Howard Moon: Secret Agent

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This is on a need-to-know basis.
Move over, Bond. The name’s Moon, Howard Moon.
And that is all you need to know…

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Chapter Three

Contents

Chapter Three

Turning off the Commercial Road, with its hustle and bustle and vibrant nightlife, the van threaded its way through quiet, dark streets. Workshops and factories stood cheek by jowl with fashionable new developments and cutting-edge industrial conversions. Moon could tell he was in an area full of exciting new artists and other creative types. Noir would fit in well there.

On Noir’s instructions, he swung the van into a dark yard.

“Park over there, yeah?”

The van huddled back into the shadows, as if in its natural habitat. Noir was the quietest he’d been the entire evening. Moon noticed him look around carefully before he punched some numbers into an electronic lock and opened a heavy door set in the corner of the yard. Directly behind the door was a dimly-lit elevator. He hustled Moon in and quickly pressed more buttons on yet another pin-pad. The elevator hummed and the door opened again on the second floor. They stepped out, straight into Noir’s apartment.

Noir touched some switches on the wall and the lights in the room lifted gently to reveal a long, elegant living area, with black leather couches and dark curtains, and cream rugs on the polished wood floor. Over in one corner a kitchen gleamed with chrome and marble. There was a large plasma screen on one wall, and on the other, a sophisticated sound system and racks of CDs.

Noir looked at Moon, a smile on his lips that was almost shy.

“Welcome to my world, Howard.”

Moon frowned.

“I know they’re on to me, so my flat’s out of bounds. But are you sure this is safe? Sable doesn’t know about it?”

“Nah. Very few people know about this. I don’t use it all the time, but it’s my special place. And I’m very choosy about who comes…” the look turned cheeky “I mean, who visits here….”

He turned away quickly and cleared his throat.

“Anyway, do you want a drink? I’ve got gin, and beer.” He walked over to the kitchen, where Moon could now see that the predominant piece of equipment was an enormous refrigerator.

“And I’ve got long-life milk, so there’s tea.”

He opened the freezer door and extracted a packet of frozen pastries, tossing them onto the counter.

“Sorry there’s not much food. I don’t eat a lot…”

“Beer would be nice, thank you.”

Noir pulled a couple of bottles of Cobra from the ‘fridge and opened them, handing one to Moon. Then did a double-take.

“Oh my word, look at you! Still no shirt! You can’t flaunt yourself like that all the time, Howard—I won’t know how to control myself!”

He ducked into an adjoining room, which Moon imagined was the bedroom. And then sternly told himself to un-imagine it again. There was some rustling, and moments later Noir emerged with a box in his hands. Again the brash, confident demeanour had switched and he looked somewhat diffident.

“Look, I bought this ages ago, ‘cos I liked it. It’s not my look, mind, but I just thought… I thought, one day, maybe I’d meet someone who’d look good in it. Had to imagine how big they’d be, of course…”—the old twinkle came back briefly—“…and their chest size as well…”

He handed the box over.

“Look, it’s just a shirt, yeah? Not a glass slipper or anything…”

He shrugged as if to himself.

“I’ll just get these rags off. They’re filthy. See you in a mo.” And he disappeared into the bedroom.

Moon opened the box. Inside was a shirt, still in its tissue wrapping; a cowboy-style shirt, in extra-fine cotton with a silky sheen to it. It was black with subtle dark red piping. He removed some pins and slipped it on—it fitted perfectly. And he could see himself in any of the various mirrors that adorned the walls—quite a few, now he came to notice them. It wasn’t a style he would have chosen for himself, but he saw that in fact it looked pretty good on him.

He was interrupted by a low whistle behind him.

“Oh… my… god. You look amazing, Howard.”

Howard Moon, secret agent, blushed. He blushed, dammit!

Noir sidled back into the room. He picked up the pastries and shoved them into a microwave, setting it to defrost, and then retrieved his beer from the counter. He was now wearing a black robe, tied matter-of-factly in a hard knot at his waist, his feet bare. His face was clean of make-up. Moon noted the subtle difference. He looked more real, more masculine, more… capable. When he wasn’t looking direct at Moon there was a kind of bleakness about his eyes. But however male he looked, Moon had to acknowledge that he was no less attractive.

“It’s a nice shirt, Vincenzo.”

Noir opened his mouth as if to say something, and then shut it again. He moved closer, still looking the agent up and down.

“Seriously good, Howard.”

Moon took another gulp of beer. Noir gave him a tight smile.

“Hey, Howard…”

“Hmmm…?”

“Don’t mark me down as just a cheeky tart.”

“I wasn’t…”

“Yes, you were. And I don’t blame you. I do tend to overdo it a bit, sometimes. I find it helps in difficult situations. It’s a bit of a screen-saver with me…”

Moon frowned.

“Don’t you mean ‘default setting’?”

Noir shrugged.

“I wouldn’t know, Howard. I don’t take much interest in that sort of thing. Technology’s just a tool, you know.”

He leaned in. His breath brushed Moon’s cheek.

“You’re different. You’d be good with tools. You know, gadgets and science and stuff, I can tell…”

His eyes looked irresistibly deep and dark. Moon was willingly drawn into them.

“…It’s quite a turn-on, actually…”

Noir’s lips were parted, his eyelids flickering. Moon could feel the heat radiating from him. It was impossible not to draw closer. And closer. And then…

There was a loud ‘PING’.

“Get down!” shouted Moon, pushing Noir roughly down onto the floor, and then throwing himself over the other man, shielding Noir’s body with his own.

“Don’t move!” he hissed in Noir’s ear. “We need to gauge where that came from!” His ears strained with the effort of listening for intruders.

Noir’s voice was a bit muffled.

“Christy, Howard. I know they say danger’s an aphrodisiac, but I think the microwave’s on our side…”

Moon froze, realising his mistake; realising also how his broad body perfectly covered the slim back under him, the curve of Noir’s arse fitting snugly against his pelvis. He got up hurriedly, brushing off his trousers. Noir rolled over but stayed sitting on the floor with his beer, smirking. He raised his bottle in a toast.

“Here’s to your lightning reflexes. I know I’m gonna be safe with you, Howard.”

The smile was affectionate, though.

“Right,” he continued, “What’s next?”

Moon frowned. Noir was altogether too proprietorial about this assignment. Still, he had contributed quite a lot that evening. He pulled off his shoe.

“Show time!”

The heel clicked, and a slim beam of light shot out. Moon directed it at one of the few stretches of wall not chosen for a mirror. The light hit the plaster and resolved into an image.

“What’s that?”

“We’re looking at the photos I took this evening, Vincenzo.”

“ I repeat, what’s that?”

“Well,” Moon squinted “it’s a floor plan, or a building plan. Looks like some kind of factory.” The images clicked on.

“And these are the individual rooms, or maybe processes. Look, here’s some kind of manufacturing machinery.”

“I think I’ll wait for it to come out on DVD, Howard…”

“But if I’m not mistaken…” continued Moon, as much to himself as to Noir, “… this is where I need to go next.” His eyes lit up with the promise of a new challenge. “This is where Big is manufacturing those suspicious flapjacks. These plans will give me a clue to finding out exactly what they’re turning those flapjacks into…”

Noir snorted, and turned it into a polite cough.

“Suspicious flapjacks… This is why people were trying to kill us tonight, was it, Howard?”

No answer…

“Howard? Howard? Howard!“

Moon was staring at a diagram on the screen.

“What’s up, Howard? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Moon started out of his trance. He shook his head distractedly.

“It may sound innocuous to a civilian like you, Vincenzo…” Moon reached out impulsively and gave Noir’s arm a comforting squeeze “… but I can assure you, there is a very dastardly plot afoot.”

Noir looked pointedly at the hand on his arm, and Moon jumped back as if scalded. The other man grinned.

“I’ll believe you, Howard. But I suppose now you’re gonna tell me that I need to stay clear, yeah? That this is no place for an innocent bystander, etcetera, etcetera…?”

“I’m sorry, Vincenzo, but it’s true. You’ve been an amazing help tonight….” Noir looked at him from under his lashes and Moon felt his heart flip again “… and I can’t thank you enough. But neither can I endanger you further…”

“But I could help, Howard! I got the van and everything..!”

“I’m sorry, Vincenzo. It’s just too risky.”

Noir bit his lip and nodded, as if sagely agreeing.

“But you’ll stay here tonight, yeah, Howard? Just for a few hours…?”

The eyelashes fluttered.

Moon took another gulp of beer. This was getting difficult. All his instincts as an agent cried out for him to be cautious, but he felt himself rushing headlong into something new and exciting and fulfilling and utterly right. So it couldn’t possibly be a good idea. All the more so, because there were some things about this set-up that simply didn’t add up….

“Vincenzo, there’s something I need to ask you.”

“Yeah, Howard?” The tone was cautious, the blue eyes still looked limpid and guileless.

“I don’t understand why you were ‘practising’ fly by wire in Big’s office. It’s a long way from the venue. Tell me what you were really doing there. Please.”

He saw Noir’s face change the moment he said the words. A quick flash of worry, although the man had tried hard to hide it.

“Nah, Howard, honest. It’s the best place I could find. His office has a really high ceiling. I know, I’ve been in there loads of times.”

Moon felt his gut twist. However much he wanted to believe this story, he could tell the man was lying. He reached out and grasped Noir’s forearm again, much harder this time, drawing Noir towards him. He knew he had to make himself angry to keep any kind of objectivity on the issue.

“You’re hurting me, Howard. Did you mean to do that?”

He’s making it sound like an invitation, the… the bitch! Keep focused, Moon!

“I think you need to tell me the truth, Vincenzo.”

The blue eyes turned on him full beam. He steeled himself against what was turning into a powerful onslaught of Noir charm. Then suddenly he saw those same eyes fill with tears. It caught him by surprise. He let go Noir’s arm and the other man brought both hands up to his face, stifling a sob.

“Vincenzo…”

“It had to be you, didn’t it?” Noir had turned to him now, eyes blazing. “It just had to be you, to find me like that!”

“What are you talking about?”

Noir stared at the floor, as if debating with himself, then he looked up again, defiance only just covering pain.

“I was thieving, all right? I’m a thief. A cat burglar. It’s what I do. Well, there’s the band, too, but it’s the thieving that pays for all this…” He waved his hand dismissively to indicate the flat.

“The stupid thing is, I wouldn’t normally have chanced turning Big’s gaff over—too risky. But I was pissed off, right? The bastard owed me! He’s a tight little git, and I hadn’t been paid for three gigs! I’ve seen that office, and its antiques and safe and stuff. I figured there might be something there I could filch. Get what’s due to me.”

He glowered at Moon, who was looking on, dumbstruck.

“I’m a thief, all right? Quite a good one, actually. But of all the nights I choose to go thieving, and look what’s happened. I meet you. The one person, the one man I would give anything to see me at my best. And you see a common burglar.”

“Vincenzo….”

“Don’t you fuckin’ pity me! I don’t want your middle-class morality here, mate! I earn good money, and I rub their noses in it, these jumper-up wankers. I steal from the rich and give to the less rich—eye eee, me. I’m like Robin Hood, except with a better sense of colour coordination.”

He rubbed his hand across his face.

“Think what you like of me, but don’t think I’m some sort of enemy to you. Cos I’m not, all right?”

He was standing square to Moon now, hands on his hips, eyes blazing.

“Vincenzo… I… this job I do…”

“Right. You don’t trust me now, do you? Now you know I’m a criminal. Fine, don’t.”

“Vincenzo…”

“Oh, I get it… I’m beneath you, right? We’re ‘different worlds’, yeah? Some shit like that. You fighting for Queen and country and me a common thief…”

“Vincenzo…”

“Yeah, well, it’s not Vincenzo, either…”

Moon’s jaw dropped.

“What?”

“It’s not Vincenzo. That’s another lie. For a bit of class, a bit of mystery. M’names Vince, okay? I’m Vince. Just Vince.”

Moon stretched out a hand and Noir batted it away.

“Vincenz… Vince, you’re not giving me a chance…”

“Chance to do what? Look down your nose at me? Look, I see now, this wasn’t going to work, was it?”

“What wasn’t? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You an’ me. Even just tonight. I couldn’t even have you for that, I couldn’t…”

Noir turned away, his face working.

“Vincenz… Vince, I explained. That can’t happen. I don’t…”

The other spun back again.

“Don’t kiss men? Yeah, like hell you don’t!”

“I don’t like your insinuation, sir. Howard Moon is his own man…”

“‘Your own man’?” The voice was sneering. “What’s that, a euphonium?”

“…euphemism…”

“Age has got nothing to do with it…”

“Will you just shut up and listen, you silly tart!”

They both stopped dead. Moon had shouted those last words and now they sounded ridiculous as they rang in the tense air of the apartment. Noir was biting his lip, anger in his face. Moon was nonplussed. He put his shoe back on, as a preliminary move.

“Well, perhaps I’d better go…”

“Oh no, you don’t. That’s my shirt you’ve got on. You can just take that off!”

He reached out and grabbed Moon’s arm and Moon jerked away from him, genuinely angry now.

“Don’t touch me!” he spat “Don’t ever touch me!”

Noir grabbed his arm again and again Moon wrenched it away. Then Noir grabbed hold with both hands.

And then Moon had him in his arms. Howard Moon, who did not kiss men, had him pinned to the wall, one hand at the back of his neck, the other on his jaw as they kissed; kissed angrily, viciously, sloppily, deeply, their movements slowing as Moon ground his body into Noir’s, forcing his leg between the man’s thighs, and feeling the other man’s lean frame pressing back. Noir’s hands were everywhere—under the shirt, in Moon’s hair, sliding over his arse. Moon moved his own hands down the long back, feeling the bones of Noir’s spine and the jut of his hipbones. He twisted in Moon’s grasp and suddenly Moon was the one with his back to the wall, Noir pressing into him again. He could feel his own erection straining, rubbing against Noir’s hip, and Noir’s cock hard against his thigh.

He broke the kiss, holding him back. The other man whined petulantly.

Moon grinned at him, unable to suppress the growing sense of euphoria.

“Vince, what’s that?”

“What’s what, Howard…?” There was exasperation in the tone.

“That.”

Noir followed Moon’s gaze and looked up again. His eyes started to sparkle, the joke sinking in.

“Oh, that’s my thing, Howard. It’s a bugger to conceal when I’m kissing you, let me tell you…”

Still grinning, Moon pulled him back into the kiss, but this time it was Noir fending him off, mumbling against his lips.

“No, Howard… yes, come on…. no, in here, with me… now… “

Moon had ceased to care about the rights and wrongs of the situation. He was doing what he had sworn he would never do—let his guard down on an assignment, allow himself to get distracted—and now he was being sucked into a whirlpool of desire and delight. And he couldn’t give a damn.

They were still kissing as they stumbled into the bedroom. It was hung with dark drapery and the bed had a cream satin cover. He was trembling; Noir was trembling too, though he tried to act casually as he pushed Moon gently down into the sea of cream, pillows like waves around him.

Noir was above him. He saw his own hands—hands that appeared to be acting of their own volition—fumbling with the knot in Noir’s belt, and then the man was naked. He gasped at the sight before him—raven hair, white skin, full cock. He wanted his hands, his mouth, on every part of him. He reached out to pull him closer but Noir evaded him, ripping at the buttons on the shirt to tear it from Moon’s shoulders.

“Vince ! It’s a lovely shirt!”

“Sod the shirt! I want what’s underneath!”

More fumbling—desperate, hasty—and then he was naked, too, Noir’s hands all over him, mouth on his neck, his nipples, his belly. Nothing in his training as an agent had ever prepared him to deal with the sensations flooding through him, threatening to carry him away altogether.

It must be like a drug, he though vaguely, his mind in turmoil as Noir’s tongue stroked his inner thigh and long fingers closed around his hardness. Like a drug you want, you need, more and more of.

He looked down to see his cock slide into Noir’s mouth. At that point he knew for certain that even the Advanced Training module was seriously lacking in some respects.

He was lost now, he knew it. Nothing existed except the heat and the pressure, and the weight on his thighs. Yet all at once the glorious sensation of Noir’s mouth around him came to an abrupt halt, Noir sliding back up his body to wrap his tongue around the agent’s ear. His breath was hot.

“Touch me, Howard. Need you to touch me…”

There was one thing Advanced Training did prepare an agent for, and that was to adapt to any situation. Moon lost no time in pushing the willing Noir onto his back in the cream waves and grinding their hips together as he kissed him long and hard. Even so, he was grateful for the guiding fingers that led his own hand down to Noir’s groin.

But nothing could have prepared him for the delight of seeing Noir’s ecstatic reaction to his touch, writhing and moaning beneath him as he stroked and pulled. Noir opened his eyes—deep like the sea—and said to the drowning man:

“Together, Howard. Take us together…”

He twined fingers with him around them both. Noir’s head was thrown back against the pillows, his eyes unfocussed, Moon pressed his face into the hot skin of his neck. It didn’t take long, Noir bucking up against him and gasping as warmth spilled over their hands and onto Moon’s belly. It was enough to tip Moon over the edge, and he came in that moment, crying out something incomprehensible and undoubtedly profane, his face against the black hair. It was release unlike he had ever known. He sagged against the other man, his breathing still laboured, and then slumped, face down, beside him. He could feel light kisses on his hair, his neck, his back; and he knew this was what he needed to feel whole, to feel real.

Eventually he rolled over again, to see Noir gazing at him, eyes unreadable for a moment until a flirty smile disguised all. He trailed his fingertips over Moon’s forehead, down over his nose and lips to follow the line of his chin. Sated as he was, Moon’s body still thrilled to the touch. The fingers stroked down his neck and chest, and then paused at his shoulder.

“That’s a pretty sensational scar there, Howard. Were you doing something extra dangerous?”

Moon felt himself blush a little.

“Well, I couldn’t tell you, Vince. Official Secrets and all that. But it did involve a Ukrainian beauty, a whip and some hot jam…”

Noir’s eyes popped.

“I had no idea you secret agents were quite so kinky. I’ll remember that if I ever want to give you a present…” He sighed thoughtfully, still stroking his fingertips up and down.

“I think I should get a scar too. I’d look well dangerous then…”

Moon caught his hand and turned to face him.

“No! You don’t want a scar! I don’t want you hurt…”

The words were out before he’d had a chance to think about them, and he instantly regretted how they sounded—needy and possessive. But Noir hardly seemed to notice. He was smiling sleepily now, as if intoxicated.

“No-one like you, Howard” he slurred, putting his free hand out to stroke down Moon’s cheek. “Nothing will ever be like that…”

Moon wanted to advise him that it was important to keep an open mind and a sense of perspective in everything, but the glow of pride stopped him. Noir turned to rest in the curve of Moon’s body, his arse once again fitting snugly into the arc of Moon’s pelvis, and Moon drew him close, drinking in the proximity, the warmth, the scent of him. He kissed Noir’s neck. The other merely murmured, already dozing, and stirred fretfully.

“Don’t go, Howard…”

“Vince…”

“I meant…” the blue eyes struggled open. “I meant, don’t go without saying goodbye.”

Moon smiled sadly, the words bringing him down to earth more successfully than any talking-to he could give himself.

“I won’t, I promise.”

Noir settled again, his breathing soon evening out. Moon steeled himself to stay awake. Now the tension and confusion had dissipated, maybe he could plan his next steps.

It was futile. He was asleep in moments.

He was conscious of movement. He opened one eye and saw the room touched by very early light. Noir was moving quietly around, back in the robe. He pushed himself upright.

“Vince?”

The smile was warm, and regretful.

“Thought you’d like some tea, Howard. Before you leave.”

Moon rubbed his face.

“What time is it?”

“Around five. I got croissants, too.”

Moon smiled and held out his hand. Noir took it, and squeezed his fingers. He sat on the bed and put a mug of tea on the bedside table.

“Vince, you know I have to go.”

“Yeah, Howard.”

A resigned smile.

“It’s been wonderful. So wonderful, I’d like… I’d like to stay here. Forever.”

Noir looked up, deep sadness in his eyes.

“Yeah, Howard?”

“But I can’t. I’m an agent. I have a mission and it has to be completed.”

“Yeah, Howard.” The melancholy in his voice was unbearable.

“Oh, Vince. But I’d like to see you again. Please. Later, when this is all over.”

Noir smiled shyly.

“Look, Howard, have some tea. It’s getting cold.”

Moon picked up the mug and took a couple of sips to please him, but Noir just pursed his lips in disapproval.

“Come on, you need your brew, I can tell! Can’t be a top agent without a good cuppa inside you…”

It was an attempt at cheeriness but there was a wobble to his lip.

“Oh, Vince…” Moon took the mug again and gulped down half—anything to make him smile.

“I meant what I said, you know. I really want to see you again. Let me come back to you later?”

Noir pulled his hand away and stood up.

“Sorry, Howard. There is no ‘later’.”

His voice was cold and flat.

Moon frowned. This wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for. The reaction of the room wasn’t as expected, either. It seemed to be slipping sideways. Or the bed was, or he was. He tried to put the mug down but missed the table completely. It hit the floor, spilling tea all over the cream rug.

“Vince, what are you talking… talking about…? Vince…?”

Noir was wavering in his vision now. He tried to reach out for him but could not seem to move his arms. Noir bent down towards him and he felt methodical fingers take his pulse and then lift his eyelids, holding each open in turn for a few seconds. Then a hand stroked his brow.

The features were blurred, and the voice was still flat, but there was no hiding the pang of regret when he spoke.

“I’m so sorry, Howard. There is no ‘later’. There can’t be.”

And then Moon’s world went black.