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snafu
SNAFU
Popslash
Pairing: Nick/Howie
Rating: R-ish
Disclaimer: allll made up, right?
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
canadiankracka's Fic-To-Order Challenge
Thanks todarkseaglass for the second pair of eyes.
Also on AOOO, here.
Nick finally gave up and slid off the couch. It sure as hell wasn't built for anyone his size and the floor was fine for watching the fire. His fingers moved aimlessly over the strings of the guitar he'd picked up for lack of anything more interesting to do. He could have found the remote for the television, but it was late and he was jet-lagged and he didn't feel like figuring out Swiss satellite TV.
Howie paced the edge of the shadows, his cell phone to his ear and his mouth tight. His voice was low, but Nick didn't have to hear anything to know what was going on. Like AJ would say, SOS. Same old shit, and Nick was right where he always was when it went down, where he'd been for years--on the outside, looking in, closer than Howie let anyone else get, which Nick was good with, but he was beginning to think nothing was ever gonna change.
Howie'd always had a thing for big blonds. Nick figured that out right about the time he realized that as competent as Howie was at everything else--and Howie was always the go-to guy for normal-life problems like expired drivers licenses and whether it was safe to drink milk on the day after the Sell By date printed on it--he sucked big time at picking guys who weren't going to screw him over the first chance they got.
His actual boyfriends were usually a little more buff than Nick--gym muscles, not working-class ones--but since Nick was just the stand-in fuckbuddy, he didn't see the need to be pumping iron any time soon.
The thing about Howie was that he hated to put Nick in that category. Nick was his friend, the kid who'd grown up in the next room, not someone Howie ended up sleeping with every time the latest Trey, Drake or Lance casually announced that things were over, and hey, it wasn't Howie, it was them, and thanks for the memories. It made Howie twitch if anyone acknowledged he and Nick were fucking, and the group really hadn't needed one more layer of instability. Everyone pretended that Howie and Nick were just great friends--which they were--and that sex never entered into the equation.
Nick was okay with that, too. He never really thought about it, but anything that kept him in blowjobs was fine with him.
*
Howie gave great head and he was never whiny about being dumped. He just needed to be distracted. When it happened on tour, Nick would turn around to find Howie on his bus and the next thing Nick knew, his dick would be down Howie's throat. Even during the break, when they weren't living in each other's back pockets, he'd just show up wherever Nick was and they'd end up in a hotel.
When it was really nasty, he'd do like now and have plane tickets and everything arranged and they'd end up someplace with hot and cold running cabana boys. Nothing cheered Howie up like lots and lots of tanned skin and muscles, but since that's where the latest shit had come from, Nick wasn't too surprised to be in the Alps.
He played and watched the fire and shifted over a little when Howie finally closed the phone with a snap and came to join him. Howie would never really flop, not like Nick did all the time, but the way he dropped to the floor was as close to it as Nick thought he'd see.
"Bastard," Howie spat. "Prick."
Nick stopped playing. "Shit, D," he said. "What'd this one do?"
Howie shrugged and mumbled something unintelligible. Nick let it drop, because it didn't really matter, but whatever it was, Howie hadn't been this pissed off when one of the jerks had "accidentally" left the water running in the spa bathtub on his way out and flooded half the house.
"Play," Howie said. "Please?" he added, sounding almost guilty and only Howie would feel bad about demanding a song from a guy with a guitar. Nick thought for a second and then tried for the song Howie'd taught him back when he first started messing around with a guitar. It was old fashioned and traditional, not quite flamenco, which was totally beyond his ability, but he must not have messed it up too bad, because Howie leaned back and rested his head on the couch and sang softly. Someday, Nick was going to ask him what the lyrics meant, but later, because they sounded sad and Nick was supposed to be distracting Howie, not making things worse.
*
Lately--after the last few dickheads had left--Howie liked for Nick to fuck him--or, more realistically, Nick thought, Howie liked fucking himself on Nick's dick. All Nick had to do was lay back and let Howie do all the work. When Howie was really into it, Nick was hard-pressed to think of a better way to spend his free time, so he wasn't exactly sure why it wasn't working this time.
"Tell me," Nick said, sliding his hands slowly up and down Howie's thighs, palming his hips. "Tell me what you like to do."
"You always ask that," Howie said, instead of answering, not breaking the smooth rhythm he'd been working, rocking slow and easy on Nick
"Yeah," Nick breathed, because goddamn, Howie knew how to move. "Maybe 'cause I want to know."
Howie shook his head, but Nick wasn't going to let him do his usual thing this time. No distracting Nick with the slide of a tongue over his lower lip or the way he'd ease back and take Nick so fucking deep Nick's eyes wanted to roll up into his head.
He tightened his hands on skin and bone, until Howie's breath hissed in and repeated, "What do you like?"
"Nicky," Howie gasped, shuddering under Nick's hands, against his thighs and Nick suddenly knew.
He rolled them, almost falling off the stupid narrow bed, but getting Howie under him, catching his wrists in one hand and holding them against the mattress over his head, so Howie was spread out for him, all for Nick, and he knew.
"Like this?" Nick asked, sliding back inside, hot and sweet, grinning at the low whimper Howie tried to choke back. Howie arched up against him, not really fighting it, just enough that Nick could lean down into him; wrap his hand a little more firmly around the wrists he held.
Howie was usually pretty quiet, nothing more than a quiet moan as he came, but Nick found out that if he held back, took things as slow as he could stand, Howie wouldn't shut up. He could get used to hearing Howie like that, Nick decided, right before he stopped thinking and let that voice push him out of his control. Howie met him more than halfway, twisting and writhing against him as Nick came hard.
He took his time after that, too; kept Howie pinned to the bed with his weight while he touched and stroked and tasted until Howie came apart under him, shuddering and crying out wordlessly, curling in on himself as soon as Nick let go of him.
Even in the dim light of the fire, Nick could see the marks he'd left against the dark skin, red, shading to purple. He traced over them, letting go as soon as Howie jerked away. Later, when he was sure Howie was asleep, he brushed his mouth over the worst of them.
Nick had been fourteen the first time a chick had gone down on him, in the alley behind a concert hall in Germany. Kevin had been white-lipped with fury when he'd found them, but he never told Nick's mom and it was the first time Nick had ever one-upped AJ so it was worth the hassle. He didn't actually remember much about the blow job itself other than it happening, but he was pretty sure she didn't swallow.
The first time Nick did anything with Howie, he didn't know where to look after he came. It was different than some random girl, or even a guy in a club bathroom; it was Howie and Nick had to see him every day. Howie didn't let Nick hide, though; he was cool, like he always was, even when they were dorking around, and Nick managed not to die of embarrassment.
Howie was gone when Nick woke up, but Nick knew he'd be back, even if it took a couple of months and another bad break-up.
After all, it was what they did.
Popslash
Pairing: Nick/Howie
Rating: R-ish
Disclaimer: allll made up, right?
Written for
canadiankracka's Fic-To-Order ChallengeThanks to
darkseaglass for the second pair of eyes.Also on AOOO, here.
Nick finally gave up and slid off the couch. It sure as hell wasn't built for anyone his size and the floor was fine for watching the fire. His fingers moved aimlessly over the strings of the guitar he'd picked up for lack of anything more interesting to do. He could have found the remote for the television, but it was late and he was jet-lagged and he didn't feel like figuring out Swiss satellite TV.
Howie paced the edge of the shadows, his cell phone to his ear and his mouth tight. His voice was low, but Nick didn't have to hear anything to know what was going on. Like AJ would say, SOS. Same old shit, and Nick was right where he always was when it went down, where he'd been for years--on the outside, looking in, closer than Howie let anyone else get, which Nick was good with, but he was beginning to think nothing was ever gonna change.
Howie'd always had a thing for big blonds. Nick figured that out right about the time he realized that as competent as Howie was at everything else--and Howie was always the go-to guy for normal-life problems like expired drivers licenses and whether it was safe to drink milk on the day after the Sell By date printed on it--he sucked big time at picking guys who weren't going to screw him over the first chance they got.
His actual boyfriends were usually a little more buff than Nick--gym muscles, not working-class ones--but since Nick was just the stand-in fuckbuddy, he didn't see the need to be pumping iron any time soon.
The thing about Howie was that he hated to put Nick in that category. Nick was his friend, the kid who'd grown up in the next room, not someone Howie ended up sleeping with every time the latest Trey, Drake or Lance casually announced that things were over, and hey, it wasn't Howie, it was them, and thanks for the memories. It made Howie twitch if anyone acknowledged he and Nick were fucking, and the group really hadn't needed one more layer of instability. Everyone pretended that Howie and Nick were just great friends--which they were--and that sex never entered into the equation.
Nick was okay with that, too. He never really thought about it, but anything that kept him in blowjobs was fine with him.
*
Howie gave great head and he was never whiny about being dumped. He just needed to be distracted. When it happened on tour, Nick would turn around to find Howie on his bus and the next thing Nick knew, his dick would be down Howie's throat. Even during the break, when they weren't living in each other's back pockets, he'd just show up wherever Nick was and they'd end up in a hotel.
When it was really nasty, he'd do like now and have plane tickets and everything arranged and they'd end up someplace with hot and cold running cabana boys. Nothing cheered Howie up like lots and lots of tanned skin and muscles, but since that's where the latest shit had come from, Nick wasn't too surprised to be in the Alps.
He played and watched the fire and shifted over a little when Howie finally closed the phone with a snap and came to join him. Howie would never really flop, not like Nick did all the time, but the way he dropped to the floor was as close to it as Nick thought he'd see.
"Bastard," Howie spat. "Prick."
Nick stopped playing. "Shit, D," he said. "What'd this one do?"
Howie shrugged and mumbled something unintelligible. Nick let it drop, because it didn't really matter, but whatever it was, Howie hadn't been this pissed off when one of the jerks had "accidentally" left the water running in the spa bathtub on his way out and flooded half the house.
"Play," Howie said. "Please?" he added, sounding almost guilty and only Howie would feel bad about demanding a song from a guy with a guitar. Nick thought for a second and then tried for the song Howie'd taught him back when he first started messing around with a guitar. It was old fashioned and traditional, not quite flamenco, which was totally beyond his ability, but he must not have messed it up too bad, because Howie leaned back and rested his head on the couch and sang softly. Someday, Nick was going to ask him what the lyrics meant, but later, because they sounded sad and Nick was supposed to be distracting Howie, not making things worse.
*
Lately--after the last few dickheads had left--Howie liked for Nick to fuck him--or, more realistically, Nick thought, Howie liked fucking himself on Nick's dick. All Nick had to do was lay back and let Howie do all the work. When Howie was really into it, Nick was hard-pressed to think of a better way to spend his free time, so he wasn't exactly sure why it wasn't working this time.
"Tell me," Nick said, sliding his hands slowly up and down Howie's thighs, palming his hips. "Tell me what you like to do."
"You always ask that," Howie said, instead of answering, not breaking the smooth rhythm he'd been working, rocking slow and easy on Nick
"Yeah," Nick breathed, because goddamn, Howie knew how to move. "Maybe 'cause I want to know."
Howie shook his head, but Nick wasn't going to let him do his usual thing this time. No distracting Nick with the slide of a tongue over his lower lip or the way he'd ease back and take Nick so fucking deep Nick's eyes wanted to roll up into his head.
He tightened his hands on skin and bone, until Howie's breath hissed in and repeated, "What do you like?"
"Nicky," Howie gasped, shuddering under Nick's hands, against his thighs and Nick suddenly knew.
He rolled them, almost falling off the stupid narrow bed, but getting Howie under him, catching his wrists in one hand and holding them against the mattress over his head, so Howie was spread out for him, all for Nick, and he knew.
"Like this?" Nick asked, sliding back inside, hot and sweet, grinning at the low whimper Howie tried to choke back. Howie arched up against him, not really fighting it, just enough that Nick could lean down into him; wrap his hand a little more firmly around the wrists he held.
Howie was usually pretty quiet, nothing more than a quiet moan as he came, but Nick found out that if he held back, took things as slow as he could stand, Howie wouldn't shut up. He could get used to hearing Howie like that, Nick decided, right before he stopped thinking and let that voice push him out of his control. Howie met him more than halfway, twisting and writhing against him as Nick came hard.
He took his time after that, too; kept Howie pinned to the bed with his weight while he touched and stroked and tasted until Howie came apart under him, shuddering and crying out wordlessly, curling in on himself as soon as Nick let go of him.
Even in the dim light of the fire, Nick could see the marks he'd left against the dark skin, red, shading to purple. He traced over them, letting go as soon as Howie jerked away. Later, when he was sure Howie was asleep, he brushed his mouth over the worst of them.
Nick had been fourteen the first time a chick had gone down on him, in the alley behind a concert hall in Germany. Kevin had been white-lipped with fury when he'd found them, but he never told Nick's mom and it was the first time Nick had ever one-upped AJ so it was worth the hassle. He didn't actually remember much about the blow job itself other than it happening, but he was pretty sure she didn't swallow.
The first time Nick did anything with Howie, he didn't know where to look after he came. It was different than some random girl, or even a guy in a club bathroom; it was Howie and Nick had to see him every day. Howie didn't let Nick hide, though; he was cool, like he always was, even when they were dorking around, and Nick managed not to die of embarrassment.
Howie was gone when Nick woke up, but Nick knew he'd be back, even if it took a couple of months and another bad break-up.
After all, it was what they did.
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{memories}
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Yay for Nick fixing Howie!
*grins* would love to see a sequel...
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Thanks!
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Aw, it's okay if he hangs out with Howie in this universe, too.
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And you know me, I always have voices in my head. =)
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Thanks for commenting!
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I love the language here, the way Nick brings things up without really giving them much thought, and the way they just can't TALK about anything, gah. This is such an amazing take on Howie/Nick. Not to mention how hot it is, because it's sizzling, made even more so by the way Nick's trying so hard to make Howie feel better. God. It's just ... so well written. I always come away from this story feeling slightly uplifted. Like maybe they'll be okay eventually. :)
Okay, now that I've gone all cheesy, I'll just leave you with my favorite line, because I think it's so very very awesome and so very Howie:
"Play," Howie said. "Please?" he added, sounding almost guilty and only Howie would feel bad about demanding a song from a guy with a guitar.
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This is great! Both sad and happy and them being such GUYS and never, ever talking about anything but still slowly inching towards something more. And very, very hot sex too, of course! Thank you for very nice read this bland Wednesday evening!
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