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booshslashhavenTitle: Buried Deep, 7/7
Summary: More sleeping-bag sexytimes and a bit of explaining
Rating: NC-17 (Concupid, you can put that cane down and stop shouting now!)
Warnings: food porn involving a certain chocolate and hazelnut spread
Spoilers: There was plenty of Bailey’s in their bedtime cocoa last night
Length: about 4400 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, or the brand name of a certain chocolate and hazelnut spread. I just borrow them to play with every now and again. For twisted love, not for profit
Notes: It’s the night after Part 6. And this is the last part of this particular, umm, one-shot (!) - they can write their own future in this universe from here on in. Many thanks to everyone who's stuck with this saga, read and commented. I love you all. And I'll be back!
Buried Deep, part 7/7
It’s Thursday, and it’s only about nine o’clock, butVince is already tucked up in his half of the double sleeping bag, waiting for Howard to come out of the bathroom.
He’s been in there ages. Vince wonders what on earth he’s doing. If he’s much longer, he’ll come back to find Vince has fallen asleep.
Vince looks round the familiar hut, and starts wondering what it would have been like, if Howard hadn’t taken that wrong turning last night. Or worse, if they’d stayed angry with each other and still weren’t speaking.
It could be someone else in that bathroom right now, and Vince wouldn’t be in bed (and would have clothes on), and he’d have had a horrible day and wouldn’t have slept last night and wouldn’t be going to sleep tonight either and he’d be miserable.
There’s a lump in his throat now, just from thinking about it.
He pulls the covers up round his shoulders, and makes himself think about happy times instead.
Last night was happy times.
Mostly.
…
Howard put the music back on and went to fetch a bottle of Bailey’s and a mug before snuggling down on the sofa next to Vince.
“Thank you,” he said. “This is one of the best presents anybody’s ever given me.” And then he couldn’t say any more for a while, but Vince knew he’d got something right, and that was a wonderful warm fuzzy feeling after all the wrongness.
Vince gave Howard his hankie back and opened the Baileys, and they passed the mug back and forth, and the jazz threaded itself softly through the spaces in their conversation as Vince told Howard all about his adventures hunting for that disc in strange music shops and how he’d used the knowledge he’d picked up from Howard in order to invent himself a convincing online identity as ‘jazz_maverick69’ and get people on record-collectors’ forums to tell him stuff about where to look next.
The warm encouragement in Howard’s voice would have made the whole thing worth while even if the recording itself had been rubbish.
Then Howard told Vince all about his disastrous evening and they had a laugh about the drummer’s stupid hat, even though Vince hadn’t seen it.
After a while, the gaps in the conversation were getting longer than the talking parts; and by the time they’d turned over to the B side, Howard and the music and the Bailey’s between them had made Vince so relaxed he’d stopped talking altogether, and so had Howard, and they just held each other and just listened.
They’ve never listened to jazz together before. Not like that anyway. They’ve been in the same room while jazz music was playing and Howard was going on about it and Vince was interrupting, plenty of times, but this was different. Intimate, somehow. Almost like having sex, but without the heavy breathing and the sticky noises.
Howard took a comb from his pocket and started working it gently through the worst of the snarls in Vince’s hair.
It made Vince feel all wobbly.
Eventually it dawned on him that he was also wobbly because he was ravenous – he hadn’t eaten since his lunchtime sandwich, which he hadn’t finished because after the argument he wasn’t hungry any more. So when the music ended, Howard made them both cheese on toast and put more Bailey’s in the cocoa.
“Not exactly your posh restaurant,” Howard said, putting his empty plate on the floor, “but at least we’ve had it to ourselves.”
Vince sighed. “I’m sorry our date didn’t work out, Howard.”
“Well, next time you plan a date, don’t leave it to the last minute, tell me in advance. The anticipation’s all part of the fun. That’s how dates are supposed to be.”
And then Vince went wrong. So wrong, he nearly broke everything again. Without even thinking about it, he said:
“Like you’d know.”
“Don’t.” Howard’s face twisted with pain. “Why do you always have to do this?”
“Do what?” But he knew what; he was just trying to cover himself.
“Snipe at me, bring me down. You’ve been getting at me for the past fortnight.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have! The grey hair. The ‘little shifty eyes’ thing. The shoes, this morning.”
Vince thought about it. “I have, haven’t I?”
“Yes. And I can’t bear it.”
“I’m sorry… They are rubbish shoes, though.”
“Vince…”
The thought that Howard might be about to walk out again made Vince feel even more wobbly than before. He grabbed Howard’s hand and hung on tight.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Please don’t go away again, I didn’t know I was going to say that, or any of the other stuff. I think I know why I did, though…”
Howard let Vince go on holding his hand while he explained that the needling was meant affectionately, at least to begin with. They’d always used to diss each other when they were just-friends and he’d thought perhaps Howard was missing their old banter; he’d felt Howard’s worry about their new life as a couple and wanted to take him back to somewhere he’d feel safer. And the clinginess was because he had horrible nightmares – nightmares about Howard dying – every time he had to spend a night on his own. And both were because he wanted, needed, Howard’s attention and even bad attention is better than none at all…
Howard had listened patiently as Vince struggled to explain all this; had gone on listening patiently for hours, until he’d fallen asleep, right there on the sofa.
Vince had propped him up with cushions, as comfortably as he could, then snuggled in beside him and pulled the unzipped sleeping bags over both of them.
Waking this morning with Howard drooling onto his shoulder was a wonderful surprise.
And it got still better when Howard had finished apologizing and drying his shoulder, and said, “Vince?”
“Mmm?”
“Do you know what day it is today?”
“Thursday,” Vince mumbled, pretending to be half asleep although every nerve in his body was already tingling with anticipation at the suggestive way Howard had asked the question.
“It’s our one-month anniversary. And we’re on night duty tonight. I thought we could do something a bit special. Preferably involving you and that big jar of Nutella. Oh yes, sir, I’ll be comin’ atcha like a beam, like a…”
“Like a Cadbury’s chocolate finger and a couple of Jaffa Cakes?” Vince tilted his face up for a kiss, already looking forward to those lovely tickly whiskers being chocolate-coated, later on. And hopefully some other bits as well.
Howard laughed. Really laughed. “Happy Anniversary, little man.”
“Happy Anniversary, Howard.”
It has been a happy day, the sun shining, the animals docile and easy. They haven’t talked much – haven’t needed to, yet – but Vince has been giving Howard space, letting him be the one to seek contact, and Howard has been doing that. Maybe not spending quite as much time wrapped round Vince as Vince would like (which would be pretty much all the time) but still it’s been pretty good.
At least now Vince is fairly sure that when Howard sneaks a kiss round the back of the dolphin tank, or walks back to the feed store with Vince’s hand clasped in his, he’s doing it because he wants to and not just because Vince wants him to, which may not sound like much of a difference but actually makes all the difference in the world.
The tingle of anticipation has been growing all day. And part of Vince is growing and tingling too, at the thought of what’s going to happen when…
At last. The bathroom door opens. And Howard is standing there, clean and damp and tousled and stark naked, with a spoon in one hand and a big jar of Nutella in the other, and on his face the widest, wickedest grin that Vince has ever seen there.
“Umm, you might need to bring a towel as well,” Vince suggests.
“What for? I’ve got you to lick me clean, haven’t I? Unless you don’t want to…”
“Come here and I’ll show you whether I want to.”
Howard’s bits, liberally chocolate-coated, are completely the most delicious thing that Vince has ever put in his mouth, ever.
And when they’ve been very lovingly and thoroughly cleaned, and are standing all pink and proud, Vince lets Howard spread Little Vince with shiny, oozing, drippy, chocolatey goodness and discover for himself just how much better Nutella tastes when you’re eating it off someone you love.
Howard enjoys it so much he demands a second helping, so when Vince has helped himself to a sustaining snack from the leftovers on that extremely sticky moustache, he lies back and lets Howard take another teaspoonful.
“I’ve had the chocolate finger. Now for the Jaffa Cakes.” Howard lifts Vince’s thigh and dribbles the stickiness into his groin and over his balls. It’s cool at first, soon warming to blood heat and running down.
Howard follows the wetness with his tongue, exploring a bit further than he usually lets himself.
He licks and sucks, making obscene and cheerful slurping noises, and when Vince’s balls are un-stickied and throbbing pleasantly, there’s still a damp trickle heading slowly and inevitably south into the Grand Canyon, but now Howard is hesitating…
“You’ve missed a bit.” Vince reaches behind him and turns the light out, so Howard can go on exploring in private and be less embarrassed.
He knows Howard wants to. He’s known it since Howard first touched him there…
“Go on, Howard. It’s OK.”
Howard catches up with the remainder of the chocolate and licks it away. Then he makes a noise like a strangled sob, as though something’s broken, and suddenly there are wet fingers running through Vince’s crack, and Howard’s nose and whiskery lips and hot tongue pressing in there too, and Vince whimpers with joy as Howard starts to lick…
Howard is rimming him.
He never thought he’d see the day.
Howard is rimming him, and it’s fantastic.
It’s not long before the intrepid explorer has to break for air, and crawls up to lie with his head on Vince’s shoulder, panting and shuddering.
Vince holds him until he’s calmer; kisses the top of his head. Even there, he smells of chocolate. And sex. Vince is never going to look at his breakfast toast in quite the same way again.
“Thank you,” Howard whispers brokenly. “Thank you.”
“I think it’s me who should be saying that, actually.”
“You didn’t… mind?”
Vince wants to laugh, but he knows Howard’s confidence is too fragile to survive that, so he just hugs him. “No. Course not. It was nice. Really, really nice.”
After a little while he adds: “We could do… more, if you want.”
Howard thinks about that. Then he nods. “I do want.”
“Thought so.”
Howard snorts, a little ruefully. “What gave me away?”
“Well… This, for a start.” Vince nudges his hip against Howard’s hardness. “And the fact that you’ve been trying so hard to keep your hands off my arse, but you can’t quite manage it, they always seem to end up there and then you whip ’em away again and hope I haven’t noticed. But I have.”
“I take my hat off to your detective skills, sir.”
“You could’ve just asked.”
“Something else you might have noticed is that I’m not very good at asking. Especially when I’m afraid that the answer might be no.”
“I think you might have been more scared I might say yes.”
“I think you might be right. I haven’t – Vince, I haven’t been able to get the idea out of my head since that first morning, but I don’t know…”
Lovely Howard. He’s being so painfully honest, and there’s such a lot he doesn’t know.
This, for a start:
“Neither do I.”
“But you’ve… you’ve had sex before. Haven’t you? I mean, you talk about it as though you… and all those club nights when you’ve gone home with someone else…”
“Well, yeah, but the thing is – ”
Why’s it so hard to say? He’s getting as hung-up as Howard. Vince takes a deep breath.
“I’ve never bottomed. Never… you know, been… had.” He can feel himself blushing.
“But I thought –”
“Yeah, everybody thinks that. But just because I look like a girl, don’t mean I fuck like one.”
“Why not?”
The million-dollar question. Vince isn’t sure how to answer it.
He’s explored himself, slipped a lubed finger up there to find the sweet spot and see what all the fuss was about, but somehow letting someone else inside was always a step too far.
And he liked being on top and making other people see stars. Making other people happy has always been a good way of distracting attention from his own anxieties.
But now… the thought of that big blunt shaft pushing into him…
“Sorry, that was rather a personal question, wasn’t it? No big deal, little man. We can do it the other way round if you want. I’d like that too.” But Howard’s whole body tenses as he says this, and Vince knows that Howard isn’t ready to take that step.
He could embarrass Howard by making him admit it.
He could make him take that step; make him see stars and forget his reluctance.
Or Vince could step up to the mark himself.
“No, I’d like it if you were on top. Then it’s the first time for both of us. Makes it more special.”
“And there’s no pressure,” Howard says quietly.
“How d’you work that one out?”
“Well… I know you. If you did… what you usually do… with me, you’d want it to be better for me than it’s ever been for anyone else, and if something went wrong – not that I’m saying it would – but if it did, you’d mind. You’d feel you’d let me down. Whereas this way round, if I’m rubbish at it…”
“You won’t be.”
“We don’t know that. But at least I’ll have a good excuse, not having done it before. In fact, it gets us both off the hook. We can just have a go, have a good time, and not worry.”
“I like your thinkin’. I’m not sure I follow it all, but I like it. Cheers, Howard.”
“It’s just like a complicated passage in the music, Vince. We’ll get through it… with careful fingering.”
“Howard?”
“Yeah?” Howard’s voice is deliberately casual, but Vince can hear the laughter bubbling up underneath it.
“You makin’ filthy jokes again?”
“Yeah.” And now Howard is laughing properly, and the tension is broken, and Vince didn’t know it was possible to love this man any more than he already did, but they do say you should learn something every day…
He’s learnt enough today to last him for several years.
Vince clicks the light on again, and fetches the things they’ll need from his locker.
“Umm, why the nail file, Vince?”
“You reminded me.” Vince grins at Howard. “Careful fingering, remember? Your nails are way too long, I’m givin’ you an emergency manicure before I let you anywhere near my delicate bits.”
Howard blushes. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Yes you had, you said you hadn’t stopped thinkin’ about it in the last month.”
“No, you pillock, I didn’t mean that – I meant – ”
“You really do walk into these things, don’t you, Howard?” Vince kisses him affectionately on one blushing ear. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, “I promise not to put pink nail varnish on… this time.”
Vince never knew that trimming someone’s nails could be such a turn-on. But Howard is so trusting and eager, and Howard’s long, strong Northern fingers are so beautiful; and then there’s the thought of what those fingers might do, where Howard might be persuaded to put them…
Extreme concentration on his filing technique is needed to stop Vince coming on the spot.
Howard’s fingering is indeed very careful. Almost too careful, at first.
“Howard, I won’t break. I’m not made of cobwebs or anythin’. I’m made of sunshine. Go for it.”
“Help me out a bit here then, sunshine boy. I don’t know what exactly I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Yeah, you do, you were doin’ it fine earlier.” Vince spreads his legs a bit further apart. “Y’know where you were puttin’ your tongue? That’s where your finger needs to go.”
“Oh. All right, I’ll try…”
“Howard?”
“Yes?”
“Have you still got your eyes shut?”
“How did you know?”
Vince giggles. “I didn’t. But I know you. I don’t mind you looking. You’ve seen it all before anyway. An’ it might make it easier. You might even enjoy it. It’s dead sexy, watchin’ your finger disappear up someone’s – ”
“Vince…”
“I’m sorry. It is, though.”
“Little man, I know you’re nervous too, OK? And I know I asked you to help. But there is such a thing as too much information.”
“Sorry, Howard. Just… put some more lube on, and sort of work your way in.”
“It’s tight.” Howard still sounds worried.
“It’ll get easier. It’s been a long time.”
“And so warm…” Less worried now, more surprised. Surprised is good. Vince pushes back against Howard’s fingertip, and feels it slip into him.
“Oh.” Vince’s turn to be surprised.
“Are you all right? Should I stop?” Bless him.
“No, don’t stop, go on, that was a happy ‘oh’ not a hurt ‘oh’, the hurt one sounds like ‘ouch’,” Vince explains.
“Right.” Howard delves a little deeper. “Is that still OK for you?”
“It’s great.” Vince can’t think of a word to describe what this is like. Perhaps that particular word hasn’t been invented. “Can you get another one in there yet?”
“Another…”
“Finger. Beside the first one. It’ll help to… make room.”
The second finger slides in much more easily than the first, and Vince keeps talking, telling Howard what to do, and Howard keeps doing it, and when he slides the third finger in without being told, Vince knows it’s going to be all right now, so he shuts up. More or less.
Until Howard hits the sweet spot and Vince can’t keep quiet.
“Please…” He’s never heard himself beg for it before.
“Please, do that again?” Howard asks, and his voice is so gentle and Vince is so ready for it that he forgets to be scared.
“No. Well, not exactly. I meant, please… you know…”
“ ‘Please put a rubber on and bum me silly’?”
Vince breaks into astonished laughter. “Howard Moon, I love it when you talk dirty. You should do it more often. Yes, please put one of those on and do exactly that.”
“Your wish, sir, is my command.” Howard carefully removes his hand. “Oh, and by the way, you were absolutely right, it was very sexy indeed, watching that.”
“You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.” Vince rolls over. “Howard, I wanna see your face while we’re doin’ this.”
“Is that technically feasible?” Howard aims the condom wrapper at the bin, and scores a goal in one.
“If that means ‘can we?’ then yeah, we can.”
Vince folds himself up; hitches one leg over Howard’s shoulder, and guides him into position.
It does hurt a bit as Howard presses inside, and he can see that Howard knows it does.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Course not.”
Howard leans down and kisses him. He tastes of chocolate and salt, and he’s breathing fast and shallow, like a cornered guineapig. Vince can feel his heart thumping.
“You OK, Howard?” Vince whispers.
“Never better, little man. Never better. Thank you…”
“Hey.” Vince strokes Howard’s damp hair back from his forehead. (Waste of time really, it’s bound to flop straight back again, but it feels nice.) “I told you, it’s me who should be sayin’ that.”
He kisses Howard again, and wiggles a bit, pushing his hips up ever so slightly to help Howard a bit further in.
Pretty soon Vince stops feeling sore, although it still feels a bit weird, sort-of… stretched and a bit achy. But it’s a nice ache, satisfying, like the one you get in your legs after a really long walk, or in your insides after an epic Indian takeaway when you’ve eaten the set meal for 4 between two of you.
Howard relaxes a bit, although he goes on being very gentle and careful, and they both know what they’re doing now, the certainty growing between them that it really is going to be all right, and it’s like they’re talking to each other, really talking, only better than that because it mostly doesn’t need words.
It’s yet another strange new sensation when Howard’s balls bump up against Vince’s arse and he realizes that Howard is right up inside him. Right up, as far as he could go.
Vince wonders what that looks like. He can already see from Howard’s face exactly how good it feels. How fantastic is that, to be able to make someone else so happy…
“OH.”
All thoughts are driven clean out of Vince’s head as Howard finds his sweet spot again; and this time Vince really does see stars. Sparkly ones, like fireworks.
“Vince, I – I’m not far off – you know...” Howard is propped above him, his nipples hard and his chest all flushed and sweaty. “Is that OK? Would you rather I –”
“No, don’t you dare, you stay right where you are.”
“What about you? I’d, um, give you a hand but I don’t seem to have a spare one.”
“I’ll sort myself out, don’t worry.” Vince reaches in between them and takes hold of Little Vince. He’s not far off himself…
“Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?” Howard asks, grinning.
“Nothing like as sexy as you do.” Vince thrusts upwards, and sees more stars. “C’mon Howard, let’s go for it. Together.”
“Together,” Howard agrees, and starts to move with a steady rhythm, and this time, unlike all the times before, he doesn’t turn his head away to hide his face.
He lets Vince watch him as he loses control, bit by bit, and Vince sees the rush hit him, and it’s just the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
It tips him over the edge too, but he’s barely aware of his own climax, except for the funny little squeak he lets out and the fact that there’s wet on his hand and trickling down his side.
Howard clings on to him and kisses him and thanks him and cries on his shoulder while Vince does his best to clean up and reassure Howard that he means it when he says that’s the best sex he’s ever had.
And once they’re sorted and back in bed and the light’s out, Vince is completely relaxed, and completely happy, all cosy and sleepy in the chocolatey darkness with Howard beside him.
But Howard fidgets and rolls over. Then he gets out of bed and pads into the kitchen. There is a brief rustling of paper.
“What was that all about?” Vince mumbles, as Howard slides back into the sleeping bag and wraps him in a warm embrace.
“Just putting Nutella on next week’s shopping list. We don’t seem to have much left.”
…
EPILOGUE
It’s Friday, and it’s half past three. Naboo and Bollo are taking a break in the kiosk.
The Zooniverse is quiet in the late October sunshine.
Bob Fossil still doesn’t appear to have noticed the nifty landscaping job in the yard, although a pair of flamingos have moved into the pond where Howard’s grave was. According to Vince, they are very happy and talking about settling down together permanently, perhaps even nesting.
Naboo suspects that they are not the only ones.
He passes the hookah pipe over to his familiar. “Go easy on it though, yeah? You’re still not used to it.”
Bollo coughs. “Sofa much better than cage. Thank you.”
Naboo takes another drag. “One day you won’t have to sleep in a cage either. One day we’re gonna get out of this zoo for good.”
“What you do instead of kiosk?”
The shaman shrugs. “Work in Dixons, prob’ly. Maybe look for an opportunity in the music business. I did think about becomin’ a mighty hawk, but…”
“But Bollo no like flying.” The gorilla gets up and stretches out his arms, pretending to be a bird.
“Careful!” Naboo niftily catches the crystal ball that’s just been knocked off its shelf by a big hairy arm. “Come and sit down again. You lightweight, you’re pretty much flyin’ already and you’ve only had a couple of puffs.”
Bollo stumbles back to the sofa, tripping over two footstools and a potted cactus on the way. “You got so much stuff in here, you should open shop,” he grumbles.
“Maybe I will. Could go down pretty well in the right sort of area. Say, Dalston or somewhere. Yeah. A little boutique.”
“Little what?”
“Boutique.”
Bollo starts to shake and snort. Perhaps gorillas and weed don’t mix.
“Bollo, you OK?”
Bollo snorts some more, then says incoherently: “Naboo – ”
“Yeah, it’s OK Bollo, I’m here.”
“TEAK!” Bollo splutters.
Something really is wrong. He seems to be having some sort of fit involving the names of tropical hardwoods. Naboo scrambles to his feet. “Hang in there, I’ll fix you an antidote…”
“No need fixing, Bollo fine, Bollo make joke.”
“I don’t get it.”
Gorilla giggling is not a sound Naboo has ever heard before, but he is pretty certain he’s hearing it now. “You Naboo. Shop boutique…”
And Bollo rolls off the sofa onto the floor with a thud that shakes several small objects off the shelves to rain down onto the rug around his helpless, hysterical body.
“Nabootique!”
Naboo looks down at his familiar with sudden affection. That’s not a bad name for a shop, actually.
And suddenly he finds himself lying flat on his back on the rug with no idea how he got there.
Not only that, but he’s laughing out loud.
That particular batch of special tobacco must have been stronger than he thought.
…
Sweeping the last of the leaves from the path, Howard listens in bewilderment to the sounds of alien and gorilla hilarity coming from the kiosk. “What are they so happy about?”
“Dunno.” Vince grins. “But I know how they feel.”
Howard leans on his broom, and smiles back. “Me too, little man. Me too.”
Summary: More sleeping-bag sexytimes and a bit of explaining
Rating: NC-17 (Concupid, you can put that cane down and stop shouting now!)
Warnings: food porn involving a certain chocolate and hazelnut spread
Spoilers: There was plenty of Bailey’s in their bedtime cocoa last night
Length: about 4400 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, or the brand name of a certain chocolate and hazelnut spread. I just borrow them to play with every now and again. For twisted love, not for profit
Notes: It’s the night after Part 6. And this is the last part of this particular, umm, one-shot (!) - they can write their own future in this universe from here on in. Many thanks to everyone who's stuck with this saga, read and commented. I love you all. And I'll be back!
Buried Deep, part 7/7
It’s Thursday, and it’s only about nine o’clock, butVince is already tucked up in his half of the double sleeping bag, waiting for Howard to come out of the bathroom.
He’s been in there ages. Vince wonders what on earth he’s doing. If he’s much longer, he’ll come back to find Vince has fallen asleep.
Vince looks round the familiar hut, and starts wondering what it would have been like, if Howard hadn’t taken that wrong turning last night. Or worse, if they’d stayed angry with each other and still weren’t speaking.
It could be someone else in that bathroom right now, and Vince wouldn’t be in bed (and would have clothes on), and he’d have had a horrible day and wouldn’t have slept last night and wouldn’t be going to sleep tonight either and he’d be miserable.
There’s a lump in his throat now, just from thinking about it.
He pulls the covers up round his shoulders, and makes himself think about happy times instead.
Last night was happy times.
Mostly.
…
Howard put the music back on and went to fetch a bottle of Bailey’s and a mug before snuggling down on the sofa next to Vince.
“Thank you,” he said. “This is one of the best presents anybody’s ever given me.” And then he couldn’t say any more for a while, but Vince knew he’d got something right, and that was a wonderful warm fuzzy feeling after all the wrongness.
Vince gave Howard his hankie back and opened the Baileys, and they passed the mug back and forth, and the jazz threaded itself softly through the spaces in their conversation as Vince told Howard all about his adventures hunting for that disc in strange music shops and how he’d used the knowledge he’d picked up from Howard in order to invent himself a convincing online identity as ‘jazz_maverick69’ and get people on record-collectors’ forums to tell him stuff about where to look next.
The warm encouragement in Howard’s voice would have made the whole thing worth while even if the recording itself had been rubbish.
Then Howard told Vince all about his disastrous evening and they had a laugh about the drummer’s stupid hat, even though Vince hadn’t seen it.
After a while, the gaps in the conversation were getting longer than the talking parts; and by the time they’d turned over to the B side, Howard and the music and the Bailey’s between them had made Vince so relaxed he’d stopped talking altogether, and so had Howard, and they just held each other and just listened.
They’ve never listened to jazz together before. Not like that anyway. They’ve been in the same room while jazz music was playing and Howard was going on about it and Vince was interrupting, plenty of times, but this was different. Intimate, somehow. Almost like having sex, but without the heavy breathing and the sticky noises.
Howard took a comb from his pocket and started working it gently through the worst of the snarls in Vince’s hair.
It made Vince feel all wobbly.
Eventually it dawned on him that he was also wobbly because he was ravenous – he hadn’t eaten since his lunchtime sandwich, which he hadn’t finished because after the argument he wasn’t hungry any more. So when the music ended, Howard made them both cheese on toast and put more Bailey’s in the cocoa.
“Not exactly your posh restaurant,” Howard said, putting his empty plate on the floor, “but at least we’ve had it to ourselves.”
Vince sighed. “I’m sorry our date didn’t work out, Howard.”
“Well, next time you plan a date, don’t leave it to the last minute, tell me in advance. The anticipation’s all part of the fun. That’s how dates are supposed to be.”
And then Vince went wrong. So wrong, he nearly broke everything again. Without even thinking about it, he said:
“Like you’d know.”
“Don’t.” Howard’s face twisted with pain. “Why do you always have to do this?”
“Do what?” But he knew what; he was just trying to cover himself.
“Snipe at me, bring me down. You’ve been getting at me for the past fortnight.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have! The grey hair. The ‘little shifty eyes’ thing. The shoes, this morning.”
Vince thought about it. “I have, haven’t I?”
“Yes. And I can’t bear it.”
“I’m sorry… They are rubbish shoes, though.”
“Vince…”
The thought that Howard might be about to walk out again made Vince feel even more wobbly than before. He grabbed Howard’s hand and hung on tight.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Please don’t go away again, I didn’t know I was going to say that, or any of the other stuff. I think I know why I did, though…”
Howard let Vince go on holding his hand while he explained that the needling was meant affectionately, at least to begin with. They’d always used to diss each other when they were just-friends and he’d thought perhaps Howard was missing their old banter; he’d felt Howard’s worry about their new life as a couple and wanted to take him back to somewhere he’d feel safer. And the clinginess was because he had horrible nightmares – nightmares about Howard dying – every time he had to spend a night on his own. And both were because he wanted, needed, Howard’s attention and even bad attention is better than none at all…
Howard had listened patiently as Vince struggled to explain all this; had gone on listening patiently for hours, until he’d fallen asleep, right there on the sofa.
Vince had propped him up with cushions, as comfortably as he could, then snuggled in beside him and pulled the unzipped sleeping bags over both of them.
Waking this morning with Howard drooling onto his shoulder was a wonderful surprise.
And it got still better when Howard had finished apologizing and drying his shoulder, and said, “Vince?”
“Mmm?”
“Do you know what day it is today?”
“Thursday,” Vince mumbled, pretending to be half asleep although every nerve in his body was already tingling with anticipation at the suggestive way Howard had asked the question.
“It’s our one-month anniversary. And we’re on night duty tonight. I thought we could do something a bit special. Preferably involving you and that big jar of Nutella. Oh yes, sir, I’ll be comin’ atcha like a beam, like a…”
“Like a Cadbury’s chocolate finger and a couple of Jaffa Cakes?” Vince tilted his face up for a kiss, already looking forward to those lovely tickly whiskers being chocolate-coated, later on. And hopefully some other bits as well.
Howard laughed. Really laughed. “Happy Anniversary, little man.”
“Happy Anniversary, Howard.”
It has been a happy day, the sun shining, the animals docile and easy. They haven’t talked much – haven’t needed to, yet – but Vince has been giving Howard space, letting him be the one to seek contact, and Howard has been doing that. Maybe not spending quite as much time wrapped round Vince as Vince would like (which would be pretty much all the time) but still it’s been pretty good.
At least now Vince is fairly sure that when Howard sneaks a kiss round the back of the dolphin tank, or walks back to the feed store with Vince’s hand clasped in his, he’s doing it because he wants to and not just because Vince wants him to, which may not sound like much of a difference but actually makes all the difference in the world.
The tingle of anticipation has been growing all day. And part of Vince is growing and tingling too, at the thought of what’s going to happen when…
At last. The bathroom door opens. And Howard is standing there, clean and damp and tousled and stark naked, with a spoon in one hand and a big jar of Nutella in the other, and on his face the widest, wickedest grin that Vince has ever seen there.
“Umm, you might need to bring a towel as well,” Vince suggests.
“What for? I’ve got you to lick me clean, haven’t I? Unless you don’t want to…”
“Come here and I’ll show you whether I want to.”
Howard’s bits, liberally chocolate-coated, are completely the most delicious thing that Vince has ever put in his mouth, ever.
And when they’ve been very lovingly and thoroughly cleaned, and are standing all pink and proud, Vince lets Howard spread Little Vince with shiny, oozing, drippy, chocolatey goodness and discover for himself just how much better Nutella tastes when you’re eating it off someone you love.
Howard enjoys it so much he demands a second helping, so when Vince has helped himself to a sustaining snack from the leftovers on that extremely sticky moustache, he lies back and lets Howard take another teaspoonful.
“I’ve had the chocolate finger. Now for the Jaffa Cakes.” Howard lifts Vince’s thigh and dribbles the stickiness into his groin and over his balls. It’s cool at first, soon warming to blood heat and running down.
Howard follows the wetness with his tongue, exploring a bit further than he usually lets himself.
He licks and sucks, making obscene and cheerful slurping noises, and when Vince’s balls are un-stickied and throbbing pleasantly, there’s still a damp trickle heading slowly and inevitably south into the Grand Canyon, but now Howard is hesitating…
“You’ve missed a bit.” Vince reaches behind him and turns the light out, so Howard can go on exploring in private and be less embarrassed.
He knows Howard wants to. He’s known it since Howard first touched him there…
“Go on, Howard. It’s OK.”
Howard catches up with the remainder of the chocolate and licks it away. Then he makes a noise like a strangled sob, as though something’s broken, and suddenly there are wet fingers running through Vince’s crack, and Howard’s nose and whiskery lips and hot tongue pressing in there too, and Vince whimpers with joy as Howard starts to lick…
Howard is rimming him.
He never thought he’d see the day.
Howard is rimming him, and it’s fantastic.
It’s not long before the intrepid explorer has to break for air, and crawls up to lie with his head on Vince’s shoulder, panting and shuddering.
Vince holds him until he’s calmer; kisses the top of his head. Even there, he smells of chocolate. And sex. Vince is never going to look at his breakfast toast in quite the same way again.
“Thank you,” Howard whispers brokenly. “Thank you.”
“I think it’s me who should be saying that, actually.”
“You didn’t… mind?”
Vince wants to laugh, but he knows Howard’s confidence is too fragile to survive that, so he just hugs him. “No. Course not. It was nice. Really, really nice.”
After a little while he adds: “We could do… more, if you want.”
Howard thinks about that. Then he nods. “I do want.”
“Thought so.”
Howard snorts, a little ruefully. “What gave me away?”
“Well… This, for a start.” Vince nudges his hip against Howard’s hardness. “And the fact that you’ve been trying so hard to keep your hands off my arse, but you can’t quite manage it, they always seem to end up there and then you whip ’em away again and hope I haven’t noticed. But I have.”
“I take my hat off to your detective skills, sir.”
“You could’ve just asked.”
“Something else you might have noticed is that I’m not very good at asking. Especially when I’m afraid that the answer might be no.”
“I think you might have been more scared I might say yes.”
“I think you might be right. I haven’t – Vince, I haven’t been able to get the idea out of my head since that first morning, but I don’t know…”
Lovely Howard. He’s being so painfully honest, and there’s such a lot he doesn’t know.
This, for a start:
“Neither do I.”
“But you’ve… you’ve had sex before. Haven’t you? I mean, you talk about it as though you… and all those club nights when you’ve gone home with someone else…”
“Well, yeah, but the thing is – ”
Why’s it so hard to say? He’s getting as hung-up as Howard. Vince takes a deep breath.
“I’ve never bottomed. Never… you know, been… had.” He can feel himself blushing.
“But I thought –”
“Yeah, everybody thinks that. But just because I look like a girl, don’t mean I fuck like one.”
“Why not?”
The million-dollar question. Vince isn’t sure how to answer it.
He’s explored himself, slipped a lubed finger up there to find the sweet spot and see what all the fuss was about, but somehow letting someone else inside was always a step too far.
And he liked being on top and making other people see stars. Making other people happy has always been a good way of distracting attention from his own anxieties.
But now… the thought of that big blunt shaft pushing into him…
“Sorry, that was rather a personal question, wasn’t it? No big deal, little man. We can do it the other way round if you want. I’d like that too.” But Howard’s whole body tenses as he says this, and Vince knows that Howard isn’t ready to take that step.
He could embarrass Howard by making him admit it.
He could make him take that step; make him see stars and forget his reluctance.
Or Vince could step up to the mark himself.
“No, I’d like it if you were on top. Then it’s the first time for both of us. Makes it more special.”
“And there’s no pressure,” Howard says quietly.
“How d’you work that one out?”
“Well… I know you. If you did… what you usually do… with me, you’d want it to be better for me than it’s ever been for anyone else, and if something went wrong – not that I’m saying it would – but if it did, you’d mind. You’d feel you’d let me down. Whereas this way round, if I’m rubbish at it…”
“You won’t be.”
“We don’t know that. But at least I’ll have a good excuse, not having done it before. In fact, it gets us both off the hook. We can just have a go, have a good time, and not worry.”
“I like your thinkin’. I’m not sure I follow it all, but I like it. Cheers, Howard.”
“It’s just like a complicated passage in the music, Vince. We’ll get through it… with careful fingering.”
“Howard?”
“Yeah?” Howard’s voice is deliberately casual, but Vince can hear the laughter bubbling up underneath it.
“You makin’ filthy jokes again?”
“Yeah.” And now Howard is laughing properly, and the tension is broken, and Vince didn’t know it was possible to love this man any more than he already did, but they do say you should learn something every day…
He’s learnt enough today to last him for several years.
Vince clicks the light on again, and fetches the things they’ll need from his locker.
“Umm, why the nail file, Vince?”
“You reminded me.” Vince grins at Howard. “Careful fingering, remember? Your nails are way too long, I’m givin’ you an emergency manicure before I let you anywhere near my delicate bits.”
Howard blushes. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Yes you had, you said you hadn’t stopped thinkin’ about it in the last month.”
“No, you pillock, I didn’t mean that – I meant – ”
“You really do walk into these things, don’t you, Howard?” Vince kisses him affectionately on one blushing ear. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, “I promise not to put pink nail varnish on… this time.”
Vince never knew that trimming someone’s nails could be such a turn-on. But Howard is so trusting and eager, and Howard’s long, strong Northern fingers are so beautiful; and then there’s the thought of what those fingers might do, where Howard might be persuaded to put them…
Extreme concentration on his filing technique is needed to stop Vince coming on the spot.
Howard’s fingering is indeed very careful. Almost too careful, at first.
“Howard, I won’t break. I’m not made of cobwebs or anythin’. I’m made of sunshine. Go for it.”
“Help me out a bit here then, sunshine boy. I don’t know what exactly I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Yeah, you do, you were doin’ it fine earlier.” Vince spreads his legs a bit further apart. “Y’know where you were puttin’ your tongue? That’s where your finger needs to go.”
“Oh. All right, I’ll try…”
“Howard?”
“Yes?”
“Have you still got your eyes shut?”
“How did you know?”
Vince giggles. “I didn’t. But I know you. I don’t mind you looking. You’ve seen it all before anyway. An’ it might make it easier. You might even enjoy it. It’s dead sexy, watchin’ your finger disappear up someone’s – ”
“Vince…”
“I’m sorry. It is, though.”
“Little man, I know you’re nervous too, OK? And I know I asked you to help. But there is such a thing as too much information.”
“Sorry, Howard. Just… put some more lube on, and sort of work your way in.”
“It’s tight.” Howard still sounds worried.
“It’ll get easier. It’s been a long time.”
“And so warm…” Less worried now, more surprised. Surprised is good. Vince pushes back against Howard’s fingertip, and feels it slip into him.
“Oh.” Vince’s turn to be surprised.
“Are you all right? Should I stop?” Bless him.
“No, don’t stop, go on, that was a happy ‘oh’ not a hurt ‘oh’, the hurt one sounds like ‘ouch’,” Vince explains.
“Right.” Howard delves a little deeper. “Is that still OK for you?”
“It’s great.” Vince can’t think of a word to describe what this is like. Perhaps that particular word hasn’t been invented. “Can you get another one in there yet?”
“Another…”
“Finger. Beside the first one. It’ll help to… make room.”
The second finger slides in much more easily than the first, and Vince keeps talking, telling Howard what to do, and Howard keeps doing it, and when he slides the third finger in without being told, Vince knows it’s going to be all right now, so he shuts up. More or less.
Until Howard hits the sweet spot and Vince can’t keep quiet.
“Please…” He’s never heard himself beg for it before.
“Please, do that again?” Howard asks, and his voice is so gentle and Vince is so ready for it that he forgets to be scared.
“No. Well, not exactly. I meant, please… you know…”
“ ‘Please put a rubber on and bum me silly’?”
Vince breaks into astonished laughter. “Howard Moon, I love it when you talk dirty. You should do it more often. Yes, please put one of those on and do exactly that.”
“Your wish, sir, is my command.” Howard carefully removes his hand. “Oh, and by the way, you were absolutely right, it was very sexy indeed, watching that.”
“You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.” Vince rolls over. “Howard, I wanna see your face while we’re doin’ this.”
“Is that technically feasible?” Howard aims the condom wrapper at the bin, and scores a goal in one.
“If that means ‘can we?’ then yeah, we can.”
Vince folds himself up; hitches one leg over Howard’s shoulder, and guides him into position.
It does hurt a bit as Howard presses inside, and he can see that Howard knows it does.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Course not.”
Howard leans down and kisses him. He tastes of chocolate and salt, and he’s breathing fast and shallow, like a cornered guineapig. Vince can feel his heart thumping.
“You OK, Howard?” Vince whispers.
“Never better, little man. Never better. Thank you…”
“Hey.” Vince strokes Howard’s damp hair back from his forehead. (Waste of time really, it’s bound to flop straight back again, but it feels nice.) “I told you, it’s me who should be sayin’ that.”
He kisses Howard again, and wiggles a bit, pushing his hips up ever so slightly to help Howard a bit further in.
Pretty soon Vince stops feeling sore, although it still feels a bit weird, sort-of… stretched and a bit achy. But it’s a nice ache, satisfying, like the one you get in your legs after a really long walk, or in your insides after an epic Indian takeaway when you’ve eaten the set meal for 4 between two of you.
Howard relaxes a bit, although he goes on being very gentle and careful, and they both know what they’re doing now, the certainty growing between them that it really is going to be all right, and it’s like they’re talking to each other, really talking, only better than that because it mostly doesn’t need words.
It’s yet another strange new sensation when Howard’s balls bump up against Vince’s arse and he realizes that Howard is right up inside him. Right up, as far as he could go.
Vince wonders what that looks like. He can already see from Howard’s face exactly how good it feels. How fantastic is that, to be able to make someone else so happy…
“OH.”
All thoughts are driven clean out of Vince’s head as Howard finds his sweet spot again; and this time Vince really does see stars. Sparkly ones, like fireworks.
“Vince, I – I’m not far off – you know...” Howard is propped above him, his nipples hard and his chest all flushed and sweaty. “Is that OK? Would you rather I –”
“No, don’t you dare, you stay right where you are.”
“What about you? I’d, um, give you a hand but I don’t seem to have a spare one.”
“I’ll sort myself out, don’t worry.” Vince reaches in between them and takes hold of Little Vince. He’s not far off himself…
“Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?” Howard asks, grinning.
“Nothing like as sexy as you do.” Vince thrusts upwards, and sees more stars. “C’mon Howard, let’s go for it. Together.”
“Together,” Howard agrees, and starts to move with a steady rhythm, and this time, unlike all the times before, he doesn’t turn his head away to hide his face.
He lets Vince watch him as he loses control, bit by bit, and Vince sees the rush hit him, and it’s just the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
It tips him over the edge too, but he’s barely aware of his own climax, except for the funny little squeak he lets out and the fact that there’s wet on his hand and trickling down his side.
Howard clings on to him and kisses him and thanks him and cries on his shoulder while Vince does his best to clean up and reassure Howard that he means it when he says that’s the best sex he’s ever had.
And once they’re sorted and back in bed and the light’s out, Vince is completely relaxed, and completely happy, all cosy and sleepy in the chocolatey darkness with Howard beside him.
But Howard fidgets and rolls over. Then he gets out of bed and pads into the kitchen. There is a brief rustling of paper.
“What was that all about?” Vince mumbles, as Howard slides back into the sleeping bag and wraps him in a warm embrace.
“Just putting Nutella on next week’s shopping list. We don’t seem to have much left.”
…
EPILOGUE
It’s Friday, and it’s half past three. Naboo and Bollo are taking a break in the kiosk.
The Zooniverse is quiet in the late October sunshine.
Bob Fossil still doesn’t appear to have noticed the nifty landscaping job in the yard, although a pair of flamingos have moved into the pond where Howard’s grave was. According to Vince, they are very happy and talking about settling down together permanently, perhaps even nesting.
Naboo suspects that they are not the only ones.
He passes the hookah pipe over to his familiar. “Go easy on it though, yeah? You’re still not used to it.”
Bollo coughs. “Sofa much better than cage. Thank you.”
Naboo takes another drag. “One day you won’t have to sleep in a cage either. One day we’re gonna get out of this zoo for good.”
“What you do instead of kiosk?”
The shaman shrugs. “Work in Dixons, prob’ly. Maybe look for an opportunity in the music business. I did think about becomin’ a mighty hawk, but…”
“But Bollo no like flying.” The gorilla gets up and stretches out his arms, pretending to be a bird.
“Careful!” Naboo niftily catches the crystal ball that’s just been knocked off its shelf by a big hairy arm. “Come and sit down again. You lightweight, you’re pretty much flyin’ already and you’ve only had a couple of puffs.”
Bollo stumbles back to the sofa, tripping over two footstools and a potted cactus on the way. “You got so much stuff in here, you should open shop,” he grumbles.
“Maybe I will. Could go down pretty well in the right sort of area. Say, Dalston or somewhere. Yeah. A little boutique.”
“Little what?”
“Boutique.”
Bollo starts to shake and snort. Perhaps gorillas and weed don’t mix.
“Bollo, you OK?”
Bollo snorts some more, then says incoherently: “Naboo – ”
“Yeah, it’s OK Bollo, I’m here.”
“TEAK!” Bollo splutters.
Something really is wrong. He seems to be having some sort of fit involving the names of tropical hardwoods. Naboo scrambles to his feet. “Hang in there, I’ll fix you an antidote…”
“No need fixing, Bollo fine, Bollo make joke.”
“I don’t get it.”
Gorilla giggling is not a sound Naboo has ever heard before, but he is pretty certain he’s hearing it now. “You Naboo. Shop boutique…”
And Bollo rolls off the sofa onto the floor with a thud that shakes several small objects off the shelves to rain down onto the rug around his helpless, hysterical body.
“Nabootique!”
Naboo looks down at his familiar with sudden affection. That’s not a bad name for a shop, actually.
And suddenly he finds himself lying flat on his back on the rug with no idea how he got there.
Not only that, but he’s laughing out loud.
That particular batch of special tobacco must have been stronger than he thought.
…
Sweeping the last of the leaves from the path, Howard listens in bewilderment to the sounds of alien and gorilla hilarity coming from the kiosk. “What are they so happy about?”
“Dunno.” Vince grins. “But I know how they feel.”
Howard leans on his broom, and smiles back. “Me too, little man. Me too.”
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no subject
Date: 2012-03-26 06:40 pm (UTC)So, obviously, we all enjoyed the hot and nasty sex! I was so drawn in by their vulnerability and the way they're so loving with each other. You managed to skip the saccharine (except what ever amount is in Nutella) and made if feel honest and lovely and intimate. I'm glad I hassled you because every chapter was worth it.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-26 09:11 pm (UTC)I'm so pleased you enjoyed it - it is, after all, your story really, I'd never have written beyond chapter one if it weren't for your
banging your cane and shoutingtactful persuasion. I'm still not entirely happy with the sex... might have to do some minor editing sometime... the pacing is a bit uneven and parts of it feel rushed. At least I seem to have got the mood and the characterisation right. And the stickiness... that was just so much fun!But the best thing about writing this story has been the support and encouragement of you lovely people. *blushes more* (I am a Brit so I find this sort of thing very hard to say!) I only ever intended to lurk, read and maybe comment a bit in this fandom. I never expected to be made so welcome. Let alone wind up writing an epic.
You've done it now though. You're stuck with me. I have already planned my next epic and a couple of daft one-shots. To say nothing of my Gothic Threeway...
no subject
Date: 2012-03-28 02:43 am (UTC)I am never happy with how my smut scans but I think yours was bang on. Smut is hard to write. Real sex involves a lot of repetive behavior.
"He thrust himself deep inside, again and again. And again, and again and again and again and then Vince got a cramp and moved his leg and then Howard thrust again and again and again.." I might edit this bit before putting it in a story. Mainly, I plan to make it longer and more repetitive.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-28 07:36 am (UTC)You're right though, real sex in complete detail isn't necessarily all that interesting, so I guess the trick is to make it feel like the real thing while fast-forwarding the reader through the tedious parts.
And this fandom is worth keeping alive... I am a big believer in putting something back if you get something out. (That came out sounding a bit wrong, but you know what I mean!)