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 26

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Chapter 26

It was a nightmare. Howard knew it was a nightmare, but it hardly mattered. The pain was real and there was no escaping it. He couldn’t call for Vince.

“That’s right, ya slag, ya wouldn’t want Vince to see you like this,” the Hitcher leered into his ear. His breath smelled like death with just a hint of Bailey’s.

He had to ask Old Gregg for help; it was his only option.

“S’right, you nonce, beg for Old Gregg to fuck you,” the Hitcher laughed, “what other choice ‘ave ya got? Whadda conundrum!”

Howard tried to wake up, but he wasn’t sure how. He needed Vince.

Vince’s eyes were ice cold as his fingers closed around Howard’s throat.

No, that wasn’t Vince, it was the Hitcher.

“Don’t really matter now, do it?” the Hitcher sneered, “it’ll be my face ya see as soon as he tries to fuck ya, boy. It’ll always be me.”

Howard tried to close his eyes, but he couldn’t escape the Hitcher’s horrifying face.

“I’m inside ya, slag, all the way inside,” the Hitcher groaned into Howard’s ear, “you’ll never get me out of ya now.”

He could beg for Old Gregg, it would hurt less if it were Old Gregg.

“Oi, you are a slag,” laughed the Hitcher. “Beg for it, boy!”

Howard tried to picture Vince, sweet and loving…

xxx

Howard was staring at the wall of the room he shared with Vince above Naboo’s shop.

Home.

He was curled on his side, nearly in a fetal position, and someone was behind him.

Actually, someone was inside him, as well.

“Oh, Howard,” Vince moaned in his ear.

He’d found Vince, he was in Vince’s dream.

Vince ran his hand down Howard’s chest and between his legs. He was surprised to realize he was hard but quickly realized he wouldn’t be hard for long. Not if he kept thinking.

“Hey,” Vince whispered, slowing his already gentle thrusts, “you okay, Big Man? Do you want me to stop? Just say the word, baby.”

Baby?

“S’good,” Howard whispered, trying not to shatter the illusion of the dream, “don’t stop.”

He felt a bit nervous and shy about what was happening, but it was infinitely preferable to his own dream.

There were dozens of candles lit on the sideboard. Even as Howard began to feel anxious about the fire risk, his eyes fell on a fire extinguisher on the ground.

“Don’t stop,” Howard whispered again. There couldn’t have been a more romantic gesture than that fire extinguisher, no clearer proof of how much Vince cared.  Of how well Vince really knew Howard.

It didn’t matter if Vince’s eyes were exactly like Old Gregg’s (and like the Hitcher’s); Vince was made of love and sunshine.

Vince had stopped moving his hips and was rubbing his hand in gentle circles on Howard’s stomach, while covering his shoulder in kisses.

“No rush, Big Man, we can take it slow. I only want you to feel good,” Vince spoke in a creamy voice with none of his usual cheekiness. “I want you to feel happy and safe and loved.”

It was Howard’s undoing. He’d had this dream so many times. After Vince’s parents died, he’d woken up, full of shame, too many times to count after a dream about making love to his underaged and vulnerable charge. He understood this dream all too well and knowing that Vince was having it broke Howard’s heart, but also mended it a bit. His little man had been through so much. The last thing he wanted was for Vince to become aware of what was happening, he’d be absolutely mortified…

“What’s…? Howard?” Vince’s voice went from smooth and sexy to a high pitched squawk. “What’s happening?”  Vince was frozen in place, one hand still on Howard’s genitals and holding just a little too tightly for comfort.

“It’s just a dream, Vince, everything’s fine,” Howard said, with entirely too much volume to be believable.  “Don’t be upset.”

He could vaguely remember Vince saying something similar in the cave:  “Please don’t be hurt.”

It hadn’t occurred to Howard what it must have been like for Vince to be there in that cave… to do the things Howard needed him to do. Even as his instincts led him to feel guilty, Howard could see how useless it was to keep beating himself up. Because of Vince, Howard was still alive, and it was unthinkable that Vince should feel guilt or embarrassment over a dream.

“Listen to me, Little Man, this is just a dream, yeah? It isn’t…”

“Am I hurting you?” Vince asked in a tiny, wobbly voice.

“Of course not, it’s…” even in a dream, Howard couldn’t be totally honest. He was such a coward.

“I don’t know why I’m dreaming about… this,” Vince whispered into Howard’s ear, “I hardly ever dream about it being, you know, this way. It’s usually the other way round like in the Yeti dream.”

“It’s because you… want to take care of me,” Howard explained, feeling strangely worldly. “It isn’t about the sex.”

It wasn’t about the sex, it wasn’t about taking advantage of someone who was vulnerable.  When Vince lost his parents, Howard had wanted so badly to hold Vince and tell him he’d always be loved and never alone, but Howard hadn’t known how. Affection didn’t come easily to him and he had so many hang-ups about intimacy.  And Vince had been so young and so very beautiful.

Vince loosened his death grip on Howard’s cock, and gave him a few gentle strokes. Howard felt relieved when his body responded appropriately.

“Is this all right?” Vince asked, nervously, “Should I stop?”

“At this point, I think stopping would be just plain rude,” Howard replied, feigning a confidence he didn’t feel. “You need to finish what you’ve started, sir.”

Vince giggled and nuzzled the back of Howard’s neck, “S’good to have you bossin’ me around again.”

It took some coaxing to get Vince to be a little less careful, but, soon enough, Howard was face down on the bed and griping the sheets while Vince comforted his brains out. Each thrust was accompanied by declarations of love and devotion from both parties. Howard couldn’t quite get the hang of sex talk but even an approving noise seemed to be enough to please Vince. Meanwhile, Vince made several statements about Howard’s physique and sexual proficiency that not only ensured Howard did not give in to panic or despair and lose his erection, but that he would be blushing for the next week.

While awake, sex seemed to move all too quickly towards its logical conclusion; in dreams they could take their time. Howard relished the feeling of Vince inside of him, stimulating a million nerve endings with every movement. Howard felt a tingle in his toes telling him he was almost there, and yet he could still relax and enjoy the slow build.

“Nearly there,” Howard groaned. He was rewarded with a series of quick thrusts that left him seeing stars and then seeing the ceiling of their hotel room.

Howard quickly glanced over at his companion. Vince was a good foot away, curled up on his side and facing Howard. His breathing was a little shallow, but otherwise he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Howard watched the tell-tale signs of tension as they appeared on Vince’s face, until the younger man grimaced and stiffened. When Vince’s eyes shot open, Howard had to look away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable for having watched his sleeping friend during such a personal moment. Howard knew it was ridiculous, given what they’d shared, but he felt awkward all the same.

“All right, Howard?” Vince asked in a hopeful tone.

“All right,” Howard replied before giving Vince a quick peck on the lips.