Arcadian Dream

Vince stretched his arms above his head, yawning loudly. He swung his short legs from the arm of the sofa on which he had been reclining onto the dusty floor of the cabin. The soles of his garish white boots landed on the floor with a soft “clack.”

“Howard, I’m bored,” Vince whined as he got to his feet.
“And?” Howard asked disinterestedly from behind his desk, his small eyes not tearing their attention from the book that lay open before them.
“And…let’s do something. Come on, Howard – let’s go out!” Vince enthused as he sauntered over to Howard’s desk.

“Go out?” Howard replied, looking up from his book as Vince perched his arse on the corner of the desk, “Why would I want to do that, Vince?”
“Ah, for fun, maybe,” Vince ventured, shrugging his shoulders.
“Fun? There’s plenty of fun to be had right here, in this very cabin. Don’t need to go out to have fun, no sir,” Howard stated happily, concluding his reply with a slight nod of his head in Vince’s direction.
“Like what?” Vince asked, exasperated. He let his arms fall to his sides as he waited for Howard to respond.
“Like this,” Howard said, gesturing to his book, “A good book and a quiet night in: what could be more fun than that?”
Vince rolled his eyes, “I don’t know, a colonoscopy maybe. What is that you’re reading, anyway?”
“This,” Howard said as he closed the cover of the book, lifting the heavy tome from the cluttered timber surface of the desk, “This, is The History of the Trumpet. Yes sir, a rollicking ride through the history of one of jazz music’s most prolific contributors.”
“Sounds riveting,” Vince muttered, raising his eyebrows, “So we’re not going out then?”
“You can go out, you don’t need me to go with you – call up Leroy or something,” Howard said with a careless wave of his hand.
“I can’t, Leroy’s gone skiing – come on, Howard, please?” Vince pleaded once more.
“No. I’m sorry, Vince. I have my evening planned.”
“Fine,” Vince sighed in disappointment. He shuffled dejectedly towards the stereo. He extended a finger and pressed play.

As Howard was about to begin a new chapter, the wib-wib-wib of Gary Numan’s Cars echoed through the tiny cabin.
“What is that?” Howard asked, pushing his chair back and suddenly standing up.
“Gary Numan – I mean, if you won’t come out with me, I’ve got to entertain myself somehow,” Vince smiled mischievously as he danced about, shifting his weight from side to side in time with the music.
“Alright, we’ll go out,” Howard conceded as Gary’s voice began to pierce his jazz consciousness.
“Brilliant, Howard,” Vince said, clapping his hands together excitedly.
“So, where are we going?” Howard asked, clearly unhappy about the turn the evening had taken.
“The local theatre’s showing Rocky Horror, I’ll just nip off and get changed,” Vince called back to Howard as he bounded away cheerfully.
“Woah there, Rocky Horror? No one said anything about Rocky Horror.”
“Oh, come on Howard, it’ll be genius!”
“I don’t think so, Vince.”
“There’ll be girls there,” Vince replied in a sing-song voice.
“Well, no there won’t now, will there Vince? There’ll be men, dressed as women: slightly different, Vince.”
“No way – what about all the Columbias and Magentas…maybe even a few Janets, that’s more your style, yeah?”
Howard cocked one eyebrow: “A few Janets, you say?”
“Definitely,” Vince replied, nodding.
“Alright,” Howard said, somewhat more positively this time.
“Cool. I’ll just nip off to get changed,” Vince said as he crossed the room, “Oh, you’ll have to get changed too, Howard.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Howard asked, drawing his hands down in a vertical motion.
“You can’t wear a British racing green zookeeper’s jacket to a midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show!”
“Well, what then?”
“I’ve got just the thing for you, actually,” Vince grinned as he disappeared. He returned from the other room momentarily, and clutching at a bag of clothing: “Here you go,” he said, hurling the bag at Howard.

*****

A short while later, Vince emerged from his room, clothed in a corset, shorts and fishnet stockings. The rich blue of his irises contrasted powerfully with the exaggerated eye make-up that was essential when dressing oneself up as Dr. Frank N. Furter.
“You alright, Howard?” Vince called out as he stood waiting by the sofa.
Howard stepped forward slowly, adorned in little more than a pair of very small metallic gold underpants.
Vince tried to suppress a giggle as Howard stood, stock still, in the middle of the room, and glaring at Vince.
“I’m not happy about this,” Howard said rather coldly.
“Oh come on, Howard, you look brilliant!”
“I feel like a right berk,” Howard grumbled, shifting uncomfortably, “These pants are too tight; I’m all…bunched up.”
“Yeah…” Vince muttered, “I mean, you look great and, think about it, some girl sees you in those pants, she sees exactly what Howard Moon’s bringing to the party, yeah?”
“I suppose so,” Howard replied, not wholly convinced.
“We’ll get going then, yeah?” Vince stated, rather than asked, as he headed for the door. Howard followed.

*****

“I’m freezing!” Howard hissed through chattering teeth as he and Vince waited outside the theatre.
“Why didn’t you bring a jacket?” Vince asked.
“You wouldn’t let me! ‘It’ll mess up your outfit’, you said,” Howard answered angrily.
“Well, it would’ve. Anyway, check those girls out over there,” Vince tilted his head in the direction a gaggle of Columbias and Magentas. Howard allowed his eyes to follow the direction of Vince’s gaze. As he did so, a particularly loud Magenta pointed a finger towards the tiny-panted Howard: she and her friends broke into fits of laughter.
Howard sighed deeply. He turned his head to face Vince, his eyes transformed into slits of fury as he stared at Vince.
“What?” Vince said, “They noticed, didn’t they? Come on, time to go in.”

*****

It’s a Science Fiction – oohweehooh – Double Feature – oohweehooh…
The film began as Howard settled into his seat beside Vince, comfortable in the darkness of the movie theatre for the first time since leaving the house that evening. Howard allowed his body, which had been so tense, to finally loosen, as he slouched down in his seat, his head resting comfortably on the top of his seat. Perhaps this evening wouldn’t be quite so bad as he had first anticipated…

The film wore on. Riff-Raff and Magenta had done the Time-Warp, Brad and Janet had both succumbed to the not-so-subtle wiles of Frank N Furter, and Howard was actually enjoying himself. Janet was begging Rocky to toucha-toucha-touch her when Howard noticed something: Vince’s stockinged kneecap pressing gently against his own.

The criss-crossing fabric of Vince’s tights rubbed against the soft hairs of Howard’s exposed legs as Vince shifted in his seat. Indeed, Howard noticed that Vince’s shifting had become increasingly frequent, and it wasn’t long before Vince was rubbing his lean leg over Howard’s long limbs in the dark.
“What are you doing?” Howard whispered in a panic.
“Nothing,” Vince replied in mock innocence, unable to disguise a cheeky smirk from the light being thrown from the cinema screen.
“What do you mean, nothing?” Howard hissed again.
“I just…” Vince began quietly, before lowering his voice to such an extent as Howard had never heard before: “I just…liked the look of what Howard Moon brought to the party.”

Howard’s eyes widened – or, rather, if they had been eyes of a normal size they would have done so. In shock or fear or delight, he wasn’t exactly sure. What Howard was sure of though, was the sudden movement of Vince’s hand, as he grazed the soft mound of Howard’s belly with his fingertips.

“Vince,” Howard tried to protest as Vince’s fingers continued their downwards movement, reaching past his pelvis to the waistband of the shimmering gold pants. Vince slid the heel of his palm over the base of Howard’s stiffening cock, his fingers tentatively slipping over the length of the shaft: Howard gasped as the pressure of Vince’s touch and the gentle caress of the fabric on his warm flesh caused his skin to prickle.

No longer satisfied with stimulating Howard through his pants, Vince tried to slip his fingers underneath the waistband. The pants were indeed too tight: Howard’s erect cock was now straining painfully against the tented material, and Vince could barely manage to graze Howard’s pubic hair with one fingertip as he reached down.

There was, Vince decided, only one thing for it: he slid down onto the sticky carpet of the movie theatre, stray popcorn kernels and lolly wrappers digging into his knees. He ducked underneath one of Howard’s legs so as to position himself between Howard’s thighs. Thoroughly pleased with the view from his new seat, Vince reached up and pulled the gold pants down over Howard’s hips, freeing his prick; Howard raised his arse from the seat to allow for the underpants to move more easily over his body. Vince pulled the pants all the way down, before disentangling them from Howard’s ankles and putting them to one side. Howard sat, nervous, sweaty and more aroused than he had ever been in his life, in his theatre seat: completely naked.

Vince placed each of his palms on Howard’s inner thighs, spreading his legs wider: his cock rose from his bushy pubic mound like an obelisk. Vince extended his tongue along the underside of Howard’s cock. Reaching the engorged head, he swirled his tongue around the tip, savouring the taste of Howard on his tongue. Howard tried desperately to steady his breathing as Vince placed his soft, wet and suitably lipglossed lips of the tip of Howard’s prick.

Howard began to gently thrust into Vince’s mouth as Vince increased and then decreased the sucking motions of his eager, cavernous mouth. Taking more and more of Howard in with each of Howard’s restrained thrusts, Vince dragged the edge of his teeth along the tender skin of Howard’s cock, before nipping slightly at the tip.

Howard’s thigh muscles began to tighten under the weight of Vince’s palms, and he began to thrust more powefully as Vince continued to suck his cock. The rapidity of Howard’s breathing rose, and he plunged a hand into Vince’s hair, pulling on the perfectly manicured mane and urging Vince to take him in deeper. Vince complied: as he increased the ferocity of his sucking, he slid his palms up over Howard’s soft thighs and rested them on Howard’s convulsing stomach. The sweat from Howard’s body mingled with that of Vince’s hands: skin and sweat and heat slipping and sliding and combining until Howard placed a large hand of his own over Vince’s small fist, holding it steady on his abdomen.

Howard could no longer control his movements: as Vince slurped hungrily – desperately – on his cock, his hips bucked, hard, into Vince’s mouth. His entire body tensing, Howard came in Vince’s mouth, moaning far more loudly than he had intended and drawing the attention of the other cinema patrons.

“What’s going on over there?” a disembodied voice asked the darkened room. Unaware of the commotion he and Howard were now in the process of causing, Vince licked Howard’s softening cock clean, swallowing each drop of come as Howard, exhausted, searched frantically for the tiny gold pants.

“Yeah – what is going on over there?”
“Vince!” he whispered anxiously, “The pants! Where are the pants?”
Vince wiped his mouth and grasping the pants, held them aloft before Howard. Howard snatched them from Vince’s fingers and hastily slid into them.

“I think that bloke’s girlfriend was sucking him off!” decided a rather high-pitched, and somewhat disgusted sounding, squeak.
“I think it’s time to go, yeah?” Howard muttered embarrassedly: groping in the dark for Vince’s hand, the two made a speedy exit and, covered in shame, satisfied smiles, and a pair of tiny gold pants, headed for home.