Category: The Mighty Boosh
Pairing: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Warning: Unspecified Warning
Length: <1k words
Notes: Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, this was written not in the name of profit, but porn.
Down in the Park by moribundlust
‘Vince, are you listening?’ Howard asked, watching the young creature loll his neck coyly. ‘Do you remember—’, Vince licked underneath his nails impatiently, then, catching Howard’s stare, determinedly paid each finger the attention it deserved, sucking and licking and nipping in turn. ‘It’s Obsidian now.’ He pouted, curling a hand in a mass of hairspray and glitter. ‘Is it?’ Howard replied dryly, his eyes low.
The streetlights were few and ill repaired in this neighbourhood, flickering onto the park bench the pair were skulking on, and deepening the hollow at the base of Vince’s neck. ‘Do you remember—’ Howard stopped brusquely, leaning in to trace the shadows with his breath. ‘The first time?’ Vince shifted against the rough wood of the bench, lengthening his legs. Licking roundly at his fangs, Howard lent his weight to Vince’s thigh, stroking a thumb insistently against the tight material.
‘You kissed me.’ Vince said, as he deftly twisted under Howard’s grasp, off the bench. ‘Tease’ he panted, musing that the goth fairy could always make him feel so clumsy in comparison to his lithe hyperactivity. Vince winked at the study, striking a pose before sinking abruptly to his knees.
Howard knew the bench was cold, but as Vince leaned back on his haunches, veins pulsing, he could think of little else. A stolen top hat shadowed his face as Vince ducked the speckled light. ‘I want you’ he mouthed, silent. Howard felt his face flush as Vince’s hand greedily jerked his sleeve, tempting him onto the grass, wet with the promise of dew.
The night seemed slower now; pacing with Howard’s rhythm as he pressed against Vince’s mouth, his small, pettish noises tickling the back of his throat. Howard continued his path, casually, knuckles grazing against his belt. ‘Mmph,’ Vince managed, twisting beneath him. ‘Patience is its own reward, little man,’ Howard’s voice was arch, warning. ‘the Ancient Greeks, valiant men of—’. Vince brightened, forcing a leg between Howard’s own, and hooking it under. ‘Those barmy old dabblers?’ He said derisively, moistening his lips against Howard’s stubble.
A vaguely distant song caught Howard’s attention then, as if the singer had forgotten the words half way in and substituted a chorus of distracted noise instead.
‘Oi! What are you two doin’ there then? I’m in charge of security in this park, and under subsection B of the Dixon Bainbridge park act, any persons caught in the following present tense verb acts, ie. fondling, and or stroking, caressing, petting, licking—’
‘You’ll not be distracting me with my name sir,’ The man closed his eyes with a grandiloquent air of importance. ‘You remember me Graham,’ Howard began edgily, ‘we worked together. I’m Howard Moon.’ Then as a dramatic afterthought, ‘The Vampire.’
‘Well, who’s this fella here then?’
‘Obsidian Blackbird.. McBovril’
‘Get ‘im Howard!’ Vince chirped, pulling at his sleeve.
Vince glanced into his mirror, an old habit Howard never failed to scorn for its futility—smiling as Howard pinned Graham to the bench, screaming his own name bloodily, ‘Howard Moon, Howard Moon, Howard Moon, Howard T J Moon!’.
If the night ended well, thought Howard distractedly, he wouldn’t be the only one.