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The morning arrived wrapped in rain. Not the violent, pounding rain, not yet. Only the steady sort that painted the window a sheet silver and filled the flat with the hush of seawater and distant thunder. The gulls outside cried out against the storm, though lazily now. As if they were unwilling to brave the weather properly.
Howard woke first. For a brief, disoriented moment, he almost forgot where he was. Then he felt the warmth settled against his bare chest, a familiar scratch of a beard. The memory returned all at once.
Phillip.
Still asleep beside him. His breathing soft and even, his eyes closed. He looked peaceful.
Howard went very still.
The blanket he’d been covered in had twisted strangely through the night, a corner hanging off the mattress, the rest of it crumpled, exposing the upper half of their half-naked bodies. Phillip’s light curls had fallen messily over his eyes, one arm rested loose atop the blankets near Howard’s waist. Howard remained acutely aware of this contact.
Neither of them moved away yet. Howard sighed, laced with a bit of tension, but also with relief. With the ease of knowing Phillip was there, resting against him like this.
They were hardly dressed in each other’s arm, and yet, neither was running from it.
Phillip stirred faintly beside him, his brows furrowing as a faint “mm” could be heard low in his throat. His eyes cracked open slowly. His gaze found Howard’s almost immediately.
Silence. Tender silence. Howard smiled faintly. Phillip returned it.
”Why do you stare as though I’ve grown two heads?”
Howard placed his hand on the back of his friend’s head, running his hands through the curls and stroking softly. “Scientific observation.” He said. “Nothing more to note in our bed.”
Phillip blinked sleepily. “You’re a dreadful liar, my friend.”
Howard’s smile widened. “Yet you keep me near you.”
”That trend,” Phillip mumbled. He pressed a kiss to the bare skin of Howard’s chest. “That remains under review.”
Howard laughed quietly. The sound seemed to surprise both of them a little.
Outside, the thunder rolled softly across the shoreline, though it seemed to grow louder. Phillip eventually pushed himself upright with a tired stretch, careful of Howard’s injury. He pressed his fists to his eyes, rubbing sleep from his face. Howard watched him stand and move toward the little wardrobe near the corner of the bedroom.
”We’ll catch pneumonia in this state.” said Phillip. “You ought to dress before it’s late.”
Howard glanced down at himself beneath the blanket. His upper half only wore his sleep shirt, half open and wrinkled around his shoulders. His lower half, bare. He let out a curt breath, almost a laugh. “I hardly think myself half dead.”
”We both slept twisted like loose threads.”
”That sounds dramatic.”
”You are dramatic.”
Howard opened his mouth to argue further, but Phillip had already crossed back toward the bed carrying folded clothes over one arm. Howard noticed how Phillip moved carefully around him now. His caution didn’t feel as pitying now, rather, aware. It made something warm ache beneath Howard’s ribs.
Phillip pushed the covers off of Howard, helping him carefully swing his legs over the side of the bed. He pushed clean undergarments and pants over his legs and onto his hips, carefully adjusting the fabric near Howard’s cast.
“You know,” Howard murmured, watching him work. “You fuss much more worse than any nurse.”
”And yet, since I’ve dressed you, you no longer leave your collar’s half reversed.”
Howard’s felt his ears strong. That was true, his clothing was always crooked in some way.
“You’re one petty nurse..”
Phillip snorted softly through his nose.
The room felt different this morning. Not heavy like the days before, not strained. It was quiet. Comfortably so.
Howard watched Phillip’s fingers fasten one stubborn cuff near his wrist, movements practiced despite the slight pinkness that lingered across his cheeks from last evening.
Howard found himself smiling before he knew it. Phillip noticed immediately.
”That expression worries me.”
”I’m merely thinking, just that.”
“A dangerous hobby.”
”For you, perhaps.”
Phillip rolled his eyes fondly. He helped Howard to his feet once dressing was finished. Howard’s arm slung automatically over Phillip’s shoulder for balance.
The closeness no longer startled them the way it once had. The didn’t deny it, or run from it now. That realization startled them more.
The kitchen smelled faintly of tea leaves, old coffee, and sea water. Rain tapped steadily against the windows while Phillip worked near the stove. He’d dressed by now, his sleeves rolled as he worked, quietly chopping potatoes against a wooden board. Howard sat nearby at the small table with a bowl beneath his hands, peeling carrots with intense concentration. Or trying to.
“You’re removing half the vegetable.” Phillip commented without looking up.
“I’m improving efficiency.”
”You’re committing murder.”
Howard scoffed playfully. “I faced ancient gods and writhing beasts and beasties.”
”And yet, you remain defeated by root cuisine.”
Howard narrowed his eyes dramatically. “Cruel.”
Phillip smiled without turning around. Yet Howard could sense it.
The stew simmered slowly atop the stove, filling the apartment with the sense of onions, herbs, and chicken stock. Every now and then thunder rattled overhead, though the warmth inside the flat dulled the noise into something distant.
Howard glanced around the kitchen while Phillip cooked. Small things rested everywhere, some that belonged more than others. A chipped mug near the sink, papers stacked beneath a sugar tin, or Katie’s pillow atop the little window seat across the flat.
Phillip’s life.
Howard realized suddenly, strangely, he was inside it now.
Not visiting.
Inside it.
Phillip glanced over his shoulder a moment.
”You’ve done it quietly once again.”
Howard blinked faintly. “Just thinking.”
”That remains a dangerous thing.”
Howard smiled crookedly. “You’ve said so twice.”
Phillip laughed. “Then perhaps you ought to listen, once or thrice.”
Howard watched him for another moment before speaking again. “I think I like the rain here more.”
Phillip paused mid stir. “More?”
”In the city, in my own home, it’s felt colder somehow.” Howard looked toward the fogged windows. “But here..it sounds softer against your house.”
Phillip’s expression gentler at once. “A flat, you mean. But be warned, this flag leaks near the west wall.
Howard’s eyes widened. “Phillip-“
”I’m joking.”
”You menace, making a false call.”
Phillip laughed properly this time, warm and brief and real. Howard thought he might spend years chasing that sound.
By evening, the storm had settled into full swing overhead, the setting summer sky hidden by dark gray storm clouds. The apartment dimmed into a shade of gray beneath the heavy rain. They’d finished preparing the stew, eaten dinner, and retired to the living room for the evening. Phillip sat on one end of the couch, sketching quietly in the margins of some scientific papers while Howard occupied the opposite end. A cup of tea sat near him on the coffee table. He was reading a scientific journal from Angelique.
Or pretending to.
Every few moments one of them glanced toward each other unconsciously.
Then away again. Then back.
“I believe,” said Phillip, without looking up. “you’ve read one page seven times.”
Howard lowered the journal slightly. “I might accuse you of equal crimes.
Phillip’s pencil paused. He’d sketched the same figures several times. “Fair..”
Howard chuckled softly. Silence returned comfortably afterward.
Howard listened to the rain striking the windows, to the soft turn of pages, to the way Phillip hummed under his breath while he sketched. Howard reached for his tea.
Home. Howard thought suddenly. He stopped.
Why, the realization struck him so hard it snatched the air from his lungs.
It wasn’t the apartment. It was Phillip.
Phillip felt like home.
Howard lowered his journal slowly. Across the couch, Phillip looked up as though he sensed the weight of his gaze.
Their eyes met.
Yet neither spoke. Thunder rolled outside.
Then Phillip smiled. Small, sleepy, and fond in a way Howard still wasn’t entirely certain he deserved.
And helpless against it entirely, Howard smiled back.
A beat of silence.
“Howard.”
”Yes?”
“…You’ve spilt tea on your shirt.”
”Oh-“ Howard glanced down to see the damp stain on his shirt, it wasn’t fresh. A few minutes old perhaps. “You mention it suddenly, and quite curt.”
”I suppose I do. It’s getting late. You should change.”
”You brought it up after it happened, how strange.”
”Perhaps I don’t intend for you to only change..you do not even need to if you wish. I only suggest you take it off.”
Howard felt his ears burn with heat again, that familiar flush creeping up his neck.
”…I sense what you stress…you wish for me to remain undressed..”
”..possibly.”
Howard swallowed. “I’ve forgotten you could be forward.”
Phillip smirked. “Quite.”
”Very well.” Howard shut the journal. “To the bedroom we’ll go toward.”
There was a certain, more intense determination that Phillip support Howard with as the walked (or in Howard’s case, limped) toward the bedroom with. A certain impatience, or brewing desire with them both. Howard was no one to deny him. He let Phillip guide him, letting him help him to the side of the bed as he hoisted Howard by his hips to sit. Howard’s cheeks flushed with color as Phillip’s hands traced his thighs. He pushed them apart, pressing a thigh between his legs.
“Phillip..” Howard shivered.
Phillip reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as they traced Howard’s jaw in the soft, amber light. “I spent eight long years in a frozen state.”
Howard swallowed. “I too. I wondered if what we’d done that December became a cruel twist of fate.” He leaned in, his breath warm on Phillip’s chin. He let out a deliberate breath. A small act. But in Phillip’s eyes, it was a doorway opening, inviting him in.
"The silence was heavy when my letters were vain, But seeing you now... being in your home…it washes the pain."
Their lips met first, not a clash, but a plea, a beg. A slow, deep drowning in a shimmering sea. It started with a tentative press, a tasting of salt and longing, before the hunger that had taken them last night returned. Phillip’s tongue swept against Howard’s with a desperation that spoke of every night spent alone in the dark. Every miserable night waiting for a letter to returning, every night being a puppet for an evil man.
Phillip felt his heart rate increase. But he needed to be cautious. His hands, (much to Howard’s surprise, and his own) became frantic, Phillip peeled the loose shirt from Howard’s slender frame, buttons threading out of their wholes quickly, the sound like tiny gunfire in the quiet room. Phillip kissed him again lovely, the sweetness from the night before mixing with the growing heat of the moment. Howard groaned into the kiss, his fingers digging into the wool of Phillip's blue jacket, shoving it off his shoulders until they were skin to skin, the cool air of the apartment clashing with the sudden, radiating heat of their bodies.
They tumbled back onto the bed, Phillip moving with an agonizing slowness, mindful of the heavy cast on Howard’s foot. He positioned Howard carefully, propping the injured leg up with a pillow , his eyes never leaving Howard’s pale, flushed face. It was strange how such lewd need could create that level of intimacy within seconds. Having Phillip so close to him delighted him for reasons he’d chosen to no longer ignore.
While Howard’s thoughts were focused in innocent topics, Phillip’s mind and gaze were in other things, private ones.
"I've wanted this," Phillip whispered, his voice a surprising, ragged edge, "since that dorm room night, since the first time I felt you wound around me, tight."
Phillip slid down, his lips leaving Howard's mouth to trail fire down his throat, wet kisses and bites over the collarbone, and down to the pale expanse of his slender chest. He used his tongue to lap against Howard's nipples, then sucked against the flesh of his chest hard until Howard arched his back, a loud whine escaping his lips.
Phillip didn't stop. He moved lower, his beard scratching pleasantly against Howard's stomach before he reached near the clothed heat between Howard's thighs. He pushed down the fabric of his pants and undergarments once more, much like the night before. He was careful of the fabric rumpled around his injury, sliding it over gently. He parted his legs, careful of the cast, and settled between his legs His gaze met Howard’s again as he gripped his hips, lifting his pelvis for better access. Phillip spread his thighs wider before he buried his face in the scent of musk and desire.
Phillip’s tongue flicked out, tasting the pre-cum leaking from the tip of Howard’s length, before he slid lower. He pressed his lips against Howard's tight, puckered hole, his tongue swirling in a slow, wet circle. Howard gasped, his fingers clutching the sheets, his hips jerking upward as Phillip began to lap at him with wet, insistent laps. The faint, lapping sound of Phillip's tongue working only faintly filled the room, yet somehow it felt louder than the rain outside. Howard gritted his teeth, whining and gripping at the blankets, his own hair, the pillow. Anything he could cling onto, really. Howard felt driven to the brink of madness.
"Phillip... please... I can't... I need you inside," Howard whimpered, his voice breaking. “Deny me anymore…you simply can’t..”
Phillip looked up smiling, proud, almost. His lips glistened with a mix precum and saliva. He set Howard’s hips down, rising to sit back on his heels. He reached over Howard’s body for the nightstand drawer, rummaging until his hands found what seemed to be a bottle of personal lube (or dubbed jelly at this time.
“Jelly? You bought it without causing social disorder?”
“You could say so..I achieved it through a private mail order.”
Howard couldn’t fight the curious smile playing on his lips. How long had Phillip had the bottle? Had he..used it on himself? Or had he hoped the lewd scenario they found themselves in now would occur again?
In any case, Howard watched as Phillp coated his fingers in the slick gel. He spat into his palm, adding more moisture to his digits. Still sat on his heels, his gaze met Howard’s as if asking for a final confirmation. When he found no objection, Phillip pressed a digit against Howard’s entrance and slowly pushed one finger into his tight heat. Howard let out a sharp cry, his inner muscles clenching down on the intrusion, but Phillip waited.
“You’re doing so well..I can wait until you relax.” Phillip smiled, a loving look in his eyes, despite the dilation of his pupils and the pink tint across his cheeks. Howard breathed, gripping the sheets stills but felt himself relax. “I-I’m fine now..Phil..you may move, you sweet sap.
Phillip thrust that one finger into Howard, back and forth a few time to relax his inner muscles. His finger massaged against his walls, stretching him with each go. Almost each thrust was followed by a faint whine, gasp, or soft moan from Howard, who half covered his mouth with his hand, biting down on one finger. A second digit followed, stretching Howard open further, prepping the way for the real thing. It only served to make his sounds louder, and for him to gasp Phillip’s name all the more. He flexed his fingers in a scissoring motion, pressing lightly into Howard’s walls and relaxing his tight ring of muscle further. He slipped his finger’s out with a low whine from Howard, leaving him empty and aching. Phillip could only stare, proud of his work.
Phillip stripped off what remained his own clothes, his length throbbing and fully erect, leaking a steady stream of need at his tip. Taking that bottle of personal jelly again, Phillip sat back on his knees once more, coating his length in the lubricant. He positioned himself between Howard's legs. To ensure the cast wouldn't be disturbed, Phillip gripped Howard’s injured leg, carefully hoisting his limb up and resting his calf firmly over his own shoulder.
Howard gasped at the sudden lift, now lying on his side, support by his shoulder. The position arched Howard’s hips perfectly, exposing his tight heat to Phillip's blunt head.
"Look at me," Phillip commanded softly.
Their eyes locked. Howard’s mouth was slightly agape, his cheek flushed red, hair tousled.
“You trust me…don’t you?” Asked Phillip.
“Yes..Phil. That will always be true.”
“Howard..I’ll make sure you enjoy this too.”
Phillip slowly thrust forward, holding his length as he pushed into Howard’s tight heat, giving ample time for the tight ring of muscle to adjust his width. Howard hissed at the slight sting of the stretch, tears beading at the corners of his eyes. Phillip rubbed the smooth skin of the leg he had rested on his shoulder, as if to soothe him. When Howard took a deep breath and nodded, as if to assure Phillip to continue, he pushed his cock deeper..until about half away. Then, in one smooth, heavy motion, he bottomed out, filling Howard completely. Howard’s eyes rolled back, a low groan of relief, pain, and pleasure tearing from his throat as he felt Phillip’s girth stretch him.
The pace started slow—deep, grounding thrusts that felt like they were stitching their souls back together. Every slide of Phillip's cock in and out of Howard's was a confession, declaration. The sound was lewd, each contact of skin met with a Thump. A wet Slap. Another Thump.
The lewd sound mixed with the muffled groans and whines that spilled from Howard’s lips as he desperately bit down on his fingers. “Phillip..god..I..you..Phillip..!”
The sound of their pelvic bones colliding seemed to muffle the heavy rain outside. Gradually, Phillip began to pick up the pace of his thrusts, though the intensity and depth of each rut of his hips didn’t cease. Howard’s breath came in ragged gasps, almost sobs, his chest heaving with each pant. Phillip gripped Howard’s hip with one hand and kept his leg steady on his shoulder with the other, driving himself home again and again.
“Howard..”
“..Y-es..?”
"Howie..I love you," Phillip groaned, the words timed with a particularly deep plunge that rubbed against Howard's prostate. It worked a loud cry out of Howard, his back arching off the mattress. Phillip panted, his cheeks flushed as he stared down at Howard. The sight was everything he’d craved. His hair disheveled and spilled over the pillow like a dark halo, a sheen of sweat over his pale skin, and his eyelids heavy. It was like watching an angel.
“I-I love you..Howard.!”
Howard was sobbing now, not from grief, but from the sheer intensity of the friction. From the declaration that spilled from Phillip’s lips. His eyes were wet, tears of sheer overwhelm spilled down the sides of his face. "I..love you..Phillip..it’s a fact..that is true..please..Phillip…” He whined. “More..I implore you..”
The erotic slap of each thrust and the pleasure they’d found built to a fever pitch. Phillip could feel the internal contractions of Howard's walls squeezing his shaft, gradually working him over.
“Howard..” He groaned, but he didn’t let up. “I’m close..”
“Inside..” Howard didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t find a rhyme.
He let out a low, desperate cry as he thrust one last time with everything he had, burying himself as deep as possible.
Phillip cried out as he came, his cock pulsing feverently as he shot thick, hot ropes of cum deep into Howard's bowels. He shuddered, filling him as much as his body was willing to give. A peak that bonded them in the most sensual way. Howard followed suite, digging his nails into the sheet as his own cock spurted cum across his stomach and the bedsheets. Howard practically sobbed through it, his body shaking with the force of a climax eight years in the making.
The two slowly came off their high, their breathing growing less and less shallow as they gathered themselves. Phillip slid out as quickly as he had slid in, leaving Howard empty and aching. He leaned his head forward, careful to lower Howard’s leg back onto the mattress. Phillip laid beside him, his bare chest pressed against Howard’s, both sticky with sweat and their spent. He pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Howard smiled.
They stayed like that for a long time, the dull ache on Phillip’s shoulder a testament to the pain they’d endured to be here, together. Phillip pulled the blanket over them, an unwise decision to not clean up now, but Phillip, for once, could not find it in himself to care.
He was here now. So was Howard. The room was silent, aside from the rain outside. But it was insignificant.
And in the silence of their world, their love was never a lie.