Jazz Dalek
Category: The Mighty Boosh
Characters: Bollo, Howard Moon, Naboo, Saboo, The Spirit of Jazz, Vince Noir
Pairing: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Smut (graphic sex scenes)
Status: Complete
Length: 5-10k words
Chapter 3
Contents
Chapter 3
Author’s Notes: At last, the NC-17 ending you’ve been waiting for. Special thanks in part 3 to my friend Guy who enthusiastically provided “technical advice” from a gay male perspective for the scene with teh sexah tiems.
Howard got up from the couch and ambled towards the kitchen. Uncharacteristically speechless, Vince stuffed his sweets back into a pocket and sat waiting. Anxious and worried about Howard, he started chipping the varnish off his fingernails.
“I’ll just cook the tea then, shall I?” Howard offered, to break the silence.
“All right,” Vince nodded, smiling tentatively. “You know, I’m rubbish at cooking. But you’re brilliant. How’s about the beans on toast you made the other day? With the fried egg and the cheese laid out like a smiley face? Genius!”
Howard cracked a slight smile that quickly turned into a frown. “Well it’s not exactly rocket science, beans on toast, is it?” he half growled. But looking at Vince’s face with his hopeful sweet smile and pinkish cheeks, he feigned an acknowledgement, then slumped his shoulders and started rifling through the cupboards.
Sensing the tension in the flat, Naboo and Bollo slipped out down the stairs. Naboo didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to get back at Saboo anyway, so he was straight off to Tony Harrison’s to form a plot.
Taking an unspoken cue, Vince nicked off to the bedroom for a bit and left Howard alone. He only emerged at the scent of food. He’d changed into pyjamas, but with the makeup still on as he couldn’t be fussed to remove it. The tight fit of his jammies, on him they looked like some sort of glam flannel jumpsuit in purple with silver threading.
Vince sat down on the couch and was greeted with a cup of tea. Howard held the cup a moment, even as he handed it over. He wasn’t sure why.
Sipping slowly, Vince fidgeted in the silence. In not too long a time, he was greeted with a plate of mash, peas, and carrots. Howard barely looked at him as he slumped back to the kitchen to grab some fried tofu squares.
An uncomfortable silence ensued as Vince rolled the peas around his plate like miniature billiard balls. Howard stared at him in wonder. “How can he always be so happy? So content? Look at him. He’s an idiot! Maybe I’m just too clever to be happy.”
Vince had fashioned the food into a face with a lot of green spots. Howard smiled despite himself. Somehow, watching Vince play with his food made his heart ache in a slightly different way. It was almost too sweet to bear.
Howard looked down and smiled to himself, just missing Vince looking up to gaze back at him with tender eyes. “Howard? Can I tell you something?” he began softly.
But before Vince could get out his words, Howard blurted, “It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it? Always something. The Spirit of Jazz. Old Gregg. I’ll never have anyone . . . “
Vince swallowed hard and then, barely audible, uttered, “You’ll always have me.”
Howard grunted, dropped the tofu squares on the table with an aggressive thunk, and turned back around to get some drinks. Hot tea, strongly brewed. “A man’s drink,” he thought to himself. And a strawberry Ribena for Vince, who preferred something sweet and fruity. He’d forgotten already that he’d handed Vince a cuppa just moments earlier.
“You don’t really count, though. Do you Vince?” he barked. “You’ve always got the attention of others. Always off with Leroy, or Mama Zoom, at the pubs in Kentish Town, all the little mice following behind you like a glam rock pied piper. You don’t need me and my spitting camel coloured cardigans and crumb catching moustache.”
When he turned back around, Vince had rearranged the food on his plate again. Now it was a frown, with little pea tears streaming down the plate and around the potato mash chin, accentuated by a river of butter.
Howard sat down and Vince looked at him earnestly. This was no mean feat, considering Vince’s eyeliner had smudged and was streaming its way from his eyes down his cheeks.
Vince fingered the hair on his crown nervously, cocking his head to one side.
“Howard?”
“What?”
“I mean it, you know.”
“Yeah, whatever. I know how it goes. You’re happy to sit here, making faces out of my food, feeding me sweets. But it’s not the same, is it?”
“Well, you’re going about it the wrong way, aren’t ya!” Vince spat back, exasperated. “You get all excited at just the hint that some girl might show up to your Jazz club, that someone might be interested in ya, and you’re all over her. You don’t even stop to think you might not like her. Or that she might not be perfect! You got to get to know someone first, you berk.”
“But you don’t have any trouble getting attention. I can’t even get that.”
“That’s because it ain’t about True Love for me, is it? I’m just trying it on, looking to get off, have a bit of fun. I’m not lookin’ to form a lasting bond when I flirt with these girls, am I? It comes off as desperate if you do.”
“Well I’m not like that Vince. You know how it is for me. “
“Forever sir!” they hummed in unison. And then both blushed and looked away from each other.
They ate in awkward silence until Vince worked up the courage to say something. He knew it was time for a change of tactics. “I know, Howard! Crimpin’ always makes things better. And seein’ as how you made them tofu squares I like . . . ”
“Yeah?” Howard shot back incredulously. “You think a crimp about our dinner will just wash away a lifetime of romantic failure, do you? I’m Howard T. J. Moon. Nothing will penetrate my gloom – the deep, dark, powerful black hole of lovelessness that is my life Vince. Not even a crimp.”
“But it’s Pablo Panko!” Vince squealed. “He’s a Latino-Japanese superhero!!!” He picked up one of the tofu squares (they were breaded in panko breadcrumbs) and made out like it was dancing.
Howard raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. Soon, however, he found himself unable to resist – swaying in time with Vince, waving his arms and crimping.
Pablo Panko crunchy and delicious
Pablo Panko probably not nutritious
Pablo Panko dips his toe in canola oil
Crunchy Crunchy ooh
Crunchy Crunchy ooh
Pablo Panko, is he Japanese or Mexican?
Pablo Panko his breadcrumbs make a nice tan
Pablo Panko better than a jellied eel
Crunchy Crunchy ooh
Crunchy Crunchy ooh
Sittin’ in my tummy, he really was so yummy!
I love my Pablo panko, mash, and peasy plate!
Howard smiled despite himself, his heart swelling a wee bit as he took a long gaze at Vince who sat eating and grinning, content and oblivious. “He really is like a five year old,” Howard repeated his earlier thought. “A sweet, sexy five year old. Only without the paedophilia.”
Vince hummed along, chuffed at his success in snapping Howard out of his gloom. Until he looked up and noticed Howard grinning like an idiot.
“You all right mate? Only, you ain’t taken another bite what you put on your plate.”
“Never better,” Howard smiled back, then tucked in to his food.
After they finished, Vince piled the plates in the sink and grabbed the remote. “How’s about some Colobus the Crab, then?” he offered.
Flicking off the lights, Vince plopped down on the couch and tucked his knees under his chin. He looped one arm into Howard’s and curled into him, resting his head on Howard’s shoulder. They sat quietly, though Howard seemed a bit stiff.
“That was Colobus the Crab,” the BBC announcer came on. “Next up on BBC-3 is Captain Cabinets at 9:15. Can he get out? Will he get out? Stay tuned to find out.”
Vince shifted on the couch, moving his legs so his feet dug into the couch and his knees pushed against Howard’s thigh. He nestled his head against Howard’s shoulder again. Howard’s pulse increased.
“Howard?” Vince spoke nervously. “You know how you’re always bangin’ on about me getting off with the girls? Well, when I am ready for forever, I won’t be acting like that. I won’t have to. It’ll be someone I know. Someone I trust, like. Someone I don’t have to wonder about. Someone I’ve gotten to know already. Who I can be me’self around.”
Howard paused at this, unsure of how to respond. Opting for his tried and true pity party, he replied, “But I’ll never get to know anyone . . . you know I’m paranoid and don’t trust anyone but you . . . it doesn’t matter anyway. I can love intensely from afar . . .”
He rested his head on top of Vince’s, bewildered at the thought of having such a friend. It was so easy for him, even sitting there in his pjs like some sexy man-child, all glowing smiles, bright eyes and impossible cheekbones. Howard found himself yearning to kiss him.
“Whoa there, Howard” he thought to himself. “Where did that come from?” He quickly shoved the thought aside and made to retreat from Vince’s gentle grip but decided to live with the physical contact.
“I’ll always have you,” he questioned, albeit in statement form. “But do I *really* have you?” he toyed.
“Yeh, you do, ya nob,” Vince replied defensively.
“But do I REALLY have you?” he asked again, almost jokingly. “I suppose it’s because you’d be dead if I didn’t feed you, aye?” he kidded.
Vince lifted his head and looked at him, confused.
“Yeah, you do,” he whispered, quiet and shy like. Somehow, their normal banter had given way to something more uncertain, tenuous, serious. Vince’s glittery defense mechanisms failed him for once. “It’s always been you Howard,” he confessed. His heart pounded in his chest faster than a new rave beat.
Howard and Vince turned and faced one another, arms still hooked. Howard’s eyes locked with Vince’s. Their hearts pounded, like a jazzy drumming duet. Could it be possible? Is this why Vince got so upset in the record shop? Started the fight with the girl. And why he came to his rescue in the flat earlier? Why he always comes to his rescue? Why he sticks by him even though he’s got all the trendies of Camden in his pocket? He thought of their kiss on the roof during his birthday party. It was he, not Vince, who declared himself. Yet it was Vince, not he, who said he’d never love again. He remembered back to that time on the frozen tundra, when he declared his love and Vince laughed at him. “No, stop foolin’ yourself, ya northern fool.”
Vince stared wide-eyed and angelic at Howard, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell. His palms became sweaty as he gazed into Howard’s tiny eyes. “What if I’ve gone wrong? What if I try it on with Howard and it ruins everything? I can’t lose me best mate. Sure, everybody fancies me. But the only time I’ve ever been chucked, it was by Howard!”
Belying his trendy, confident exterior, Vince swallowed hard and reached out to stroke Howard’s hair. His hand shook. Howard clasped his hand over Vince’s, mid-stroke, and held his breath. Vince leaned in and gave him a kiss. Lips, tentative and soft, then confident and strong as tongues entwined and they went dizzy. Vince’s knees pressed into Howard’s lap as Howard tugged at Vince’s pyjamas and they folded into one another, kisses becoming increasingly frantic.
Howard let out a moan and Vince pulled away, blushing with embarrassment.
“Howard? You know how people say I’m the confuser? Confuse me for being your girlfriend an’ all? Well I’m just thinkin’. I mean, I am bisexual, but also I. . .”
Howard sat with a massive grin on his face. “Isn’t it clear, Vince? All the failure with girls. All the confusion. I really am a gheyist! And I have you to thank!”
Howard paused a moment, tenderly smeared the eyeliner on Vince’s face with his thumb, and responded to Vince’s unfinished, unspoken concern.
“And the only girl for me is you, Vince.”
Vince’s grin grew three sizes at that. And they kissed again.
Kisses spun into more kisses, into hands in hair, over shoulders, around torsos, thighs and hands squeezing and stroking and sliding and bumping. Lips on ears, jawlines, throats, tongues thrusting, wet and wanting.
In a powerful move of confidence and physical strength, Howard scooped up Vince under his knees and carried him to the bedroom. Vince wrapped his arms around Howard’s neck and kept kissing until Howard put him down. They stood, now, face-to-face, moment of truth, breathless. The blood pounded in their ears . . . and other places.
Howard tenderly pulled at the snaps in Vince’s pjs and slid a hand underneath to stroke his skin. Vince gasped at the touch and pulled Howard’s shirt off, tugged at his belt and slipped it out through the loops of his trousers with trained hands. Before he knew it, Vince had Howard’s trousers down to the floor and Howard had pulled Vince’s pjs down to his waist, freeing his arms and torso from their purple encasement. They kissed again, and Vince’s eyes flared at the site of the bulge in Howard’s y-fronts.
Howard blushed. Vince laid a hand on his bulge and held it there for a moment before softly slipping his fingers between and beyond the fabric.
“Oh Howard. I can feel it movin’ under me hand,” he gasped. “It’s so warm, and smooth, and, and, and hard. And pulsing! You’re makin’ me harder.”
Howard thrust his pelvis, urging Vince’s hand, as he placed his own hand on the small of Vince’s back to pull him closer. They kissed softly as Vince gently squeezed Howard’s shaft.
“Take my pj’s off me, Howard. Please?” It was such a sweet request. Almost innocent sounding. Howard slipped off his pants then licked a trail down Vince’s neck, palming his torso until he reached his waist, then tugged down the fabric with nervous hands. Vince’s erection sprang forth and Howard half gasped and half grunted a nervous laugh as it flicked him on the nose. He wrapped his hand around it and just stared and swallowed. Vince ran his fingers through Howard’s hair and lifted his chin, an impish smile on his face that broke Howard from his trance. Howard stood back up and Vince pressed his swollen head into Howard’s belly. Their mouths met in hungry kisses and Howard placed his hands on Vince’s backside to pull him closer. Their erections met, rubbing, rolling, thrusting, sliding, dueling. Vince palmed both their heads with one hand, moist with pre-cum, and stroked them both with it. Howard moaned again, speechless and overwhelmed from the sensation and the intimacy. Both their knees shook.
“Check it out, Howard! Our dicks. They curve toward one another. It’s like they want to hug each other n’ mate all on their own. How cool is that?”
Howard let out a hard breath. It was all so much for him. But Vince was like a kid in a sweets shop. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at Vince’s unbridled enthusiasm.
“Why you talking about my dick, Vince? You’re makin’ me nervous. You’re always havin’ a poke at me, at my body. I’ve never done this before!”
“To be fair, Howard. I am actually literally having a poke at you,” his voice thick in his throat. “I’m just so amazed. I want to touch you everywhere. I never thought it could be like this with another man . . . uh, with you I mean.”
“Surely Vince had been with other men?” Howard’s panicky internal dialogue unraveled. “Was it only women up to this point? What about that time in the pub when Howard returned from the loo and saw a very drunk Vince getting felt up by that bloke when he thought Howard wasn’t looking? What does this mean?”
But there was Vince, unabashedly aroused, taking sunshine to a whole new level. Opting not to succumb to the paranoia, Howard kissed Vince again, hard on the mouth, devouring. Large hands on tiny hips, he guided them both to his bed. They fell, tumbling and bouncing into the duvet. Vince slid a leg between Howard’s. On their sides, they wriggled and kissed and stroked and thrust. Their erections continued to roll and rub and duel. Vince licked a nipple and buried his nose into Howard’s chest, drawing in his scent deeply. He smelled of musk and Pritt Stick and records. Vince smelled of strawberry ribena and hair products.
Vince reached down to stroke Howard’s cock, felt the response to his touch in his palm and in his fingers. It excited him even more, the feel of an erection other than his own in his hand. He gripped his hold a bit tighter. Howard let out a breathy moan, pushed his hand away, rolled Vince onto his back and held him down by the wrists. Grinding himself into Vince’s belly, feeling their erections digging into each other’s skin, furthering each other on, his head throbbed as the underside of his cock ground into the hair on Vince’s belly.
“Oh, Howard. Keep doin’ that. It’s genius!”
Howard needed no encouragement. He squeezed Vince’s wrists and kissed him hard on the mouth, shutting up Vince’s passionate chatter that then gave way to moans. Their skin, electric, all thoughts erased from their heads, Vince pushed up into Howard and arched his back. More tongue on throat and the faint tickle of moustache on skin. Hands roaming and toes curling, they sweated, and stiffened, and panted as one and Vince came with a high-pitched yelp. The sensation of wetness tipped Howard over the edge, and he came a few seconds later. A flood of cum trickled and smeared on their bellies as they became slippery and soft. Then they lay still, thighs hugging, chest on chest, arm in arm, balls pressed together in their sticky mess, the weight of Howard on Vince’s body making him feel enveloped in a way he’d never felt before.
“I love you, Howard.” Vince surprised himself, hearing the words fly out of his lips, a fragile, tiny-voiced confession.
Howard hugged him with his entire body and then rested his weight on his elbows. Gently sliding the sweat-soaked fringe off Vince’s forehead, he kissed him softly on the lips and ran his fingers through Vince’s hair. “I love you too, little man.”
Then he shifted his weight so that his right hip lay on the bed and his head on the pillow next to Vince’s. They passed out like this – holding hands, legs intertwined, noses gently touching.
* * *
Several hours later and Vince woke up first, whimpered slightly and tapped Howard on the shoulder.
“Howard. Howard. Howard? Howard!” he whispered, eventually succeeding in waking the other man.
“Oi, mate. I’m sorry to wake you, only, I think we’ve landed in a spot of bother.”
He pointed down and slipped a hand between their bellies. Inexperienced and enthusiastic as they both were, neither thought to wipe off before passing out. Their collective cum had dried and stuck to the thick ribbon of hair trailing down Vince’s belly. Very carefully, they pulled apart.
“Only slightly ouchy” Vince declared playfully, as he stood up to head to the loo and brushed the remaining bits off.
“You might want to put this on!” Howard shot back quickly, and tossed him his flowery silk kimono. Vince giggled and took the robe. “Ssshhh! We might wake Naboo and Bollo!” Howard might have taken him more seriously if Vince’s morning wood wasn’t staring back at him. That and the mischievous grin on his face. Howard responded with a snort and an eyeroll.
Vince wrapped himself in the robe and gave Howard a morning kiss. Howard tried to slip his hand under the robe, but Vince playfully slapped Howard’s hand away and tip-toed out of the room. “I really got’a go to the loo!”
Howard put on his own robe (an amorous amber terrycloth) and padded softly into the kitchen to put the kettle on. In a moment Naboo walked in and looked him up and down.
“Since when do you wear smeared eyeliner?” he frowned and lisped. Howard touched his face and turned a deep shade of red.
“Listen. Next time you two decide to go at it, don’t forget to shut the bedroom door, yeh? I didn’t need to come home and see your ball bag as you slept, ya ball bag.
Vince came twirling into the room and free-fell onto the couch with a bounce. “What are you on about?” he asked, unaware of the conversation.
“Nothing, Vince,” Naboo replied. “I’m off to Shamansbury’s for supplies. Don’t forget to clean these dishes from last night, yeah?”
He looked at Howard again. “You want those owl beaks now, mate?”
Vince let out a choking laugh, grin overtaking his face. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” He winked at Howard and sucked the tip of his thumb with a broad grin.
THE END
