Let the Good Times Roll

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Old Gregg enlists the help of his old man, the Hitcher, to reunite with his beloved Howard. When Howard goes missing on their trip to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, Vince once again has to save Howard in every way possible.

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Chapter 13

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Chapter 13

Howard was looking at the wall of his childhood bedroom, trying to think about boring things so he could fall asleep. The room looked so much larger than he remembered.

The mattress shifted beneath him, there was someone in his bed. Howard’s panic quickly turned to confusion as the answer drifted into his head.

It was just Howard. Seven foot tall, movie star (Errol Flynn came to mind) handsome, and brilliant to boot; all at the tender age of eighteen. Howard would have to check his photo albums, but he was fairly certain he had never been a chiseled god.

He peeked over his shoulder and, sure enough, saw his eighteen-year-old self sleeping. His brain slowly worked through the confusing information. There was one too many Howards in this dream.

He looked at his skinny fingers and then ran his hand through longish, blondish hair. He was in Vince’s body. This was the infamous night. The night everything changed.

Bloody hell. Howard was getting tortured enough in real life without his dreams going haywire as well. He tried to blink himself awake but dream-Howard was shifting beside him and he was suddenly engulfed in warmth. Dream-Howard had wrapped himself around Vince’s small frame and there was an absurdly large erection pressed against Vince’s rear-end.

Howard didn’t remember this happening and he certainly would have remembered something like this. Even as he felt annoyed, he could feel Vince’s anxiety. He was also assaulted with a barrage of disturbing mental images of what a thirteen-year-old boy expected from gay sex.

He could feel Vince’s fear that it would hurt and that he’d make a fool of himself or disappoint his god-like version of Howard. He felt Vince’s deep, if seriously misguided, fear that Howard would walk out of his life forever.

Dream-Howard moaned and rubbed himself against Vince, his hand resting on Vince’s stomach.

He could feel Vince savoring of the touch and his eagerness to be held by dream-Howard. The thoughts made Howard sad. There really wasn’t an appropriate way for an 18-year-old boy to hold a thirteen-year-old. He’d tried his best to be comforting, it just wasn’t his strong suit. It still wasn’t.

He felt Vince’s relief echo his own as dream-Howard rolled back to his side of the bed, but he also felt Vince’s disappointment mixed with fear.

Howard was able to keep the slight body from rolling over and trying to make things right with dream-Howard. He felt a flutter of panic but whispered, “It’s all right, Vince. I’m just sleeping… I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want anything from you.”

He could feel Vince’s hurt feelings. He tried again.

“I don’t know what’s happening here, Vince, or why but… That lump next to you loves you. He loves you more than he’s ever loved anyone, and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you right now. He’d happily take your father’s place in the hospital if it meant you could go back to being a carefree kid for a little longer. He doesn’t think of you… in that way… not yet. But he will, and it won’t be easy for him. It’s going to be really upsetting and confusing, actually, but he… I will always love you. I love you, Little Man, and I always will. I love you, Vince.”

He wants to keep talking, he wants to make Vince understand but there are sharp nails scraping his scalp and dragging him back to the waking world. He realizes too late that his final, “I love you, Vince,” was said out loud. He braces himself for the inevitable. It doesn’t occur to him to beg for his life anymore, he just waits for the pain to end.

xxx

Old Gregg hasn’t quite gotten the hang of ‘love’ yet. A few times, he thought he’d found love but it turned out to be something else. Curly Jefferson wasn’t love. Slash wasn’t love – though he still made Old Gregg feel tingly. Old Gregg loved his father, that’s why he kept the ornery bastard alive.

He thought he felt love the first time he spied Howard bickering with his pretty lady man friend. He’d been ready to remove the lady man from the picture when he fortuitously chose to leave on his own, on a raft.

And then Old Gregg had Howard all to himself, if only for a short time. The hours when Gregg believed the big Northerner was his one true love had been the happiest of his life. Howard was different from the others. While the others had screamed in terror, Howard had been calm and flippant. Even when threatened to be stuffed alive, Howard moved smoothly into the character of leading man without soaking his clothes through with sweat, unlike Slash.

Even though Howard betrayed him by leaving, betrayed him by stealing the funk, and betrayed him by running back to his pretty little friend, Old Gregg did not want to kill Howard. For a while, Gregg thought that was love: the desire not to murder someone (instead of the indifference one normally feels).

But now he knew there was more to love than not wanting someone dead.

Howard had just said his pretty friend’s name again. He said it sometimes in his sleep or during their love making times. It didn’t make Old Gregg happy but it no longer filled him with blind rage.

What Howard did during their times changed the world for Gregg. What he’d experienced of sex before had been angry and frightening but Howard was quiet and gentle. Gregg normally ignored his mangina in favor of his shenis. The shenis was much easier to operate. Nearly any kind of contact brought pleasure to the shenis. A sharp wind could bring pleasure to the shenis. He’d offered his mangina for Howard’s pleasure because he knew Howard would want to feel like a strong man (as explained to him by his old man). He hadn’t expected Howard to bring Gregg pleasure. Howard was surely in possession of some kind of ancient wisdom and Gregg wondered why he wasn’t honored among the land dwellers for his skill. He had brought Gregg more pleasure with his thumb than Gregg had ever experienced before.

Hearing Howard speak the other’s name made Gregg jealous and angry and he did raise his hand to strike the unfaithful thoughts from his lover’s head.

But then Howard had trembled with fear, his hands raised over his face, trying to protect himself from Gregg’s fist.

Seeing Howard afraid made Gregg feel unhappy.

“Stop being scared, Howard,” Gregg ordered, “Old Gregg loves you.”

“I’m sorry Gregg,” Howard whispered, his voice trembling as much as his hands.

The Hitcher laughed and walked over. He ran his hand along Howard’s bare thigh, “Nothing to be scared of, boy. We’re going to take care of you just fine.”

Howard tried to keep a sheet over his body but Gregg’s father was trying to touch him everywhere. Old Gregg knew his father coveted anything that was not his. It was just one of the character flaws Old Gregg had been able to identify in his father over the centuries.

“Old Gregg, please, don’t let him…” Howard whispered, softly. He was still shaking with fear.

“Father knows not to make love times to Howard,” Gregg said, trying to sound soothing as he ran his nails through Howard’s hair, careful not to draw blood.

“That’s right, sonny boy,” the Hitcher sneered, running a nail from Howard’s testicles to his anus, “I’m not gonna try and make love to ya, Howard.”

Gregg liked to watch Howard squirm, his body was more sensitive than most humans, but the touching made Howard afraid. Old Gregg didn’t like to see Howard afraid.

Maybe that was love.

Old Gregg used one arm to knock the Hitcher across the room, “Father is scaring Howard. Stay away.”

The Hitcher climbed to his feet, “Oi, the ingratitude! I raised you from a guppy when your mum abandoned you…”

“Old Greggory is tired of that story. Perhaps father has a new one.”

“Perhaps I’ll go for a walk, s’almost Mardi Gras. The streets’ll be filled with brain dead and drunken tourists looking for a time they’ll never remember. I’d ‘ate to leave them disappointed,” the Hitcher said, with a jaunty tip of his hat, “I’ll leave the two of you in privacy.”

Old Gregg smiled at his father’s generosity and turned his gaze to Howard. He watched the big man’s body relax as Gregg’s father left the cave.

Old Gregg ran his hand over Howard’s broad chest, “We’re alone, my love.”

Howard looked worried so Gregg tried to be more gentle with his touch.

xxx

Sally woke up to find herself in the arms of that hairy guy from that band that did that song. And that other song that sounded just like it.

That’s right, she was on a mission with Slash.

And the ghost of Marie Laveau.

She had returned to New Orleans to study the effects of fracking, visit her family and get wasted for Mardi Gras. How had she been blown so far off course?

Vince and Marie were deep in conversation. The Voodoo queen ran her hand along his sharp features and spoke too quietly for Sally to discern her words but Vince looked thoughtful. Then his face broke into one of his broad and disarming smiles. That’s how she got blown off course, that irresistible smile.

She and Slash watched as Marie took Vince’s scarf from her “grave” and wound it around his head into a turban much like her own. Oddly enough, it suited him. It seemed as though all hats suited Vince.

And then she was gone. Slash summed up Sally’s feelings by whispering, “Holy fucking shit. Am I high?”

xxx

Sally navigated as Slash steered her boat. She was beautiful in her fierce concentration. Vince could imagine her working in a lab with beakers, only to suddenly release her wild curls from a bun as she yelled, “Eureka!” He could almost hear Howard lecturing him on getting all his understanding of science from bad horror movies. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes. He couldn’t possibly miss an arm or a leg as much as he missed his Howard. When Howard had gone off to be an actor, Vince had waited impatiently for him to either return or call for Vince to join him. He never thought they would stay apart. Once Howard decided to leave the zoo with Vince, he’d felt confident that they would be a double act forever. Howard loved being a zoo keeper but he loved Vince more. Bollo had been all too willing to rough Howard up and make it look realistic that Howard had been over-powered rather than complicit in Bollo’s “escape”. They had all been prepared for Howard to balk at the plan, but instead, he took it all in stride.

He only made one demand. Bollo had to kick Bob Fossil in the ass on the way out. Although Bollo and Howard rarely saw eye to eye, they seemed to be of one mind when it came to Fossil.

Poor Fossil literally didn’t know what hit him. He’d lost his tape recorder in the scuffle.

Vince had been ready to move on before Naboo announced he was being “called” to take a familiar and had even considered leaving a few times, but not without Howard. Never without Howard.

Sally cast him a sympathetic look and Vince forced a smile. People who had never met Howard were risking their lives to find him, the least he could do was not bring them down with his maudlin thoughts. He couldn’t be positive but after one of Vince’s mini-breakdowns, he was pretty sure he heard Slash calling Axl on his mobile, just to say hi.

“Now, what exactly did Marie say about Howlin’ Jimmy Jefferson?” Sally asked.

“She said he moved out of his swamp because he was afraid of a turtle from outer space,” Vince explained.

Again.

“You’re absolutely sure she said turtle?” Sally asked.

Again.

“Yes.”

“From outer space?”

“Yes.”

Sally turned back to her charts.

xxx

Vince wasn’t asleep, but he wasn’t awake either. He could feel the rocking of the boat, he could smell the swamp water. He could also see Howard, naked except for a thin sheet. Marie said these “dream walks” were a gift, similar to bi-location. She said love was the second most powerful force in the human world, the first being (obviously) Marie Laveau.

“Howard, we’re coming to save you! I just need to find a turtle from outer space and we’ll be all set.”

Howard frowned, “Not the Star Turtle.”

“Yeah! That’s the one! He’s gonna help us. I think. Marie Laveau said he scared the Spirit of Jazz out of the Black Swamp and…”

“Vince?”

“Yeah, Howard?”

Howard took Vince’s hand and pulled it to his face. He didn’t look at Vince, he just stared at the ceiling but his sheet was gone.

Vince gave Howard a chaste kiss on the forehead, “S’all right, Howard. I’m here now and we’re going to get you through this.”

He could almost feel Howard’s fear. Fears. Howard was afraid of so many things.

“C’mon, Howard! You’ve been to hell and back! You’ll be okay. I won’t let you not be okay,” Vince promised before he began trailing kisses down Howard’s stomach. It had been a long time since he’d been with a man, hazy dreams aside, but nothing could have been more natural than taking Howard into his mouth, using his hands to stroke every available inch of his big, warm, swamp-smelling body. The swamp smell was putting him off a bit but, everything else was pure Howard. The man he’d loved since he was child. Big, strong, brainy…

Weak, fearful, old before his time…

Howard’s thoughts were echoing in Vince’s brain.

Handsome, brave, kind… Vince thought, scrunching his forehead with the effort of trying to drown out the negative voice.

Broken, scared, insane…

Beautiful.

Unworthy…

Never!

Vince tried to show Howard with his thoughts and with his hands and with his mouth just how much he cared. Once Howard managed to orgasm, Vince whispered loving nonsense into his ear as Old Gregg held his pet tightly. He could see Old Gregg as clear as day. He was encouraged by the gentleness in Old Gregg’s touch. He’d seemed much more frightening in the earlier dreams. Now Gregg was looking at Howard with less crazed possessiveness. He looked loving. Vince saw a twisted version of his own love reflected in strangely familiar eyes.