Category: The Mighty Boosh
Pairing: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Genre: PWP (porn without plot)
Length: 1-5k words
Notes: I’m not enriely happy with the end of this. It feels tacked on. But I did it for the benefit of the prompter.
Remove Before by Thingogram
It was rare that Vince ever spent an evening alone in the flat. Thanks to a common plot device, Naboo and Bollo were off getting stoned somewhere, and Howard had buggered off to some “Secret Passions” poetry reading or some such drivel, and so after finding out that the clubs that night were likely to be a bit wank, Vince made up his mind to stay in and indulge in some secret passions of his own.
He lay on his front, enjoying the feeling of the air on his bare thighs and the bottoms of his arse-cheeks, the lightness of his little black skirt and the gentle presence of his suspenders near his buttocks. He flicked between Flaunt and the movie channels, looking for a cheesy chick-flick, thinking perhaps he’d try a bit of porn later if there was nothing on.
He heard the door slam and footsteps ascending the stairs. Shit, Howard was back early.
“Would you believe it, this “Secret Passions”, it was all bloody pornography!” he heard Howard shout up to him, as he bolted as fast as his heels could carry him for his bedroom. He shoved the door closed, hoping Howard hadn’t noticed, but no such luck.
“Vince, what are you doing? Are you alright?”
He felt Howard push the door from the other side.
“I’m fine!” he called, a little too desperately to be believed, pushing back on the door to keep Howard out.
“Vince, let me in,” Howard insisted.
Vince did his best to keep Howard out of the room, but in the end Howard gave an almighty shove, sending Vince flying backwards onto the bed.
It didn’t exactly help anything that Howard was standing over him while he was in all his stiletto’d, skirted and stockinged and suspendered glory with the oddest look Vince had ever seen on his face.
But it really didn’t help that Vince could feel himself getting stiffer.
Of all the things he expected to see when he came in, this was not one of them. This was about as expected as seeing Vince teaching a small animatronic mongoose to breastfeed a badly-dressed tuna fish. As in not expected at all.
He watched Vince look up at him with embarrassed eyes, and get up from the bed, turning away from him. Howard felt an excited twitch between his legs. And he realised that Vince had noticed it. Vince was standing there with his back to him, looking at him over his shoulder, with both hands behind him, holding his skirt down. Howard noticed the subdued cheeky smile on his face, and found himself walking, almost pulled along by his hardening cock, up to Vince and taking him by the hips. He brought his hands back a little, slightly nervous about initiating contact with his friends barely-covered backside, but he felt Vince push himself back into him, encouraging. Howard cupped a hand around each firm cheek and squeezed. Vince pushed back into his touch, rubbing his arse against Howard’s hands. When Howard removed them, Vince moaned and tried to push himself back into Howard even further, silently begging him to keep squeezing.
But Howard slipped an arm around Vince’s waist and leant a little into him, tipping Vince forwards. He traced a finger up Vince’s thigh, over his fishnet stocking and on over the bare flesh of his thigh, until it came to the hem of his tiny skirt. Suddenly, Vince’s hands flew down and gripped the bottom of the skirt, not teasingly this time, but firmly trying to keep his arse covered. Taking the initiative, Howard pulled the other way, wrestling with Vince to lift the skirt. Vince was having none of it, but Howard managed to win out and pulled the hem from Vince’s hands.
And then he realised why Vince had suddenly wanted to be kept covered.
Vince’s black girls’ knickers might have seemed innocent enough from the front, but Howard couldn’t help smirking as he read the hot pink letters emblazoned across Vince’s bottom.
He laughed tauntingly, then ran a finger up Vince’s right bum-cheek as he cruelly read the saucy message out loud.
“‘Remove Before Spanking’,” he giggled. “Sounds like a good idea.”
Well, now he had said it, he would have to do it, so taking a deep breath he ripped Vince’s knickers from his pert derriere, letting them fall to just above his knees, and without pausing raised his hand over his head and landed one, two, three, four sharp smacks on Vince’s firm naked flesh.
Vince gasped. “Oh, yeah…”
Howard wasn’t entirely prepared for Vince’s reaction. He had expected him to be freaked out, disgusted, outraged even, but here he was, obviously aroused.
Howard decided the best thing to do would be to go with it. It could potentially provide a safe counter-blackmail for Howard- Vince could be dissuaded from saying or doing something that would be disadvantageous to Howard by the threat of Howard revealing his sexual kinks- he had a chance to deal Vince some much-needed domestic discipline, plus in some perverse way he was enjoying himself. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that even without breasts and curves, Vince made something of a convincing woman.
“Having fun?” Howard sneered.
“Yeah, actually,” Vince replied saucily, flashing him with the cheekiest grin Howard had ever seen.
“That’s because you’re a dirty, filthy, warped little slag, isn’t it,” growled Howard.
“I am,” Vince breathed. “And I need you.”
“Damn right you do,” said Howard, slipping his fingers beneath the tops of Vince’s stockings. “And I know exactly what I need to give you.” He raised his hands back to Vince’s backside and rubbed it softly, growing harder by the second. “You need a firm hand, don’t you. To teach you a lesson.”
Vince didn’t reply. He just groaned, a desperate, needy sound. He leant forward on the bed, keeping his knees straight so his bottom stuck right up in the air. It was a tempting sight, and Howard was almost ready just to take him then and there, discipline be damned. But he needed to be strong. Vince seemed to expect him to be, and he didn’t want to break any expectations.
“Not like that, you twisted little whore,” he snapped, shoving Vince in the side so that he stumbled on his heels and almost fell. Vince looked a little afraid now as he watched wide-eyed as Howard sat on the bed. “Come here,” he ordered.
Vince approached, and, thinking he knew what Howard wanted, went to lie across his lap. But Howard pushed him away, then stood, bringing himself right up to Vince and standing over him, enjoying the wide look of fear in Vince’s eyes as he craned his head up to look at him.
“Did I ask you to do that?” he reproved, digging his fingers into Vince’s waist. He could see apprehension in Vince’s expression, but Vince leaned into Howard as he pushed him into him, which confused him somewhat. But he couldn’t let it show. He’d have to get through this with pure strength of emotion. “Now you listen to me, madam,” he continued, giving Vince a sharp shake. “I don’t want you getting presumptuous on me. You wait till you’re told.”
He waited for Vince to nod, then sat down again and opened his legs. He beckoned Vince forward with his finger, and Vince stepped forward slowly, almost, Howard fancied, a little nervously.
Howard chose not to dwell on it and pulled him down by the waist, leaving Vince lying between Howard’s legs, curled around his left side. Howard wrapped his left arm around Vince’s waist and closed his thighs around Vince’s legs, pinning him in place. With his right hand he lifted Vince’s skirt, revealing the enticing roundness of his bare rear. He stroked it briefly, moving a finger to the side of Vince’s right cheek, slipping it under the tight suspender strap, and pulling it up and letting it snap back with a sharp crack on the plump flesh of Vince’s backside. He felt Vince jerk slightly against him, drawing in a sharp but quiet breath. Howard didn’t say a word. He just squeezed Vince in tighter between his thighs, tautening the soft skin of the upturned curve, then raised his hand and gave Vince a good and proper slap. Vince gasped and bucked into him, and it was all Howard could bear to moan as he felt Vince’s erection bump against his own. Trying to avoid the problem again, he pulled Vince tighter against his side and dealt another smack. He felt Vince’s body jump against him, but it was a more constricted movement this time; Howard was doing a good job of holding him still. He whacked him smartly again and again, grinning as he watched Vince’s arse turn a beautiful shade of pink. He stared at it, fascinated by how it stood out so vividly next to his pale thighs.
“Oh, fuck, yes!” he heard Vince cry from behind him. “Harder! Harder! Fucking hit me harder!”
This was seven shades of wrong.
And what was even wronger was that Vince had started bucking again, but these weren’t reflex jerks. Vince, Howard realised with a jolt, was dry-humping his abdomen between whacks.
Not even bothering with a strong finisher, Howard released Vince from the custody of his thighs and pushed him down onto the bed, twisting his arms behind him.
“Vince Noir,” he reprimanded. “You are a spoiled little brat and you need to learn to do as you’re told. Now I’m ordering you to stay completely still, however difficult that is, and if you don’t obey me, I’m going to make this very difficult for you. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” answered Vince, still irreverent despite Howard’s grip on his arms and the faceful of duvet he was speaking through.
Howard got on his knees behind Vince. If Vince wanted this harder, then Howard was going to take it to degree level.
Vince submitted to Howard holding him down and spreading his legs. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected his little tease to be taken this far. His heart was thumping a mile a minute, not just because he was excited, though that did contribute a fair amount, but also because if Howard was going to bum him now, he wasn’t entirely sure that Howard knew what to do. But his instincts told him that Howard wasn’t quite at that point yet, so he allowed himself to be pinned down, his arms twisted painfully and his roasted arse exposed to the air. He would be sore tomorrow, but he didn’t care. He wondered vaguely how it could feel so good to hurt so much.
He was jerked out of his thoughts by a sudden tickling sensation between his thighs. He gasped, and tried to keep still as Howard had told him when Howard released his arms and moved his hands to Vince’s hips instead. But it was so hard not to jump as the soft wet tendril of Howard’s tongue crept out to tease the inside of his left thigh, and he felt Howard’s hands squeeze harder, thumbs pressing into his buttocks. He still couldn’t help shaking under Howard’s hands as he felt the curious sensation of Howard’s moustache moving further up, turning up into his crack as Howard titled his head to gently kiss the bottom of his buttocks. Vince jerked, unable to help himself.
“I said still,” Howard scolded from between Vince’s cheeks, causing Vince to shudder even more as he felt Howard’s stubble move as he spoke. He cried out as Howard turned his head and bit him on the inside of his right bum-cheek, not hard enough to hurt too much, Vince thought, but probably hard enough to leave a mark.
Howard’s face pressed further between his cheeks, and Vince felt his wet, probing tongue come out again to explore his crack. He gasped in staggered breaths, shuddering as every quick movement brought a new rush to him. The tongue moved higher, and Vince squealed and bucked, doing his best to will himself down but largely failing as it touched teasingly at the entrance to his anus. Suddenly, Howard squeezed his hips and buttocks tight and plunged his tongue into Vince’s arsehole. Vince practically shrieked as he felt the warm moisture within him. As the tongue pushed and twisted, he found himself wriggling and unable to stop himself, the pain in his cock as it was buffeted around under him mixing with the pure unbearable pleasure in his arse. He gripped the covers to steady himself and cried into the air, but still his body jerked around at the mercy of his reflexes.
He felt Howard’s tongue pull out of him and he sighed with exhaustion and a slight relief, slumped panting over the side of the bed. He could faintly feel the light prickling pain of stubble burn between his cheeks.
Howard’s figure loomed over him, leaning on the bed with an arm either side of him. It suddenly dawned on Vince just how much bigger Howard was than him, and how, if it came down to it, he would not be able to get away if he got scared.
“What did I tell you before?” Howard asked, calm, but with a definite air of menace.
Vince choked through the duvet that was still half in his mouth.
“What did I tell you?” Howard repeated, his tone harsher and more impatient.
“Not to move,” Vince answered, struggling to find the perfect balance between defiance and submission, the fear he was trying to keep away and the playful feistiness he’d rather be showing. He had a feeling the fear was winning.
“And what did you do?” Howard asked, his controlled calmness returned now, which somehow made Vince feel more nervous. This assured authority was something he had never seen coming from Howard before, and he suddenly realised he had no idea how this situation would turn out. Howard was being so unusual, so unpredictable, that Vince thought he could try anything.
“I moved,” he said, deciding that compliance would probably give him the best grounds for defending himself. Surely appeased unpredictable Howard had to be better than angry unpredictable Howard.
“Care to tell me why?”
Howard was feigning boredom now, his tone flat and even, but obviously a put-on, as Vince thought he could feel the bump of a covered erection just touching him from behind.
Vince realised he had no answer. Shit. What would Howard do if he couldn’t answer? Something told him he would be in for worse than just another spanking.
“Because I couldn’t help it,” he said, almost choking on his words, hoping this would be sufficient.
“Not good enough,” Howard reprimanded, reinforcing his point with a sharp pinch to Vince’s arse.
Without warning, he picked Vince up and threw him, literally threw him, across the bed. Vince landed on his back, feeling a muted pain spread through his arse again as he crashed down. One knee on either side of Vince’s chest, Howard knelt over him.
Howard could hear his own heart thumping, and was glad that Vince couldn’t. This was the weirdest thing he had ever done, and he almost detested himself for making it even weirder, even more sordid. Leaning over Vince, he opened his fly and took his erect cock out into the open. He watched Vince’s eyes widen. They seemed absolutely enormous now. Practically taking up half of his face…
He snapped back to his senses and gave a cruel, one-sided smile to the little man beneath him.
“Suck,” he ordered.
One word. One word was all it took, and Vince leapt up, gripping Howard’s cock with both hands and shoving it into his mouth, not bothering with any foreplay… was foreplay the word when you were talking about a blow job? It dawned on Howard that he had never considered this subject before.
Warm wetness enveloped Howard’s cock, and he groaned involuntarily. The rhythmic suck and pump took him over, almost mingling with his own heartbeat, and Vince’s tongue swept across the length of his cock as the suction made him want to scream. All he wanted to do was to buck into Vince’s mouth. Now he understood what Vince had meant by not being able to help it. Trying to steady himself, he gripped Vince’s hair, holding tightly onto his head, even though he knew Vince would stay there willingly. He felt the suction deepen around his cock, and realised he was close to orgasm. Vince’s tongue caressed the underside of his cock. He was fucking teasing him. And Howard wasn’t going to stand for it.
He pulled Vince’s head back by the hair, provoking a moan of objection from Vince, and pushed him down. “Enough,” he said.
He held out three fingers to Vince, who took them into his mouth just as eagerly as he had done Howard’s cock. As Vince sucked, his fingers rose to the buttons of Howard’s shirt and began to undo them clumsily and hastily. Howard pulled his fingers from Vince’s mouth and shrugged off his shirt. Vince began to pull his own skimpy vest top over his head, until Howard’s unlubricated hand shoved him tersely in the side.
“Keep it on,” Howard ordered.
Vince moved his hands to the zip on the side of his skirt.
“And that,” growled Howard.
There was a moment when Vince looked up into Howard’s eyes, and then all of a sudden Howard knocked Vince backwards and pushed his index finger into Vince’s arse. He moved it only slightly, not wanting to pleasure Vince until he was ready, but Vince still gasped and moaned. Grinning, he pushed his middle finger in with it, eliciting a long groan. Finally, he added in his ring finger, causing Vince’s legs to kick randomly around him. He heard Vince moan again as he pulled his fingers out, and Vince speedily leant forwards to push Howard’s trousers and underpants down from his arse.
Howard spread Vince’s legs as far as they would go, then leaned down on his and pushed himself inside. He sped up his rhythm as he felt the pleasant sensation of Vince wriggling underneath him, and pushed his trousers further down and kicked them off, wanting freedom to move. He thrust harder and harder, until Vince was practically screaming, his arms and legs wrapped desperately around Howard’s body, kicking and writhing, sliding over him slick with sweat. Howard balanced on his own arms under Vince’s neck, holding him close. Vince cried and squealed.
Shifting his weight to one arm, Howard removed the other from under Vince’s head and brought it down to grip Vince’s cock. Vince jerked uncontrollably, and Howard was aware of nails scraping along his back, but didn’t really feel them. He pumped at Vince’s cock as he thrust into him. He was only dimly aware of cum spurting out over him, over Vince, congealing on Vince’s skirt; he was more aware of Vince’s stiffening body, and the sudden tightening of his arsehole. Howard felt orgasm take him over, and came rapidly inside Vince, stiffening himself around him as he climaxed.
Exhausted, Howard pulled out and fell to the side and lay beside Vince. Somewhere along the line, Vince’s little top had been thrown off after all, and he was lying there in nothing but stockings and suspenders and his lifted skirt pushed up under his ribs. He was breathing heavily, limbs limp beside him. He looked over at Howard and smiled. Not a coy, teasing smile, but a genuine elated smile. Howard smiled back.
They lay together until Howard felt a chill come over him. He saw Vince pull back the covers and climb into his bed, holding them aside so Howard could join him. Vince pulled the covers over them both, and they snuggled into each other’s warmth. Howard wrapped one arm under Vince’s neck and the other around his waist as Vince cuddled snugly up to him, and they fell asleep together.
Naboo watched the images on the makeshift screen enthralled. He supposed this was why he had had the cameras installed. To appease the others. They liked to watch.
The Head Shaman was sitting next to him, wanking furiously, eyes fixed on the screen. Naboo watched him. Tony Harrison had long since stopped writhing about and was staying still with his eyes rolled back, looking more out of it than usual.
Bollo had wandered off somewhere in disgust. Naboo wondered if this was wrong. To show them all Vince and Howard, to let them do this over them, to try and do this himself. Was it wrong to try and feel this way?
Naboo couldn’t feel sexual stimulation. He tried, but he couldn’t do it. He had no idea if he was meant to find people he knew so well arousing. Or if it was exploitative and unnatural. If he could just feel something, maybe he would know.
One of the women present was on her knees with her dress hitched up and her hands planted firmly between her legs. Watching her, Naboo mimicked her position, lifted his robe and pressed his fingers into the skin between his thighs. He pressed. Pressure felt good. But pressure felt good anywhere if you did it right. Was this the right kind of pressure? Did it feel the right kind of good? He watched the woman rock back and forth on her fingers and he did the same. It felt good. But was it the right kind of good? Was it right to feel this way at all?
Naboo just didn’t know.