Kissing turned out to be a lot weirder for Howard than he’d expected. He’d always imagined it to be something sweet and delicate and tender taking place in a romantic setting, smooth jazz in the background, soft lighting and the smell of perfume. Not to mention he’d always thought that he’d be kissing a nice, sensible sort of lady, not Vince.

And yet, here he was, kissing Vince, and it was nothing like he’d imagined. It was messy and hot and a lot of tongue and there were weird huffy noises coming from Vince from what he expected to be laughter and a lot of saliva was taking residence in his stubble from all of the incessant giggling; Vince was giggling from the odd, prickly sensation of Howard’s moustache and Howard was giggling because he didn’t want to be left out. Several times Howard found himself reaching up to wipe away the uncomfortable feeling of the chaffing liquid, only to find he then had to wipe it on his corduroy pants. If he were Vince, he’d have been worried about the integrity of the material, as it were, he wasn’t, and so he went on happily wiping drool onto his pants, and Vince wouldn’t have been caught dead in corduroy, so the point was moot.

The setting was all wrong, too. The lights of their room were harsh and garish, not a candle in sight, and the room didn’t even have a dimmer. And it was Vince’s night to pick the music, so they were standing there, listening to Gary Numan, of all musical choices, and kissing with the smell and taste of whiskey permeating his senses, neither of them in more than their vests and pants.

Trying to even remember how they got into this whole mess was hard for Howard to understand anyways. They had been having their bi-weekly binge drinking session followed by their bi-monthly Satsuma fight. Then, after a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, and several rounds of chucking fruits at each other, they’d run out of Satsumas and decided the only way to settle the fight would be bodily, they lunged at each other, and that’s where things got weird.

Instead of pummeling each other into the ground, as per normal, they’d somehow met in a fierce lip-lock instead and left Howard in this strange predicament. Perhaps it hadn’t have been the greatest idea combining whiskey night with Satsuma night, perhaps it had.

As it stood, now, he was completely unsure as to where on Earth, well, Vince, he should put his hands. Vince kept moving his all around Howard’s face and hair and it felt rather silly to keep his stone still as his were. At the moment, they were stiff, down by his side, when one of them wasn’t going up to wipe his face of spittle, and he didn’t think that it was really the best place for them. What he really wanted to do was twist his fingers all up in that black, stylish coiffure and just smash their faces together as close as possible, but he knew the rules to Vince’s hair, and knew that would never fly, so instead one hand grabbed the back of Vince’s neck, mindful of the hair, and the other boldly went down to grab a supple arse cheek and pulled the mod in as close as he could to his body.

He hadn’t even noticed before that he’d had an erection and he wasn’t sure if it was from the shock or from the alcohol, but he definitely knew now, as it was pressed into a bony hip-bone causing both a sense of being pressed against a hard rock and deep pleasure. Was it odd for one to not know one had an erection? Well, at least he knew wasn’t the only one having a good time, unless it was Vince’s straightening rod poking uncomfortably into his thigh, and somehow, he doubted it, mostly, so he started moving them closer to the bed as he kneaded the soft flesh of Vince’s bum.

Howard didn’t really know where he’d gotten all of this bravado from, but he wasn’t going to question it because he was a man of action, nor was he going to question where the strangled cat sound came from, because men of action didn’t make sounds like asphyxiated cats as they rutted against other men of action. They just didn’t. But in this unquestioning bravado, he continued pushing the electro ponce towards the bed until Vince’s knees hit the side of the mattress sending them flying down onto the sheets below. Sadly, it had led to an end in the kissing as the fall had knocked both of their faces together and the wind out of Vince

Howard also decided that he wasn’t going to question how they ended up landing the way they did, with Vince’s legs up in the air around Howard, but he wasn’t going to complain as it had led to their cocks rubbing against each other through their pants and eliciting a whole new pleasurable experience for the virgin Howard and finally stopped Vince’s huffy laughter, his big, blue eyes going all big and cross-eyed as the Northerner bore his body down on to the skinnier frame, grinding their pricks together.

Howard took one look down at the odd faces that Vince was pulling with his upper lip all red from kissing with a moustachioed man and immediately burst out into laughter and after a moment of indignity, Vince joined in as well. It was simply too ridiculous, the entire situation.

Vince didn’t really know why they were doing this, all the kissing and grinding. This was Howard! Weird, tall, creepy, jazz-freak, Howard and Vince was Vince, shallow and designer. But at the moment, it was all too hot, and Howard was too hot, being all dominant and un-creepy for once, and Vince didn’t really care that he was shallow, that the only layers he contained were in his hair, and that he usually only did things like this with obviously attractive people.

Not that Vince didn’t find Howard attractive, but it was in a more subtle way, and Vince never dug deep enough to pull with anyone who was so subtly attractive, going more for glam and glitter. If he weren’t in denial to the fact that he actually did contain a few layers to his being, he might admit that on a deeper level, if he had them, that he was attracted to Howard emotionally as well. But he’d never admit that, so it was really just this hot, new, domineering side of Howard that he was attracted to, not Howard, mostly not anyways, he wasn’t head-over-fucking-heels for the jazz freak or nothing. He most certainly wasn’t in love with Howard on a deeper level, because he didn’t have deeper levels. Right?

At the moment, Vince didn’t really care anymore because Howard had resumed with the rocking back and forth against his body and everything was alright.

“Alright, Howard?” Vince asked in a slightly serious, slightly amused, slightly drunk sort of way.

“Alright. Alright Vince?” His voice was all breathy and he had the look of Cornish Guilt on his face.

“Yeah, I fucking am.” And that was pretty much it for talking as Vince had grabbed the jazz freak by the hair and mashed their faces together in yet another erotic, if not extremely sloppy (because of Howard’s inexperience, the ticklish feeling of his mustache to Vince, and general drunkenness), kiss.

In Vince’s drunken opinion, Howard would be a pretty great kisser if it weren’t for that cunting moustache. It was all prickly and made his lip feel hot and itchy. But it was part of Howard, and he couldn’t see himself asking him to get rid of it, so he’d just have to get used to it if he were going to expect to do this again, and judging by the pretty impressive size of that cock rubbing against his own, he expected he would. God, Howard’s body felt so good. And the grinding and rutting was driving him insane, his body felt so hot, and if he wanted to do more (which he did), he’d have to have them stop before he made a mess in his pants.

“Wait up, Howard.” And he sat up on his elbows; just enough they weren’t pressed so closely together, and leaned his head back to get a breath of cool air.

It didn’t seem Howard really wanted to wait, as he took this opportunity to attack Vince’s neck, causing the prickly, hot sensation to spread.

“We can’t keep going like this, Howard.” Vince said as he forced
Howard off with a hand to the chest.

Polish agony. “You’re right, Vince. I’m sorry; don’t know what got into me.” And he made to get up.

Shaking his head, Vince pulled Howard back down by the collar of his vest. “I didn’t mean it like that, you knob. I meant, if we’re going to go farther, you’re going to have slow down a bit or I’ll make a mess in me pants.”

“Farther?”

“Yeah, you know, bummin’?” Vince said, rolling his eyes.

Altruistic gay. “Eugh… I don’t know about that Vince. I like what we’re doing here, but I don’t know if I’m ready for any man to take that route with me just yet.”

“Not you, you spaz. I meant you fucking me. Jeez.” Having sex with Howard wasn’t the easiest thing. The man was such a spastic virgin. Maybe this wasn’t the greatest idea.
That dark, lusty look was back in those small eyes, and scratch that previous thought, it was going to be the greatest idea ever. Vince leaned up, trying his best to look seductive—pretty damn seductive—and kissed Howard a lot slower and more sensual than before.

Vince ran his hand up under Howard’s white shirt, feeling the soft flesh below his fingertips and moaning into the Northerner’s mouth. His whole body trembled as he made to remove the offending garment; just the thought of having such velvet skin against his own was unbelievably erotic.
He pulled away from the kiss to yank Howard’s vest past his armpits and up over his head, making his hair all rumpled and oddly sexy looking, and making Vince proud of his latest undertaking as his alter-ego ‘The Midnight Barber.’ He only wished he’d realized how sexy Howard could be before now.

As it was, he could hardly comprehend this, dominant, fiery, slightly confused, sex-god hovering above him and panting like a wildebeest. Thankfully that odd growth seemed to have been removed, either that or his pure sexiness had made it shrivel up and die. Either way, he was glad it was gone, as it had been too horrible for someone as shallow as Vince to overlook, and Howard had a normal, if only mildly pudgy abdomen.

Removing Howard’s shirt seemed to have flipped a switch in the Jazz freak. Vince could only shriek indignantly as Howard ripped his black shirt over his head and arms, making what Vince was sure, a horrible mess of his hair. But all thoughts of his hair left the smaller man as Howard ground himself back down and started sucking on Vince’s pointy chin which was actually something surprisingly erotic for the younger man. He couldn’t ever recall anyone ever doing that before, but then again, Howard was pretty drunk and inexperienced, not that he was complaining, it felt really good.

Vince couldn’t help but giggle as Howard made his prickly, wet way down his jaw and neck to latch onto his collarbone. He wasn’t so giggly now, and even less as he kissed a further wet line down to suckle on one of his nipples, biting and sucking so perfectly uncoordinated. To be honest, he looked ridiculous, all cross-eyed with drool running from his face and neck into his hair, and there were those odd elephant-trumpet-y noises again. He looked a hot mess.

Howard continued down his path, pausing to suck on prominent rib bones and to drool into a belly button and gnaw on those hip bones which had caused him an odd discomfort earlier, until he got down to the hem of Vince’s neon pink pants, when he shot up with the look of a horrified Frenchman.

Vince couldn’t help but giggle again at the look on Howard’s face. It seemed he’d realized that he was about come face to face, quite literally, with another man’s cock. But the increasing sense of dread creeping onto the older man’s face really made Vince a bit uncomfortable. Who wouldn’t feel uncomfortable if someone looked at their pants like an alien was about to pop out? Finally Howard lifted the hem and pulled them down past Vince’s hips quickly, and was confronted with a cock; an average, normal looking cock. He let out the most relieved sigh Vince had ever heard and did a rushed Catholic crossing.

“Fuck Howard! What’d you think? There was a monster in my pants or something? God, way to make someone feel sexy.” Vince pouted a bit at how absolutely mortified Howard had looked only seconds ago.

“Sorry, but you can never be too certain these days, sir.” Howard bristled. “People with their new-fangled inventions and body modifications, you never know what you’re getting into.” He said all of this as gravely and seriously as one who’d had half a bottle of whiskey could say and genuinely seemed to think he had a point, but Vince knew better. Howard was just a bullshitting virgin trying to play it cool and failing miserably.

“Just get on with it, you berk.” Vince shook his head again.

And so Howard continued pulling down those bright, pink pants, down past supple, yet thin thighs, knobbly knees, down thin calves, and managed to get them somehow tangled around skinny ankles, though Vince had to that was mostly his own fault. He couldn’t help but squirm and kick violently at the feeling of Howard’s warm finger pads running across his flesh; it was the only way to stop himself from shivering. He was a little sorry about almost poking out one of Howard’s small eyes with his big toe, but all was well and finally his pants were gone and Howard was about to lose his own as well, Vince was certain, especially since he had just hooked his thumbs into the waistband and ripped them down.

And there they were, Howard now standing at the edge of the bed, underwear around his knees and Vince lounged back in front of him, naked as the day he was born. Howard was once again in the shifty-eyed Eskimo business and Vince was trying not to laugh in case he scare the tall man off.

“Lube’s in the drawer.” Vince said, pointing to said drawer located in a cramped little bed table.

“Lube?” Mystified Alaskan.

“Yeah, lube. Ya know, the thing that makes sex go easier. Lube.”

“Oh yeah, that stuff. Lube.” And Howard went to rummaging, looking for this mysterious lube.

“It’s in a clear bottle, clear, liquid-y goo.” Vince explained.

“Gotcha.” And indeed he did. He had found the ‘lube’ and was now bringing it back for further instruction.

Vince scooted back on the bed just a bit and spread his legs awkwardly wide as he waited for Howard to move back in. Howard just took a little discomfited perch on the corner of the bed and watched Vince expectantly.

“Well go ahead; put some on your fingers.” Vince said propping himself up again on his elbows.

Howard scooted just a tiny bit closer to sit in between Vince’s ankles and put a little on his pointer and middle fingers, rubbing the cool gel in with his thumb.

“Come on, stretch me out. I’ve not done this in a while.” Vince said expectantly, bending his knees up to show off his bum hole.

“That’s right. I’m going to stick my fingers in there with the help of this lube and stretch you out… so my penis can fit in there.” Howard said vary slowly, as if working it out for himself, which he probably was. “Alright, here I go.” And he inched up a bit more to slowly rub a finger against Vince’s hole.

There was something incredibly sensual and romantic feeling about having Howard rub his slick finger around his hole as he tried to worm it in just a little, just a little bit more and, there! Vince’s head lulled back as he felt himself be breached by the wormy finger. It had been awhile and he’d almost forgotten how nice it was to have something up there, almost, and it was amazing having Howard’s finger squirm around as he was loosened up a bit, no matter how much like a grieving Polish man he may look.

“Put another one in, yeah?” Vince groaned as Howard rubbed against his prostate. “And keep touching that spot. It feels amazing.”

Vince winced a bit as Howard complied, but then everything was alright, because it was sexy Howard again, and those fingers were pressing just right in him and they were moving and it wasn’t his fault if he couldn’t help fucking himself back onto those Magic Moon Fingers. He let out a deep moan and continued to rock on those fingers and Howard somehow slipped in a third and he was so ready.

“Put it in me Howard. I want your cock. Call me a cock-slut and fuck me now, Moon!” He sometimes got a bit trashy mouthed when it came to fucking. “Make sure you put lube on that luscious man-meat and take me like a school-girl.”
He let out a sad groan as Howard removed his fingers to do as Vince commanded, but let out a happier one when he felt the slick head of Howard’s cock poke against his crack.

“Cock-slut?” Howard asked.

“That’s right. Fuck your little cum-whore. Fill my man cunt!” If Vince weren’t so horny and drunk, he’d probably be ashamed of the things he was saying. But he was, drunk and horny that is, and he really didn’t give a shit and reached down to help line Howard’s cock up with his hole and yelled for him to push much like an obstetrician.

“OH—MAN CUNT!!” Howard yelled rather loudly and unexpectedly as he slid into that tight, hot, almost sucking heat that was Vince Noir. He really couldn’t quite understand why he’d never done this before. Sex was really the most amazing thing. Ever. In the history of all mankind. All monkey-kind. Any other type of kind, sex was the best.
And then there was moving, and feeling that heat almost hungrily suck him back in as he thrust against that hot, smoldering body and sunk even deeper while Vince’s shouts got incredibly dirtier and more alarming.

And Vince was making those faces again, and his cock was rubbing against Howard’s tummy, and there were weird strangled cat and elephant sounds, and the pressure was intense, and then there was this hot splattering against his chest and it was all even tighter and his whole world exploded in white.

“Howard. Howard. Howard.” Was what Howard awoke to a couple minutes later, his face mashed into a sweat and cum soaked chest. He looked up to see Vince’s big, blue eyes looking down on him, his face all red and his hair all messy, and looking thoroughly ravished. “Alright there, Howard?”
Howard wasn’t sure if he was alright. He ached everywhere and he was pretty sure there was cum drying in his moustache and ear. But then he looked up at Vince, so dishevelled and messy looking, and still unbelievably sexy, and such a kind look in his eyes.

“Yeah, Little Man, I am.” And he tried his hardest, really, he did, to subtly pull out of Vince and rollover to lay beside him, but rather managed to flop sideways, still half inside the electro ponce causing both of them to wince in discomfort.
In the morning, hopefully after (possibly shared) showers, they would talk about this, maybe after a resolve. For now, they drifted off into drunken, sated slumber, but they both knew that this was just the beginning of something more.

AN: I’ve never laughed so hard writing smut before. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. ; ) Please review!

aprilANXIETY

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Satsumas and Jack: An Unlikely Combination

Satsumas and Jack: An Unlikely Combination by aprilANXIETY

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Satsumas and Jack: An Unlikely Combination by aprilANXIETY

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