Orchard Street

Elaine stood still, her purse still slung over her shoulder, one arm wrapped around herself and her yellow sundress. "Vincent, you're freaking me out."

"How?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her. "I'm just doing something for you."

"That's what's freaking me out." Elaine's eyes flitted between the plates of food and him. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Are you?" Vincent asked, surprised by the intensity in his voice. "Elaine, I feel great. It's you I'm worried about. You've been acting weird for a long time now. Can we just...talk? Like we used to?"

Elaine blinked several times, staying rooted to her spot. Then she slowly set down her purse and sat down at the table. "Okay. What do you want to talk about?"

"I want to talk about why you've been going to church so much," Vincent said. "I want to know why you've retreated into yourself and why we keep doing the same thing every night week in and week out." He leaned forward. "Please talk to me. I love you."

Elaine stared down at the plate of food for a long minute. Vincent forced himself not to take any bites of his own food.

"You know our son's a faggot, right?" Elaine said quietly.

Vincent was glad he hadn't eaten anything, because he knew he likely would've choked on any food that had been in his mouth. "Elaine!" he spluttered.

"Well, it's true!" she said, her hands gripping the sides of the table.

"H-how do you know that?" Vincent asked, treading backwards in his head over all of their interactions since Tobias had told him months ago. He'd never once said anything that could've been a clue.

"Don't act like you haven't picked up on it," Elaine said, jabbing a finger at him. "You're closer to him than I am, and I'm aware of it."

"I..." Vincent said. "I may have had suspicions, but I never had any idea!" Part of him felt bad for lying. Part of him was still reeling at Elaine calling Tobias - their own son - a faggot.

"I thought we raised him better," Elaine said. "Someone put him on that sinful path. I'm more than willing to bet it was the Jefferson's boy."

Vincent tried to remember if he'd ever picked up on his wife not liking gay people. He couldn't think of a single moment up until the last few years, and even then it had only been condescending remarks, never outright condemnation. "Elaine, he's our son," Vincent protested. "We have to support him in whatever path he chooses."

"Even if that path is towards damnation?" Elaine snapped.

"What are they putting in your head at that church?" Vincent asked. "I don't remember the old pastor ever being like that!"

"If you went regularly, you'd know that we have a new one, Father Matthias," Elaine said. "He's much more proper than Father Joseph was."

"That's not the point, Elaine!" Vincent snapped, his voice growing in volume. "Unless Tobias is out there dealing drugs or stealing from others, we should support him, no matter what he wants to do or who he loves!"

Elaine shook her head and sighed heavily. "I can't, Vincent. Not if he's going to be consorting with other degenerates out of the eyes of God."

Vincent's mouth dropped open. "I can't believe what you're saying," he said. "Something's wrong with you, Elaine. Please, whatever's wrong, just tell me. Don't use Tobias as a target for your anger at whatever it is!"

Elaine fixed him in her gaze. "Nothing is wrong with me, Vincent. I'm perfectly fine." She picked up her fork and began to eat with sharp, jerky motions.

Vincent wanted to stop her, to slap the fork out of her hand and scream at her to tell him what was wrong. But he couldn't muster up the will to do it, because he realized, with a growing cold horror, that nothing was wrong. This was just who Elaine was. Maybe she hadn't been like this before, but this was what she was now, now that the new preacher had hardened her heart against her own son.

It was all he could do just to pick up his fork and eat.

There was no watching news on the couch that night. Vincent retreated to the garage, fuming at his own failure to do anything. But was there anything he could really do? He pondered the question as he screwed a lugnut in with a bit too much force, trying not to think more about what Dante had done to him here a day previous.

If you want more, you know where I'll be.

Vincent put up his tools for the night and wandered back into the house. It was late, the TV already switched off. Elaine was already in bed. Vincent went through the motions of getting ready to go to sleep, but as he approached their bedroom door, he stopped. He didn't want to sleep next to Elaine. So he turned, padded out into the living room and stretched out on the couch. He stared at the wall for an hour before falling asleep.

When he woke up the next day, he knew Elaine was already gone. A quick glance out the living room windows revealed her sedan was already gone. It was also drizzling outside.

Vincent padded into the kitchen, where he found a note from Elaine on the table. Will be gone all day, it read. Don't know when I'll be home. Elaine.

He stared at the note for some time, feeling as though a permission switch had been flicked on in his head. "Good," he muttered, tossing the note back down on the table. He took a quick shower, then threw on a pair of sweats and grabbed the house phone and punched in the Jefferson's number. A part of him screamed at him to stop. He ignored it. He was angry and frustrated, and Elaine's complete unwillingness to have a conversation told him all he needed to know. It made making up his mind easy.

"Hello?" Mr. Jefferson answered.

"Oscar, hey, it's Vince."

"Vince! How are you this rainy day?"

Vincent rested a hand on his crotch, his thumb trailing along the outline of his flaccid erection. "Doing alright. I was wondering if I could talk to Dante for a second?"

"Sure!" Mr. Jefferson's voice grew distant. "Dante! Mr. Leonard wants to talk to you!"

There was a pause, then a shuffling noise as Mr. Jefferson passed Dante the receiver. "Hello," Dante said in a singsong voice. "What's up, Mr. Leonard?"

"You said I'd know where you'd be," Vincent said, his voice a low growl. "You busy?"

"Oh! Oh." Dante sounded absolutely giddy. "As it happens, I'm not. I'll be right over to help you."

"Glad to hear it," Vincent said, and hung up. He put the phone back in it's cradle, then moved through the house and shut all the blinds. If he was going to slip slide all the way down to hell, the only ones who would bear witness would be him and Dante. He paused, and had a small laugh at the thought.

Just as he finished with the blinds, the doorbell sounded. He moved through the house and opened the door, making sure to stand back so nobody would see that he was half-naked in the doorway if anyone happened to be glancing out the windows. Dante stood on the porch, wearing another black t-shirt and jeans ensemble, his hair damp and plastered to his head. His green eyes sparkled, his grin coy. "You rang?" he said.

Vincent inclined his head and stepped to the side. Dante strode in and Vincent shut the door behind him. "What did you tell your father I wanted?" he asked.

"Just that you invited me watch you work on the bike and I was just fascinated by what you were doing," Dante drawled, winking as he strode into the kitchen. "Though nothing's to say we can't do that later if you want."

"I had something else in mind," Vincent said, following behind him.

Dante stopped by the kitchen table. He reached out and drew Elaine's note over to him. "Oh, she's gone for the whole day?"

"And I don't want her back for as long as possible," Vincent said. He moved up behind Dante and put his hands on Dante's shoulders. "Because I found out some of her true colors last night."

"Oh?" Dante shrugged his shoulders up into Vincent's hands. "And how did that go?"

"Terrible. She referred to Tobias as a faggot."

"Fuck," Dante looked back over his shoulder at him. "What happened to her? She was always so nice."

"I don't know," Vincent murmured, his grip on Dante becoming more insistent. "But at this point I don't give a damn."

Dante made a low humming noise. He shuffled back a step, so that he was pressed into Vincent's front. "Maybe you've got some hidden desires of your own," he murmured.

"Only one way to find out," Vincent growled. He pulled Dante firmly against him, nudging his hips into Dante's rear, the curve of his swelling cock pressed to the seat of Dante's pants. Dante let out a breath. Vincent moved his arms lower, lifting up Dante's shirt and caressing his flat stomach.

"I've got lube," Dante panted, wriggling at Vincent's touch. "In my pocket."

Vincent stepped back, and Dante turned to him. "Strip," Vincent commanded.

Dante didn't hesitate, and did as Vincent ordered. Off went his shirt, exposing his lithe, muscular body. Dante paused for a moment to sweep a lock of his hair out of his eyes, then slowly unbuttoned his jeans, holding Vincent's gaze as he did. He wiggled his hips a little, then slid them down his legs, leaving him only in his underwear. He was very erect, and judging by the size of the tent, was no slouch in the cock department either. That was confirmed as Dante slowly drew his underwear down to join his jeans on the floor, his member bobbing free.

Vincent bit his lower lip for a moment. There could be no denying how hard he was, his cock feeling steelier than it had in years. Dante sauntered over to him. "Now then, Mister Leonard," he purred, sinking to his knees and fiddling with the drawstring on Vince's sweats. "Let's take care of you."

Vincent let Dante draw his sweats and boxers down his legs, only moving to step out of the garments and kick them into the corner. It wasn't the first time he'd been naked in his kitchen - Elaine had accidentally cracked a cabinet door when she'd kicked it during rough sex on the kitchen island years ago - but it was the first time he'd ever been naked and vulnerable with another man. He suddenly felt self-conscious of things he'd long ago made terms with, like the layer of padding around his waist or the fact that the only hairy bit of himself he still trimmed was his groin, leaving his arms and legs very fuzzy.

But Dante didn't seem to mind at all, resting on his knees as he went to work on Vincent's cock again. He looked up at Vincent at he worked, slowly licking and kissing Vincent's girth as if it were the object of his most intimate desires. A small part of his mind pointed out that that might just be the case with Dante, given how he was acting and what Tobias had said. Vincent didn't know. He didn't care, not when Dante parted his lips and started sucking his cock again, curling his tongue against the underside and exhaling plenty, bathing Vincent's length and groin in tingling warmth.

As Vincent watched, Dante's eyes closed, and he began to hum gently as he worked, the vibrations only heightening Vincent's pleasure. He saw a bead of pre gather at the tip of Dante's cock, swaying gently between his legs. The bead fell to the kitchen floor, Dante's motions becoming careful and deliberate.

Vincent didn't want careful and deliberate.

He reached down and laced his fingers in Dante's hair. Dante cracked an eye open mid mouth stroke. Vincent inclined his head, and Dante pulled back, Vincent's glistening cock falling from his lips. "Yes?" Dante purred.

"Get up here," Vincent growled.

"Oh, so forceful," Dante purred, through his eyes glittered with barely restrained excitement. He got to his feet, wiping off his knees. "So to the bedroom then or hokay!"

Vincent yanked Dante by the wrist over to the kitchen island, quickly moving behind him and pinning him to the marble countertop. "No. Right here," Vincent growled.

Dante squirmed, but his pants of delight told Vincent that he was enjoying himself immensely. He ground his ass into Vincent's cock, fitting it neatly into the cleft. "I don't know if I've ever had anyone as big as you before, to be honest," Dante breathed. "Even the couple football players I've fucked were smaller than you."

Vincent pushed back against Dante's grinding, feathering kisses up the his back. "All them steroids," he growled. "Where's the lube?"

"My pants pocket," Dante whimpered.. "And I'm clean, so you can bareback me. God, I want you to bareback me so bad."

Vincent bent over and rummaged around for a moment, finally grasping a small bottle in Dante's jean pocket. He withdrew it. It was generic brand, the kind sitting next to the condoms in most drug stores, but it would do. He did himself first, until he felt no resistance as he drew his finger along his length. Then he paused, his dominant attitude fading for a moment. "I, erm..." he said.

Dante giggled, reaching back over his shoulder. "Give it here. It's your first time, I'll take care of things."

Vincent passed him the bottle, grateful. Dante slicked up his fingers, then reached back and did what he had to. He slowly worked one finger into his hole, then another, until he had three fingers slowly sliding in and out of himself. Dante was struggling to keep his moans contained, making little squeaks as he fucked himself with his fingers.

When he finally withdrew his fingers, Vincent was still rock hard. Dante wiped his fingers on one of Elaine's nice kitchen towels, then wiggled his hips. His cock swayed gently with the motions. "I'm ready for you," he purred. "Fuck me hard...Daddy."

Vincent arched an eyebrow. "Okay, no."

Dante laughed. "Just wondering if I could get awayheyheyheyhey."

Vincent pressed against him again, the tip of his cock lined up perfectly with Dante's hole. "You can call me whatever you want, just not that. This is surreal enough to me as is."

Dante chuckled. "You seem to be enjoying it though, right?"

"I don't know." Vincent put one hand on Dante's hip and used the other to steady himself as he slowly worked the tip of his cock into Dante. "You tell me."

Dante's breathing deepened, and he shook his head once to get his hair out of his eyes. "Oh God..."

Slowly Vincent worked his length into Dante, panting as he felt pleasant heat gripping him tight. Elaine had never been this tight, nor this warm. He moved his other hand to Dante's hip as he worked himself into him. He kept going, stretching Dante even wider as he went deeper. "Oh, fuck!" Dante howled, the word bouncing off the walls of the house.

"You okay?" Vincent asked.

"Yes, please," Dante begged. "Keep going." Vincent did as he was bade, until he was sunk deep inside Dante. Dante's hand flew back and grabbed his. "Give me...give me a second..."

Vincent stilled himself as Dante adapted. Slowly his grip on Vincent's hand loosened, then moved back to the counter. "Go slow to start, please," Dante whimpered. "God, you feel amazing."

Vincent slowly began to undulate his hips, surprised at the ease which his cock moved inside of Dante. That infernal warmth was like nothing he'd ever felt before, and he wanted to sheath his cock in it for as long as he could. He settled into a rhythm of long, slow thrusts, pulling back until the top inch or so was left inside his lover, then slowly sliding back in and making Dante moan louder and louder with every motion. Pleasure flowed through him, and he wanted nothing more than to fuck Dante lazily for as long as possible.

At least until Dante sucked in a breath and braced himself on the edge of the countertop, speaking a word that sped straight to the most primal part of Vincent's brain. "Harder."

Vincent complied, his thrusts becoming firmer and more insistent. By then both he and Dante were already covered in a thin layer of sweat, and Vincent had felt more than one drop of Dante's precum land on his leg from his swaying cock, which was somehow still erect despite him not stimulating it. "You just get off on being fucked, don't you?" Vincent growled.

"Fuck yeah," Dante panted as the sound of hips slapping together grew more frantic. "You've got no idea how long I lusted after you."

"Really?" Vincent panted. "Why's that?"

"You've got the dad thing going," Dante said, licking his lips. "I'm such a sucker for that."

Vincent growled and kept going, fucking Dante in earnest now. Dante moaned in time with the slapping of their hips, his fingers twitching and grasping the edge of the countertop. "Yes, yes, yes. God, you keep hitting that fucking spot..."

Without breaking his rhythm, Vincent grabbed the lube bottle on the counter and poured a bit on his hand. He reached between Dante's legs and closed his slick hand around Dante's cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts. Dante came unhinged, humping back against Vincent's thrusting and jerking his hips, fucking Vincent's hand. His head craned back, his long hair pressed to Vincent's face. It smelled like peaches, and he hadn't smelled anything so heavenly in such a long time.

"Vincent," Dante panted. "Oh, fuck, Vincent...Vincent, I'm gonna mess up your countertops if you don't stop."

"Just do it," Vincent said, burying his face in Dante's hair. "I hate these fucking countertops anyway."

Dante let out a staccato series of pants and yelps, pushing back against Vincent and raising his hips so that his cock was pointed along the countertop. He fell silent, his whole body tensing. Then Vincent felt his cock pulse, then watched as a long rope of cum shot out across the countertop, followed by another, and another. Dante sagged in his arms, and Vincent fucked him furiously, Dante's low pants music to his ear. He felt his passion rise, his balls tensing, and slammed himself home and let out a long groan. Cumming inside the younger man felt wonderous, feeling his cock pulse again and again, more pleasure than he'd felt in ages. He buried his face in Dante's hair again, smelling deep.

The two of them stayed like that for some time, their bodies covered in sweat and both of them breathing heavily. As the moment drew on, things became weird again. Vincent slowly drew back, his cock slipping free of Dante. Dante leaned on the counter, still panting. Vincent saw a trail of his cum flow down his leg.

Dante huffed out a breath and turned to face him. His face was flushed and slightly shiny with sweat. He reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of his face. "Not bad for your first time," he murmured.

"Well, you know," Vincent said. "It's kind of the same motions." He felt like he could cut the awkward in the room with a knife.

Dante pushed off the counter and pressed up against Vincent. His green eyes glittered, then he leaned up and pecked Vincent on the lips. Vincent felt a flush that had nothing to do with his orgasm. "No need to make this awkward," Dante said. "You're needy, I'm good at filling needs. This doesn't have to be complicated."

"How so?"

"Well, as long as you're still on Orchard Street, and so are my folks, I'll be around." His hands slid up Vincent's arms to rest on his neck, and he pressed their naked bodies together.

Vincent thought about it for a moment, then dipped his head and pressed it to Dante's. "Just give you a call, eh?"

Dante smirked and licked his lips. "And let me do the things to you your wife won't..."

"Well, we do have all day."

The house phone rang. Both of them turned their heads towards the noise. Vincent moved over to the cradle and picked up the handset, thumbing the answer button. "Hello?"

"Hello, Vinnie!" Elaine purred on the other end of the line.

"Elaine," Vincent said, looking back at Dante, who's eyes widened slightly. "What's going on?"

"Just wanted to let you know that we have some extra seats open for the afternoon sermon. Would you like to come join us?"