Howard awkwardly patted his shoulder and promised everything would be all right. It wasn’t until Vince was calm that Howard started asking questions.
Vince told some of the truth, that he’d been out of his mind, but he had asked his partner to wear a johnny. He was embarrassed to tell the story. He felt stupid for giving in instead of holding his ground.
Howard wanted Vince to press charges against the man who “assaulted” him. The more Vince argued that he’d been a willing participant, the more vehement Howard became. Howard said an underage boy under the influence of drink and drugs couldn’t consent, full stop, and that giving in to coercion was not consent under any circumstances.
The whole conversation did Vince’s head in. Howard lost some of his conviction when Vince pinned him down on whether or not Howard believed a police officer would share his view of the situation. Vince knew damn well that once he went home with a stranger, he would be held accountable for anything that happened to him, no matter how messed up. The letter of the law didn’t matter, because Vince had been in a gay bar, looking to pull. That was just how the world worked.
At least, that was how the world worked for everyone but Howard, who insisted Vince had been violated. He was so passionate, Vince might have followed his advice and gone to the police if it weren’t for all the horrible facts that would likely come out in the process. He couldn’t have Howard knowing he was shagging total strangers just because they were from Leeds and said the things he wanted so badly to hear from the real Howard.
So Vince kept his mouth shut, and he never saw the man again, but he never stopped thinking about that night. His actual memories were fuzzy, but over time, he constructed a memory where the man was the spitting image of Howard and shared his voice. He could hear Howard saying, “I’m going to take care of you, Little Man. I know what you need.”
The more he wondered if Howard was right, if he should feel angry at the stranger rather than himself, the more confused he felt and the more he acted out. He was awful to Howard, but Howard was never unkind in return. He was frustrated and brittle, but he never gave up on Vince.
And when Howard dream walked into Vince’s nightmare and found Vince trying to get out from under Howard’s doppelganger without actually having to use the word, “No,” Howard looked so devastated that Vince was knocked back to reality even as he continued to dream. He and Howard held one another in silence until Howard’s alarm went off, waking them both. For the next few days, Howard doted on Vince during the day and had terrible nightmares at night. When Vince tried to comfort Howard, the Northerner insisted it was Vince’s “turn” to be taken care of. It didn’t matter to Howard that he’d been taking care of Vince for his entire adult life, he never seemed to believe he was doing a very good job.
So Vince allowed himself to be coddled and he basked in Howard’s tender and gentle affection. When they made love, Howard was even more eager to please than usual, as though atoning for the fake Howard’s selfishness.
Vince had been confused at fifteen and he was only more confused at the age of… twenty-two. He had always thought love was complicated but sex was easy. Being with Howard taught him that sex could be just as complicated as anything, even Sudoku. As Vince struggled to understand the gray area of consent, he better understood Howard’s struggle with the same issue. Howard had a different set of rules for himself than he had for Vince. While he was always willing to see Vince as an innocent party, he never, ever granted himself the same tolerance.
So, even as Howard carried him up the stairs, insisting he wanted a bumming, Vince wondered why. He knew damn well why Howard was talking about it in relation to their anniversary. Vince had said he thought it would be a year before Howard would be ready for full on sex, and apparently Howard took that to mean he had exactly one year to be ready for a bumming from Vince, or else. It was typical of Howard to be so black and white when it came to his recovery. Howard had trouble focusing on the process, he wanted results. It was Howard’s obsession with being ready for Vince that led Vince to dream about topping Howard. He wanted so badly to sooth Howard’s nerves and show him that it could be tender and romantic as opposed to Howard stoically offering himself up like a virgin sacrifice to appease an angry volcano. Vince wanted to top Howard and he wanted to tie him up with scarves and he wanted to role play that they were back at the Zoo and doing it in the Keeper Hut and he really, really wanted to get Howard back in his goth make-up for a shag - but Vince was happy to wait for the right time. He had decades to get Howard into some black eyeliner.
xxx
When Howard tossed him on the bed, Vince laughed as he bounced, while Howard watched and looked proud of himself. He looked hot when he was proud of himself. Vince had Howard’s trousers and pants around his ankles before the Northerner had time to react. Vince took Howard’s cock in his mouth while Howard was still making surprised noises. Howard groaned quietly as he gently stroked Vince’s hair. No matter how many times he gave Howard permission to mess up his hair, Howard rarely forgot to be careful. He’d ghost his hands around the perimeter of Vince’s hair so gently, it felt like butterflies landing on his barnett.
But sometimes, Howard would forget himself and run his fingers through Vince’s hair or even tug at it a little. Vince liked it when Howard forgot to be careful
Howard said, “Whoa, there,” as Vince took him all the day down his throat. He wrapped his fingers in Vince’s hair and tugged.
“Don’t choke yourself, Little Man,” Howard said in a strangled tone. He was either about to come or laugh. By the grip he had on Vince’s hair, it could be both.
“Better slow down,” Howard whispered.
Vince made a noise that he hoped conveyed his dissent. If Howard wanted a bumming, it would be better if he got off first so he’d be nice and relaxed.
And if he changed his mind about the bumming, Vince would happily take a handjob and cuddle. Or a wank in the bathroom while Howard slept. He’d be able to get off just thinking about being carried up the stairs like a South London Scarlett O’Hara.
“Should I…?” Howard whispered. When Vince nodded, Howard obliged almost immediately, coming so long and hard, Vince was ready to put money on ‘having a wank while Howard slept’. The big man already looked a little unsteady on his feet by the time Vince licked him clean, so he pulled Howard down onto the bed.
Howard held him tight and apologized for pulling his hair.
“You’re allowed to pull my hair,” Vince reminded him. “My hair is a precious gift that I saved for Mr. Right.”
Howard chuckled and said, “Well, you can pull my hair as well - but be gentle. It’s like cornsilk. It’ll pull right out in your hand.”
Vince gave a loving pat to Howard’s soft and fine curls. When Howard used the right shampoo (when Vince hid his favored shampoo/conditioner/body wash/anti-fungal cream/remedy for poison oak bottle), his hair looked full and bouncy, but it always felt a bit like brown smoke.
“Like I could get enough of a grip to pull,” Vince teased. “It’s like trying to catch a ghost with your hands.”
“Should I, you know, or do you want to…?”
“My anniversary gift to you weren’t a bumming, you know,” Vince clarified to be on the safe side. “I got you a proper, thoughtful, romantic gift.”
“I know you aren’t pushing the issue,” Howard sighed. “It’s just always on my mind.”
Vince curled into Howard’s side, “Why?”
Howard was quiet for a long time.
“Why is it such a big deal to you?” Vince prompted. “Is it because of my dreams?”
Howard hugged him tightly, the way he often did if Vince implied he was anything short of perfect. “It’s not you, Little Man. It’s just…”
Vince let the silence continue, fighting his urge to yell, “Spit it out, Moon!” Instead, he rubbed Howard’s belly like he was a dog. Howard wasn’t good at soothing himself, but Vince had learned several tricks in the last year.
“It’s my dreams,” Howard finally replied. “I’m worried about having a flashback or a panic attack and having it set us back. The longer we wait, the more of a big deal it becomes. We should have done it straight away…”
“But you’ve had the EDM treatment now,” Vince reminded him. “Now you don’t have hardly any flashbacks.”
“It’s EMDR. I hardly think an EDM treatment would have helped sooth my jazzy soul,” Howard teased.
“Whatever it’s called, Saboo snapped his fingers at you and you stopped having so many flashbacks. It was smart to wait,” Vince pointed out, feeling quite sensible. Saboo had resisted using EDMR, because the mystical, alien Shaman considered it “crazy”, but it worked. Howard had the occasional episode, but he was so much better it was remarkable.
“If I hadn’t pushed so hard early on, things wouldn’t have been so… upsetting.”
Vince no longer got whiplash from how quickly Howard found new ways to blame himself for his problems. Overall, he’d gotten much better and more optimistic, but when he was feeling fragile, Howard was again full of self-loathing.
“You was just saying we should have bummed straight away and now you’re saying the opposite,” Vince pointed out.
Howard looked sheepish, “You got me, sir. Old habits and all.”
Vince kissed the tip of Howard’s nose.
“I love you, Howard.”
“I love you, Vince.”
Vince had seen more than enough of Howard’s dreams to understand the big man’s fears. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the violent dreams of the Hitcher or the dreams in which Howard was being topped by a cold and hostile version of Vince. The Vince of Howard’s nightmares came and went with Howard’s recovery, and his hair color was no longer black, but changed to reflect Howard’s current fears. It was a golden blond Vince with green and purple highlights who indifferently mounted Howard while coldly demanding to know why Howard couldn’t “get it up” when he should be thrilled someone still wanted to touch him. It was a demon Howard hadn’t managed to exorcise, the idea that he was sullied and that it was possible for him to disappoint Vince in the bedroom.
Suddenly, it was easy. Vince used an absurd amount of lubricant and spent more than half an hour stretching Howard, and carefully arranging him into position with pillows, but it was well worth the effort when Howard shuddered without so much as a grimace as Vince slid inside. Vince had been a student of the art of bumming for many years, but in the past year, he’d been involved in some pretty advanced study. He had a variety of lubricants and pillows of assorted shapes and sizes aimed for maximum comfort. While Vince sometimes liked it a little rough, Howard had to be half in the bag to fuck Vince without preparing him like it was their first time.
Vince had been tempted to take Howard from behind, like in the “fire extinguisher dream” as Howard euphemistically referred to it, but he wanted to watch Howard’s face for any signs of discomfort or panic. Howard’s knuckles were white as he clutched the bedsheet and he was cursing through clenched teeth, but it was undoubtedly a positive reaction.
Vince had endured a few bummings by closing his eyes and thinking about Howard before he found out what all the fuss was about. He’d begun to think anal sex was something he would simply endure for Howard because that was what pretty boys did for their big, strapping boyfriends until someone showed him how it could feel like a religious experience. He still remembered how shaky and weak he felt as a stranger with fine and curly hair went from slowly stimulating every nerve ending in Vince’s body to making his eyes roll back in his head with every well aimed thrust. After that eye opening (and rolling) encounter, he was better able to tell his lovers what he wanted and what felt good, but it was rare he found someone willing to take the time to really do it right.
He was going to do it right for Howard. He wasn’t going to leave any room in Howard’s brain for the Hitcher or Old Gregg or evil Vince. He never admitted it, but Vince was pretty sure the times with Old Gregg where it hadn’t hurt too badly were Howard’s idea of how it was supposed to feel and that the dreams he shared with Vince were unrealistically enjoyable.
Vince wanted to put the fire extinguisher dream to shame. He never wanted Howard to cringe and ask, “Are you sure?” again when Vince said he wanted Howard inside of him.
Of course, when Vince imagined showing Howard how good it could be, he’d imagined Howard being a little reticent and nervous. He wasn’t prepared for Howard to wrap his legs around Vince’s waist and try to pull him in deeper.
“Whoa, there!” Vince teased, mimicking Howard’s usual caution. “Patience is a virtue and all the rubbish…”
Howard dragged him down for a passionate kiss and then began thrusting his hips upwards. Vince distinctly felt he was losing control of the situation.
Howard whined like a puppy when Vince pulled out, but he rolled over and got on his hands and knees without a question. The position gave Howard more freedom to control their pace, and Vince resigned himself to hanging on for dear life. When Howard reached back to stroke Vince’s thigh, and rear end, Vince cooed a mixture of loving and obscene statements. He didn’t want Howard to forget for a second who he was with and who was making him feel good. He felt a bit dim when Howard had to drag Vince’s hand to his cock (helping your partner get off was kind of step number one in a proper bumming), but it didn’t take long to get Howard hard and keening like a wild animal.
Their shared dreams were uncannily realistic at times, but always a bit blurry around the edges. While Vince had topped Howard in dream walks, he wasn’t prepared for the full intensity of his tight muscles and the incredibly soft and warm flesh that gripped him. He really wasn’t prepared for the way Howard’s entire body clenched with his orgasm. Vince clenched his eyes closed so hard, he saw stars as he came, and once he was able to move his wobbly legs enough to lay down next to Howard, he couldn’t wait to tell the big man.
“You made me see stars. For real. Genius.”
Howard was a bit trembly and his eyelashes were wet, but he smiled.
“Worth the wait?” Vince could hear the self-deprecation in Howard’s voice, but he didn’t understand it. He was resigned to the fact there were things about Howard he would never understand, no matter how much they shared.
“Christ, yes,” Vince answered, as he tried to burrow into Howard’s chest. He couldn’t seem to get close enough. “That was amazing.”
Howard chuckled and kissed the top of Vince’s head.
“Hold me tighter, Howard. I feel all loose, like I might fall to pieces.”
Howard didn’t ask for an explanation, he just held Vince tight enough to keep him from breaking apart at the seems.