Midnight Crimping

Howard indulge in a spot of crimping in their bedroom in vests and pants.


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Length: words

Notes: I wrote this story because of this icon by thieving_gypsy:

Midnight Crimping by accioarse

By the end of it, Howard and Vince were lying on their backs, lightly panting, slightly sweaty, and both completely satisfied.

It was the best midnight crimp they’d had in months.

Vince got up, touching Howard on the shoulder. He started to strip off his crimping vest and pants. “Hey, that was genius! With the banana and the xylophone and the music of the fruits! But sleepy time now, right?”

Howard went over to his own bed. He took off his vest and pants, but then threw them on the floor, completely ignoring his special underwear laundry casket. With his back to Vince, he curled up on top of his tweed bedspread and started to fidget.

Vince walked over, little blue pants still dangling from his hand. “Hey, Howard. What’s up?”

“Nothing! Go away!”

“No really, Howard. What you doing?”

Howard turned halfway round. “I was just thinking.”

“What you thinking, Howard?”

“That perhaps it’s too… big.”

Vince rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s only going to get bigger if you keep on poking it!”

Howard pulled his hands away. “Really? Touching it makes it bigger?”

Vince bounced back onto his bed. He propped himself onto one elbow, stroking his fingers in a lazy arc across his naked hip. “C’mon, Howard, of course it does! How can you not know that? How old are you, anyway?”

“Um… thirty two?”

“Yeah, right! Sure you are. Well, just don’t touch it, that’s all. Cos if you touch it too much, it’ll grow about twice the size it is now. Perhaps bigger. And then it goes red. Crazy red! Purple too.”

“No way! … really?”

“Yeah, really!”

“How do you know?”

“Only ‘cos Leroy told me so last Tuesday.”

Howard made a forceful noise of disbelief. “Leroy? And you believe everything he says, do you?”

Vince was sucking on the end of his thumbnail now. He looked up. “Dunno. I might.”

Howard unwound – but only enough to glare over at Vince. “Well, I don’t. And anyway. It’s not like yours is that perfect, either.”

Vince sat up. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well. Come on.”

“I’ve had no complaints so far.”

“But look at it!” Howard gestured. “It’s all weird and bent over. At least mine goes straight up and down.”

Vince grinned. He stretched himself across on the bed, lifting his narrow hips and wiggling with sadistic pleasure. “Now I know that you’re jealous. Because all the girls – they love my little kink. They’re always stroking it and giving little coos.”

“That’s news to me!”

“Well, they’re not going to do it in public, are they? I take them somewhere quiet and let them do it there.”

Howard snorted.

“Course, you wouldn’t know anything about it. No girl’s ever going to do that to yours. Seeing as how it’s so massive and deformed and all that.”

Howard jumped off the bed, grabbed a mirror off a side table and angled it round, trying to get a better view of the offending body part. He pulled the mirror close. Then further away. Then close again. “What, deformed? You… really think so?”

Vince rolled his eyes. He could read Howard like a week-old copy of Crimping Lover’s Daily. In just a second – yeah – there it went. The first wibble, right in Howard’s lower lip area. Next went his eyes, wetting up like a used tissue. Now his shoulders started to jerk.

Oh God. He supposed he should say something nice to the great big deformity. “Well. It doesn’t look so bad from straight on. Or in a low light. Yeah – perhaps you should just stand in shadows a lot. That’d do.“

But Vince’s kind words didn’t seem to work. Howard just looked even more frantic.

“Or you could get some surgery.”

“No!” shouted Howard. He dropped the mirror and formed his hands into a protective cup.

“Howard – now you’re touching it even more! That’s gonna make it worse, innit?”

With a horrified squeal, Howard released his hands.

“Anyway – so I’m going to sleep now. See you in the morning, yeah? Nighty night.” And with that, Vince bounced up to his light switch, pinged it off, then threw back the covers. He snuggled down happily under his purple chiffon duvet.

There were a few seconds of silence. A nervous little whisper swelled up in the semi-gloom. “Vince? Don’t leave me. Not now. I don’t think I can sleep after that.”

Vince turned over. Purple chiffon rustled. “Just try anyway, yeah?”

“I can’t. Not now I know about… the touching.”

Vince put his pillow on top of his head.

“What if it grows even bigger in the night? It could happen. Grow to the size of an adult kangaroo or something. What if I touch it without knowing I’m doing it? In a dream or something? Vince? Are you awake?”

Vince pulled his pillow away. He’d decided to use some flexibility with the truth. “Okay. So, Leroy told me something else – I just forgot to say earlier. It’s that sleep touching doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Well, that’s what Leroy said. If anything, it makes it go smaller. Like it’s negative touching. By the morning it’s the size of a grape.”

Howard thought about this a bit. He peeled back his crisp white sheets and slowly got inside.

“So that’s you, then? You happy now?”

Howard just grunted in reply. He was too busy tucking sheets and blankets neatly back around himself, the same as he did every night.

Vince’s stuffed his face beneath his pillow, so his next words came out muffled. “Course, even if your nose were the size of a foetus peanut, you still wouldn’t get any girls to touch it.”

Howard lifted a sleepy head. “Wha?”

“Nothing! Sleep!”

“Y’okay.” Howard batted a heavy arm and his light turned off. His body slumped. “Thans Vinsss. Youragoo frien. Youknow at? Vinsss? Iloveyou.”

Vince lifted up. “You what now?”

But there was no reply back – just a deep and gentle snore.

Vince lay on his back. He played with the silver fringing all around his duvet. After a few minutes, he turned over. Then he switched his bedside light back on. He searched in a drawer until he found some paints and a brush. Carefully, he picked out just the right shades.

With swift, firm brushstrokes, he painted.

Finally, he stood back to admire his handiwork. He saw a renegade smudge, and dipped in, using his thumb to wipe it clean. There. Perfect. Howard’s nose, painted red and shiny, with a just one bright splodge of purple on the tip.

Vince bent over. His lips hovered so low they almost kissed Howard’s forehead. “You batty crease. I love you too. But I do my best work when you’re oblivious.”

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