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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

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Mistletoe Threeway

Author: Easilyled & Accio_arse

Year: 2008

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Howard/Dennis

“Why are you looking at me that way, Howard?” Vince was stood behind the counter of the Nabootique, leaning on it nonchalantly and picking at the voluminous sleeve of his diaphanous, vaguely ethnic smock, as if there weren’t a ball of mistletoe floating in the air above his head. “I’m not looking at you, am I?” Howard snapped mildly. “I’m looking at the thing above your head. What’s that about?” “It’s genius, isn’t it?” Vince enthused. “Basically, it’s mistletoe specially treated with anti-hairspray. The chemicals in the treated mistletoe simultaneously attract and repel the chemicals in the hairspray – sold separately – and create a sort of powerful festive force field. They’re like two magnets, yeah? Or like the moon held in the earth’s gravitational embrace.” Vince embraced the air to demonstrate, his eyes closed and his pursed-lipped face a mask of serene bliss. Howard tried to keep his own face blank, but couldn’t quite suppress a tic of a twitch affecting the entire right side of his face. He automatically swatted at it, like a fly, making Vince assume an expression of horror, which Howard feigned not to see. “And the point of that is?” he asked. Vince took his cue from Howard and ignored his friend’s symptoms of imminent mental breakdown. “What do you mean, what’s the point? It’s to fit in as much kissing during Chrimbo as possible!” “It’s called a hat and wire.” “Where’s your Vision, Howard?” “Occupied with more important things.” “Oh yeah, like what?” “Like creating an utopic society based on the model of Stationery Village. Lester Corncrake has already agreed to join.” “Lester Corncrake is a Disembodied Head.” “And so will we all be in Stationery Republic, Vince. It’s about getting past the body. Just… moving past it. Like an undertaker in the night.” “Okay, that went in so many creepy directions, I don’t even know where to begin. Anyway, the Airborne Mistletoe is part of my line.” “Your ‘line’? You have a ‘line’ now?” “’Course I do. The Vince Noir Futuristic Traditions Line.” Howard quirked an eyebrow. “That’s pretty good, actually,” he half-muttered into his mustache. “Thought so.” “It’ll never sell though,” Howard pronounced, poking the floating mistletoe experimentally with a pencil, wearing a little tight smile of triumph that was somewhat unpleasant to see. “Easy, you off-sale Scroogist. Why not? Who doesn’t like kissing?” “That much kissing? With randoms off the street? Street-randoms? The thing’s a death-magnet.” He gave it another, more aggressive poke before Vince could duck away. “Especially at this time of year. Imagine the germs!” “You imagine the germs! And touch my line again –” “Touch your what now?” “- an’ I’ll obliviate you.” “Oh yeah? That sounds serious, sir.” “Maybe it is. So you’d better just… watch yourself. In case.” Howard shook his head, arms akimbo, eyes lit up strangely as he continued to stare at Vince’s tiny holidaytastic satellite. “It’s nothing but an invitation to pneumonia.” “Well it’s definitely not an invitation to you.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah. And your poking.” “Just don’t come crying to me, squealing like a hungry piglet – “Ooooooh, where’s Mama Sow’s sweet gushing nipple –” Vince gagged audibly, which Howard ignored. “– when your wanton, derelict kissing –” “Derelict kissing!?” “- when it lands you in the hospital, with a machine, a thing of metal and… dials, doing your breathing for you.” “Slow down there, Mama Sow! Don’t start composing me eulogy yet. This is not for me, is it? I’m just using it to demonstrate.” “To demonstrate what?” “The – product!” Secretly gleeful that Vince had meandered into his trap, Howard made a sweeping gesture with his arm indicating Vince’s form, which was clearly visible (almost audible, Howard thought) in the inadequate covering of a loose smock, as flimsy as a sigh, over his clinging silver jumpsuit. “And what exactly is the product?” The door opened then with a tingle of shop-bells, heralding the arrival of a pretty young woman with a brunette fringe, in a sunshine-yellow pea coat that made Vince forget Howard’s insinuation and brighten like a child handed a toy. “Alright?” he greeted her. Howard felt a sharp twinge of anxiety in his stomach as she instantly returned Vince’s grin. But then her smile faltered. “What’s – that over your head?” Howard grinned maniacally, waiting. But Vince didn’t miss a beat – he only smiled wider. “It’s Airborne Mistletoe. Follows you wherever you go. So you don’t have to take your chances, hoping to catch your Special Someone at the right moment.” Howard’s face fell faster than a shy soufflé as he saw that the girl was charmed. “That’s so romantic!” she cried. “Romantic!” Howard thundered before he could stop himself. “Romantic is… setting a trap! Following your beloved around! Don’t worry – I mean secretly! Learning their habits, like a predator in the wild. Deciding where to plant the mistletoe. Then waiting, lurking in the shadows, for them to walk by the spot – so you can pretend it’s a coincidence. If necessary, setting up a hammock, in case you have to wait in the spot a few days, and making a small or smallish fire, to cook your omelets. THAT, you know-nothing Camden mannequins, is ROMANTIC.” Howard paused for breath, while the girl looked at him as if deciding whether to scream. Vince watched her with concern. “Don’t mind him, yeah?” he said hurriedly, coming around the counter and taking her elbow gently. “He’s – practicing a part for a play. He’s playing a rapist stalker mentalist.” He shot Howard a look that was half-exasperated, half-pleading. “Tone down the mental, would you, Hamlet? You’re scaring the customers.” “You’re in a play?” The girl looked at Howard with new interest, and palpable relief. “You’re very good!” Howard simply snarled at her, making her jump and cling to Vince, who rolled his eyes and patted her back comfortingly. “Anyway. What do you think of my invention? It’s part of my new line – Futuristic Traditions.” Lost in the warm bubbly bath of Vince’s attention, the girl had forgotten Howard and his psychotic ranting already. She giggled and replied, “Well – I’d like to try it out first, before I commit myself.” “Huh? Oh, yeah! Sure.” Vince leaned in obligingly for the kiss. Howard watched, torn between disbelief and rage, as Vince launched himself at the girl’s face, nibbling expertly at her lips. And felt himself die slightly inside as he thought he caught Vince momentarily suck on her tongue – before the little tart slid it deep in Vince’s mouth. For months now, ever since his *coughcough* 32nd *cough* birthday, Howard had secretly been telling himself that even though the rest had been a lie, a desperate manoeuvre to keep the Head Shaman from ceremoniously decapitating him – that Vince couldn’t have sucked on his tongue that way without feeling some kind of attraction – of deep, powerful, molten attraction – for Howard. But of course – that was only the naïve impression of a virgin, wasn’t it? It was just a technique – like everything Vince did. Unique and flawless and designed to maximally please. And completely impersonal. Howard often wondered if Vince got any personal pleasure out of anything he did, or if his only pleasure consisted of pleasing others. Right now, however, he was causing Howard excruciating pain as he and the girl continued to snog endlessly, relentlessly, panting and slurping away, making Howard’s skin crawl even as his stomach contracted into a ball of angry jealousy as dense as a collapsed star. He might have lost his kissing virginity that night on the roof, but he was losing his illusions only now – those precious illusions he’d always been so afraid would go swirling down the putrid urinal of experience when the rest of it went. And then, as he continued to watch avidly as if their faces were the urinal and he was trying to catch in them the last traces of his illusions as they swirled down the dirty drain (or some such confused metaphor, Howard wasn’t thinking particularly clearly) Vince snuck a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. A glance that a neutral observer might have described as “opaque,” or perhaps, at a stretch, as seductive in its heavy-lidded haziness, but that Howard, who was far from neutral, instantly read as mischievous and mocking. And reacted, with the same instantaneousity, by charging at Vince and grabbing him by the smock, but unable to gain a purchase on that wisp of smoke, took him by the throat instead, and not only broke off the endless kiss, but shook the mistletoe creation out of its hold. It dropped to the floor with a decidedly unfestive thud, inert, and Howard shook Vince like a rag-doll while the girl shrieked, and Howard laughed, awfully. And Vince choked and stared at Howard with glassy disbelieving goggle-eyes, a squeak attempting to emerge from his throat and turn into a plea, but it was too late. “It’s too late!” Howard shouted, shattering his fantasy – and also the kiss taking place in front of him. “I’ll take it,” the girl told Vince when she’d caught her breath. “50 euros,” Vince replied, looking with concern at the stockroom, where Howard had disappeared, slamming the door behind him. He was inside giving himself discreet Chinese burns. * Howard wouldn’t come out no matter how often Vince knocked on the door during the day. Vince was left to handle the pre-Christmas rush by himself. He told Vince that he was reorganizing the stockroom to make its arrangement more logical – which was actually true, and very soothing. Vince’s sales figures were so good that Naboo let him off early. They closed up the shop and had champagne, then set off for a night on the town. Vince didn’t try to get Howard to come out again – he was angry at him by now. He didn’t know what had set Howard off that way, or what right Howard had to be upset. He’s the one who’d rejected Vince’s unspoken offer to go for the Mistletoe Threeway. Just because Howard was so fastidious was no reason to hurt his friend’s feelings that way. Everything had been crap between them, anyway, ever since The Roof. Everything they usually did suddenly turned Weird. The midnight crimping grew awkward – Howard had even suggested that they each get their own bedrooms (or more precisely, that Vince move into the cupboard). He pretended it was because Vince woke him up by always coming in late, but why weren’t the snail-shell earplugs Vince had made for him (at the cost of two snails’ homes) good enough for that anymore? And when Vince tried to bring things back to normal by suggesting a bout of satsuma-throwing in their vests and pants, Howard made excuses, saying that he needed to go round to Lester Corncrake’s and feed him. Like he was a chia pet. He’d rather spend time with a blind head than with Vince these days. “He’s right,” Vince said, biting his lip. “It’s too late.” “It only two a.m.!” Bollo replied, grooving on the dancefloor, where Vince had suddenly stopped moving. “Get with it, Vince.” And began to sing, “’But if my Daddy say I fine – No, no, no!’” He grabbed Vince by his delicate wrist and pulled him in close, grinding his generous ape-hips against Vince’s slender lady-man ones. “Show-off,” Vince thought. Back at the shop, Howard had finally gained the courage to emerge from the stockroom, and had managed to exhaust himself with obsessive-compulsive rearranging to the point where he thought he might be able to sleep. As he was stumbling his way to the stairwell, a towering figure stepped out of the shadows. Howard balked, catching the menacing glint of a sword, and the duller one of a bald head, in the softly glowing fairylights. “Howard Moon,” boomed Dennis, the Head Shaman. “Where’s your little boyfriend?” “Probably at the disco, pulling,” Howard grumbled. He was in no mood to pretend to be a gayist, or even coherent. And remembering Lester Corncrake’s fate made him burn with indignation at this disgusting bully’s presence in his shop. “What do you want, sir?” To Howard’s surprise, Dennis lowered his eyes as if confused. Was that a rosy blush creeping into his cheeks, mingling with the blue and green of the fairylights? “Is the blind mental around? I feel slightly sheepish for what I did to him.” “Lester Corncrake’s Head is at home, sir, sleeping. As you should be.” Was the bloody-minded Shaman Warrior fidgeting? “Wife threw me out,” he muttered at last. “Really?” Howard replied with heavy sarcasm. “You seemed so happy together. Is your plan to crash at Naboo’s, then? He’s out with Vince – but I suppose you can get into his flat using your magic, or sword, or however you got in here.” “They left the door unlocked.” “Oh. Fair enough.” Howard made a move towards the beaded curtain that separated the shop from the corridor, but Dennis grabbed his arm. “Wait!” Howard stiffened, and closed his eyes, waiting for the blade to fall. But Dennis released him. “I’m lonely. I need someone to talk to.” “Don’t you have any friends? Never mind,” Howard answered himself. He sighed, then fetched stools for both of them. “Got anything to drink?” Dennis asked eagerly, settling himself onto a stool. Howard knew now that he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. * Vince tried to be quiet as he entered his and Howard’s dark bedroom. The sky was lightening outside, but the blush of the sunrise hadn’t yet reached the tops of the surrounding buildings. He stripped off his jumpsuit, sweaty from the night of dancing, and tossed it on the floor with the others, then prepared to crawl into bed carefully. Howard didn’t like being touched – except sometimes, at night, he was up for a cuddle, after a long emotional bout of crimping. But lately Vince had thought it better not to risk it. Vince shrieked as his limbs unexpectedly encountered a meaty form on his side of the bed. He disentangled himself as quickly as he could, falling onto the floor. “Vince?” On the other side of the bed – Howard’s side – someone had sat up. Vince recognized Howard’s outline. “Howard! There’s someone sleeping in our bed!” “Yeah, I know that, Baby Bear.” Suddenly it dawned on Vince what was happening. He felt a perfect fool. “Howard! Did you -?” “What?” Howard shimmied to the end of the bed and climbed off. He came towards Vince. “Keep it down,” he told him. “It’s the Head Shaman.” “Howard!” Vince shrieked. Howard reflexively grabbed the back of Vince’s head and clamped a hand over his mouth. He was crouched in front of Vince – still in his clothes, which he’d worn to bed, while Vince was sprawled on the floor, legs out in front of him, propped up by his hands, naked. They always went to bed naked, but Howard hadn’t felt that was appropriate, or in fact safe, when the drunken Head Shaman had asked if he could sleep in Howard’s bed – especially after his comments about Howard’s pumpkin ass and questions about his waxing habits. Behind Howard’s hand, muffled laughter began to emerge from Vince. Howard looked severely into his friend’s bulbous eyes, which glistened with excited mischief in the dark room. “Will you be quiet now?” Howard asked, and removed his hand, rubbing it against his trousers to take the tickle away. He didn’t really want to hear anything Vince would say, but felt that staying that way looking at each other any longer involved an obscure danger. “Howard!” Vince whispered, still giggling under his breath. “You had it off with the Head Shaman?” “No!” Howard shouted. Dennis stirred on the bed and muttered in his sleep. “Methuselah – no! Not the squash racket!” “No,” Howard repeated, hissing it quietly and angrily this time. “He had an argument with his wife and came here. He got wasted and passed out.” “You mean – you’ve still not had it off then?” Vince asked, his face serious now. “Why would I let you know if I did?” Howard asked, aware that he sounded slightly sulky. “So you can put it on MySpace?” “I’d never do that, Howard.” Vince smiled at him, stroking his arm soothingly. Howard let him – it was the first time in months Howard had let him. “Really?” “Of course not. I’m on Facebook now. MySpace is for pensioners and Lily Allen fans.” But Howard could tell he was teasing, and couldn’t help smiling a little. And he didn’t push him away when Vince grasped his upper arms and pulled Howard towards him – and then they were kissing again, and Howard couldn’t believe it could be as good the second time as the first. Their mouths parted against each other, and Vince ran his tongue along the side of Howard’s – and suddenly the intrusive image of a bright yellow pea coat burst into Howard’s mind, like a blossoming migraine, and he pulled away. Vince opened his eyes, startled, and looked at Howard in bewilderment. There was light in the room now, and the pain in Howard’s eyes was so laceratingly clear Vince felt like he’d been slapped. “Go on. Why did you stop?” Vince and Howard started, and Howard turned his head. Dennis was sitting upright on the bed, facing them, arms folded, his sword resting across his lap. “Go on, I said. I want to see more of this. So you’re a virgin, are you, Moon? How… piquant. But it can’t be very easy on your boyfriend.” “He’s not my boyfriend!” Howard nearly screamed in frustration. Dennis’s silver alien eyes narrowed and flitted from Howard to Vince. “So – you’re not in love?” “I am,” Vince said quickly. “I am, but he’s not.” “How can you say that?” Howard demanded. “I’m not the one who goes around kissing everyone I meet – and in exactly the same way!” “What are you talking about, you strap-on sushi kit?” “About the fact that there’s no passion – no soul – behind anything you do, Vince!” “I try to make people happy! I try to make you happy! And the thanks I get is you accusing me of having no soul?” “I want you to try to make me happier than you make other people – happy!” “If you could tell me what to do to not make you always angry that would be a start!” “I just did tell you!” “What? I’m lost.” “Enough arguing!” Dennis stood, gripping his sword. “I liked the kissing better. Do the kissing again.” “Are you some kind of pervert?” Vince asked him. “Yes,” Dennis replied. “A pervert with a very big sword.” “Point.” Vince cast his eyes downward, distressed. There was no escape. * “I’m sure this isn’t what you wanted your first time to be,” Vince apologized to Howard, who was now naked as well, lying on the bed, on his back, with his knees bent, with Vince lying on top of him. Vince stared at the wall over Howard’s head, Howard at Vince’s small white shoulder. “Actually, I just wanted it to be a time,” Howard replied. Their eyes met briefly, and Howard attempted a reassuring smile. Instinctively, he planted an affectionate kiss on Vince’s shoulder, then lay his head back on the pillow. Vince bit his lip and his face dipped shyly, but he kept his eyes on Howard’s. “I’ll try to make it good.” “Don’t try!” Howard replied, with an edge of yearning in his voice that made Vince shiver with alertness. “That’s what I’m saying! You don’t always have to be the best and brightest with the biggest bounciest hair! Just – do what you feel, yeah?” “Start fucking!” Dennis barked. “Mate – why don’t you make yourself useful!” Vince snapped. Dennis took a step towards the bed. “Not like that! We could use a little something to – ease the process. Make a soft landing. Yeah?” “I’m not following you.” “Don’t play dumb, magic-boy. All extreme sports calendar models do anal. Everyone knows that.” “Oh! You want cooking oil!” “Exactly. Run to the kitchen, would you, love?” Dennis left the room reluctantly, watching them over his shoulder as he went. “Don’t do anything until I get back!” As soon as he was gone, Vince leapt out of the bed and locked the door, then leaned against it. Howard sat up and watched as Vince slid down the door, collapsing in front of it. When he was sat on the floor he pulled his skinny legs up to his chest and put his arms around them, his head back against the door, apparently scrutinizing the ceiling. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Howard nevertheless got out of bed and went to him. He knelt beside Vince and waited, but when Vince made no move to acknowledge him, Howard made the first move. “Alright, little man?” he asked tentatively, daring only to brush Vince’s hair off his shoulder. “I can’t do it, Howard!” Vince groaned, shaking his head in a pique, which made the hair immediately fall back in place. Automatically, Howard brushed it away again, slightly hypnotized, this time letting his fingers drag against the smooth, soft surface of the curve of Vince’s neck. “I don’t mind, honestly. It’s probably time to get it over with, isn’t it?” “I mean I can’t perform under this pressure!” He looked at Howard wildly. “You know about me and pressure! I expect perfection of myself, and what happens? I fold like a pup tent in a strong breeze! So to speak.” He cast his eyes down between his legs ashamedly. Howard smiled dreamily, now playing with Vince’s ear, his finger tracing its whorls. “You mean like that time at school when you were cast in the play?” “I was just playing a tree! All I had to do was stand there and hold me leaves up!” “Instead you panicked because you didn’t feel like you were doing enough, and started body-popping.” “For twenty minutes! I couldn’t figure out how to get off!” “The audience loved it, though. They cheered you on. I was playing the lead, but they all forgot about me. I had to abandon the speech I’d written especially for my character at a crucial moment in his trajectory.” “You mean when he loses his hat?” “The director always undersold the psychological ramifications of that incident.” “Yeah. I never apologized for that, did I, Howard?” “No. But it doesn’t matter. I’m a shit writer.” “Howard.” Vince turned to look at Howard, and took Howard’s face in his hand. Vince’s hand was surprisingly warm. Howard smiled at him, and reached over and took up his other hand. He brought it to his mouth and bit Vince’s knuckles lightly, still smiling, and then held it under his chin. “Why so serious? It’s not like you’re killing someone. And it’s not for real, is it? It’s just some pervert’s fantasy.” “I want it to be for real,” Vince said, holding Howard’s eyes. They both wanted to look away, and neither did. The moment was held too long – and then longer. And then it started to feel not strange, but right, and Howard’s face moved closer to Vince’s, and Vince’s hand snaked around from Howard’s face through his hair to the back of his neck, which was burningly hot. The door vibrated with Dennis’s pounding. “Did I miss anything? I made popcorn!” Vince stamped his foot on the floor. “This is never going to happen!” “Don’t make me teleport in there!” Dennis warned from the other side of the door. Howard stood, sighing, wincing as his joints creaked, and returned to the bed. He resumed the devirginization position and waited. “Vince?” Several minutes had passed, and Howard was starting to wonder what was going on, as well as getting cold. “I’m right here.” Vince appeared at the side of the bed so suddenly that Howard felt unnerved instead of relieved. Before he could process that feeling, however, Vince had climbed on top of him, in a strangely business-like manner. He examined Howard’s face closely and speculatively, as if it were a foreign object whose meaning he was trying to determine. “Vince?!” Howard asked again. “Right here! You’re a remarkably handsome man, you know.” “I am!? Oh. Yeah. ‘Course I am. You don’t need to tell Howard Moon that…. I was voted Total Hottie of 2007 by the Librarians Who Like Jazz Association. What happened to the Head Shaman?” “He probably got a call on his mobile from his wife.” “Oh… that makes sense.” “Now, Howard. I should fairly inform you that I’ve never done this before.” “You haven’t?” “I never even considered it before that night on the roof. But I’ve done a lot of deflowering of virgins in my time.” “You have!?” “This ought to be doubly pleasurable, seeing as how it’ll also be a defloration of myself.” “It will!?” “My manginity. Right. Let’s do this thing.” Vince’s lips against Howard’s were brutal, pressing down, smothering him. His tongue forced its way into Howard’s mouth, apparently searching out his tonsils. Howard wanted to protest, to push him away, overwhelmed, but his cock sprang up rebelliously, hardening against Vince’s. At last Vince pulled back. He licked his lips thoughtfully. “Mmmmmm… good. You like it?” He grabbed Howard’s cock and pumped it in his hand, roughly. “Vince,” Howard panted, “I don’t mean to criticize, but… where’s the romance?” “I’ll send you flowers after, baby. If you suck my cock like a good little woman.” “NO!” Howard grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him away, onto the bed. He scrambled on top of Vince and held him down easily with his greater weight and strength, but their erections remained squished together in a hot damp mass, throbbing, as Howard tried to regain hold of his senses. Vince was laughing, his sweaty fringe in his eyes, his eyes glittering beneath, black locks splayed against the pillow. “What are you doing?” Howard demanded, trying to make it all make sense. “I don’t even know you!” Something in Howard’s tone brought Vince to calm, but a malevolent smirk soon crept onto his face, and his clearly-formed words cut deep into Howard. “But I know you. Cut the bullshit. You don’t want gentleness or tenderness. You want to be taken like a bitch. Now lie down like a good boy and let Daddy tie you up and take care of you.” Howard stared at him another moment in disbelief. Then a little whimper escaped his throat involuntarily, and slowly he nodded. “Yes, sir, Daddy, sir.” Howard lay on his back and raised his arms for Vince’s ministrations. He closed his eyes and sighed as he heard bedsheets being torn. Then felt the material, cool and strangely scratchy, against his wrists. “Tighter,” he instructed, frowning. “No more talking, dickhead,” Vince told him, and shoved a thumb up Howard’s arse, without preparation. After a moment, Howard pushed against it. It felt ridiculously painful, like someone had stuck a small fire up his bum. Wincing, he whispered, “Vince… is this it? Are we having sex?” Vince laughed back, harshly. Howard looked confused. “I just thought - since you’re inside me, and…” “Fool! Aren’t you ever going to shut up?” Using the flat of his hand, Vince slapped Howard hard across the face. At the same time, he used his thumb inside to punctuate every word with a violent motion up. At every dry stab, Howard shuddered. Vince changed tactics. With Howard’s tightness, the thumb had hardly broken through the first clench of muscles, even after several shoves. So Vince began a series of vicious twists, each time swivelling the thumb little further. It was soon wedged in far past the knuckle. Howard yelled in panic at the intrusion. His muscles went into spasm inside at the pain. He strained the bonds around his wrists – but the knots were firmly tight. His ankles were fixed down, too, bound to the bedposts – and he couldn’t even remember Vince doing that. “You virgins,” Vince snorted. “Always screaming and saying no! As if that doesn’t just heat my blood. Make me want to despoil you all the more.” Howard yelped. Every time he tried to struggle away, the thumb was just twisting and rubbing the more painfully. It was agony. Vince’s gaze flicked up and down Howard’s body, coming to rest Howard’s cock, still treacherously half-hard on his belly. Vince sneered in amusement. “Ha! You don’t fool me! I know what you really want. A man with a sword larger than a toddler’s leg. And who’s not afraid to use it.” Howard forced himself to calm. The pain wasn’t so bad if he stopped moving. He took in a shaky breath. “That’s better. Now you’ve got the right idea. Going to lie there and let Daddy get on with business?” “Vince…?” asked Howard, weakly. He searched for a grin, a cheeky look from his friend - anything to confirm this was still a game. Vince loomed silently over Howard. Behind the shadow of his fringe his eyes were dark and unknowable. Then very deliberately, Vince stuck out his tongue. In one swift motion he’d licked Howard’s face, up from the jawline across Howard’s cheek and across the red mark where Howard had been slapped. But he didn’t stop there. He continued up to Howard’s left eye socket. There he jammed in the tip of his tongue and swished it wetly around. Howard’s breath hitched. He’d shut both eyes before the tongue descended, but the exploration of his eyeball was still pretty unnerving. “Tasty,” said Vince. The tip of his tongue was just poking out as he licked it against his lips. “Very, very tasty. Virgin tears.” Howard blinked. His left eyelashes were weighed down with Vince’s spit. Vince’s face was still startlingly close. “So, you going to be a good boy for Daddy? Hmmm? Are you?” He leaned further in and whispered into Howard’s ear. His voice was strangely deep and resonant. “Because believe me, I’m not finished yet.” Howard’s eyes widened. That voice… fear chilled his skin. But this was Vince, wasn’t it? He could trust Vince. “I didn’t hear a yes,” warned Vince. He pushed his slim-hipped body onto Howard’s. Their hot cocks touched. Howard let out a moan. Before he could think, he was rocking his hips up, mashing their cocks together and working himself back to full hardness. “Y…yes… Yes sir. Please sir.” “Right decision, meathead.” Howard moaned once more – this time in pain. Vince had yanked his thumb straight out of Howard’s arse. It was even more intense than when Vince had forced the thumb in, like Howard’s innards were being dragged out backwards. “Now, first things first,“ announced Vince, sitting up straight, and starting to climb off Howard. As the emptiness in his arse throbbed to a memory, Vince’s warm body was leaving him too. Howard shivered with the loss of them both. But within seconds, something else was being shoved towards Howard, right in his face – the waving end of Vince’s cock. “Go on - suck me off, bitch.” Howard strained at his bonds, uselessly. “Vince – you know I… I’ve… never before…” “Yes, yes!” Vince replied, impatiently. “I know! Less talking, more sucking!” Vince’s cock shoved harder. It smeared moisture across Howard’s lips. “Come on! Open up!” barked Vince. Until recently, Howard had never even imagined this – sucking another man’s cock, or how it would taste and feel inside his mouth. But suddenly, it didn’t seem so wrong. Perhaps because the cock in question belonged to Vince. Ever since their kiss on the rooftop, he’d been looking at Vince in a brand new way. Stealing shameful glances at him - at the bulge Vince swung around, so obvious in those tight shiny jumpsuits. Lying in bed at night, wishing more than anything that Vince would come over and slip in for a cuddle. Vince had never needed an invite before – all it took was a couple of crimps, and he’d strip off and jump right in. Why had Vince stopped? So when Howard opened up his mouth, he didn’t question it as the erect cock slipped in quite naturally. And when he licked cautiously at the silken head and it gave a distinct leap in response, it almost felt like coming home. In fact, pride was filling his chest. Yes - he, Howard TJ Moon, had made Vince’s cock twitch with sheer sexual pleasure. Of course it had! For years he’d wasted his mighty sexual powers, his god-given magnetism. He’d frittered it away on self-abuse like throwing tadpoles in the wind. No longer would that happen – no, sir. Because now he had Vince. Howard opened wider, about to take Vince further in, right to the root. “Call that a blow job?” Vince grabbed a handful of Howard’s hair, forcing his head sharply up. Then Vince plunged aggressively, deeper into Howard’s throat. “I said suck! Not slobber like a toddler puffing into a balloon! Again!” Howard choked, gasping for air. “No! No! Not like that, either!” Howard gave a half-strangled slurp, his chest rising and falling, helpless as Vince thrust in and out. “Arrgh!” shouted Vince. “Mind the teeth!” Howard twisted away, trying desperately to escape. But Vince was holding his head in an iron grip. Eventually, after Howard had been spluttering and hacking over his cock for about a minute, Vince withdrew. He shoved Howard’s head away in disgust. “Useless! And your mouth showed such promise!” Howard flopped sideways to the pillow and exploded into a coughing fit. Saliva and a string of something stickier dribbled out the corner of his mouth, forming a wet, warm puddle underneath. Vince stood wide-legged by the bed, surveying Howard with his hands on his hips. His drool-smeared erection stuck out like a flagstaff. “Well,” he sneered, showing his teeth in a surprisingly wolfish leer. “It matters not.” He took up the Head Shaman’s sword and raised it above his head. An unearthly light glinted from its blade. The sword came down with a swish and snick. Pain shot through Howard’s legs. His tight ankle bonds had been hacked free by the sword’s blow. Howard brought his knees up and down again, stretching his legs out and revelling in the freedom. Pins and needles prickled inside his thighs. “Resume position!” barked Vince, flinging away the sword. It fell with a harsh clang against the wall. And jumping on top of Howard, Vince pinned him to the bed. As his aching limbs were forced double again, Howard felt that reality had melted and flown away. He’d always imagined sex would be a more purely physical affair – in-out-in-out, dirty fumbles and fluid spurting. Not like this. Like when Vince had been choking him with his cock. Howard had hated it, he’d been crying stupid, acrid tears of self-pity, and yet –oh God, he wanted it. It was foul, yet he knew he deserved every inch, and more. It was all too much. Howard pulled at the bindings on his wrists, wishing he could caress the forceful little body on top as it tried to stab him with his cock. Wth another pang of self-disgust, Howard realised that not being able to touch Vince was only making him all the more aroused. “Yes! Daddy’s on target!” shouted Vince, triumphantly. Howard lifted his hips and closed his eyes, trying to welcome the battering at his already-abused entrance. But the blunt head of Vince’s cock wouldn’t go in, no matter how many times Vince pushed and roared in frustration. Vince shoved a few more times, angrily. It achieved nothing except white-lipped whimpers from the tied-up man below. Throwing his head back, Vince laughed theatrically. “Aha! I knew it! Such a tight little virgin after all!” He looked around. “I believe something will be required… no, not the popcorn… perhaps for later on.” He leaned over and started rummaging on the floor by the bed. Howard looked down and was surprised to see a box of golden popcorn sitting on the ground. Next to that was a bottle of cooking oil, the very same brand that Bollo used to fry his eggs and bacon in - oh right, thought Howard. It must be the bottle from the kitchen. How had it got there? Perhaps the Head Shaman had magicked it or something before he’d gone off to answer his phone call. Vince straightened up. He unscrewed the bottle and tossed the top over his shoulder. It fell without sound into the darkness. Then stretching out his arm, Vince tipped the bottle up and poured the whole lot out in one go. It gave a noisy gurgle. Howard jumped. A stream of cold oil had hit him right on the cock and balls. The oil gushed further down and Howard arched his back. He parted his thighs wide as the coolness slid into his crack, trickling down and easing the itchy burning inside. He sighed in relief. The mattress below began to spawn two oily buttock-dimple lakes of overflow. Vince re-positioned himself. He grabbed Howard’s thighs hard. Angry marks sprung up beneath his fingers, flaring across Howard’s flesh. With the goal finally oiled and ready for piercing, Vince grit his teeth and tensed his buttocks. The head of Vince’s cock inched forward in a series of shoves. When it finally forced through the tight ring of muscles at Howard’s entrance, Vince let out a sharp breath of satisfaction. But then his cock stopped short, wedged fast. Vince gave a few short, frustrated bounces, all to no avail. “Blast to Hades’ codpiece! Out of oil!” Vince pulled out with a short, nasal grunt, took his cock in his hand, and rubbed it across Howard’s dangling balls, up and down like a chef rolling a shushi roll. Soon it was glistening with the oil trapped in Howard’s scrotal hairs. “Aha!” Vince preened. He cupped his length in his hands like a prize marrow oiled for ‘Best Novelty Vegetable’ at the local fair. He readied himself for re-entry. Howard felt the prodding at his entrance. He steeled himself again. This was it, he was going to get to have sex, to do it at least once before he died. And Vince was going to be his very first, perhaps his only... Howard thrust his hips up, trying to help the penetration. Or perhaps they’d already had sex. After all, Vince’s cock had had been inside him, if only for a second. At the thought of Vince’s cock inside him again, Howard wriggled his hips even more. His fingers strained, as if trying to touch something invisible and pull it closer. “Anything,” he panted. “Anything you want. Make me do things. Anything. I’ll do it.” Howard flushed. A memory flashed before him – of how disgusted Vince had been the first time he’d caught Howard in the cupboard, self-inducing his Chinese burns. And now this. How would he ever face Vince again? Howard turned his face to the side, and so he didn’t see the blow about to fall. Vince hit Howard’s face in exactly the same place he had the last time. The skin on Howard’s right cheekbone flared white, immediately flushing to an angry purple. “Of course you want me to use you!” shouted Vince. “I’m the best! Now keep still and let Daddy do his business!” Howard gasped – but not at the blow. The shock of the afterheat on his battered skin – it was arousing him even more. What sort of person got off on this? No wonder no one had ever wanted to have sex with him before. But Vince was already sinking his cock into Howard, deeply, and right up to the hilt. Howard had no time to do anything now but break into a slick, all-over-body sweat and scream. And with a deep, un-Vince-like roar, the man on top drew back and started to pound into Howard. Within seconds, Howard was being rammed up backwards against the wall. The crown of his head jammered each time Vince slammed in. Helplessly, Howard tried to push back against it with his tied hands. But it was useless. All he could do was try to ride it out, his arse afire with bizarre intensity. Then Vince grabbed Howard’s buttocks, lifting him higher. As the angle changed, colours pinged and exploded before Howard’s eyes. Heat prickled down the inside of his thighs. His toes curled. Howard threw his head back and stretched his mouth open wide. A thought wisped through his melting brain - this must be what pleasure feels like. Vince thrust in once more, slick and easy with oil. He hit the same spot all over again. Howard arched up, the colours behind his eyelids even brighter. He grabbed the bindings to his wrists and pulled them as if grabbing onto life. But Vince was speedily approaching his peak. He let out a growl, and began to come. * Howard could hardly believe it. Vince was really coming inside him. But there was no mistaking it – Howard’s insides were so abused by now that he felt every spasm, spurt and jolt from Vince with a dozen times sensitivity. Eventually, the last tremors from Vince’s cock pumped away to a gentle tremble. Howard wanted to hold Vince, to kiss him, to stroke him and thank him for being his first time - but Vince was sprawled on top of him, far out of reach of Howard’s bound arms. Anyway, at least one thing was for sure, thought Howard. His virginity was long gone. When another man shot his happy juice up your arse, then goodbye maidenhood. Eventually Vince’s cock started to retreat, slipping out in a mess of sperm and oil. Panting, Vince pulled himself to his knees. Howard chafed at his tightly-pulled wrists. As Vince had lifted up, his body had stroked across Howard’s still-hard cock. Howard was still so painfully hard. He was so close to coming himself. “Please, Vince,” he breathed. “Please… touch me.” But Vince was too busy examining his own genitals. There were shiny red streaks along Vince’s cock, showing neon bright in the dimness of the bedroom. With an inquiring noise, Vince reached forward and stretched Howard’s cheeks apart. He made an inspection of Howard’s anus. Howard leant into Vince’s slightest touch. “Yes,” Howard begged, waggling his erection, hoping that Vince would get the general idea. “Hmm. Less blood than for your average devirginization,“ stated Vince. “Probably not the fabled arse-hymen. Pity.” And, inspection over, Vince bunched up a corner of sheet from the end of the bed and coolly began to wipe the stains from his penis. Howard couldn’t care less what rubbish Vince gibbered. He only wanted those hands around his cock, pumping it up and down. “Vince! Stop messing about! You’re not going to leave me like this?” Vince had retrieved the box of popcorn and was sitting strangely straight-backed on the end of the bed, picking out the largest kernels in a pompous, overly fussy way. It reminded Howard of something or someone he couldn’t quite remember. But Howard had other, more urgent things on his mind. “Vince?” cried Howard, in frustration. He thrashed about, desperate to find anything to rub himself against to relieve the pressure. “Oh God, please!” “Ahhh...” Vince munched on the popcorn with obvious pleasure. “This has really been a most enjoyable encounter.” He looked over at Howard. His eyes suddenly narrowed. “You are a quite remarkably attractive man.” “Then why won’t you touch me, Vince?” howled Howard. Vince tilted his head as he considered this. He set down his popcorn. “Well - I usually have a rule about virgins - but I think I’ll make an exception for you.” Vince moved towards the bed. Howard’s hopes rose. “So you enjoyed performing as my cock-sucking little bitch?” “Just pull me off, Vince!” shouted Howard, losing all dignity. “You worked me up so that I’m close to bursting! I can’t bear it!” Vince laughed. “So eager for more! Well,” he stepped up close. Howard could feel his breath. “Stay that way. And we’ll see.” And Vince placed one last lick onto Howard’s face, pressing down hard across the colouring bruise. Then he smiled - the same eerie smile as before, which narrowed his eyes and ended in a hint of snarl. “What? We’ll see? Fuck that!” wailed Howard, pulling at his bonds. “What about now, you bastard! At least untie me so I can wank myself off!” Howard widened his eyes. “No Vince, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it – don’t go!” But Vince had hefted up the Head Shaman’s sword under one arm and, sticking the box of popcorn under his other, was making his way out the door, still totally naked. Howard was left alone in the darkness of the night, with only a hard on for company, and thinking – so that was sex. Wondering if the aching in his frustrated balls could possibly get any worse. Yes. Probably it would. The night was young. * The ache when he woke up, some time in the afternoon, was terrible – in his arms, which were still tied to the bedposts, and in his arse. His cock, however, was bobbing cheerfully at his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Vince moving around, doing something with his clothes. Probably deciding what to wear, from the rate he was throwing them around. “Good morning?” he called shyly. Vince stopped moving. He came to the bed and stood over Howard. He met Howard’s eager expression with a look of haughty contempt, complete with flared nostrils, that Howard only knew him to wear when he was both furious and hurt. It had happened then, just as Howard had feared. He’d always known that if he ever had sex with anyone, they’d hate him for it afterwards. “Oh. You’re awake, are you, Casanova?” Vince sneered. “Vince, I’m sorry. Can we just forget it ever happened?” “Do you even know what happened?” “What do you mean?” Now that he was beginning to wake up more fully, he was becoming irritated with Vince as well. What right did he have to act this way? Hadn’t he been the one who wanted it to happen? “It wasn’t ME, you berk!” Vince cried, his voice cracking. “Now wait a minute. We were both involved. Everything was consensual. You may regret it now, but don’t pretend that you weren’t even here….” “Want to know where I was? Up there!” Vince pointed at the ceiling over the bed. “Out of me body. Just a floating consciousness. I couldn’t even get off. Just watch you and him go at it!” “Him? Who?” Fully awake now, Howard was starting to wonder if Vince had simply gone mad. “The Head Shaman, you twit! He occupied my body to get off with you! You lost your cherry to a murdering madman! And you couldn’t even tell the difference between us.” “This… is a dream. There’s something wrong here….” “Wrong!?” Vince’s voice sounded strangled. “I’ll show you wrong!” He snatched something glittery off the floor and held it up for Howard to see. “Vince!” Howard’s voice was hushed, scared. “Who did that to the mirror-ball suit?” “Your little matey, Dennis! He tore it up to tie you up! It’s in pieces now!” Vince was nearly in tears. “You can wear it that way and say it’s your new look,” Howard pointed out consolingly. “Not a bad idea actually,” Vince admitted reluctantly. “But that’s not the point, Howard!” he cried. “Look, Vince, would you just untie me, so we can talk!” “No way! You can stay that way, you dirty manwhore. I’m leaving. I’m getting me own room, elsewheres.” Vince hefted a giant trunk – Howard realized now that he’d been packing – towards the door, but soon gave up. “Oi! I’ll send for my stuff later.” “Vince… where are you going?” Howard pleaded. “Away from you!” After Vince had left, Howard waited, the blazing ache in his back and arms and shoulders and arse almost overpowering any ability to feel the loss of Vince – of their friendship or any hope of a relationship. He hoped it would also overpower his humiliation at being discovered by Naboo and Bollo when he called for their help. Which he would have to do soon, because he wouldn’t be able to take it much longer. And then, after they’d laughed at him (he figured for about an hour, depending on how much weed they’d had), he’d be fired. Out on the streets, days before Christmas. A street-random. It wasn’t nearly as bad he’d thought losing his virginity would be.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #howard moon #dennis the head shaman #howard moon/dennis #howard moon/dennis the head shaman

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

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The Moonlight Spell

Author: Prepare4Trouble

Year: 2008

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Howince

The moonlight shining down on the faces of the Shaman Council cast them in an eerie yellow light. The ground was damp from rain earlier that day. Wet grass tickled the soles of his feet and squelched in-between his toes, and Naboo wished that he had thought to put shoes on before he left the flat. There was a definite chill in the air, and he folded his arms tightly across his body in an effort to block out the cold. “Naboo, the enigma,” the voice of the Head Shaman boomed out loudly across the table, “we have summoned you before us today to ask you a favour.” Naboo groaned inwardly, “This isn't going to be like the time you borrowed my magic carpet, is it?” It had taken hours to get the stains out, and it still had a funny smell whenever it got a bit damp. “Nothing like that, no. Actually, I was hoping to borrow your friends.” Naboo thought about it for a minute, “Alright,” he said, “but I've only got up to series six, and sometimes the last disk of series five won't play properly,” “Naboo, you plonker!” cut in Tony Harrison from his position on the table in front of Saboo, “He's talking about the moron twins - Howard and Vince, is it? - Not some crappy American sitcom!” “Oh, as if you don't love it,” Saboo said, “I saw you crying your eyes out when Ross and Rachel broke up.” “Do me a favour! I had something in my eye. The H-Man does not cry!” Dennis banged his hand down hard on the table top, “Can we please focus? Yes, Naboo, I need to borrow Howard and Vince. Just for a few hours. You can have them back straight afterwards.” Naboo's eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What do you need them for?” he demanded. “Oh, just a spell...” Dennis glanced from Naboo to Harrison to Saboo and back. All along the table the members of the Shaman Council were looking at him curiously, waiting for more information. “Oh, for goodness sake! It's a love spell, all right? It's a love spell to use on my cheating wife. I'm going to make her fall in love with me again, and then I'm going to dump her. Ha!” “That's ridiculous!” Harrison exclaimed, “I know that spell, the moonlight spell, right? You need a couple in love. They need to make love at midnight under the light of the full moon while you say the incantations.” “Harrison's right, Dennis,” Naboo told him, “You've picked the wrong couple, it's never going to happen.” Dennis shook his relatively small head, “I assure you, Naboo, that I have seen irrefutable proof that these two are deeply in love. Nothing you say will change my mind on this. It has to be them, I don't know any other couples that don't already hate each other.” Naboo rolled his eyes, “Look, it's not like that, okay? I know they're in love. You know it – though I don't know how – but Howard and Vince? They've got no idea.” “Then tell me, Naboo,” Dennis' eyes took on a menacing gleam, “Why is it that I saw them kissing on your roof during that awful party, just seconds after they both told me that they were in love?” “Dunno,” Naboo shrugged, “they've got a weird sense of humour, maybe it was a joke? Look, I'll ask them, okay?” “This is not a request, Naboo. Bring them here or face the consequences.” Naboo sighed, “Alright, alright, I'll bring them, but I can't guarantee they'll do what you want.” Dennis smiled, “All you need to worry about is getting them here by midnight on Friday. The rest, we have ways of making sure that will happen.” That didn't sound good at all. If he was less stoned, he might have been worried. Naboo shrugged and unrolled his magic carpet, “Fine. But don't break them, alright? I need them in one piece.” With that he jumped onto his carpet and disappeared into the night sky. Naboo arrived back at the flat to find Howard and Vince watching TV with Bollo. He ignored them, let himself into his room and sat on the bed. This was not good. This was very not good. How was he supposed to get Howard and Vince to go with him to the Shaman council? If he told them what Dennis wanted, there was no way. If he didn't, they'd demand to know why. And if he didn't tell them or lied to them to make them go, they would never trust him again afterwards. And...they kissed? Howard and Vince? Surely not. The head Shaman must have been mistaken. Or hallucinating. He was incredibly over-sensitive to drugs, maybe he spent too long in the same room as something and it affected him. Naboo lit some incense, rolled a joint and tried to think of any possible way that this could end without him losing two rent paying employees who worked for a pittance and didn't mind sharing a flat with an ape. He couldn't. A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts and he looked up to see Vince's head poking around the door. “Alright, Naboo. We're going to watch Howard's new Captain Cabinets DVD, you wanna join us?” Naboo tried to take a drag on his joint, but it had gone out. He set it down in the ashtray Vince had made him for his birthday, nodded wordlessly and followed his friend out into the sitting room. *** As usual, Howard was the first one awake the next morning. He carefully moved Vince's arm, which had found its way to laying across his chest during the night, and crept reluctantly out of bed. He put on his slippers and dressing gown and headed to the kitchen to make the tea. As he crept through the flat in the half light of the early morning, he noticed Naboo still laying on the sofa, snoring quietly. His arm dropped down onto the floor, brushing the carpet just next to a bong that had been pushed over. There was water everywhere. Great, now the sofa and the carpet were going to stink of bong water. Sometimes, Howard wondered whether he should move out, find himself some more adult-suitable accommodation. But Vince loved it living above the shop, not having to get up until the last minute and still getting to work on time, or Vince's version of on time, something most people would consider to be outrageously late. Even Howard's most subtle hints that they look for their own place had been met with immediate rejection. And where Vince was, Howard was too. That was the way it worked. Besides, he'd never be able to afford somewhere on his own. Naboo stirred in his sleep and Howard froze. They were nearly out of teabags, the last thing he needed was to be denied his morning cuppa because Naboo woke up early. The Shaman resettled, and Howard crept past unnoticed. When he tried to sneak past again carrying the tea, Naboo was gone. *** Vince was late down as usual. Howard didn't mind, it gave him time to tidy Stationery Village and put on some music that might provide the customers with a little more ambience than Vince's usual electro pop. People were more likely to stay and browse if they enjoyed the music, and Howard knew that deep down, even if they didn't realise it yet, everyone liked jazz. Even Vince. Still, as much as he appreciated a bit of alone time in the morning, by the time Vince sauntered in two hours later, Howard was too bored and irritated to even ask for his excuse. Instead, he muttered “I'm going out,” grabbed his coat and a bag, and walked out of the door. “Hey! Where are you going?” Vince called after him, but the door was already closed, with Howard on the outside. Vince sighed loudly and looked around the shop for something to do. He surreptitiously picked up a few random items from Stationery Village and hid them underneath the counter, switched off Howard's jazz record, then sat down behind the till, crossed his arms and waited for something to happen. Being Vince, it didn't take very long. Less than five minutes later, Naboo stuck his head around the door leading to the stairs up to the flat, “Did I just hear Howard leaving?” he asked. Vince nodded, “Yeah. He wouldn't say where.” He thought about it for a minute, running through every possible explanation for Howard's storming out as soon as he arrived, “Maybe he's gone to buy me a present,” “Why? Is it your birthday?” Vince considered, “Dunno, maybe. I'm not very good at keeping track of the date. Why? I don't look older, do I?” Naboo shrugged, “A bit, yeah. Anyway, Vince, can you do me a favour?” Vince grabbed his emergency mirror from underneath the counter and checked his reflection for signs of ageing. “I suppose, depends what it is.” Naboo sat down on the other stool behind the counter and explained to Vince everything that the council had said. When he had finished, he spun around and looked at Vince, waiting for a response. Vince stared straight back, replaying everything the shaman had said in his head, then he laughed. “That's hilarious, Naboo! I didn't know you were funny!” “It's not a joke,” Naboo frowned to emphasize the seriousness of the situation, “If the two of you don't appear before the Shaman Council on Friday night, I'm dead. For definite this time, Tony Harrison's been itching to get back in that executioner's mask ever since you saved me that last time.” “Oh. But...” the side of Vince's mouth twitched as he tried to suppress another giggle, “There's no way. Look, Naboo, Howard's a good mate, the best, but I'm not going to shag him. He'd be rubbish. And even if I wanted to, there's no way he'd agree. Especially not with the whole Shaman Council watching. Yeah, if it was just the two of us in our room and I turned on the charm, I reckon I could seduce him – well, I know I could – but that lot leering at us, it might ruin the mood, y'know?” Naboo took a deep breath and tried to clear from his mind the disturbing image that Vince had planted there. “All Dennis said is I've got to get you there. I do that and I'm off the hook. You just need to refuse to play along, and that's it, there's nothing they can do about it, it there? Just say you're not in the mood.” “I did have other plans, you know. Why did it have to be Friday night? Couldn't they have picked a rubbish night, like Tuesday or something?” “That's when the full moon is, and trust me, you don't want to try getting him to upset his schedule.” Vince thought about it, then nodded slowly, “Fine, I'm in, but I dunno about Howard. I can't imagine him being up for it.” “Yeah, about that,” Naboo stood up and started walking back towards the door, “can you talk him into it? Cheers.” And then he was gone. Vince stared after him in irritation, then moved the paperclip and sellotape from under the counter and placed them carefully back exactly were he had found them. It was a good joke, but maybe he'd try it sometime when Naboo's life didn't depend on Howard agreeing to something so completely ridiculous. *** Howard strolled back into the shop in a much better mood than when he had left, with a spring in his step and his head full of music. He nodded to Vince as he walked through the door. As he passed Stationery Village, he paused for a second to reposition a paperclip and a piece of sellotape that seemed to have moved out of place while he was away, then he sat down behind the counter. Vince grinned widely, “Did you get me a present?” “What? I went to the gym for the morning jazzercise class. Why would I have got you a present?” “Naboo reckons it's my birthday,” Howard 's brow crinkled in confusion and he shook his head, “Your birthday's not for five months, Vince.” “Oh, right.” Disappointment clouded his features for a split second before another grin chased it away, “You doing anything on Friday night?” Howard nodded, “I am, as it happens. I've made plans to take Leicester Corncrake out to a jazz improv night in that new club. Poor guy, since he got decapitated, he doesn't get out much.” “Ah. Right. So, you're doing that all night then? Listening to jazz in some old people's club with a disembodied head for company.” Howard nodded. “That's right. Do you want to come with us? But I warn you, it can get pretty crazy at these things. People getting up on stage completely unprepared, some of their stuff is pretty raw.” “Yeah, sounds like fun but I reckon I'll give it a miss. What time are you going to be home?” Howard regarded Vince with suspicion, “Who are you, my mum? What does it matter what time I'll be home? Have I got a bed time? It isn't a school night, you know.” “Yeah. Erm, the thing is, I've kind of agreed that we'll help Naboo out with something. It's not til midnight, but you'll need to be back for, like, eleven so we can get there in time. So just be careful if you're gonna go into a jazz trance, yeah? Make sure you wake up in time to get back.” Howard dumped his bag of gym clothes on the floor and frowned, “What have you agreed to, Vince? This isn't like the time you volunteered me for a game of Pelt the Rabbit, is is?” “No,” Vince shook his head, “not exactly,” “Good, because I meant what I said, you know. About what I'd do if you did it again.” “I know,” Vince nodded. “Then what?” Vince sighed, “We've just got to go with Naboo to see the Shaman council and tell them we're not interested in shagging each other in the middle of the forest while they all watch,” he paused and bit his bottom lip, “Unless you are interested, that is.” Howard' mouth opened to reply, but there were, literally, no words that could possibly provide a suitable answer to that. Instead, he shook his head from side to side once in disbelief, picked up his gym bag again, opened the door and walked up the stairs to the flat. Vince grinned to himself and got back to his sketch of his own face that he was doodling on the back of a letter marked IMPORTANT.

He hadn't really thought this through. If he had taken a minute to consider before blindly agreeing to Naboo's request, Vince would have realised that there were hundreds of things he could be doing on a Friday night that were more interesting than standing in a forest refusing to shag his best mate. There was that party, for example. Or he could sit around at home stabbing himself in the leg with a butter knife. Pretty much anything was better than coming face to face with the sword wielding psychopath that had tried to decapitate him. Especially since he had only escaped by convincing the head Shaman that he was in love with Howard. Now, what? They were supposed to stand there and confess that it had been a lie? He'd probably get his sword out and start swinging without a second's thought. They were sitting on Naboo's flying carpet, speeding through the air high above the city. Just behind him, looking less than happy, Howard was trying to read by the moonlight. The moon wasn't cooperating, and was deliberately shining his light in the wrong direction. “Howard?” Howard gave up and put his book back in his travel bag, “What?” “I've been thinking, and I reckon we should agree to do what the council wants.” Howard sighed, “Any particular reason?” “Self preservation, mostly. The head Shaman'll cut my head off if he finds out we're not really in love, and he'll probably cut yours off too for helping me.” Howard thought this over. He didn't particularly relish the thought of spending the rest of his life as a disembodied head. Leicester Corncrake seemed to have got used to it, but Howard was a man of action. A man of action required a body. But there were better plans than that one. “Has it not occurred to you, Vince, that even a couple deeply in love wouldn't particularly want to have sex in a forest, in the middle of winter, while being watched by a bunch of shamans?” Vince shrugged, “Some would,” “But not us.” “I dunno,” Vince told him, “I wouldn't mind actually, if I'd had a few drinks or whatever. Not with you, obviously. You'd ruin the mood with all your complaining.” “Naboo, turn the carpet around, we're going back to to the flat.” At the front of the carpet, Naboo shook his head, “Can't. It's a one-way stretch of air now all the way there, there's nowhere to turn off.” Vince rolled his eyes, “Relax, Howard. We'll say we can't do it. Just remember, no letting on we're not a couple, right? Any of you.” They flew on at high speed for another twenty minutes until they had left the city well behind and were flying over farms and woodland. As Naboo set the carpet gently down on the grass in the clearing where the council waited, Vince suppressed the urge to duck behind Howard in an effort to avoid the gaze of the Head Shaman. “Ah, the guests of honour,” Dennis' voice boomed out, cutting through the stillness of the night time air. “Just in time. Well done Naboo.” Naboo shrugged. “Very well,” Dennis continued, “Gentlemen, first things first, I would like to apologise for my reaction when I found out about your freakish and disturbing relationship. I imagine it seemed rude.” “Oh, don't worry about it,” Vince told him, “I've had much worse than that,” he smiled nervously and ignored the questioning look that Howard shot him. “Nonetheless, a Shaman should be more enlightened about such things. Tell me, how long have the two of you been together?” “Um...” Howard and Vince exchanged a panicked glance. “About six months...” Vince said, unconvincingly. The head Shaman's eyes narrowed in suspicion but before he had chance to respond, Howard leapt in to the conversation, “Six months? Try five months, two weeks and three days, less a couple of hours,” Vince frowned in confusion and stared at Howard. “I always know how long it's been since my last birthday,” he explained. It was a result of always being aware of how long he had left until the next one, and not – he was adamant about this – because he was keeping track of how long it had been since Vince had kissed him. He turned to Dennis and added, “About that, anyway. It was at the party. Vince said he loved me, he kissed me and I realised I felt the same way. We have you to thank for it, sir. If it hadn't been for you trying to kill Vince, he never would have admitted his feelings, I never would have realised mine, and we'd both still be miserable and alone.” “Hey! Speak for yourself, I was never miserable and alone,” Vince told him, then dropped his voice to a whisper, “and less of the him trying to kill me stuff, might not be the best thing to remind him about, yeah?” Dennis clapped his hands together in glee, “Excellent! “Then you owe me one. Okay, I'll prepare the spell, you two get naked.” “Yeah, about that,” said, Vince, “we were thinking that maybe we wouldn't do it. It's not really our thing, you know?” “What he means,” Howard added, “is that, well, we're not really comfortable with the whole exhibitionism thing, so if it's all the same to you, we'll give it a miss. But thanks for thinking of us.” “It's not all the same to me. Not at all. I need this spell to work, and the two of you are an integral part of it!” Dennis had risen from his chair and begun to walk around the table towards them. Howard and Vince backed away slowly, while Naboo slipped away into the trees to avoid being caught in the middle. Howard tried too keep his voice from shaking as he spoke, backing away without even realising that he was doing it. Vince clung onto his arm, tucking himself slightly behind Howard as though he might be able to offer some kind of protection. “Come on now, there's no need to be like this. Most people would have difficulty doing this kind of favour. I mean...” He stopped as he bumped into Vince, who had stopped after bumping into a tree. “Oh God. Don't kill me, please. I've got so much to give!” Dennis held his sword aloft in a threatening manor, waving it slowly from side to side, aiming first at Howard, then Vince, then back to Howard, “Simply make love and you are free to go.” Howard whimpered and closed his eyes in terror, he tried to back up further, squashing Vince against the tree. “Dennis, have you completely lost your mind?” Saboo's voice was barely audible over the thumping of Howard's heart. “Yeah, Den,” Harrison this time, “you can't expect them to perform under this much pressure!” Vince, sensing an opportunity for escape, extracted himself from the impossibly tight space between Howard and the tree, and took a few seconds to brush the creases out of his t-shirt, “Right! Exactly! Would you be able to get it up with a bald psychopath waving a sword in your face? I don't think so.” “Erm, not that you're a psychopath,” added Howard, giving Vince a quick elbow in the ribs, “you're obviously totally sane. And while this completely rational plan of yours does make perfect sense, and we'd be happy to help you out, we can't because...well, because...” a sheen of sweat appeared on Howard's brow as he tried and failed to come up with a reasonable ending to that sentence that didn't call the Head Shaman's sanity into question or insult him in any way. “Because...” “Because we're not in love,” said Vince quietly. The statement crept out without Vince's permission and hung in the air like a bad smell that just wouldn't waft away. All eyes were on him, and for the first time in his life, it made Vince uncomfortable. Dennis stopped swinging his sword between the two of them and focused his attention solely on Vince, “What?” He cleared his throat, ran a hand quickly through his hair and smiled nervously, “Yeah,” he said, “we're not. We made it all up to stop you from murdering me. I honestly never touched your wife though.” Dennis waved a hand dismissively, “Then you're the only one that didn't,” he told him, “I no longer care about her, the little trollop.” “Then why...” Vince glanced at Howard, but the other man was too focused on trying to back up through the tree to get as far from the sword as possible to pay any attention. Not having anyone to bounce the thought off of, Vince decided to continue anyway, “Why are you even doing this spell then? If you don't care about her, why do you want to make her fall in love with you?” “Because I... That is to say, I...” All eyes were now on Dennis, he shook his head and looked away, “I don't know. I suppose I do still want her.” “That,” Harrison's voice cut in at high volume over the awkward silence, “is pathetic!” “No it's not!” Dennis spun around, sword still in his hand and focused his anger on the the tentacled alien, “She's mine! She married me, I have a right to make her love me!” He turned back to Howard and Vince, “Please. You have each other because of me. Can't you let me have the same thing?” Vince rolled his eyes, “What part of 'we're not in love' don't you understand?” “I don't understand the part where you don't realise the truth,” Dennis told them, “I saw you on the roof, you don't kiss like that and not mean it.” He flexed his fingers in an odd way and and unnoticed by Howard and Vince muttered a few quick words under his breath. “Actually, he does,” Howard told him, “all the time. I've seen him, every time we go out. He has a couple of drinks and he's sticking his tongue down the throat of anyone who pays him the slightest bit of interest. It's disgusting, really. Not to mention unsanitary. And another thing...” His train of thought was broken by a finger being jabbed repeatedly into his ribcage. Howard turned and glared at Vince in irritation, “What?” “Maybe we should just do it. I know you said no way, but look at him, he's so sad. And he's probably gonna kill us if we don't.” Irritation turned to disbelief, “No!” Vince shrugged and chewed on the nail of his left thumb, making sure Howard caught a glimpse of his tongue as it flicked over his lips. The moonlight in his hair made it shine brightly and his eyes almost seemed to give off a light of their own, radiating out from somewhere inside him. He smiled in a way that looked just a little bit wicked and took a step closer to Howard, he raised himself onto tiptoes and whispered quietly in his ear, lips so close that they brushed against his skin, sending a shiver down Howard's spine. “It'll be good,” Vince said, “I'll make you forget where we are, why we're here. You won't even notice that lot watching. All you'll know is you'll never want it to stop.” “I can't. I...” Howard looked at the sword-wielding lunatic watching them now with excitement and anticipation in his eyes. The rest of the council wore expressions ranging from lust to downright disgust. Naboo and Bollo were nowhere to be seen, presumably having slipped away unnoticed between the threats and the humiliation. He looked back at Vince, who had dropped down from his toes, but was still standing so close that Howard could smell his shampoo. It smelled nice. This was so unbelievably wrong. He couldn't understand how this had happened. How does a normally completely sane person find himself in the middle of a forest, contemplating losing his virginity in front of an audience? And with his best friend too. No, he couldn't. Could he? Vince reached up and stroked a finger down the side of Howard's face, turning his head until they were looking each other in the eye, “Please?” he said. Howard bit his lip and swallowed hard, “Are you sure about this?” he asked. Vince nodded. “Then... yes. Okay. If... Look, I don't want anything to change between us, Vince. We've got a good thing, I don't want to break it.” Vince shook his head, “We won't,” he lied. Of course things would change, but maybe they would change for the better. His head was spinning, he felt out of control but completely safe at the same time. Vince hooked his arm around Howard's shoulder and pulled him closer until their lips touched. Somewhere at the edge of his awareness, he heard Dennis begin to chant. He couldn't make out the words, but they seemed to float in the air, settling on every surface, filling the clearing with magic. In the sky high above them, the moon spun around and grinned widely. He glanced around until he noticed what was going on below him, “I'm the moon,” he said, “I don't watch porn! Clouds, help!” Clouds began to gather around him until his view was blocked, “Bye!” he muttered, then spun back around so he wasn't facing Howard and Vince anyway. And then, suddenly, the magic was gone. The forest seemed to grow darker, and Vince and Howard, sensing that something was wrong, stopped what they were doing and looked around. Dennis stopped chanting and looked up at the sky in anger, “No! You stupid hunk of rock, I need you! Come back!” “No,” came a reply that seemed to come from nowhere. Vince glanced at Howard and shrugged, then unfastened the fly of his jeans and reached forward to help Howard with his. “Dennis,” Saboo's voice cut over Dennis's cries of anger, “If the moon's not going to help, there's no point us having to watch this either. Could you take off the lust spell?” “It's not a lust spell.” Dennis flicked his hand vaguely towards Howard and Vince and muttered a few more words. Howard suddenly realised what he was doing, standing in the forest clearing in full view of everyone, his trousers around his ankles and Vince's hand snaking its way into his underpants. He gasped and grabbed Vince's wrist, yanking the hand out and pulling up his trousers in one fluid movement. Vince had the grace to look embarrassed as he refastened his own jeans and glanced around in confusion. “What just happened?” He asked. “Lust spell,” Harrison said, “but Dennis here went and ended it before it got interesting.” Dennis shook his head, “It was just a spell to lower your inhibitions. To get you more in the mood.” “What?” Howard spluttered, “How dare you? You had no right to do that!” Harrison laughed harshly, “As if that's not the most fun you've had in your life! You should be thanking us!” Dennis sighed, “Now what am I supposed to do? It's a whole month until the next full moon!” As he spoke, Naboo and Bollo emerged from the woods and looked around at the scene. “How'd it go?” Naboo asked. Dennis looked at him with a mixture of anger and exasperation, “Not well, Naboo. You will have to bring them back next month to try again.” “I don't think so,” Howard told him, stepping forward authoritatively. “Vince was right. You, sir, are insane. Nothing could possibly convince us to come back here.” He shook his head in disgust, “Using that spell, it's as bad as drugging us.” “Yeah.” Vince crossed his arms across his chest and glowered at the Head Shaman, but kept Howard between himself and the man with the sword, for safety. Naboo shrugged, “Sorry Dennis, I don't think they're up for it.” “I'll do it!” Harrison's voice sounded out loudly across the clearing. “You?” Saboo wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Yeah, me and Mrs Harrison are still very much in love, I'll have you know. And she's very adventurous, it won't take much to convince her.” “Very well,” said Dennis “then these two are free to go.” Harrison grinned widely, “This will be great! Saboo shook his head, “I think I'll be calling in sick that night. It was bad enough having to watch these two, but you?” “Tentacle sex!” Harrison told him, “Don't be embarrassed that it turns you on!” Naboo motioned silently for Howard and Vince to follow him. They got on his carpet and snuck away into the night sky, leaving the Shamans to their bickering. *** The awkward carpet ride home finally over, Naboo and Bollo slunk into their room, and Vince into his. Howard hesitated in the sitting room, not sure what to do. On the one hand, Vince had been unusually silent the whole trip home and had shut the door to the bedroom, presumably wanting to be on his own. On the other it was Howard's bedroom too, and he was tired, and the sofa was a poor substitute for his bed. Only, it wasn't his bed, was it? It was their bed. Already there when they had moved in, neither of them had seen the need to waste money buying another one when there was plenty of room for two people in the one they had. Of course, neither of them had ever envisioned this situation. He put the kettle on to make a cup of tea, and made two out of habit. That decided it then. There was no point wasting a teabag, he'd have to go in and talk to Vince. He knocked softly on the bedroom door before he entered. Vince was laying on the bed, still fully clothed. His hands supported his head from underneath the pillow, and his gaze was aimed at the ceiling above him. As Howard walked in, his eyes flickered to the side and followed him as he walked around the bed to Vince's side. “Cup of tea?” Howard put a mug down on the table next to the bed, clearing a space for it by pushing Vince's moisturisers and make up out of the way, then walked back around to sit down on his own side of the bed. “Vince, are you okay?” He hadn't even acknowledged Howard's presence. Vince pulled himself into a sitting position on the bed, reached for the mug and took a sip, “'Course, why?” “I don't know, you just seemed a bit...” Down? Depressed? Disappointed? “Forget it. It doesn't matter.” More tea, sipped in silence. Howard tapped his fingertips on the duvet in time to the tune running through his head. “Howard?” “Hmm?” “Were you really going to do it?” Howard froze with his mug of tea half way to his lips. His eyes flickered over to look at Vince, but the other man's gaze was aimed far away, probably back in the forest re-watching the events of the night. “I...” The answer was yes, but for some reason Howard couldn't get the word to pass his lips. “I was,” Vince told him, “and I know it was because of the spell, but you were too, weren't you? I thought you might have chickened out at the last minute, but you were gonna go all the way.” “So were you!” Howard snapped back, “With your whispering in my ear, and touching my face, and all that eye contact!” Vince expelled air quickly through his nose in a kind of suppressed laugh, Howard ignored it, “You can hardly blame me for being confused. Anyone would think you actually wanted to...” “I did.” Vince put his mug down on the table and sat up straight, looking at Howard. Howard turned to face him and thought hard, “Well, yes, it was the spell, wasn't it? I was almost convinced myself.” “Yeah, um,” Vince scratched his nose and looked away, “the spell was just to make us relax though, wasn't it? Lower our inhibitions, or whatever he said. So doesn't that mean we'd only do stuff we didn't mind? ” “I don't know, Vince,” He really wanted this conversation to be over. Vince clearly wasn't picking up on that as he carried on, “'Cause the thing is... Is I kinda didn't mind. At all. If we'd done it, I would've been okay with that. Happy, even. I wanted to. Want to. I always did, to be honest. Well, not always, but...” he looked back at Howard, then away again, “Are you mad?” For a while, Howard didn't reply. He didn't know how. The silence stretched between them for almost, but not quite, too long, before he finally shook his head, “I'm not mad, Vince. But why are you telling me this now?” Vince shrugged, “I suppose it's because we came so close tonight, I just wanted to let you know that if we had done it, it would've been alright, If you'd wanted to... And I'm hoping you're going to say you wanted it too, because then I won't feel like such an idiot.” He bit on his bottom lip and ran a hand quickly through his hair, then looked Howard in the eye. Howard, for once, didn't flinch or look away. “Sorry,” he said, “It's the spell. I don't think it's worn off properly yet. It's making me make all this stuff up. We should go and tell Naboo, maybe he can take it off. Really, it's all the spell.” Howard placed his half drunk mug of tea down and brushed his fingertips gently across Vince's cheek, then leaned forward and kissed him. Vince stayed completely still, holding his breath, afraid that any reaction might startle Howard into realising what he was doing. Howard's lips brushed lightly against his own, without the spell to help him, much more hesitant and unsure than earlier that night. The kiss only lasted a moment, but it was enough. As soon as Vince convinced himself hat it had actually happened, he reached out and hooked an arm around Howard's back, holding him in place before he could move too far away. He breathed in deeply, drinking in Howards' scent, then he kissed him back. Howard wasn't as rubbish a kisser any more as he had been the first time on the roof. He'd had practise now, and he was surprisingly not bad. His lips were still pursed awkwardly, his teeth kept getting in the way, but it didn't matter. And this was a real kiss, in private, no one watching. Vince slipped his tongue into Howard's mouth and began exploring, investigating the contours of this part of him he had never seen before. His hand slipped underneath Howard's hideous shirt clutched possessively at the bare skin. Howard felt himself beginning to get hard as he leaned himself forwards, pushing Vince onto his back and kissed him more deeply. As he came up for air, reaching down at the same time to unfasten his belt, Vince half gasped, half whispered, “Howard, what are we doing?” “It's the spell,” Howard replied, breathless, “ just like you said. It's reduced our inhibitions, it's making us...” “Howard?” Vince interrupted. “What?” “It's not the spell, is it?” Howard thought about it for less than a second, then shook his head and moved his hand to begin unzipping Vince's fly, “No,” he said, “I think that's long gone.”

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #vince noir #howard moon #vince noir/howard moon #howince #howard moon/vince noir #the board of shaman #dennis the head shaman #kirk (mighty boosh)#saboo #naboo #naboo the enigma #bollo #methuselah (mighty boosh)

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

Text

What Goes On Tour…

Author: LoveIsBlack

Year: 2010

Rating:

Characters: Naboo, Bollo, Dennis, Kirk, Tony Harrison, Old Gregg, The Hicther

"Down in one! Down in one!"

Naboo, in a daze, set his turban down and proceeded to collapse.

"Naboo? Naboo?" Bollo slapped Naboo over the face.

"You batty crease! I'm awake!" Naboo sat up. However, the sun was far too much for him, and he laid back down with his vodka soaked, peacock coloured turban covering his face. Bollo grunted before walking over to Harrison. On the way, he saw Kirk running around, kicking the air.

"Kirk, what you doing?"

"AAAAARGH! The pinecones, the pinecones with their squinty noses shining in the rainbow hedgehog, I tell you!"

Bollo was shocked. One, because Kirk was, what, about eight, and obviously high, two, because he'd heard Naboo saying the same thing before he passed out, and three, because he had never heard Kirk talk before.

"Sorry I asked." Bollo made his way to Harrison and Dennis.

"Bollo!" Tony Harrison said in his ever-so-droning voice. "How's it going?"

"Good."

"Ah, Bollo. How about a spot of thin soaking?"

"What?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Dennis! We've been through this. Skinny dipping! Christ…"

"Shut up, Harrison. Or I will unleash the sexual power of Kirk onto your face."

"Ha. Kirk will have been all over your body."

"Lay off it, you hairy sod."

"Why would I lay off you? You are pink dickhead. Literally. You pink, you have dick for head."

"Yeah, well you… FUCK!"

"Why would Bollo want fuck Harrison?"

"Turn around! Prepare for the ultimate mental scarring…"

"What?" Bollo said, but before he could ask, he turned around. All there was was Dennis, flailing around in all his glory (If you could call it that) running into the ocean.

"Ooh, I coulda lived without seeing that." Harrison exclaimed.

"Come on, everyone!" Dennis yelled, now submerged in the salty sea. Not surprisingly, nobody moved. For a while, anyway.

"Coming, Dennis!" Naboo slurred. Naboo was stripping down whilst spinning with a bottle of vodka in his hand. It wasn't quite as bad as Dennis, as Naboo has no genitalia, or as I prefer to call them, "dangly bits," but it was still a sight to behold.

"Weeeeeee!" Naboo yelled, as he span around one last time before falling into the sea.

"Naboo! Christ…" Bollo ran down to try and get Naboo out of the water.

"Bollo, you fuck knuckle! They'll never let you out of there!" Harrison slowly made his way down to the ocean.

Nobody knows what happened after that. Some say that Old Gregg emerged from the sea at about 2am and gave everyone watercolour lessons. Some say that Dennis thought he was getting raped by an octopus but really he just sat on Harrison. Some say that Vince kept calling Naboo to save himself and Howard from the Hitcher, but instead forced Naboo to drink 16 more turbans full of grog. Some say that it was more "sexually oriented." But we'll never know. And do you know why?

We are mighty magic men,

We stay up 'til 5 a.m.

Although we're bound by Shaman Law,

What goes on tour,

Stays on tour!

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #naboo #naboo the enigma #bollo #dennis #dennis the head shaman #kirk (mighty boosh)#kirk #tony harrison #old gregg #the hitcher #vince noir #howard moon

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

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CRIMPETY CRIMPETY FUCK YOU

Author: Thieving_Gypsy

Year: 2008

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Howince

It was a crisp, cold winter night. The best sort of night for vest-and-pants antics, that. A satsuma fight to get the circulation going, then a good hard heavy sweaty passionate noisy bout of crimping til the early hours. "Capybaras," Vince started, tentatively, but Howard didn't join in so he tried something else. "Marshmallow... um. Dishes." Still nothing. He looked at Howard, worried. "What's wrong?" "I don't know." Howard was sitting there on the edge of his bed, hands in his lap, just staring at them, exuding confusion like a human skunk. "I'm just... not feeling it tonight, Vince." "What? Why?" He couldn't make himself sound completely horrified, though. He felt the same. "You're always up for a bit of it." "I'm not a lightbulb. I can't turn myself on and off when you feel like it." "Come on, Howard, I know that." He shuffled forward and uncrossed his legs, sitting on the edge of his own bed so they were knee-to-knee. He went to take Howard's hand, then changed his mind and went to put his fingers under his chin instead and raise his head from its slump so he could see his eyes, but then he remembered he wasn't allowed to touch and his hand kind of wandered around the air for a bit instead, looking lost and foolish. He dropped it back to the mattress with a soft little thump and tried a different tactic - Old Faithful, the unbeatable gimmick. Vince made his eyes go very very big and said nothing. After a minute, Howard glanced at him, and quickly away again. And back. And away, and back. He seemed to hover on the edge of some kind of mental precipice for a while, then sighed and let himself collapse over it. (Vince smiled behind his hand, pretending to scratch his nose. Always worked, the big blue eyes.) "It's just... can't you feel it? There's something wrong here, Vince. There's bad juju afoot." "What kind of bad juju?" Vince leaned in and slid his hand up Howard's arm, clutching him tightly near the elbow. He didn't get yelled at. That scared him a bit. Howard must be really freaking out not to, well, freak out. He just sat there, looking somehow small, utter misery all over his face as obvious as if it had been stamped there by an over-zealous librarian. "I think someone's stolen the crimp." ... Two comforting cups of hot sweet tea later, and a gorilla-smack round the face for Howard, they'd just about stopped shaking enough to explain to Naboo why they'd woken him up by screaming hysterically and running around the bedroom like panicky trapped flies. "Bollo thought noise was sexnoise," Bollo said, stroking Vince's hair back off his sweaty forehead and glaring at Howard as if to say oh, you great Northern behemoth, this one's fragile. "Yeah, well," Vince muttered, shaking the big hairy hand off and huddling into himself as much as a man can when he's wearing nothing except a vest, knee-socks and little blue pants, "Bollo's a bloody creep, then, innee?" "Someone's stolen the crimp," Naboo repeated. There was a hint of dubiousness in his voice. A bit more than a hint, really. Quite a lot. An excess of dubiousness. Howard nodded frantically, sloshing lukewarm tea over the rim of his cup and all over his bare thighs. "You have to help us!" "How come I have to help you?" "Because that's how it works!" "...Oh yeah. Alright, then. Have you seen anybody weird lurking round the place recently? Let's start with that." Vince piped up immediately with, "I saw that fishy freak here the night we had the bouncy castle party!" and Howard went all shifty and said Vince was a nincompoop and his flighty eyes couldn't be trusted and that he, Howard, had exceptionally good eyes, although they were small, and surely would have noticed such a shameless blatant invader himself had one actually ever made it into the building. (Vince grinned to himself at Howard's blustering awkwardness, hiding the smile behind his cup, and decided he'd probe Howard later. Not like that. Although possibly like that, too.) "This useless," Bollo grumbled. "For sake of moving plot on, we pretend Honey Monster has been sighted like big yellow Dalston yeti." Naboo nodded, and sent him to fetch transportation. Higher minds were needed. ... The magic carpet skidded to a halt with a confusing screech of non-existent brakes. Howard promptly tumbled off, landing head-first on the leafy ground. Vince stepped down with a bit more grace, grimacing at the mud squelching under his long white socks, and offered Howard a hand that was completely ignored because apparently cold muddy half-naked Men of Action aren't allowed to accept help when they fall over. The hum of voices could be heard coming from somewhere nearby, although not quite the words being said until they made their way closer, rounded a corner, and stepped into the Board's clearing. "Is it true, Kirk? You're the father of Jamie Lynn's baby?" "Yes." "Naboo, you're late," Dennis said sternly, then seemed to deflate like a knackered balloon when he saw Howard and Vince and spent the rest of the scene trying to hide behind the bloke with the feathered hat (the bloke Vince's mate Kelly thinks has lovely pretty blowjob-lips) muttering vaguely obscene things about basic principles and the rethinking thereof. It was a difficult thing to explain to the Board, this crimp-theft. How do you convey the urgency of such a thing when the people whose help you're trying to get don't have a clue what you're talking about? It's not like they could do a bit to demonstrate, THE CRIMP HAVING BEEN STOLEN and everything. "It's a bit like two-way scat with words," Howard tentatively started, then the others had to hold a snarling red-eyed Kirk back from ripping open Howard's jugular with his teeth. "Oh, well done!" groaned the little pink tit with tentacles. "Go on, why don't you set him off again? We've just got him calmed down after last time someone referenced the j-word. My friends and acquaintances, this is, unequivocally, an outrage." The mêlée raged. Naboo turned his back on it, but nobody noticed and that made him sulky. "Bollo has cousin," the gorilla suddenly said. "He tiny-brained retard. His friends also tiny-brained retards. Perhaps tiny brains not matter. They will die anyway. Perhaps they could help." Howard still had his hands around his own throat in a sort of protective collar and he gave Bollo the dirtiest look he could manage. "Great, Bollo, thanks. You couldn't've told us this back at the shop?" "Aw, Howard, leave it out, alright?" Vince was shivering in the cold night breeze, feeling even more petulant than normal and willing to go along with any plan if it meant he'd get out of the mud. "It's not Bollo's fault. I think B just wanted to write the Shamans." "So how come they're fighting like cocks and not coming with us?" Vince shrugged. "Cos she discovered she was shit at writing them? I dunno." He turned to Bollo. "How can we get hold of your cousin, then?" ... Back in the flat, far too many odd little people were squashed into a kitchen that was only used to seeing one - a strange little chap dressed like an astronaut, an oversized bee, a leprechaun, a racoon on a skateboard, three little men who appeared only to be able to speak that snapcracklepoppy African language of tongue-clicks (and whom Howard secretly believed to be involved in a nasty sordid little sexual threeway in their spare time), an anthropomorphic tiger in a really homosexual neckerchief, a terrifyingly large cockerel, an aging pervert with a balding head and a white labcoat, and what appeared to be their ringleader, Bollo's cousin Coco, a small brown monkey in a baseball cap who seemed to have the unique power of making everybody he met want to murder him. Howard had already tried putting several moves on him, although these had all been foiled by Vince grabbing at him to keep him back and finding only small pants to hold, which for some reason made Howard go slightly funny on the inside and forget all thoughts of murder in favour of rainbows and bubbles and skipping through flowery meadows with some dark-haired little lady he didn't know yet but hoped he one day would, thoroughly and Biblically. Coco rudely invaded Howard's daydream by clambering onto the table and banging a couple of saucepans together. "ATTENTION!" he screeched, in an annoying high-pitched voice that made Howard's ears want to leave his body and take a gap year somewhere very far away. "Friends, my cousin Bollo-" ("Third cousin," Bollo corrected hurriedly, "several times removed.") "-has called us here to help him in his quest to rid the world once and for all of the infamous thief known as the Honey Monster." "HE STOLE MY LUCKY CHARMS!" the leprechaun howled. There was a great hullaballoo of noise, all the other weirdo little people and animals talking at once about the big yellow furry and its various heinous crimes. Vince shuffled as close to Howard as he thought he'd be allowed, shivering again and feeling rather in need of a big comforting cuddle. Somehow he felt worse, now, not better. This wasn't the way things were meant to be! He and Howard sorted out their messes on their own! Howard leaned in close to whisper. "This isn't the way things are meant to be," he said, sounding miserable and kind of lost. "You and I sort out our messes on our own!" He looked a bit confused when Vince BEAMED, but Vince couldn't help it, it was just reassuring to know that even when they were in the shit, when their crimp had been stolen and their kitchen overtaken by aggravating cartoon characters, even then they shared thoughts. One constant in this big stupid mess. It was something to hold on to. Something other than the pants, anyway - which, Vince suddenly realised, he was still clinging to from the last time Howard had tried to choke the monkey. (Not like that.) He almost let go, but didn't really want to so he, well, didn't. "Let's just go, then," he said. Howard raised his eyebrows, confused but kind of smiling, too. "Go where?" "Away. Anywhere. Fuck 'em. It's just you and me, innit? We don't need anybody else, 'specially not these little freaks." He plucked gently at the waistband of Howard's little pants, feeling suddenly shy. "I mean, I'll miss the crimping, but... I dunno, we'll just have to find something else to do at nighttimes in our room when no one's looking... yeah?" "Yeah," Howard said. He could feel Vince's fingers just inside the top of his pants. Somewhere in his head fireworks started going off in big gay colours like fuchsia and magenta. Like a slow-motion bad soap opera, he started to lean in for a kiss- -unfortunately, Bollo chose that exact moment (trying to hurry along the 'plot' some more) to get himself a little late-night snack of cereal, and maybe he had some lingering magic on his hands from tidying up Naboo's stock cupboard earlier because something very strange happened when he touched the Sugar Puffs packet. "SHIT, BOLLO, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Naboo said, emoting with his customary vigour as his little form got swallowed up by the big black shadow of the monster erupting from the front of the cardboard box. All the little cartoons started freaking out, crowing and buzzing and clicking in fear, running and flying and skateboarding away as fast as they possibly could, except Coco who was an idiot and got crushed under the Honey Monster's massive yellow foot. (There was much rejoicing.) "How d'you kill a Honey Monster?" "Grab its balls?" "Vince, that's a kangaroo!" "Yeah, but grabbing anything's balls is gonna slow it down, innit?" But the monster didn't seem to want to have its balls grabbed, not even by Vince Noir, which Vince found incredibly hard to deal with as it was a good solid fact in his life that everybody wanted him to touch their genitalia, as solid as up is up and water is wet. To have this fact casually nudged aside like a leftover crust of cold toast was unsettling, and that made him falter. The Honey Monster smiled its big furry vacant evil smile and grabbed Vince instead. "DROP HIM AT ONCE, YOU... YOU... YOU BIG HAIRY UGLY MONSTER!" The outburst felt like something of an anticlimax to Howard, who had been hoping for something much wittier and more commanding when he opened his mouth to let spew the rising flood of rage. The yellow monster just laughed boomingly and shook its big head, holding Vince by one muddy ankle and dangling him upside-down above his gaping mouth like a tasty oversized Haribo... "Do something, Bollo!" Howard yelled, and Bollo scowled so furiously his glittering black eyes disappeared in folds of fur. "Why? Because Bollo too is big hairy ugly monster?" "Look, I apologised about that already." "Hmph." "Please, Bollo, I know you hate me but YOU LOVE VINCE and he's about to get eaten by a crimp-stealing furry!" "Yeah!" Vince yelled, flailing around and spluttering through the hair hanging in his face. "How're you meant to write a song about that kinda death? Do something! Anything! I can't die like this!" "Grab his balls," Bollo ordered. "No, you idiot, not Vince's. Monster's." "No, mine!" Howard hesitated, hand outstretched. "What?" "Um. I said, wine! Throw wine at it. Red wine stains like anything, 'specially on yellow fur." Nice cover-up, Vince thought, quite pleased with himself, and then his sparkly little braincell suddenly lit up like a billion torches and he screeched, "MILK! THROW MILK ON IT! HE'S A CEREAL-MONSTER!" Howard lunged at the fridge and wrenched the door open, hoping hoping hoping they still had that four-pinter of beautiful creamy full-strength full-fat... but no, they had half a cardboard carton of skimmed, one day over its date. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Howard screamed, but salvation came in the shape of a big homosexual tiger. "Stroke it!" the tiger said over its shoulder as it scarpered with the last of the cartoon cowards. "It's gets bigger if you stroke it! It's GRRRREAT!" If this didn't prove his love, Howard thought, wanking off a carton of turned milk, then he'd just give it all up and settle for the merman. It grew in his hands, though, swelling and bulging alarmingly until he could barely lift its throbbing weight. A white trickle dripped from the top down over his fingers. "Vince!" he yelled. "Lean back! You don't want this all in your face and hair!" Vince did a painful-looking backbend, wrenching his hair away from imminent danger, and Howard threw the massive carton of milk with a strength and aim he would never find again, directly into the Honey Monster's om-nom-nomming mouth. The beast roared, then made a funny glugging noise, then melted into a puddle of yellow gloop. Vince landed in it and shrieked hysterically because it was in his hair after all, and it was such a horrible piteous heartbreaking sound that Howard completely forgot he hated to be touched and threw himself at Vince for a bonecrushing comfort-hug. "Erk," Vince said, after a minute. "Flnahg." "What?" He loosened his grip slightly, and Vince heaved in a massive desperate breath. "I said, ow." "Oh. Sorry. Erm." "Oh LOOK!" Vince said, excitedly interrupting Howard's awkward manly stammering. "It's the crimp!" He plunged his hands into the lumpy goo and lifted the crimp out, cradling it tenderly in his arms and nuzzling it like it was a little teeny tiny pet fluffy kitten. Howard let his arms slip from round Vince's body and sat back slightly. Of course he was happy Vince was still alive, of course he was, but he was also three nanoseconds from giving himself a Chinese burn to soothe his INNER PAIN now they had the crimp back because surely Vince would take back that thing he said before about other things they might be doing alone at night in their bedroom, now. "Hey," Vince said. He was smiling a little bit, all crooked and lopsided like he was nervous, which was funny because when was Vince Noir ever nervous? He put the crimp down beside them and took Howard's hands. They stopped itching to mutilate his arm at once. "Hay's for horses." "Permission to make a joke about riding you?" Howard thought for a second. "Denied." Vince's face fell, but his smile picked it back up when he realised Howard hadn't pulled his hands away yet. Eventually, after a lot more awkwardness, and a very well-needed shower, they had blistering hot fluffy sex (Vince was on top, if you must know) - but that's another story for another time. end.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #howince #vince noir/howard moon #vince/howard #howard moon/vince noir #vince noir #howard moon #the board of shaman #dennis the head shaman #dennis #naboo the enigma #naboo #bollo #kirk #kirk (mighty boosh)#saboo #tony harrison

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

Text

A Bit Rubbish

Author: IDeserveYou

Year: 2013

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Naboo/Dennis, Naboo/Saboo, Dennis/Methuselah, Howince, Saboo/Methuselah

Fuck, Naboo thinks wearily, leaning against the kitchen table and surveying the wreckage of his once cosy flat.Why the fuck did I say that we’d throw a Christmas party this year? I should have just bullied Howard into cooking turkey for the four of us as usual. Not let Vince invite half of Camden and then gone mad myself and invited the entire Board of Shamen because it seemed like a good idea at the time. I wasn’t born yesterday. I should’ve known. There is a groan and a loud snore from the sofa. Yeah, and I know you did a good job getting rid of the last few paralytics, Bollo, but if you don’t get your act together with the clearing-up tomorrow, I’ll take back what I said about not getting an upgraded familiar. This place is a disaster zone. I don’t even know where to start. Mechanically, Naboo picks up an empty crisp packet from the table, balls it up and chucks it at the bin. See that? Missed. Story of my Christmas. Story of my fuckin’ life. Dunno why I bother. He snorts. Saboo would say that a lot of the time I don’t. He was on good form tonight, hardly acknowledged my existence except to insult me but why change the habit of a lifetime? And why – he kicks irritably at the crumpled packet, knocking it under the worktop – why did he have to look so fuckin’ hot in that red jumpsuit and Santa hat? That’s Vince’s job, mind you he was rockin’ the sparkly angel look and I didn’t see Howard complaining… He glances along the passageway; the light under Vince’s bedroom door has gone out and all is quiet. All right for some. I know, I shouldn’t begrudge them, they are sort-of my friends I suppose and we’ve been through a lot together, why shouldn’t they get what they want for Christmas? He sighs. C’m’on, Naboo, you plum, it could be worse. You're Naboo, that's who, an' you're self-sufficient. You could be stuck with someone who argues with you the whole time. That bitch of a wife of Dennis’s, honestly, she’s well fit but what else does he see in her? Beats me, always has. She’s never happy, can’t just take the D-Man as he is… well OK, he is pretty hopeless and he can’t take his eyes off a pretty pair of boobs in a tinsel basque, but she didn’t have to hit him quite so hard. Fuck, what was that? There’s a scrabbling noise on the roof, and a sudden thud. Burglars? Better wake Bollo – no, hang on a sec, that click, that’s the latch on the skylight, hear that often enough with those two goin’ out on the roof to snog, but they’re in bed so who was up there? ‘Has – has everybody gone?’ a hoarse and hopeless voice asks from somewhere near the top of the stairs. ‘Most of ’em.’ Naboo detaches himself from the table and clicks the landing light on. Oh, the poor sod. I should’ve known.

‘Dennis? What the fuck were you doin’ on the roof?’ ‘It was cold up there.’ Dennis is shivering, swaying on his feet; Naboo isn’t entirely sure he knows where he is or who’s talking to him. ‘You bin out there all that time?’ Naboo kicks himself for a thoughtless git. It must be two hours at least since the fight, and once the music was turned back on and the drink was flowing again, nobody had bothered to ask where the loser had gone. ‘Yes.’ Dennis’s robes are askew, his peacock feather headdress is bent and crumpled, and there is a blackening bruise on his cheekbone. That wife of his is a bitch. A lean, lithe, snarling wild animal in a gold minidress. She really did hit him hard. Punishing her mate for his roving eye, and then taking her revenge… ‘Come on in an’ get warm, then.’ Naboo gestures towards the kitchen. But Dennis seems to be having trouble focusing. ‘Cold is good. Clarifies the mind. Assists in the rethinking of basic principles and the suppression of the animal passions… Where is she?’ ‘Gone back to yours.’ ‘Very sensible.’ Naboo takes a deep breath, and adds the rest of it, the two words he really didn’t want to say: ‘With Saboo.’ Dennis gives an approving nod. ‘Well, that’s… very gallant of him. Methuselah is not much of a carpet driver at the best of times. And tonight wasn’t exactly the best of times. I’m sure he’ll see her safely home…’ Naboo can’t help shaking his head to try to shift the image still burned into his shaman-senses, the two figures tightly entwined, gold against red, Saboo’s big hands splayed across tanned skin... The Head Shaman’s milky blue eyes grow suddenly sharp. They look at Naboo, and through him, and right to the core of him, and there is no hiding place. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ Dennis takes a wobbly step towards Naboo and reaches out, no doubt meaning to put a kindly hand on his shoulder, as he has done many times before. He staggers and almost falls; Naboo grabs him round the waist, and hangs on. Dennis wraps his arms around Naboo, and pulls him into an awkward hug. ‘I didn’t know… I never saw. Never looked.’ Naboo's not quite sure what's happening here; he'd expected to be being sorry for Dennis, not the other way round. But it does feel good to be held by someone. Beggars can't be choosers... ‘Nuffink you could’ve done anyway,’ he mutters into the front of Dennis’s robes. ‘Probably not.’ Dennis heaves a huge sigh. ‘I am somewhat inexpert in affairs of the heart. Otherwise I should not be here now, I should be tucked up in bed with a cup of cocoa and…’ Naboo gives him a sympathetic squeeze. ‘Yeah, I know. We’re a bit rubbish at this, aren’t we?’ ‘Naboo, I am grateful for your support. Yes, we are a bit rubbish at this. In fact we are a bit rubbish at many things. Sometimes I wonder whether the Board of Shamen itself is not actually a bit rubbish. Ditto the Head Shaman.’ ‘Oi, Big D, don’t talk like that. We get enough of that bullshit from Tony fuckin’ Harrison.’ Naboo stares hard into his leader’s troubled face. ‘We need you, Dennis. You’re doin’ good. So what, the Board may be a bit rubbish, but that don’t mean it ain’t still got magic…’ Dennis turns his head away; looks up at the landing ceiling. Naboo looks too, and suddenly they are both very still. Stuck to the lampshade by a curling piece of Sellotape, one single tatty sprig of mistletoe droops forlornly among the abandoned party streamers and tinsel, its leaves wilting and its three berries dull and shrivelled. ‘Bit rubbish,’ Naboo whispers. Dennis looks down at him, and their eyes meet. Naboo has no idea whether he is prompted by hope, or loneliness, or pity, or just sheer bloody-minded determination to wring some sort of fucking seasonal cheer out of this fucking rubbish Christmas; but he stands on tiptoe and reaches up to pull Dennis’s head down for a kiss, and as their mouths meet and they lose themselves in each other, he knows the magic’s still working. Well enough to be going on with, anyway. They can worry about the rest in the morning.

‘Can.. can I stay?’ Dennis’s voice is muffled in Naboo’s hair. Naboo squeezes him tight. ‘Course.’ He’s reluctant to move, and break the spell; it’s nice just standing here all wrapped around someone else, someone he doesn’t have to explain or apologise or protest to, someone who understands… His mouth still tingles from their kiss. The Head Shaman is a good kisser: not the most expert Naboo’s ever encountered in his long life, but passionate, sincere, generous. And heartbreakingly desperate for affection. ‘Naboo…’ Naboo loosens his hold a little, and looks up. ‘One more for the road?’ Dennis is smiling, a bit shyly, his lips all pink and full, and it’s impossible to resist kissing him again. This time he doesn’t draw back in alarm when Naboo licks at the corner of his mouth, he opens up and lets him slip his tongue in. Naboo’s careful not to overdo it, breaking off as Dennis’s breathing quickens. He takes the older man’s arm. ‘C’m on, then. I fink Bollo’s kicked all the drunks out of my bed.’ But Dennis still hangs back. ‘Naboo, I am not asking for… I mean, I would not presume… but I would take it as a kindness if you would permit me to wake up just once with you beside me. I have often wished…’ ‘But never asked.’ ‘The time was never right.’ ‘Tis now, though. An’ I’d like that too. But, Dennis…’ ‘I know.’ Dennis strokes a thumb along Naboo’s cheekbone. ‘This is a one-off under exceptional circumstances. You need have no fear that our professional relationship will be compromised by… whatever may or may not happen in the next few hours. Or that I will make demands upon you afterwards.’ ‘I wasn’t scared of that. I just don’t want you to think –’ ‘I don’t think, Naboo. I know this isn’t love. I am well aware that both of our hearts are spoken for. Now can we just go to bed? My feet are freezing.’ ‘Alright.’ There’s a lump in Naboo’s throat that makes it hard to say more. He clicks the landing light off. Dennis wraps an arm around his shoulders and they start to pick their way across the rubbish-strewn lounge, careful not to awaken the snoring Bollo on the sofa. The bedroom’s almost as cold as the landing. Naboo locks the door, sticks the electric fire on, pulls the curtains, switches on the bedside lamp, turns the covers down on the bed… Dennis is still standing just inside the door, staring into space. ‘Second thoughts?’ Naboo hopes not; they’ve made such a good start. ‘No, I…’ Dennis takes a couple of steps towards the bed. ‘Sorry. Tuned out there for a moment. There is, um, quite a considerable residual odour of illicit substances in here.’ He glances uneasily at the hookah on the dressing table. ‘Unsettled me a little. But I’m sure I’ll be fine.’ Naboo grins. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not plannin’ to get you high. Not with drugs anyway. An’ I’ve had plenty for today, might need a top-up later but I won’t smoke if I do. I think there’s some hashcakes in the fridge if Bollo hasn’t pigged them all.’ ‘Thank you. That’s… very thoughtful of you.’ ‘Dennis, for fuck’s sake stop bein’ so polite an’ get into bed. I don’t want to be up in front of the Board tryin’ to explain how I let the Head Shaman freeze to death in my own bedroom.’ Naboo puts his turban on the table beside the lamp, kicks his curly trainers under the bed, strips his own robes off over his head and drops them on the floor, and is about to take his trousers off too when a hoarse voice says ‘Stop.’ Dennis is standing on the other side of the bed, wearing only a pair of very small, very purple pants and a rather nervous expression. ‘OK, underwear’s fine, one step at a time eh?’ Naboo pulls the duvet down a little further, and gestures encouragingly at the bed. ‘No, you misunderstand me, I do want them to come off…’ Dennis swallows. ‘But I should like to be the one to take them off. If you would let me.’ ‘Course.’ Heart beating fast, Naboo walks round the end of the bed to stand by Dennis. ‘All yours.’ Dennis sets his big hands very carefully on Naboo’s hips; hesitates a moment, then pushes the waistband of the silk trousers down, and lets go. The fabric slides to the floor, and Naboo steps clear. He can feel Dennis’s eyes on him, looking him up and down. ‘Beautiful,’ Dennis murmurs. ‘So beautiful…’ Naboo shivers. ‘An’ also so frozen.’ He burrows into the colourful pile of duvets and blankets on the bed. ‘Never got used to the climate on this planet… Dennis? You comin’ to join me or what?’ Even stripped to his underpants, the Head Shaman cuts an imposing figure: tall and well-muscled, holding himself very upright as he looks down at the bed. Naboo wants to wrap himself around that big body and warm it up; he wonders what’s holding Dennis back now. ‘You want me to put the light out?’ ‘No.’ Dennis gives an emphatic shake of his head. ‘No, I want to see… to see you. If that’s all right.’ Dennis takes a deep breath. ‘And I have nothing to hide from you.’ He slips the purple briefs down over his hips, and steps out of them. He’s already half-hard… and woah, that is big. Naboo hasn’t got a lot of experience of full-males, whether from Xooberon or from Earth, but you don’t share a flat with Vince Noir without getting the occasional eyeful you didn’t want to see, and since Vince and Howard have been an item there have been a lot more mornings when Howard’s wandered happily into the kitchen in his underpants… Dennis is of similar build and, it seems, similarly well endowed. And now, finally, he’s getting into bed. Naboo pulls the covers over him before he can change his mind. ‘You’re warm.’ Dennis reaches for him and pulls him close. ‘So warm…’ So this is what it’s like to be in bed with the most powerful bloke in the galaxy. He’s shivering and chilled and awkward and clumsy but he feels and smells so good… Naboo presses himself against Dennis’s side, craving the contact and the comfort. This might be second-best, it might not be love, and it might not be what he’d really wanted for Christmas, but still he’s not going to be writing to Santa to complain. Whatever happens. Or doesn’t. Looks like it might, actually. Dennis is pulling him in for a kiss, and this time he’s taking the initiative, slipping his tongue gently into Naboo’s mouth while caressing the nape of his neck in a way that makes his spine tingle. And all the while that big hot hardness is making its presence felt, nudging at Naboo’s hip; either Dennis hasn’t noticed it yet or he isn’t bothered by it, but either way that’s good. Naboo reaches up to touch Dennis’s face; Dennis flinches and draws a sharp breath. ‘Sorry, I forgot about your battle scars… You want me to get you something for that?’ ‘No, it’s fine, I’d forgotten about it too to be honest. And I expect I’ll forget about it again in a minute. At least, that is, if you… Naboo, I know I said I just want to wake up beside you, but do you think… could we…’ The lump in Naboo’s throat is back, and this time he can’t stop it from overflowing into tears. ‘Course we could. You’ve waited so long, and you never put pressure on me… You’re a diamond, Dennis, I don’t know anyone else who’d have done that for me… you’re the best… I’m sayin’ that an’ I’ve bin in love with someone else for years...’ He sniffs, and wipes his eyes on the duvet cover. ‘Sorry, I’m bein’ an idiot. C’m’ere.’ He strokes Dennis’s flat stomach; works his way down to the soft thatch of hair in his groin, and finally wraps a hand around his cock, and starts to work it slowly, up and down. Dennis is breathing heavily. ‘That’s… that’s so good, Naboo… but it’s not… What can I do for you? Do you want me to –’ ‘It’s OK for now. I’m more of a long-term project, y’know?’ ‘But this is all one way…’ ‘Listen.’ Naboo pins Dennis down with a hand on each shoulder; looks into his eyes. ‘You’ve spent three hundred and something years givin’ to me. That’s what you do, D-Man, you give. To me, to the Board, to whoever… An’ I figure it’s time for someone to give somethin’ back, an’ for you to let yourself take it. Let me give you a good time, let me listen to your troubles, let me warm your feet up an’ be there when you wake up in the morning. That’s not one-way, it’s what I wanna do an’ it’ll be a pleasure.’ ‘If you’re sure…’ ‘Course I am. An’ you can see it’s true.’ Dennis heaves a sigh, and relaxes. ‘Thank you.’ ‘No worries. Now, where were we? Aww look, now I’ll have to start all over again.’ Full-male bits do his head in, they’re so robustly masculine but at the same time so terribly vulnerable, all outside the body with nowhere to hide. Dennis’s prick feels heavy and soft in his hand, the skin at the tip like silk. Already it’s stirring, hardening again, and it doesn’t take long before it’s rigid and weeping and Dennis has rolled onto his side and is thrusting against Naboo, seeking release. Naboo’s never known anybody need sex so badly. Not even himself. Dennis is whimpering now, quickening the pace, and Naboo wraps his other hand around him and tightens his grip. A tremor runs through Dennis’s body, and Naboo can feel how close he is; and also that he’s holding back, still afraid that this is unwelcome after all. ‘Let it go,’ Naboo murmurs. ‘It’s OK, I’ve got you, you can come for me…’ And Dennis does, his hips jerking out of control, his mouth buried in Naboo’s hair to muffle the funny little mewling sounds he can’t help making. Naboo smiles to himself. He’s heard Howard make sounds like that, trying to be quiet, but the walls in this place are thin… Vince, of course, has never even bothered trying. Dennis just keeps coming and coming; Naboo holds him and helps him ride it out. There’s wet everywhere, slick between their bodies. It’s sticky and uncomfortable and it smells of wet flour and sex, but Naboo doesn’t care. It’s worth any amount of extra laundry just to see the blissful expression on Dennis’s face as the aftershocks die down and leave him limp and panting. ‘Wow.’ Naboo kisses Dennis on the forehead. ‘That was pretty intense.’ ‘It was… it was… Thank you. Just… thank you. But I’m sorry…’ Dennis squirms in the wet patch on the sheet. ‘If I’d known it’d make such a mess…’ ‘It’s OK, got tissues somewhere.’ Naboo reaches for the box and dries what he can reach. ‘I should…’ Dennis is still trembling and incoherent. ‘No, you shouldn’t.’ Naboo pats him on the shoulder. ‘Give yourself a few minutes, yeah? Just rest quiet while I go and get the rest of this off… calm yourself down, do some deep breathing or something.’ It’s cold in the bathroom and he doesn’t linger, just cleans off the stickiest parts of him with a flannel, grins at his nude reflection and flits silently back to the welcome warmth of his room. Dennis is sitting on the side of the bed, staring into space, solemnly doing deep breathing and presumably rethinking yet more of his basic principles. Naboo puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘You all right?’ ‘Er, yes, I think so.’ Dennis focuses on him and smiles. ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine. Or I will be, when I’ve…’ He gets to his feet, a little unsteadily, and heads for the door. ‘I’ll keep the bed warm for you.’ Naboo turns the fire off and burrows under the covers. Oh, so good to be warm, inside and out. He couldn’t possibly have expected tonight to have turned out quite like this. It could have been weird, it should have been weird, Dennis wanting to take him to bed after all this time, but somehow it doesn’t feel weird at all, it just feels… nice. He wonders with a sudden pang whether Saboo and Methuselah are tucked up together too; whether they’re talking about him, or about Dennis. Probably not – probably not talking at all. Not if their passionate embrace on the doorstep is anything to go by. But he doesn’t want to think about that. Change the subject, see whether anything can be done to help Dennis save his marriage. Tap into all that counselling bullshit that Howard used to lap up by the bucketload – and pay good money for, too – back at the zoo. What is it that’s gone wrong? And why is Dennis taking so long in the bathroom?

…….

‘Howard?’ Vince whispers into the darkness. ‘Howard.’ ‘Howard, Howard, Howard…’ Sod it. Vince gives up trying to be gentle about waking his sleeping partner, sits up, and clicks the bedside light on. ‘What the…?’ Howard reaches for him, trying to pull him back down into their warm cocoon of duvets. ‘I can’t get back to sleep.’ ‘I was asleep,’ the big man complains. ‘I was too. But then I wasn’t. And I’m still not.’ Howard sighs resignedly. ‘Why not?’ ‘Well, I had this really weird dream about havin’ ants inside my mirrorball suit an’ they were tryin’ to build a nest … an’ I woke up all itchy.’ Vince scratches and fidgets and peers at himself. ‘No wonder, look, I’ve got all glitter stuck in my bellybutton. Must’ve come off my costume.’ He reaches for a mascara brush and starts trying to extract the scratchy little bits. ‘Oi, stop laughing, tisn’t funny.’ Howard chuckles. ‘Sometimes you have to suffer to be beautiful, little man.’ ‘An’ was I?’ Vince smiles to himself; he saw the expression on Howard’s face when he emerged in his skimpy angel outfit, complete with silver boots and glittery wings and halo. ‘You know you were. You are.’ Howard’s tiny eyes peer up adoringly at Vince over the edge of the duvet. Vince smiles to himself again. Being Howard’s lover is genius. He still annoys Howard a lot, probably as much as he ever did, but these days Howard finds it very hard to stay annoyed for long. ‘I tried to go back to sleep an’ not wake you up,’ he says earnestly, ‘but I could hear ’em doin’ it next door an’… I felt a bit left out of the action, if you know what I mean.’ ‘I have no idea at all what you mean. Hear whom, doing what?’ ‘Naboo and Dennis, gettin’ it on.’ Howard’s face screws up in disgust. ‘Naboo and Dennis? No. No way. You’ve gone wrong, Vince. You must have imagined it.’ ‘Did not.’ Vince is indignant. ‘I heard Dennis’s voice on the landing. An’ I know muffled sex noises when I hear them, Howard. Someone was makin’ sounds just like you do when I’m givin’ you a mind-blowing orgasm an’ you’re tryin’ to keep quiet.’ ‘Vince.’ Howard rolls his eyes. ‘Just because you are having constant sex doesn’t mean everyone else has to be.’ ‘I’m not having constant sex,’ Vince protests. ‘Otherwise, I’d be having sex right now, an’ I’m not. Although I could be…’ He bats his eyelashes provocatively. ‘It’s three in the morning.’ Howard is trying to pretend the eyelash-batting isn’t having an effect, but Vince knows it is, just from the way Howard’s eyes are crinkling at the corners. ‘So? Anytime is sexytime, an’ it’ll help you get back to sleep again.’ Vince trails the mascara brush up the middle of his chest; traces a tickly path around his nipples, and watches the blush spreading over Howard’s cheeks. The door to the next room creaks; Dennis’s heavy tread goes down the hall to the bathroom. Vince puts the brush back on the table. ‘An’ I don’t have glitter anywhere any more, although you might want to check…’ Howard is tempted, he can tell. Vince leans over and whispers in his ear. ‘There were… a few places I couldn’t reach…’ Just as he hoped, the temptation proves irresistible. Howard pulls him down into a fierce embrace and starts kissing him as though it’s been years since they last snogged, not just a couple of hours. And when he lets go of Vince’s mouth, leaving his lips all puffy and tingling from the soft scratchiness of Howard’s moustache, Howard keeps on kissing him, everywhere, pretending to look in all sorts of crevices for traces of glitter. Vince giggles and squirms as Howard works his way down under the duvet and kisses all round the base of Vince’s now rock-hard erection. ‘Nope, no glitter there,’ Howard mumbles, ‘but let’s see about down here, shall we…’ and that gorgeous almost-prickly sensation carries on round Vince’s balls, and behind them, and finally traces round the rim of his hole, by which time Vince has stopped giggling and is breathlessly pleading instead. ‘What, you think you’ve got glitter up there?’ Howard slides a wet finger inside, and feels around. ‘Well, if you have, I don’t want to know how it got there. No, sir.’ ‘Haven’t – got glitter – ’ Vince pants, ‘want – want you in there, Howard.’ ‘What, again?’ Another finger slides in beside the first, gently stretching him. ‘Aren’t you sore?’ ‘Course not.’ A little achy, maybe, but Howard’s always so careful... ‘An’ I know you want to. You – you said you couldn’t get enough of me.’ ‘I can’t.’ Howard has three fingers inside Vince now, and is smiling at him in a way that makes Vince’s insides melt. ‘It still amazes me that I can have any of you, after spending all those years thinking you wouldn’t be interested. And tonight – ’ ‘Last night, now.’ ‘I don’t care what night it is. Was. You just looked so… so sexy as an angel, and you’d gone to all that trouble, and it was all for me.’ Howard leans down for another kiss. ‘So if you want another Northern bumming, who am I to deny you? Even at half-past three in the morning.’ ‘Awww, Howard.’ Vince kisses him back with enthusiasm. ‘I’m glad you liked my outfit. Took me ages to make it, with the wings and the glitter and all.’ ‘I did like it. I liked it a lot. It made me want to… do things. But there were too many other people…’ Vince grins, recalling how Howard’s eyes had followed him around the room. ‘So you just ogled my pumpkin arse and thought about doing things. And when everyone had gone, you took me to bed and did quite a lot of them.’ ‘Yes, but not this… or this…’ ‘Howard, please…’ Vince arches his back as Howard’s fingers find his sweet spot. ‘All right, my impatient angel.’ Howard withdraws his hand, and reaches for the lube on the table. ‘One Northern bumming, coming right up.’ He’s really getting quite good at this, considering they’ve only been having proper sex for a few weeks. Vince had expected it to take years, after all that don’t-touch-me stuff that Howard had had going on, but once across the physical boundary (helped considerably by one of Naboo’s more potent baking experiments) the big man had proved as eager as Vince himself. Possibly more so, if that were possible, which at the moment it surely isn’t. ‘C’m’on Howard, you must be ready by now.’ ‘Can’t rush these things.’ Howard puts the lid carefully back on the tube and puts it back on the table. Vince pouts. ‘Can too.’ ‘Oh, really?’ And Howard lifts Vince’s knees up and back in one swift movement, and slides his perfectly lubricated cock into Vince’s equally perfectly lubricated arse without even pausing to draw breath. ‘Oh yes, look, you were right.’ Howard’s not the only one who can’t get enough of this. The first time was good – if short – and every time since has given Vince exactly the same feeling of breathless amazement, except now it usually lasts for considerably longer and Howard doesn’t keep stopping every ten seconds to ask Vince whether he’s all right. Vince settles into a nice steady pace, matching Howard thrust for thrust, stroking Howard’s chest and brushing a thumb over Howard’s hard nipples every now and then, because he knows Howard really likes that. Howard leans down for another scorching kiss, and Vince wriggles a hand in between their sweaty bodies, so that he can touch himself. ‘I love you,’ Vince says, looking into Howard’s eyes, because he knows Howard really likes that, too, now that eye contact doesn’t make him uncomfortable any more. ‘I love you too, little man.’ Howard must be close to coming, to be talking about love; he still has trouble with that particular four-letter word even though Vince has been saying it lots lately, partly because Naboo told him it might help de-sensitise Howard to it but mostly because he means it. Vince tilts his hips, to take Howard in just that bit deeper, and Howard’s cock finds Vince’s prostate and suddenly Vince is coming all over the place and he can feel that Howard is coming too, and it’s just the best feeling in the world. ‘Oh. Oh, Vince…’ Howard is flushed and tousled and gasping for breath but he’s still very careful as he disentangles himself from Vince and lies down beside him. Vince strokes his hair and pulls the duvet up over his shoulders, then reaches for the tissues to clean them both up. ‘Thanks.’ Howard yawns luxuriously, and nuzzles into Vince’s neck. ‘That was absolutely –’ ‘Shush a minute.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Listen.’ There are noises in the next room. Unmistakable noises of rhythmically creaking bedsprings and someone going ‘Oh.’ ‘Still think it sounds like you,’ Vince giggles. ‘I’m sure’ – Howard yawns again – ‘there is a perfectly innocent explanation.’ ‘Oh yeah? Let’s hear it, then… Howard?’ But the big man is already snoring quietly. Vince lies wakeful for a while, wondering whether Dennis and Naboo are having a nice time and how that is even possible since Naboo doesn’t have bits, although Vince is sure Naboo isn’t a girl. He hugs Howard a bit tighter and is glad both of them are blokes. He couldn’t imagine not having his bits and he can’t imagine Howard as a girl either, although he’d probably still fancy him if he was… There is a sharp cry from the next room, then a murmur of voices, then silence. Naboo and Dennis. Dennis and Naboo. Who would have thought it? Vince had been watching Naboo at the party – a bit concerned that their landlord didn’t seem to be entirely in party mood – and he’d have sworn he only had eyes for Saboo. Mind you, that red jumpsuit was complete genius and a very snug fit, and Naboo wasn’t the only one eyeing it up… and then Saboo went off with Dennis’s wife, very dangerous given the Head Shaman’s track record… maybe Naboo is only sleeping with Dennis to try to persuade him not to cut Saboo’s head off? How is that ever going to work? And what if anything will happen if or when Saboo comes back? Vince yawns wearily and settles his head on Howard’s shoulder. It’s been quite a Christmas. And it’s not over yet.

…….

Naboo is just about to get out of bed and go and see whether Dennis has fallen asleep in the bath, when he hears the door open and shut and the key turning in the lock. Then a very chilly Head Shaman is clambering in beside him, and Naboo stops thinking and just concentrates on warming him up again. Over the sound of Dennis’s teeth chattering, Naboo can hear faint giggling from the other side of the wall. So those two are at it again… Dennis rolls onto his side, his breath tickling Naboo’s ear. ‘Naboo?’ ‘Mmm?’ ‘I’ve… well, I’ve washed and everything, and I thought perhaps…’ Blimey, he’s hard again already. ‘You want more?’ ‘Only if you… You see, I asked, and she said no, and ever since I’ve wondered whether I should have persisted or whether it’s something a man can do without… I need to know, Naboo, and I don’t know anyone else I can ask.’ ‘Ask what?’ Naboo is beginning to suspect that communication issues may be at the heart of the Head Shaman’s marital problems. ‘Well, I’m not certain of the correct terminology, but would you…’ Dennis buries his hot face in Naboo’s shoulder. ‘With your mouth,’ he whispers. ‘You’d like me to blow you?’ ‘Yes.’ At last, a straight answer to a straight question. This feels like progress. And the idea of it is already turning Naboo on, more than he’d have expected it would. ‘Hasn’t anyone ever…?’ ‘Don’t laugh, but no. Nobody ever has. My wife refused point-blank, the one time I asked, and she won’t let me, umm, reciprocate either. She never lets me… There’s so much I want to give her, so much she needs, but I can’t find the way to… I can see, you see. I can see into the heart of her, but she hates me for it.’ ‘I don’t hate you for it.’ Naboo strokes the back of Dennis’s head, tracing the lines of his shamanic tattoos. ‘An’ maybe she doesn’t either, maybe she just finds it, I dunno, a bit scary or somethin’? Anyway, listen, we can talk about that later, right now we’ve got some important research to do.’ He rolls Dennis onto his back; leans over and kisses his nipples, nibbling and teasing until they’re standing stiff and proud and Dennis is making funny little noises again. Then he takes his time over kissing his way all down the middle of Dennis’s stomach, in the direction his arrow-shaped blue markings are pointing, into his very clean groin, and then up his shaft… Dennis groans. ‘You OK there?’ ‘I’m fine. Please, don’t stop, please…’ Naboo grins, and puts his head down again, planting tiny kisses on the soft folds of Dennis’s foreskin, drawing it back little by little until the shiny purple head is revealed in all its glory. He swipes his tongue across the smooth surface, tasting salt and sex and Dennis, and it’s all very strange but very good… and Dennis doesn’t need to know that Naboo has never gone further than this before… It’s a tight fit and it’s straining his jaw, but it’s all in there, or at least quite enough of it to be going on with. Naboo puts a hand round it so he can’t take it in too far, and choke. He doesn’t want to give Dennis any excuse to stop: that hot, hard flesh against his tongue is one of the most arousing things he’s ever felt. To judge by the sounds Dennis is making, it’s quite mutual. Naboo moves his head slowly, up and down, and licks at the ridges and folds of Dennis’s cockhead; he cups the other man’s balls with his free hand, feeling them drawing up and tightening in response. ‘Oh.’ Dennis arches his back. ‘Oh, that is… I never imagined… But you’d better stop, I’m going to –’ Naboo lifts his head briefly, just long enough to make sure his jaw’s still working and say ‘I know, an’ I don’t mind, I want you to.’ Dennis shudders and gasps as Naboo returns to his research. ‘You want me to… Oh. Oh…’ Well, they do say be careful what you wish for. One more lick, and Naboo’s mouth is flooded with thick, sweet, earthy-tasting come. It takes him by surprise, and he’s swallowed the first lot without giving it a second thought; he rolls the second mouthful around his tongue, deciding that he rather likes the taste, before swallowing that too and carefully sliding Dennis’s softening prick out of his mouth. The big man is sobbing quietly. Naboo crawls up beside him, and holds him tight. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘She - she made me feel dirty for asking,’ Dennis chokes. ‘She said it was disgusting – that I was disgusting…’ ‘She’s wrong there. Both times.’ ‘But doesn’t it taste –’ ‘No, it doesn’t, it just tastes of… well, you. Like this.’ Naboo kisses him, very gently. Dennis resists at first, then gives in and opens his mouth, and they kiss until it all tastes the same, and Dennis’s tears have ceased. Naboo lies back on Dennis’s shoulder and lets Dennis stroke his hair in a soothing rhythm. A shaman could fall asleep like this… ‘Naboo?’ ‘Mmm?’ ‘What do you taste of?’ Unexpected, this is. Naboo props himself on an elbow and grins. ‘You really wanna know? Here.’ He runs a finger through the wetness in his groin, and brings his hand up to Dennis’s lips. Dennis licks cautiously, then opens his mouth and takes Naboo’s finger in, caressing it with his tongue, sucking at it as though it were a cock, not just a finger. So that’s what it feels like… Naboo moans and rocks his hips, and Dennis slides the finger out and kisses Naboo’s mouth, tasting of both of them. Then he’s kissing Naboo’s throat, and his collarbone, and his aching nipples, and his navel, and right down over his un-male mound and between his thighs, Naboo unfurling like a flower in sunshine, opening and softening as Dennis licks and strokes and looks. ‘Could we…?’ Dennis asks softly. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, but I’d really like…’ The D-Man certainly has stamina. His wife doesn’t know what a lucky woman she is. Or perhaps she reckons you can have too much of a good thing… Naboo, on the other hand, will take as much of a good thing as he can get. ‘I’d like, too. If you can get three fingers in then yeah, it’ll be fine.’ A wet fingertip pushes cautiously inside him, and Naboo has to concentrate very hard on thoughts of Tony Harrison in order not to come right then and there. The second finger finds his major sweet spot, making him gasp and wriggle. ‘Does that hurt?’ ‘Do I look like that hurts?’ Dennis stills his movements and looks Naboo very solemnly in the face. ‘No, actually, you don’t. You look like… as though that was very nice indeed and you wish me to continue.’ ‘Spot-on, it was an’ I do. Please…’ By the time Dennis has worked a third finger in beside the other two, Naboo is dripping wet and open and so turned on he can hardly stay still. ‘Are you…?’ Dennis leans over and kisses him. ‘Ready for you? You bet. Here, stick a pillow under my arse, it’ll make it easier for you.’ ‘Do we require, um, lubrication?’ ‘Have you felt what’s goin’ on down there? If I get any more lubricated I’ll float away.’ Dennis smiles, slicks himself with his wet hand, then kneels between Naboo’s parted legs and works his cock carefully inside. It’s a tight fit, but it does fit, and as they start to move together Naboo realises that something has changed. Dennis is no longer clumsy with need but confident, relaxed, in control. The D-Man doing what the D-Man does best: giving. He kisses him and their eyes meet; Dennis is looking right into Naboo’s soul. The milky-blue of Dennis’s eyes clears and darkens, and suddenly Naboo is looking right into Dennis too. Oh, and he is loving this, just loving it. Being able to give Naboo such a good time and at the same time just enjoy himself. This is what he wants for him and his Methuselah. And now he has hope that it might somehow be possible. A fragile, trembling hope… Naboo has to close his eyes, or he’ll start crying again. ‘It’s all right. I just wanted you to see…’ Dennis strokes Naboo and soothes him, then starts thrusting into him in a slow rhythm, touching all three of his sweet spots in turn as that big hard full-male prick slides smoothly in and out. He takes Naboo right to the edge, to the point where the pleasure becomes almost painful in its intensity and Naboo is whimpering helplessly. Then he leans down, his moustache brushing Naboo’s ear, and whispers, ‘Come for me.’ With a sharp cry, Naboo lets go, his climax surging through him and washing away years and years of pent-up frustration in a flood of come and sweat and tears. He’s adrift, and would be lost if Dennis’s big hands weren’t holding him; he clings to the other man for dear life until it’s over and he’s washed up and sobbing and weak, but so very, very happy… ‘You were right,’ Dennis says, as he cleans Naboo up with the remainder of the box of tissues. ‘It does make one afraid, letting someone else see one’s innermost thoughts. It requires a high degree of trust, and that’s not easy.’ ‘’S good though, yeah?’ Naboo smiles at him. ‘Yes. Yes, it was. But then I’ve known you for a long time.’ Dennis sighs. ‘Whereas my wife…’ ‘If it can be like that with me, it can be like that with her too.’ ‘I hope it can, but I can’t see how.’ Dennis shakes his head. ‘Don’t give up on that hope. There has to be a way.’ Naboo yawns, and stretches out under the covers. ‘I need to sleep on it, but I’m sure I can come up with something. We can talk it through in the morning.’ ‘Naboo, I –’ ‘Still think we’re a bit rubbish?’ Dennis laughs, and hugs him. ‘So what if we are, we had a good time, didn’t we?’ ‘We certainly did, Big D,’ Naboo murmurs, snuggling closer. ‘And I’m not giving up hope.’ Dennis reaches up to click the light off. ‘It’s still Christmas. And we’ve still got the magic.’

…….

As always, Naboo’s shaman-senses wake him just before his radio alarm clock clicks on; only this morning he reaches out and clicks it off, instead of lying there listening to Xooberon FM. Beside him, Dennis is still peacefully asleep, sprawled on his side with one arm tucked around Naboo’s ribcage. Naboo has the feeling his boss needs all the sleep he can get. Although… Most of Dennis may be peacefully asleep, but one particular part of him isn’t, it’s wide awake and nudging into Naboo’s hip. Naboo shifts his position a little, to give it more room. ‘One more for the road?’ Dennis murmurs sleepily. ‘And good morning to you, too, morning glory.’ Naboo wraps a hand round Dennis’s cock. ‘Sleep well?’ ‘I – Oh, that’s good, yes, I did, thank you. You?’ ‘Like a log.’ Naboo tightens his grip; strokes Dennis’s arse with his other hand. ‘Didn’t even dream.’ ‘Nor did I… Naboo, what are you doing?’ ‘Goin’ a bit too far?’ Naboo takes his hand away from Dennis’s ring. ‘Sorry. Should’ve asked first.’ ‘That’s, um, a bit personal. I mean, I know you and I… we… last night… and I’ve thought long and hard about my basic principles, many times. But I don’t –’ ‘You don’t need to explain.’ Naboo leans over and kisses Dennis into stammering silence. ‘But I can do this, yeah?’ And he strokes the furred ridge behind Dennis’s balls, pressing in deep, knowing there’s a sweet spot in there somewhere. ‘Yes, that’s… that’s fine. That’s… Oh.’ Yup, there’s a sweet spot in there alright: right there. There’s a knock on the door. ‘Bugger off, Bollo,’ Naboo calls, ‘shaman business. Go an’ put the kettle on.’ ‘OK boss.’ The gorilla’s shuffling footsteps go away down the corridor, and there is a clink of crockery from the kitchen. Naboo takes Dennis’s prick into his mouth until it’s slick and gleaming; reaches a hand down to prepare himself, which doesn’t take long since he’s still pretty relaxed after last night. Then he kneels astride Dennis’s hips, and smiles down at him. ‘You wanna top from the bottom?’ ‘I… how did you know?’ Naboo shrugs. ‘My shaman-senses were tinglin’.’ ‘Your shaman-senses, Naboo, are particularly highly attuned. That’s one of the reasons I appointed you to the Board… Oh.’ ‘Fuck now, talk later, yeah?’ Naboo seats himself comfortably and tightens up a few key muscles, feeling Dennis twitch inside him in response. ‘That sounds like a good plan to me,’ Dennis says gravely. ‘I may not come this time – batteries take a while to recharge, y’know? But that don’t mean I won’t enjoy it.’ ‘I sincerely hope, Naboo, that you will. Enjoy it, I mean. This might be the last time that we…’ ‘Shush. Think of it as the first time that we… do it this way up.’ Naboo moves his hips gently, carefully, following every hint Dennis’s body is giving him. The Head Shamanic Markers are standing out dark and clear on Dennis’s pale skin; Naboo traces the blue curves with his fingertips. ‘I remember when they put those in, you asked me to stand witness at your markin’ ceremony an’ everyone thought it was a condition of my gettin’ on the Board…’ ‘Everyone except me. I knew you would do it anyway. I didn’t want anyone else to see me like that.’ ‘Like what? You barely flinched. I was the one who almost passed out. But I couldn’t look away. An’ they’re beautiful. Thought that at the time. Still do.’ ‘Thank you.’ Dennis arches his body into Naboo’s touch. ‘Sensitive too, eh?’ Naboo is smiling now, and Dennis smiles back, and they move together, easy and gentle and affectionate, with no more need of words. And to Naboo’s delighted surprise, he does come, right when Dennis does, and although it’s a low-key affair compared with the epic dam-burst of the night before, it’s still a magic moment with the two of them perfectly in tune, and Naboo never wants it to end. Afterwards they lie quiet for a long time, Naboo’s head pillowed on Dennis’s shoulder. ‘That was nice,’ Naboo murmurs, when the silence has gone on long enough and it’s time to start talking; start trying to help. ‘That was… something else my wife will never do,’ Dennis admits sadly. ‘Even though I know she’d… reach a climax more easily that way.’ ‘Ever thought that perhaps that’s why not? Maybe she’s scared to let go an’ show weakness. Or she’s holding out on you to make you feel inadequate, prove she’s got the power…’ ‘Or maybe both.’ Dennis sighs heavily. ‘You wanna talk about it?’ ‘Well… I suppose it might help. Didn’t you say you used to do counselling as a sideline, when you worked at the zoo?’ ‘Yeah, but it was mostly for that ballbag Howard, an’ he ain’t exactly complicated. I’ll do my best for you though.’ ‘I don’t know where to start.’ ‘Start at the beginnin’, then. When you got married. What was it drew you two together?’ Dennis thinks about this for a long time. ‘She’s like you.’ ‘In what way is an extreme sports calendar model even slightly like me?’ Naboo’s all at sea here, he hadn’t expected that particular answer, he was expecting a candid admission that Dennis had simply fallen for a fit body and a nice pair of tits. The Head Shaman’s brow is creased in thought. ‘Self-sufficient, or pretending to be, but a loner, in need of support.’ Another long silence. ‘And, of course, she does have a fabulous body and the nicest pair of tits I’ve ever laid eyes on.’ Naboo nods. ‘She’s a stunner alright.’ ‘With a core of fire, but so fragile… she won’t admit it… she wants the world to see her as a successful career woman in her own right, and I can’t blame her for that –’ ‘You jealous of her career?’ ‘No, I’m very proud of it. But she doesn’t believe me when I say that. And the other Board members seem to think I just wanted her as a trophy wife, to prove my virility.’ ‘When in fact the reverse was true.’ ‘I’m afraid so. And I didn’t see it at the time. I was… flattered by her attentions…’ ‘And didn’t see that she wanted you as a trophy man, one of the most powerful blokes in the galaxy, to underline her successful status.’ ‘She really did want me. Physically, I mean.’ Dennis sighs. ‘At least, she used to like me being masterful and waving a big sword around, but the novelty’s worn off now. Besides, I couldn’t keep doing that all the time. The body-count was unacceptably high – it was causing the Board all sorts of public relations issues.’ ‘I fink…’ Naboo takes his time finding the right words; he could very well be wrong here. ‘I fink she made the mistake lots of people make about you – she didn’t see that you do actually have real power as well as the symbolic position. She thought they’d just put you in charge of the Board because you were a pushover, and that you’d be a pushover as a husband as well. An’ when she found out you could see right inside her head…’ ‘She hated it. I told you.’ Dennis heaves a harsh, painful breath. ‘So she’s pushed you away because she’s scared of being close to you.’ ‘Of being close to anyone, I think.’ Well, that’s something Naboo can sympathise with. He hugs Dennis a bit closer. ‘So… Is all the girl-chasing just due to frustration? Proving that you still got it even though your wife refused to recognise it?’ ‘I suppose so,’ Dennis admits reluctantly. ‘It’s more of a habit, one I’ve never broken. I suppose I was being selfish – I never really thought it would do any harm. She goes to launch parties and photo shoots with all manner of young and handsome men…’ ‘Revenge?’ Naboo asks quietly. ‘I hadn’t thought of it in that light, but yes, I suppose so. And last night was more of the same.’ ‘You mean Saboo?’ Naboo stammers a little over the name. ‘Yes. And I assure you, Naboo, I won’t go after Saboo with a sword, whatever I find has transpired when I get home. You have my word, I will leave him in one piece. The Board of Shamen needs him. And you need him.’ ‘Yes, well…’ Naboo tries hard not to think about just how true that is. ‘What about what you need, though?’ ‘That’s not important.’ ‘Bollocks.' Naboo props himself on an elbow, and looks hard at Dennis. 'It’s the most important thing of all, and the whole reason you’re in this mess. Listen, you love her an’ you want her back, right?... Right?... Dennis, look at me.’ It takes a while for Dennis to turn his head and meet Naboo’s gaze. ‘I do love her. As well as… want her.’ ‘An’ you thought because she’s into extreme sport that she’d be into extreme sex as well, and she isn’t.’ Dennis shakes his head sadly. ‘She’s afraid of… anything even slightly unconventional.’ ‘But she wants you, yeah?’ ‘Yes. I can see that she wants to have sex with me, very much. But then she shies away from it. I have never really comprehended the workings of the female mind. I don’t understand.’ Naboo kisses him chastely on the cheek. ‘I think I do. It scares her. Like you said last night. To have really good sex with someone you really have to trust them – it’s like takin’ your skin off and letting someone else see your insides – an’ she don’t trust you.’ ‘I’ve tried…’ ‘Yeah, but think about it. You spend a lot of time away on shaman business an’ she knows fine well that that usually means you’re getting’ wasted with us lot. You run after pretty girls at parties whether she’s there or not. She don’t feel secure. She can’t see inside you. If you want her to know what’s really goin’ on in there, you’re gonna have to let her in.’ ‘I’m not sure I can.’ ‘Course you can. You did it for me, you can do it for her too. You have to do the hard thing, big man, an’ tell her who you really are. Show her. And then trust her to make the right decision.’ Dennis puts both arms round Naboo and holds him tight. ‘Naboo, you’re right. My wife and I need to start again from a position of honesty, and you’ve shown me that that may in fact be possible.’ ‘As well as releasin’ the tension, eh?’ Naboo nuzzles into Dennis’s neck. ‘That too. It should render the discussions… less complicated. And it was everything I ever hoped it would be. I – I don’t know how to thank you.’ ‘No need. Listen, Big D, you’ve been the best friend and nearest thing to a parent I ever had.’ Naboo can feel himself welling up now. ‘If... if I could love you I would, you’ve always stuck by me and bent the rules for me, to save me…’ ‘I think we saved each other, actually.’ Dennis pats him awkwardly on the back. ‘Come on, now, there’s no need for tears, didn’t you say we should look on this as the first time and not the last?’ Naboo sniffs, and wipes his eyes on the duvet. ‘Yeah. An’ it was a fuckin’ good first time an’ all.’ ‘Magic,’ Dennis says firmly. ‘It was magic. And it always will be.’ There’s a knock on the door. Naboo sighs. ‘Bugger off Bollo, I told you –’ A loud and derisive gorilla-snort makes the doorhandle rattle. ‘Yeah, yeah. Shaman business, Bollo’s hairy arse. Bollo boil kettle six times. You two coming out for breakfast or should Bollo just make lunch now?’

…….

‘Morning.’Vince looks round from stirring a big pan of porridge on the stove, and grins at Naboo and Dennis as they come through the kitchen doorway. ‘Good morning,’ Dennis says politely. ‘All of an hour left of it,’ Bollo grunts, ‘Bollo not know why he bother.’ He thumps the teapot down in the middle of the table. Howard is hovering nervously at Vince’s elbow. ‘You need to turn the heat down, Vince, it’s going to burn…’ ‘Give over, ya big fuss-pot, it’s fine.’ Vince’s grin grows wider. ‘Sleep well?’ ‘Um, yes, yes, thank you.’ Dennis seats himself gingerly on one of the kitchen chairs and pours himself some tea. Vince giggles. ‘Yeah, it sounded like it.’ ‘Vince,’ Howard hisses, ‘I don’t think that’s –’ ‘Ah.’ Dennis frowns as he adds milk to his mug. ‘You… you heard, then.’ ‘Course we did.’ Vince hands the porridge pan over to Howard to dish out, and plonks himself down at the table next to Naboo. ‘But it’s OK, we didn’t mind. Sounded like you were having fun… ’Spect you heard us, too.’ Naboo puts his head in his hands and thinks very hard about memory-wiping potions. Vince pats him on the back. ‘Aww, Naboolio, don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us. Isn’t it, Howard?’ 'Er...' Howard is blushing. ‘Secrets not possible in house with walls this thin,’ Bollo mutters. ‘I see no particular reason to conceal the truth on this occasion,’ Dennis is saying earnestly. ‘After all, we are all friends here.’ Naboo shoots Bollo a warning glance before the gorilla can say anything else. ‘Have some porridge, Dennis.’ Howard brandishes the pan. ‘And, um, maybe change the subject?’ ‘Before Naboo sinks through the floor, you mean?’ Vince is laughing, but his touch on Naboo’s shoulder is kind. ‘And make another mess for Bollo to clean up.’ Bollo slops milk into his bowl. ‘Mmm, Vince, this good, you getting better.’ ‘Cheers.’ Vince leans over for the tin of golden syrup. ‘Here you go, Naboo, sugar rush, just what you need.’ He ladles a generous helping onto Naboo’s breakfast, and a still more generous one onto his own. ‘You’ll get fat,’ Howard warns. Vince sticks his tongue out at him. ‘What, with all the exercise I’ve been gettin’ lately?’ ‘Thought we was changin’ the subject.’ Naboo takes a spoonful of syrupy porridge; lets the sugar start to do its work. ‘You guys hittin’ the sales later?’ ‘Maybe,’ Howard says. ‘There’s a late-nighter on at Top Shop and I know Vince had his eye on a few things...’ Vince and Howard – well, mostly Vince – start chattering on about clothes and glitter and shades of brown; Naboo catches Dennis’s eye and says quietly, ‘You OK?’ ‘I’m fine.’ The big man is looking thoughtful. ‘Just… getting my ideas in order. It’s going to be a challenging day. But at least I started it with a good… um… breakfast.’ And then they are both laughing quietly, while Bollo rolls his eyes and licks the last of the golden syrup off his fur. ……. ‘Well, there you go. Bit dodgy, but it should get you home.’ Naboo unrolls his magic carpet onto the pavement outside the shop, and pokes at its threadbare fringe with the toe of one curly trainer. ‘Won’t be needin’ it for a few days, just send it back whenever, it’s got a homin’ device that usually works…’ He looks up and meets Dennis’s eyes. ‘Crunch time.’ Dennis’s voice is quiet, but resolute. ‘Yeah, I know.’ Naboo reaches up to touch Dennis’s cheek. ‘Best of luck.’ ‘Thanks. Er, how about… um… one more for the road?’ It’s a long, sweet kiss, and so hard to break it off, but finally Naboo pulls away and slaps Dennis on the back. ‘Go get ’er, big man.’ ‘I will.’ Dennis smiles down at him. ‘Thank you for everything, Naboo. And don’t forget…’ He steps aboard the carpet. ‘Forget what?’ ‘It’s still Christmas,’ Dennis says, and he looks as though he was going to say more, but he has to sit down rather suddenly as the carpet takes off with its usual jerk. Naboo watches it rise unsteadily into the grey sky; the steering takes a bit of getting used to. Should get it fixed really. The street feels very empty when the carpet finally disappears over the rooftops. And the cold air is making Naboo’s eyes water a little. Heavy footsteps come down the stairs behind him, and he’s pulled into a warm and hairy hug. ‘Shaman business, eh? Good thing you lock door, Bollo didn’t need to see. But Bollo glad you had nice time.’ The gorilla looks long into Naboo’s face, and ruffles his hair. ‘Come on inside. Bollo go and put kettle on again. And light up bong. It nearly time for Boxing Day special of Peacock Dreams.’ As he climbs back up the stairs, Naboo makes a mental note: never to even think about upgrading his familiar ever again. It’s nice and warm in the lounge; the TV is on, and the two humans are already comfortably settled on the sofa. Which is no longer an island in a sea of rubbish and empties. Someone – all three of them, to judge by the smug smiles on their faces as they see that Naboo has noticed – has done a hasty but thorough job of shovelling the crap into binbags and piling the dirty plates and glasses in the sink. And someone has even pushed the Hoover across the carpet – almost certainly Howard, since Bollo always says hoovering sets off his asthma, and Vince has no idea how to turn the thing on. ‘Cheers guys, ’preciate this,’ Naboo mumbles. Vince exchanges a meaningful glance with Howard, and puts an arm round Naboo as he sinks into the cushions beside them. Naboo makes another mental note: to raise his employees’ wages and stop calling them ballbags so often. The hash pipe is lit, the familiar theme music is tinkling, Bollo has shoved them all up the sofa so he can squeeze in at the end as well, and they’re all just drifting off nicely when the doorbell rings. ‘Bollo, go an’ see who it is, would ya?’ Naboo says sleepily. The gorilla grumbles his way to the window, and peers down into the street. He turns back to them, grinning. ‘Well? Who is it?’ Vince asks. ‘Anybody we know?’ Naboo takes another drag of the pipe. ‘Go an’ let ’em in, Bollo, we’re just gettin’ to the good part.’ Bollo grins still more. ‘Bollo not going. Naboo should answer it.’ ‘Why me?’ ‘Trust Bollo.’ And Naboo finds himself being hauled bodily out of his cosy seat and propelled to the door. ‘I gotta good feeling about this,’ Bollo stage-whispers as he shoves Naboo out onto the landing. Naboo doesn’t share the good feeling. It’s cold and draughty on the stairs, and he really doesn’t want to talk to anybody at the moment. He really should have got that entryphone fixed, he thinks, as he opens the door… Oh. Fuckin’ hell, it’s Father Christmas. ‘What –’ Naboo swallows hard, and tries again. ‘What are you doin’ ’ere?’ Santa sweeps off his pointed hat and makes an elaborate mock-bow. ‘I’ve come to make your Christmas dreams come true – actually, no, that’s a total lie, I’ve just come to bring your carpet back.’ Naboo rubs his eyes. This can’t be happening. The visitor taps one fleece-booted foot impatiently. ‘Look, this suit’s got no insulation. I’m freezing my arse off out here. Are you going to invite me in or are you just going to stand there gaping like a stranded goldfish?’ He jams the hat back onto his black curls, and stands there waiting. His silky red jumpsuit is indeed not designed for a wintry climate: it clings tightly to every line and curve of his tall body. The fur-trimmed belt knotted about his waist has slipped down, sitting low over his hips, the tasselled ends dangling down one thigh�� He shivers, and takes a step closer. ‘Naboo, you plum, get a grip. Or at least get out of the bloody way.’ He actually wants to come in? No, this definitely can’t be happening. But just in case it is… Naboo opens the door a bit wider, and stands aside. ‘Um, yeah, come in, sorry, we were just chillin’, er, it’s warmer inside.’ He’s not sure whether any of what he’s just said made sense, but he’s hugely relieved when Saboo comes in anyway and dumps the rolled-up carpet in the hall. ‘There you go. One manky rug. With the Head Shaman’s compliments.’ ‘Cheers,’ Naboo says cautiously. Perhaps this is really happening. Saboo kicks the carpet closer to the wall, out of the way. ‘Dennis said you might be needing it. Thank fuck he didn’t make me fly here on it, doesn’t look airworthy to me.’ ‘Don’t knock it,’ Naboo says indignantly, ‘it works fine.’ ‘Does it now.’ Saboo’s lip curls. ‘Well, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.’ Naboo searches desperately for a safer topic of conversation: one that won’t involve Saboo telling him he’s rubbish and that he’s never liked him. ‘If you didn’t fly, how did you get here?’ ‘By amulet. Dennis lent me one from his personal collection.’ ‘Bit unconventional.’ Amulets are powerful artefacts; shamanic law decrees that they should only be used in emergencies. ‘Since when has that ever stopped the D-Man? I think he just wanted me out of the way so he could get it on with his wife.’ ‘They’re back on speaking terms?’ Naboo hopes fervently that Dennis has succeeded in his mission. Saboo rolls his eyes. ‘I don’t know and I don’t care. She was still asleep on the sofa when I left. But to judge by the way he was looking at her... Anyway he couldn’t wait to get me out of the house, said you’d be needing help to sort things out after the party, and burbled some nonsense about it still being Christmas.’ A small flicker of hope lights itself up in Naboo’s mind, like a single fairy light on a tree. ‘It is still Christmas.’ ‘Like I give a toss. Christmas is over-rated, if you ask me.’ ‘Didn’t you get what you wanted, then?’ Saboo aims another vicious kick at the rolled-up carpet. ‘No, I fucking well didn’t. Blasted woman. I spent half the night playing the therapist, having my ear bent about how impossible her husband is. And now apparently I have to be Dennis’s errand boy and your home help. Still in this embarrassingly ridiculous costume. Well, the least you can do is make me a cup of tea now I’m here…’ He stomps up the stairs, still complaining. ‘Honestly, Naboo, you are completely hopeless. Dennis was right about that, at least. Look at this place, it’s a tip.’ Naboo can’t even defend himself; he’s reduced to speechlessness at the sight of Saboo’s scarlet-satin-clad arse going up the stairs in front of him. ‘And as for that…’ Saboo isn’t finished yet. But the flicker of hope in Naboo’s mind is suddenly strong enough to illuminate several Christmas trees at once. Including the stars on top. Because Saboo has stopped dead on the landing, looking up at the light. ‘Oh, that takes the cake. It’s pathetic. It has to be the most rubbish bit of mistletoe I have ever seen.’ ‘Don’t knock it,’ Naboo hears himself say as he reaches the top step, ‘it works fine.’ Saboo snorts. ‘Does it now.’ He turns round and looks at Naboo with a challenge in his eyes, and a hint of laughter twitching the corner of his mouth. Naboo lifts his chin defiantly. ‘Course it does.’ That flicker of hope is now a blaze of certainty. Dennis is behind this. Dennis has never let him down yet… ‘Would you care to prove that ridiculous assertion?’ Saboo is grinning openly now; the sparkle in his eyes is more of an invitation than a challenge. Dennis, you diamond. This is really happening. It really is. And it’s still Christmas. Naboo stands on tiptoe and flings his arms round Saboo’s neck. Saboo’s mouth meets his with a hunger and sincerity that drives away all remaining doubt. ‘Why –’ Naboo gasps, coming up for air, ‘ – why didn’t you say?’ ‘Why didn’t you?’ Saboo takes Naboo’s face between his hands and gazes at him in a way that says this is all he’s ever wanted. ‘Fair point,’ Naboo concedes, and then Saboo is kissing him again, and Naboo doesn’t care if they never do anything else, because this is just perfect, and it’s turning out to be a magic Christmas and not a rubbish one after all. Saboo picks him up bodily and carries him through the lounge, to the accompaniment of wolf-whistles, cheering and applause from the others on the sofa. Naboo gives them a two-finger salute behind Saboo’s back. ‘Excuse us, gentlemen.’ Saboo can barely keep a straight face. ‘We’ll join you later. But right now Santa has a couple of late Christmas wishes to fulfil.’ He’s still laughing as he kicks the bedroom door shut.

Saboo puts Naboo down on the bedroom floor, takes a pace back and looks at him. ‘Well. What now?’ A delicious shiver runs through Naboo; he’s not used to being looked at like that. He could easily get used to it, though… ‘Erm, how about a re-run without the audience? And then we can unwrap our Christmas presents.’ ‘Sounds like a plan to me.’ Saboo puts his hands on Naboo’s shoulders, and bends to kiss him again, carefully this time, as though afraid he might break him. Naboo licks at the corner of Saboo’s mouth until his lips part; the other man lets out a small, needy whimper as Naboo starts to explore him with his tongue, tasting and caressing, letting him know just how much this means… It means everything. Everything, just to stand there and hold and be held in return, to feel Saboo’s heart hammering under the flimsy red material, to hear his own pulse loud in his ears. Saboo is shivering slightly and his body is taut with excitement; he smells of sweat and leather and a faint waft of perfume… Methuselah’s perfume. Naboo’s heart twists painfully inside him, and he pulls away. ‘Saboo…’ The name feels strange in his mouth. ‘What is it?’ So hard to say it, when it could wreck everything. But not saying it would be ten times worse. ‘There’s… before we…there’s somefink I have to tell you.’ ‘No, you don’t.’ Saboo smiles; his big hands are gentle as they stroke Naboo’s back. ‘Dennis already did. And it’s all right.’ ‘You – you don’t mind?’ Saboo shakes his head. ‘Why should I? You didn’t know I’d be coming back. Hell, I didn’t know I’d be coming back. And I can’t blame you for taking a bit of comfort when it was offered.’ Naboo buries his burning face in Saboo’s chest. ‘Wasn’t just comfort,’ he mumbles. ‘We had sex…’ ‘I know. But I wouldn’t be standing here if you hadn’t. I’d be a decapitated corpse in Dennis’s front room.’ Naboo shudders. ‘Stop it.’ Saboo pulls him close. ‘Don’t think about it, it didn’t happen. Don’t…’ But Naboo can’t stop shaking, it’s all too much, his world has been turned upside down and he hadn’t smoked nearly enough weed before that doorbell rang. ‘Sorry, ’m havin’ a panic attack…’ His voice sounds wavery and too high. Saboo takes his hand, tows him across the room and sits him down on the bed. ‘Little one.’ His voice is gentle; Naboo has never heard him speak like that to anyone. ‘I know, it’s a big change and it’s been a long time coming. But there’s no need to panic. Take a deep breath and count to ten. You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.’ He sits beside Naboo and strokes him as though he were a scared small animal, touching him without haste, without demands, soothing away his fear. Pretty soon Naboo is completely relaxed again, his curly trainers have joined Saboo’s snowboots on the floor, and the two shamen are lying on the bed wrapped around each other, kissing deep and slow. Saboo’s big body is warm now, and he’s not troubling to conceal his arousal, not that that costume has much potential for concealing anything anyway. Naboo can’t help pressing closer and closer, until Saboo pulls away, props himself on one elbow and grins. ‘Would you like your present now?’ ‘But I’ve been bad,’ Naboo says seriously. ‘That’s not what I heard.’ Saboo puts a hand on Naboo’s cheek. ‘I heard you were very good indeed…’ That smile is infectious. And it seems that Saboo is genuinely prepared to take last night’s events in his stride. Naboo plucks up courage to untie the furry belt from around Saboo’s waist and and draw it out from under him; growing bolder, he reaches for the zip tag at Saboo’s throat. The zip comes open with a faint ripping sound. Naboo keeps on pulling gently, mesmerised by the gradual revelation of Saboo’s brown skin, his neat nipples, the curling dark hairs around his navel… ‘Hey.’ He gets to his knees to ease the red suit off over Saboo’s feet. ‘I like your giftwrapping.’ ‘I thought you might.’ Saboo stands up and turns round, slowly. Now that is the sort of package everybody should find on (or preferably in) the bed on Christmas morning. It’s a red patent leather posing pouch with a white fur trim and a very small thong, and it’s only just managing to do the job for which it was designed… Naboo stands up too, all breathless and light-headed, and reaches for the very small clip that is struggling to hold it all together. ‘Not yet.’ Saboo shakes his head. ‘I think it’s my turn to unwrap something, don’t you?’ Without waiting for a reply, he lifts Naboo’s robes off over his head, pushes his trousers down and turns him round, his gaze burning Naboo’s shaman-senses. ‘Oh, that is beautiful.’ Saboo’s voice is a hoarse whisper, and the raw longing in his words makes Naboo’s skin prickle all over. Saboo reaches for him; strokes a thumb over one taut nipple. ‘Cold in here.’ Naboo grins; the air is cold, but that’s not what’s giving him goosebumps. ‘Soon warm you up,’ he says, and reaches again for that stupidly small clip. It gives way stupidly easily, and the thong falls to the floor. The room goes very quiet. Saboo stands still, trying not to shiver, watching Naboo watching him. His heartbeats are shaking his body, his erection standing proud. And it’s an erection that anybody would be proud of, perhaps not as big as Dennis’s but strong and straight and elegantly shaped and very, very hard. ‘Can I…?’ Naboo asks dreamily, and puts out a hand. Saboo tuts impatiently. ‘That was the idea, you Christmas pudding. If I didn’t want you to, then I wouldn’t have let you take all my clothes off, would I?’ ‘S’pose not.’ Naboo moves a step closer. He can feel the warmth of Saboo’s body, hear the soft sounds of his breathing, smell the musk of him. This is the best Christmas present ever. ‘Your hand’s cold,’ Saboo complains, as Naboo reaches up to caress his throat, his chest, his lean ribcage. Naboo grins. ‘I know how to warm it up.’ He strokes down the black curls on Saboo’s belly, reaches that glorious hot hardness and wraps his cold hand around it… And Saboo is coming. There was no warning, but he’s gasping and shaking and spilling warm and wet over Naboo’s hand and over both of them; Naboo can do nothing but hold on, aroused and surprised and a bit anxious. Abruptly Saboo pulls away; turns his back. ‘That never happens.’ He sounds angry. Embarrassed. Naboo doesn’t know what to do, this isn’t how it was meant to be. ‘I don’t mind.’ He touches Saboo cautiously on the arm. ‘There’s plenty of time to get it right.’ ‘I wanted it to be perfect,’ Saboo snarls. ‘Not fucking humiliating.’ He looks down at himself, his chest heaving. Wordlessly, Naboo passes him the new box of tissues that someone – Bollo, presumably – has thoughtfully placed on the bedside table. Saboo scrubs at his damp groin, curses, and hurls the dirty tissues angrily at the bin, without looking round. No, oh no, this can’t all be going wrong already. There’s a lump in Naboo’s throat; his body aches with tension. At any moment Saboo is going to grab his clothes and leave, and this Christmas dream will be over. The magic has to be still working, it has to be… Saboo stands with his back turned for what feels like about ten years before he heaves a huge sigh and chokes out: ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘I’m not.’ Weak with relief, Naboo stands behind him; puts his arms round him. ‘You’re here, an’ I never thought you would be… an’ it was a compliment, I didn’t know you wanted me that much.’ ‘Neither did I.’ Saboo is shivering, his skin clammy. ‘Come to bed. It’s too cold to discuss it out here with no clothes on.’ Naboo takes Saboo’s hand and pulls him across the room; he doesn’t resist. Oh, and Bollo’s put clean sheets on the bed as well. Truly a familiar in a million. Naboo tucks them both in and lies quietly beside Saboo; when the shivering finally stops, he lays his hand over Saboo’s, linking their fingers together. ‘Thank you.’ Saboo’s face is still turned away. Naboo leans over and kisses him behind the ear. ‘Ready to start again, then?’ Saboo meets his eyes and smiles, a bit shyly. ‘I suppose so, if you are.’ ‘Course I am.’ Naboo grins. ‘You plum.’ ‘Oi, that’s my line.’ Saboo pins Naboo down by the shoulders and kisses him on the mouth until they’re both breathless and Saboo is hard again. ‘Well?’ Naboo looks up into Saboo’s dark eyes. ‘D’you want to…?’ Saboo looks away. ‘Actually, you know, I’m not sure, not yet.’ ‘This is sure.’ Naboo strokes a fingertip along Saboo’s rigid prick. ‘And I am too now.’ Saboo fidgets uneasily. ‘Well, yes, I know, but we haven’t… there hasn’t been time. We hardly know each other.’ ‘Bollocks, we’ve known each other for three centuries.’ There’s an ironic twist to Saboo’s mouth. ‘Yes, as professional colleagues who don’t like each other very much. Not as…’ ‘Lovers?’ Naboo goes on stroking, the hot skin satin-smooth against his fingers. Saboo half-laughs, and buries his face in Naboo’s shoulder. ‘I’m just not certain we’re ready to have full-on sex yet.’ ‘Because I was with Dennis last night?’ ‘No, that’s not it.’ Saboo rolls away, and stares at the ceiling. ‘I meant it when I said I didn’t mind. And it’s up to you how quickly you recover. If you say you’re ready, then you’re ready.’ ‘But you’re not sure that you are.’ ‘No, I’m not, Naboo, I’m not sure at all.’ Even though they’re not touching, Naboo can feel that Saboo is tense all over as he struggles to explain himself. ‘It’s not that I don’t want you. I do. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life. But…’ ‘ ’S’alright, I promise not to laugh.’ Naboo does his best to ignore his own rising worry and disappointment, and just listen. Perhaps it’ll be something he can do something about. ‘You’d better not fucking well laugh. It’s not funny.’ Saboo hesitates, clears his throat, and plunges in. ‘Alright, I’ve only ever done it once, and that was with a woman, a long time ago, and it was an utter disaster. And… I’ve never seen a thirdsex before except in textbooks.’ ‘An’ you don’t deal with unfamiliar situations well, they make you nervous, an’ that makes you get angry an’ behave like a total ballbag. I know that from bein’ a professional colleague of yours that you didn’t like very much.’ Naboo is relieved; this is something he can do something about, and he’s going to start right now. ‘Gimme your hand.’ ‘What for?’ ‘So I can show you where to start, OK? The stuff that the textbooks don’t tell you. Thirdsex ain’t so different really, it just looks a bit unusual.’ He kisses Saboo on the cheek. ‘Don’t worry, take your time, an’ if you’ve got questions just ask ’em, I don’t mind.’ He lies down again, flat on his back, and waits for what seems an age until he feels Saboo lay a hand on his stomach. ‘Now what?’ Saboo sounds nervous; his fingers are cold. ‘Naboo, I don’t – ’ ‘Shush.’ Naboo takes hold of Saboo’s wrist and guides him further down, until his palm is cupped over the slight mound that covers Naboo’s internalised genitals. ‘So smooth,’ Saboo murmurs, moving his hand cautiously from side to side. ‘Is that… good?’ Naboo shudders and arches his back, unable to keep still. ‘What do you think?’ ‘I don’t know quite what to think. Not sure thinking has much to do with this. What happens if I… Oh.’ ‘Yeah, it’s wet. Can’t help it that you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, can I? It’s OK, keep going, there’s only one way in and you’re half way in already.’ Naboo keeps his own hand over Saboo’s, guiding and encouraging him, until Saboo’s long fingers, warm now and slippery, are inside him and pressing up against… With a sudden shrill yelp, Naboo comes on the spot, keening and whimpering and totally unable to help himself. To his surprise, Saboo keeps his hand there through the aftershocks, despite the flood of warm stickiness spreading over his wrist and between Naboo’s thighs and down onto the sheets. ‘That never happens either,’ Naboo says faintly, as Saboo withdraws his hand and looks with amazement at his wet fingers. Saboo just smiles at him, and suddenly they are both laughing, and when they stop laughing and look at each other, Naboo has an idea. ‘Got it.’ ‘Got what?’ ‘The next step.' He rolls over onto his side, facing away from Saboo. ‘Don’t turn your back on me. Please.’ ‘I’m not, don’t worry, you get the music when I’m doin’ that. No, look.’ Naboo parts his thighs, and spreads the slippery wetness over them. ‘One step short of goin’ all the way… but it’ll feel just as good.’ ‘In there?’ Saboo sounds intrigued. ‘Well, that’s a new one on me, but I’ll try anything once.’ ‘’S’nice,’ Naboo reassures him, ‘an’ I can touch you too, an’ we can stop anytime you want –’ ‘You must be joking.’ Saboo pushes carefully into the space between Naboo’s legs. ‘Why would I want to stop this?’ Naboo feels around until he’s holding Saboo’s wet, hot cockhead lightly between his fingertips, stroking and caressing as the other man thrusts against him, pressed tight against his back and his arse. He can feel Saboo’s balls down there, the slight tickle of hair, and it’s all strange and a bit uncomfortable, but it’s completely magic and Naboo can’t think of a reason he’d want to stop, either. ‘Oh.’ Saboo picks up the rhythm, his prick hardening, sliding smoothly back and forth. ‘Oh, that is just beautiful. I can’t…’ Naboo tightens his grip slightly; thrusts back against Saboo’s big warm body. ‘So it’s OK then?’ ‘Little one.’ Saboo nuzzles into the curve of Naboo’s neck. ‘It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I never… wanted… anyone… the way I… oh, Naboo…’ And then he’s coming, into Naboo’s hand and all over his front and… sorry Bollo, that’s another sheet that’ll have to go down the laundrette later. Afterwards Saboo lies limp and heaving while Naboo cleans him up. The theme tune to ‘Colobos the Crab’ comes drifting through the door: someone’s turned the volume up on the telly. Naboo smiles to himself as he wonders when that happened, and whether it was Howard or Bollo who muttered ‘we don’t need to hear this.’ Saboo stretches out on the dry side of the bed, and pulls Naboo down beside him, comfortably entwined, skin to skin. ‘I think, maybe, next time…’ ‘We can go all the way?’ Naboo kisses him chastely on the cheek. ‘Only when you’re ready for it, there’s no rush and I’m not giving you marks out of ten. An’ there’s lots of other ways we can get to know each other a bit better.’ ‘I’d say we’ve made a good start.’ Saboo pulls him just a bit nearer. ‘I’d say you were right,’ Naboo agrees sleepily. ‘Even though it was a bit rubbish?’ ‘Don’t knock it,’ Naboo says, ‘it worked fine.’ Saboo chuckles. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’ ‘Thanks…’ Naboo’s eyes are closing. He rests his head on Saboo’s shoulder and surrenders to the closeness and the warmth and the happy feeling of having everything he ever wanted. He hopes Dennis is feeling like this right now too… A touch on his cheek rouses him from a blurred dream of red leather and warm white fur. ‘What…?’ ‘Sorry to wake you,’ Saboo mutters in his ear, ‘but I need to… and I haven’t got any other clothes… You got a dressing gown or something?’ Naboo wriggles out of the complicated tangle of limbs they seem to have formed in their shared sleep. ‘Cloak on the back of the door,’ he mumbles. ‘Bit exotic, isn’t it?’ Naboo looks up and grins. ‘Suits you though. An’ don’t worry, it’s machine washable.’ Saboo wraps the swirl of glittery purple-and-blue fabric around himself and shuts the door behind him. Naboo snuggles down under the sex-scented bedclothes for a spot more kip. It seems only seconds later that Saboo is shaking him awake again. ‘Naboo…’ ‘Now what?’ ‘I didn’t have any breakfast. Is there anything to eat in this place?’ Naboo sighs, hauls himself out of bed and pulls his robes back on. Now he comes to think of it, he’s pretty hollow himself; this morning’s porridge has finally worn off. ‘Not in here, but there’s stuff in the kitchen. What time is it?’ ‘Half past three in the afternoon.’ ‘Lunchtime,’ Naboo says cheerfully. ‘Let’s go and see what the others have left.’ Saboo’s face falls. ‘Do we have to go and join them?’ ‘Why not?’ ‘They’ll take the piss.’ ‘Well, yeah. But let’s face it, they don’t get a lot of other entertainment round here, they have to make their own.’ Naboo goes to stand face to face with Saboo; takes both his hands. ‘Don’t worry, they’re on our side.’ ‘Even that familiar of yours?’ ‘Bollo’s happy if I’m happy,’ Naboo declares stoutly, ‘an’ I am happy… I got exactly what I wanted for Christmas, in the end.’ ‘So did I, little one.’ Saboo leans down to kiss him softly on the mouth. ‘So did I.’’

…….

It’s a beautiful Xooberon spring day: the suns high and clear, the blue fronds of the featherpalms fluttering and rustling in the ocean breeze. Naboo drains the last mouthful of his purple cocktail. Fuck, that’s good. Good to be warm, good to be back home, good to be at a party... and this is quite some party. Way better than that Christmas disaster, although that did turn out OK in the end. I suppose. Good thing we didn’t invite all this lot, though... The gardens of the Head Shaman’s official residence are thronged with people of all sizes, shapes, genders and colours. It looks as though the entire Shaman Academy has turned up, and then there are all Methuselah’s friends, fans, photographers, stylists and hangers-on... many of them young and handsome men, or pretty girls, but today Dennis and his wife have no eyes for anyone but each other. Dennis looks great, don’t think I’ve ever seen him so relaxed and confident. And Methuselah is much less scary when she’s smiling, and now she’s grown her hair longer that flowing dress suits her, even though it’s sort-of brown... the sort of colour that Howard would’ve chosen. There’s probably a name for it, I’ll have to ask him. Naboo glances across the lawn to where Howard and Vince are standing by the fountain. Howard has a big daft grin plastered permanently across his face; occasionally he glances down at the ring on his left hand, and then at Vince, as if either of them might disappear at any moment. Vince is in his element, of course. He loves parties. He’s chatting away to anyone and everyone, his hair immaculately root-boosted and feathered and tinted (it took him a week), his hand never letting go of Howard’s arm. ‘They look happy,’ a gruff voice says in Naboo’s ear. ‘That good to see.’ ‘Yeah.’ Naboo turns and smiles at his familiar. ‘Yeah, it is...’ ‘Bollo!’ a high voice squeaks. ‘Haven’t seen you in ages. Come an’ meet the girlfriend.’ A bat is flittering round the gorilla’s ears. ‘Not now, Chrissy. Now not a good time.’ Bollo’s face creases into a worried frown. ‘Go on, ya berk,’ Naboo tells him. ‘I’m fine. Saboo’ll be back in a minute, he won’t wanna miss the boss’s speech. Say hi to Barry for me.’ ‘Alright then.’ Bollo shambles off towards a bunch of bespectacled, red-haired shamen whose familiars – all airborne – range from the tiny bat to a twelve-foot red dragon. And here comes Saboo making his way back from the bar, his tall figure weaving gracefully through the crowd. A little twinge of anxiety gnaws at Naboo’s insides. Bollo isn’t the only one who’s worried. Saboo’s been so quiet lately. Something’s on his mind. Didn’t pick up on it for a while, what with all the excitement of Howard and Vince announcing their engagement and then Dennis convening this gathering. Maybe when the party’s over I might suggest he and I stay on here for a couple more days, spend some time together, maybe rent one of the cabins by the beach and just enjoy the warmth and the quiet. Perhaps Saboo’s just in need of some downtime: there’s been a fuck of a lot of organizing to do on Dennis’s behalf to get this event to actually happen. The big man may be magic, but he’s hopeless at practicalities... ‘Whoever suggested we let Tony Harrison run the bar must have been out of his fucking mind.’ Saboo is fuming as he hands Naboo another glass. Naboo giggles. ‘Yeah. You were. I remember that planning meeting. Parts of it anyway... Cheers.’ Saboo smiles as they clink glasses, but he won’t meet Naboo’s eyes. Naboo takes a deep breath. ‘Saboo...’ But he is interrupted by a squeal of feedback from the loudspeakers of the public address system. ‘Is this thing on?’ Dennis’s voice booms anxiously. Dennis and Methuselah are standing hand-in-hand on the terrace in front of the house; Dennis is peering at the microphone in his hand as though afraid it might bite him. Methuselah whispers something in his ear, and he smiles. ‘Ah. Apparently it is. Ladies and gentlemen and all those in between – Friends – I bid you welcome.’ There is a short silence while the Head Shaman rummages through the pockets of his voluminous ceremonial robe and produces a crumpled handkerchief. ‘Ah.’ He wipes his brow and puts the handkerchief away again. ‘I had, um, written a substantial speech for this important occasion but I, er, seem to have mislaid my notes.’ ‘Well, there’s a surprise,’ Saboo mutters. ‘But no matter. Now that I see you all, I realise that what I have to say is actually very simple.’ ‘Like you, D-Man,’ Tony cackles. A ripple of laughter runs through the crowd, but Dennis is unperturbed. ‘I am a simple man, yes. And I am simply very fortunate to have so many friends, and most fortunate of all to have such a beautiful and patient wife. My dear’ – he turns to her – ‘you were generous enough to give me a second chance. A new start. In token of which I would like to renew the vows we made when first we bound ourselves to each other – the vows I bent and broke and brushed aside – if you are willing – ’ He chokes a little. Naboo brushes away a tear. I was a part of that bending and breaking... I’m just glad I was part of the mending as well. Methuselah puts a finger to Dennis’s lips. ‘Of course I will. A new start, yes. Leave the past in the past, and with all our friends to bear witness, let us remake our bond. Where is our Moderator?’ The ancient ex-Head Shaman shuffles forward to officiate. Just as well the secular ceremony is short and simple. Poor old sod doesn’t look as though he’d make it to the end of anything long and complicated. Needs a trip to the Fountain of Youth if you ask me. Everybody cheers as Dennis and Methuselah seal their re-made bond, first with a formal kiss, and then with a much longer and more informal one. I remember how that feels... Naboo sighs, and looks away. He can see Howard and Vince holding hands and smiling; Vince notices him watching them, and grins. Then Methuselah takes the microphone and steps forward. ‘Thank you, Dennis. And thank you all for being with us. I will not waste much of your time. I know some of you have serious drinking to do, don’t you, Tony?’ She waits for the laughter and catcalls to subside. ‘We have one more announcement to make. Another new start. My Dennis and I, we are expecting our firstborn in the autumn...’ Whatever else she was going to say is drowned out by a burst of cheering and applause from the audience. Then the band is playing, the champagne is flowing, and Dennis, looking proud but slightly stunned, takes Methuselah’s arm and leads her around the garden, circulating through the crowd of guests, accepting their congratulations. Even Saboo is smiling. Dennis looms up beside them; Naboo hugs him, hard. ‘Nice one, big man. Listen, lemme know anytime you need a babysitter.’ Saboo snorts derisively. ‘Seriously,’ Naboo says, giving Saboo the finger behind Dennis’s back, ‘I’m a bit of an expert, I ’ad to rear those two human idiots over there, remember? Six soddin’ weeks of changin’ nappies an’ four-hourly feeds before I found an incantation to get ’em back to their proper ages... so anytime, just call me, OK?’ ‘Thank you,’ Dennis says gravely. ‘No worries.’ Naboo hugs him again. ‘So happy for ya...’ Dennis feels big and warm and solid. He feels like coming home, like safety and comfort... Dennis takes a step back, and looks down; his voice is pitched for Naboo’s ears alone. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘Dunno exactly.’ There’s no point lying to someone who can see right through you, literally. ‘Man trouble?’ ‘Somefink like that.’ ‘I thought so. Could see it from across the room.’ Naboo looks up into those knowing pale-blue eyes. ‘You got any magic to fix it?’ Dennis smiles gently. ‘You don’t need magic. It’s very simple, Naboo. Just ask him.’ Before he can explain what this pronouncement means – if he even knows himself – Dennis is hailed by someone else, and lets Naboo go. Ask Saboo? Ask him what’s wrong? But he might deny that anything’s wrong at all, in which case he’d be lying, and then we’re stuffed; or worse, he might actually tell me what’s wrong, and it might be something that can’t be fixed... Saboo puts a hand on Naboo’s shoulder. ‘Oh, dry up, you idiot, this is supposed to be a happy day.’ He snorts again. ‘Never thought the D-Man was parent material. Nor the D-Man’s woman, come to that.’ ‘Just shows that even the perfect Saboo can be sometimes wrong,’ Methuselah says drily from right beside him, making him jump and look sheepish. ‘I’m sorry,’ he stammers, ‘I – I didn’t mean...’ Naboo winces, waiting for the inevitable blow to fall. But she is laughing; patting Saboo on the arm. ‘I am not offended, I never thought of myself as mother, either. Even I can be sometimes wrong also. Now, if you do not mind, I should like to borrow your Naboo for a short while, there is something I need to discuss with him. No, not about last Christmas’ – she laughs again – ‘do not look so dismayed, I meant it when I said the past is in the past. I need to ask a favour, that is all. Naboo, if you will please come with me...’ ‘Sure.’ Naboo shrugs. ‘Whatever.’ He thinks he hears Saboo mutter something at the same time: ‘he’s not mine,’ perhaps? But there’s no time to ask, Methuselah is taking his arm and leading him firmly out of the crowd. ‘Somewhere quiet,’ she says, ‘let us try the rose garden. This way.’ Naboo follows her through a gate in the hedge and across a green, sunlit lawn edged with flowering rosetrees. I wonder what the fuck this is about. I know she said the past is past, but...We haven’t talked about that Christmas party, ever. Better try not to say the wrong thing, or she might lose it and hit me. My glass is empty, too... I wonder whether I’m going to get another drink or a decent smoke anytime soon... There’s a double seat under an archway at the far end, canopied with heavily scented climbing roses; Methuselah sits down and motions Naboo to sit beside her. ‘I know I said this was not to talk about last Christmas.’ She plucks a leaf, twirls it nervously between her slender fingers. ‘But... I do want to thank you, Naboo, thank you for saving our marriage, for showing my Dennis how to be honest with me.’ Naboo sighs inwardly with relief. She’s not going to hit me, then. ‘I’m glad I helped, but I didn’t really do anything.’ ‘No.’ She shakes her head vehemently. ‘If it were not for you, we would be separated by now, and this baby that is on the way, he would not be on the way, he would not exist at all.’ ‘That’s... quite a responsibility.’ ‘It is also a wonderful gift.’ She is smiling now. ‘And in appreciation, we would like to ask you, will you stand mentor to our son when he is born?’ Well. Wasn’t expecting that one. That’ll offend a lot of well-connected Xooberon nobility who will have been hoping for the honour. And am I really up to the job? But if it’s Dennis’s choice... ‘I – well, yes, course I will, but – there’s plenty of other shamen who’ll do a better job, I mean, I don’t even live on-planet and I’m not exactly...’ ‘There is no other shaman who has such a link to our family. No-one else we would rather ask. You gave Dennis such good advice. I am certain you will do the same again when it is needed.’ ‘I’ll do my best.’ Naboo is slightly choked. Must be the perfume from all those flowers. ‘There is something else also.’ ‘What?’ ‘We would like to name him for you, if you have no objection.’ Naboo chews on his bottom lip. ‘Depends which name. The universe don’t need two Naboos, an’ I’m not bein’ mentor to a boy called Roppity-Poppity...’ ‘But Randolph, that is a good name, a fine name.’ ‘Yeah, that’d be OK, I s’pose.’ ‘Thank you. It is settled, then.’ She puts a hand over her stomach. ‘Randolph it is.’ Then she giggles. ‘I am very pleased, but Dennis’s family will not be. They are so traditional, they disapprove of him marrying extreme sports calendar model, and every firstborn male is always named Dennis. Father, grandfather, great grandfather, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis... But not this time. This time, we break tradition... Oh.’ She catches her breath suddenly. ‘You OK?’ ‘I’m fine. Just the baby kicking, I think he hears us. You want to feel him?’ ‘Well, I –’ I do want to feel, I want it very much indeed, contact with that small new life that is somehow in some weird way linked with mine. But touching the Head Shaman’s wife... might that be crossing the line? She grasps his wrist; places his hand on her belly. ‘There. Can you feel him?’ ‘I can feel...’ Yes. Yes. The kicking comes again, and oh, I can, I can feel it, can feel everything that’s going on in there, every twitch and heartbeat and... Blimey. ‘What is it?’ She’s looking anxiously into his face. ‘Naboo, what can you feel?’ With regret, he takes his hand away, and is surprised to find his cheeks are wet with tears. ‘I fink, you’re going to be able to make Dennis’s family happy too.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I mean...’ He sniffs, and wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his party robe. ‘There’s two in there. Twins. Two boys.’ Methuselah’s eyes are wide. ‘Are you certain?’ ‘Absolutely. So you can call one of ’em Dennis after all. The big one.’ ‘Dennis Junior and Randolph.’ She is laughing with sheer delight. ‘Randolph and DJ. Oh, Naboo, this is wonderful, we have to go and tell Papa Dennis right now.’ ‘Make sure he’s sitting down first.’ ‘Do you think your Saboo would stand mentor to DJ?’ ‘Dunno. S’pose we could just ask him.’ Just ask him... oh, fuck, of course, how could I be such a blind numpty? I know what Dennis meant now, the question I’ve got to ask Saboo, should have asked him already really, cos he’s been waiting for me to ask it, and hopefully he’ll say yes to her and yes to me and then everything will be all right... ‘Come on, then.’ Methuselah jumps to her feet. Naboo takes her hand, and together they run back through the sunlit rose garden.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #saboo #naboo #naboo the enigma #naboo/saboo #naboo/dennis #dennis the head shaman #dennis/methuselah #saboo/methuselah #howince #vince noir #howard moon #vince noir/howard moon #vince/howard #howard moon/vince noir #bollo

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

Text

White Wedding

Author: Beansidhe_Baby

Year: 2008

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Howard/Vince; Rudi/Spider; Anthrax/Ebola; Neon/Ultra; Naboo/Bollo; Saboo/Tony Harrison; onesided Old Gregg/Howard; Mr Susan/Sandstorm; the Hitcher/Old Gregg

Vince was having a minor make up crisis, there was a smear of mascara on his upper eyelid, on top of several layers of carefully blended eyeshadow. He sighed in exasperation and wiped his right eye clean and started again. This was supposed to be the best day of his life and the bloody eye makeup let him down at the last gasp. There was a soft knock at the door and Naboo came in without waiting for him to open the door. “I was sure I locked that,” Vince said, looking over his shoulder at Naboo. “I'm a powerful shaman, Vince. And there's a spare key on a hook out there,” he said flatly, “How's it going?” “I'm going to look like a slapper in my wedding photos, but, other than that, fan-bloody-tastic,” Vince muttered murderously at his own reflection. “We all think you're lovely,” said Naboo, in a rare moment of flattery. “Well I look like a lovely slag. Howard's parents are going to think he's gotten me pregnant or something...” “You're a man, Vince,” Naboo reminded him helpfully. “Oh yeah. Men still don't have babies, then?” “No.” ~-~-~-~-~-~- “Is this straight?” Howard asked anxiously, tugging at his bow tie. “No,” said Bollo without looking up from his magazine, “Vince a man.” “The tie, Bollo. Is the tie on straight?” Howard asked again. “Nobody look at you. Precious Vince radiant bride. Groom. Radiant bridegroom.�� Bollo said off handedly, flipping through his magazine. “I don't want to let the side down. If this goes on crooked I'll have to look at Vince wincing at the photos every anniversary for the rest of my life.” “If Vince love you when you look like that, he won't care about ties” Bollo sighed, closed his mag and got up to fix Howard's bow tie for him. “Thanks Bollo,” Howard smiled nervously. “Break his heart and I'll kill you.” “Yes sir.” ~-~-~-~-~-~- “Bridegroom or groom?” Lester asked an empty patch of air next to the guest. “I'll find my own seat, squire,” the mysterious green gentleman said, brushing past the blind man. He meandered around the pews before sitting himself down beside a tall man with a large afro who was staring at a man with an equally strange hair style “relieving” himself in the vestry. “Which of the grooms are you with?” the green man asked him. Rudi turned around and seemed to see the other man for the first time. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly, “My mind was elsewhere.” “What's up with the dress then, son?” the Hitcher, for it was of course the manwitch himself, asked. “Actually, that's a common misconception, this is not a dress, it's the robe of th-” Rudi started to correct him before he was interrupted again. “So you a nonce then?” the Hitcher cut across him, with an ever decreasing amount of tact “I am above base sexual desires,” he sniffed. “Oh so he won't let you then?” “I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.” “Mexican bloke? Uglier than a sack of pigs anuses? He's here with you isn't he?” “Excuse me, I have to go and speak to... anyone else.” ~-~-~-~-~-~- “I don't trust them, they're stealing our look.” “They look nothing like us!” “Look at her with her bloody milky lens. She's wearing your face! Doesn't that get you pissed off at all?” “Getting me a bit randy actually.” “If you're unfaithful to me I'll kill her and make you eat her heart.” “Christ, you're hot when you're jealous.” ~-~-~-~-~-~- “Are they still staring?” “...no” “They are still staring, aren't they?” “...maybe” “Why are we here again?” “We promised Naboo.” “Bloody Naboo.” “Play nice, darling” “One double date with them and we're part of this bloody extended family of theirs.” “Free champagne at the reception though. And besides, everyone knows that sex after a wedding is the best. Except for the poor sods getting married obviously.” “Those electro girls are freaking me out. The little one keeps making stabby hand gestures.” “Little? She's the same height as you!” “Shut your mouth!” ~-~-~-~-~-~- Bryan Ferry was waiting to walk Vince up the aisle. He peeked around the corner at the crowded room. It seemed to be largely made up of scene kids looking fashionably bored, slightly nervous jazz fans and a much bigger selection of various monstrous beasts. In the corner a man made out of sandpaper was discretely chatting up a man made of chamois leathers and jay cloths. He was feeling nervous. He wanted to be back in the forest with trees surrounding him on all sides. He'd sniffed his son's mother-in-law to be, on the neck, and it had all gotten considerably awkward. That would be interesting at the brunch for the close family tomorrow morning. ~-~-~-~-~-~- Vince walked straight forward and all of a sudden, everything else fell away. He forgot about guest-lists and flower arrangements and his hair, and all he could fit into his world view was Howard waiting for him at the end of that long walk. He hadn't seen what Howard would be wearing, they'd decided that they'd already had three lifetimes share of bad luck resulting from broken traditions. He had actually worn a suit. He'd been threatening to wear a Hawaiian shirt and shorts and Vince had been only just sure that he was joking. Vince himself was wearing an elaborate lacy tunic over a pair of knee length leggings. He hadn't felt comfortable in either a morning suit or the white dress so he'd settled for some kind of a mix of the two. He wasn't sure if the result was genius or just bizarre. The way Howard was looking at him, he didn't think it mattered anymore. ~-~-~-~-~-~- “You may now kiss the bride...groom,” Dennis said finally and looked eagerly at the blushing newly-weds. Howard shyly kissed Vince on the lips and Vince threw his arms around his neck. A plaintive cry went through the church and they broke apart to see Old Gregg sobbing onto the Hitcher's shoulder. “Don't worry about him,” Vince whispered, seeing Howard's slightly guilty expression, “He'll get some cock afterwards. Everyone loves the broken hearted ex-girlfriend at a wedding.” “We never actually went out per se, Vince. He kidnapped me,” Howard replied quietly, into his husband's hair. “You look beautiful,” he said, cupping Vince's face in both hands. “You're not so bad, yourself,” Vince giggled, “Not as good as me, obviously, but I think Gregg won't be the only jealous bitch wishing me dead by the end of the night.” “Get in me wheelbarrow, you cheeky vixen.” “I was always in your wheelbarrow, Howard. I was just waiting for you to bloody notice.” They kissed again. ~-~-~-~-~-~- Naboo was dancing by himself in the middle of the floor, pulling focus from everyone else, including Bob Fossil (who no one could quite remember inviting). He was intermittently accosted by small groups of girls who would whisper in his ear. Each time he would shake his head and they'd walk off, looking deeply disappointed. He was off his tits on free champagne (which wasn't all that free, considering that he was paying for the bulk of this wedding) and a couple of twelve skins he'd smoked in the jacks. He noticed Howard and Vince cuddling, or possibly even canoodling, in the corner and suddenly thought that going over to them would be a fantastic idea. “Howard! Vince! You got married,” he smiled widely and hugged them both enthusiastically. “Why aren't you dancing, it's brilliant! All these girls keep asking me if I want to have a good time, but I'm already having a good time, what're they like? Hey, hey guys whose name are you taking? Or are you going to double bar it? Like Noir-Moon or Moon-Noir. Bollo doesn't have a last name, you know.” Vince was looking around desperately for the aforementioned ape to get Naboo to go and have a little lie down somewhere and Howard was looking at Naboo with concern. “Hey Howard,” Naboo leaned in conspiratorially, “I always liked you. You're a good man-thing-horse. Thing.” Howard patted him on the shoulder and he staggered over to one side. “How come the room's moving? Am I paying for a moving room?” he said before falling backwards into his familiar's arms. He looked up and giggled. Vince smiled at Bollo, who grunted shortly and led Naboo over to one of the couches around the periphery of the room. He lay him down gently and when he tried to leave, Naboo pulled him back, almost on top of him. ~-~-~-~-~-~- “Look at that idiot making a complete arse of himself. I tell you Saboo, it's an outrage!” “The only outrage here is that I was talking to a number of lovely ladies and then you insinuated yourself into the conversation and told them all that I was here with you!” “You are here with me. You're the designated driver, you're here with all of us. If you go off with some bird, who's going to get us back? Kirk? He's worse than Naboo! And I haven't exactly been on orange juice all night either.” “Are you trying to imply that you could operate an automobile if you hadn't been drinking yourself into oblivion? I would pay good money to see you even shift gears.” “What? This is an outrage! Who are you? Jeremy Clarkson?” “You had no right to let those girls think that I was shagging a testicle shaped balloon animal.” “As if, you couldn't have me even if you weren't a prize tit” “I could too, have you. You're aching for me.” “Somebody's dreaming.” “I COULD HAVE YOU TWELVE WAYS FROM SUNDAY, YOU KNOB!” ~-~-~-~-~-~- “Alright, I'm going to toss the flowers!” Vince called out before a tide of womenfolk materialised around him. In the front, jostling for position, the goth girls and electro girls were trying to look casual and unbothered by it. Neon and Anthrax were glaring at each other while Ultra and Ebola conveyed their exasperation to each other with a shrug and a wink. Beside them, Mrs. Gideon was preening and smoothing her hair. Somewhere in the middle of the sea of girls, Eleanor, was managing to make every single man in the room anxiously down drinks and pray. Howard looked at the throng of women treading on each other's toes and jabbing elbows into ribs, with horror. This looked like a riot in the making. Decades of feminism and “doing it for themselves”, whatever "it" was, went out the window in the face of a bride(groom) throwing a bunch of flowers. It was absurd! He thought he saw Old Gregg in there somewhere.... The bouquet arced through the air, over the heads of the crowd, and the room was filled with the sound of fifty women (or close approximations) breathing in sharply. The flowers landed, with a soft rustle, in a pair of small hands. Naboo looked down at the flowers in his hands and back up at the murderous glares of the disappointed women. His cheeks turned red and he looked down again before thrusting the flowers towards Bollo. “'Sfor you,” he muttered. Bollo starting to eat an orchid before looking at the shaman's shining eyes looking up at him. Oh. He swallowed nervously and the Orchis saccifera caught in his throat. Naboo patted him on the back until his familiar stopped choking and shyly took his hand. The crowd of females looked less inclined to riot and some were blowing their noses and dabbing their eyes genteelly. ~-~-~-~-~-~- In the back of the hired limo, Howard and Vince necked like teenagers after a dance. Or, like two people who had just gotten married. “Made it,” Vince sighed and nibbled Howard's ear lobe, sending a gust of warm air into his husband's ear. “Just about,” Howard agreed, kissing the inside of Vince's wrist. “I still think we should have eloped and gotten married by Bowie,” Vince said against Howard's throat. “Naboo would have killed me if I took you away and robbed him of organizing the party.” “Cheeky little jack of clubs. D'ya think he had that planned with the flowers?” “He looked pretty surprised. I think it might have been a happy accident.” “I didn't think much of those wedding cake dollies. I looked hideous!” “Well, don't say anything to Leroy or you'll hurt his feelings.” “Oh alright. Howard?” “Yes, little man?” “I love you.” “I love you too.” “Pity Bono had that other party to go to...” “Vince?” “Yes?” “Shut your face.”

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

Text

Like a Hole in the Head

Author: IDeserveYou

Year: 2012

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Naboo/Saboo

He doesn’t know where he is: somewhere in London, presumably. There’s nobody in sight; no demons, but nobody to help him either. How long has he been left to wander around like this? It could be days. It feels like days. He’s starving, wet through, shivering, disoriented, and very, very pissed off. Fucking Board of fucking Shamen. It's all coming back now. How on earth he can be expected to work with people like that – Harrison. Dennis. Kirk. And most especially that little tit Naboo. Where are they when you need them? When it comes to the crunch, they’re all fucking useless. Muttering savagely to himself, he sets off down the narrow street. The pavement is cracked and uneven, making him stumble and wince at the pain in his blistered feet. He trips over a doorstep and almost falls: saves himself by grabbing onto the doorpost. At last. Somewhere with signs of life. There’s the heavy pulse of music, and a waft of stale booze and smoke: some sort of seedy club. Not Saboo’s usual scene, but the door is half-open and there’s no bouncer to turn him back. And the air coming through the door may stink, but at least it’s warm. So warm… he needs warm, he’s cold without the wrappings of Nanatoo's woolly scarf. He slips through the door and wobbles down a corridor into a gloomy, black-painted room. At first he feels a bit conspicuous teetering around in high-heeled shoes, but he's still too cold to take them off. Anyway the place is full of goths and nobody takes much notice of him. He waits for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Hang on a minute. Is that a gorilla over there with those two girls? Then someone bumps into him. Someone small. “Evening gorgeous,” the someone giggles, “fancy meeting you here.” Oh, shit. This is just what Saboo needs. He needs this like – “Do you know you’ve got a hole in your head?” Saboo can’t understand why anybody would be giggling. This is serious. Very, very serious. “Yes,” he snaps back, “I do know, I could hardly fail to be aware of it.” “It’s a good look for you. Very cool. You can see the lights through it.” Feeling terrible, Saboo leans on the wall. “Are you high, Naboo?” he asks severely. Naboo giggles more. “Yeah. Good to see you too, Saboo. You look great, you should wear a dress more often.” “It isn’t a dress, it’s a coat.” “Whatever, it goes well with the heels, you got a ladder in your tights though.” “I’m not surprised, I’ve been walking the streets for days…” The room spins, and Saboo slides down to the floor. Naboo kneels beside him. “You OK down there?” “Do I look like I’m OK?” Saboo snarls. “Why couldn’t I bump into someone competent, you plum duff? Why did it have to be you?” “Magic. It was meant to be.” Naboo is laughing outright now. “No, it sodding well wasn’t. You know I’ve never liked you.” The little shaman shrugs. “OK, I’ll go an’ call Tony then, I’m sure he’ll be happy to – take care of you.” “No way.” Saboo heaves at the thought. “I am NOT letting Tony bloody Harrison see me like this. And if you EVER tell him…” “What you gonna do? Bludgeon me to death with a shoe?” Naboo is laughing and laughing and Saboo can’t do anything except lie on the floor; the lights are dancing with the music and is that a gorilla over there with those two girls? He groans. Naboo puts a hand on his forehead, beside the hole. The touch is cool and Saboo can feel the power in it; he’d never known Naboo really had any, always thought he was only on the council because Dennis fancied him. Naboo smiles. “Yeah, it is a gorilla over there. It’s Bollo, you idiot. Yeah, I do have the power, how d’you fink you ended up here? An’ no, Dennis don’t fancy me, he fancies you. Don’t tell him I said that.” Saboo tries to sit up, and heaves again. Naboo leans down; speaks very clearly in his ear. “Tell you what we’re gonna do, OK? I’m just gonna tell Bollo you’ve finally showed up, leave him to get some action, then I’m gonna take you home an’ fix you. An’ if you ever tell the H-Man that I chose you over two hot goth chicks…” “What are you going to do?” But Saboo can’t think what comes next. Naboo shakes his head. “No comeback? Oh, dear. You're in a bad way. Don’t go anywhere.” He’s gone, Saboo feels the loss, the music is arguing with the lights and he wishes they’d both shut up. He shuts his eyes. “Hey,” a voice says in his ear, “don’t cry, it’s gonna be OK now.” “I’m not crying,” he sobs. “I – never – cry –” “Have it your own way.” Naboo passes him a tissue, and hauls him to his feet, one arm across Naboo’s shoulders. Naboo feels strong and solid and Saboo feels as though he’s floating… then he opens his eyes and realises it’s because he is floating… It makes him feel more nauseous than ever. He holds on tight as Naboo tows him out of the club, chatting away as though this is something he does every day. “Got the carpet parked out the back. I’m not s’posed to use it for personal transport, but seein’ as I’m rescuin’ a fellow shaman, I don’t expect Dennis’ll mind. An’ it’s a beautiful night for flyin’.” “You’re flying all the time anyway, you little stoner,” Saboo mutters. “Look who’s talkin’. You’re the one glidin’ along two foot off of the floor.” He has a point. And he’s right about the night. It’s truly beautiful. The clouds have cleared away, the stars are dancing with the moon and is that a glimpse of the Xooberon Nebula away up there between those two planets? Saboo hopes so. And he also hopes – Hang on just a minute, he must really be in a bad way. Naboo lets him sink gently down on the carpet, and smiles. “Don’t worry.” “I’m not.” “Are too. Your thoughts are all leakin’ out of that hole in your head, I can hear ’em loud and clear.” The smile turns into yet another of those infuriating giggles. Oh, fuck. “It’s all right.” Naboo clambers on board, and bends down low, so low that his silky hair brushes the other shaman’s cheek. His breath is warm against Saboo’s ear. “Dennis ain’t the only one,” he whispers, and launches the carpet up into the glittering sky.

~~~

Saboo never thought he’d be happy to be back in Naboo’s squalid little flat; but then, today has been full of surprises.

Naboo’s two waste-of-space employees are sitting very close together on the sofa when the shamen walk in (or rather, when Naboo walks in; Saboo is still floating). They move rather hastily apart and Vince says, too brightly, ‘Alright, Naboo?’ Howard is blushing. And wearing eyeliner. At least he looks better as a goth than he did as a nana. Knee-length floral Crimplene is not a good look for anybody, especially anybody with a moustache. ‘Oh, er, hi Naboo, you found him then.’ Howard crosses his legs elaborately. Probably hoping nobody will notice what’s happening inside his skin-tight black trousers. ‘Well, it was more like he found me, actually. Budge up a bit, Vince.’ Naboo shoves Vince along the sofa until the gap between the two humans is wide enough for him to push Saboo into it and sit him down. ‘Sorry to interrupt your romantic evenin’, but I need you to keep him warm while I get some things to fix him with. An’ be gentle with him, he’s been to the crunch an’ back, remember.’ Vince pulls an insanitary-looking rug from the back of the sofa and drapes it over all three of them. Saboo hates to admit it, but the warmth of the primitive fabric is welcome; he’s still chilled to the bone, and a carpet flight through the frosty winter sky hasn’t helped. ‘Blimey, you’re cold. I can feel the cold comin’ out of you in waves. Hey Howard, snuggle up a bit, this poor sod’s freezin’.’ ‘I thought you didn’t even like Naboo,’ Howard says in a puzzled voice, as he shuffles closer under the blanket. The cold makes speech impossible; and anyway, Saboo doesn’t know how to answer that. Or even whether it’s a question at all. ‘Do you like him?’ Vince asks, all guileless blue eyes. Saboo shakes his head and wishes Vince would shut up. Vince smirks. ‘Do you love him?’ ‘Shut up, Vince,’ Howard says, and Saboo gives him a grateful glance. ‘He does love him though, Howard. Or why would he be here?’ ‘Just… shut up about it, Vince, not everything revolves around sex.’ ‘Yeah, it does.’ Vince grins wickedly. Saboo relaxes against Howard’s shoulder. The warmth of these primitive humans is welcome, too; poor things, they have to keep themselves warm, their crappy planet doesn’t even know what hot is, you can’t rely on its pathetic local star like you can on the suns of Xooberon. Vince quivers with laughter, and says very quietly: ‘Did you kiss him?’ Shut up, you tit, just shut up, this isn’t funny, it’s too much on top of everything that’s happened, the demon invasion and the stress of working with Tony and the feeling of knitting needles thudding into flesh and the cold and the floating and the stars and awakening to a swift, delicate press of lips and a small voice whispering wake up, ballbag, we’re home… and the pain… The binding spell that held it all together finally fails, as Saboo gives in to the exhaustion he’s been fighting for days. ‘You’re bleeding.’ Vince’s voice is high with sudden alarm. ‘Naboo, he’s bleeding. What’s happening? Do something!’ There is warm wetness seeping through the coat or dress or whatever it is, and oh shit, it hurts, it hurts… ‘I’m sure it does. Hang in there, we’ll take care of you.’ Fuck, must’ve said that out loud. ‘Yeah, you did. It’s all right.’ Howard takes the hand Saboo didn’t even know he was holding out, and holds tight. ‘Hurry up, Naboo.’ Vince sounds panicky. ‘I’ll be there in a minute, OK? Just findin’ the potions I need. Can’t plug a demonic wound with just any old rubbish, you know.’ It’s more like two minutes and it feels like two lifetimes, but at last he is there, and Howard’s hand is warm and solid as Vince helps to strip away that ridiculous outfit, thankfully without comment. It could be worse. At least that damn gorilla isn’t here. He didn’t need to see this. ‘You idiots,’ Naboo squeaks, ‘you only told me about the one in his head, you never said he took four needles to the chest as well.’ ‘Sorry, Naboo. We forgot, there was a lot else going on… But you can fix them, right?’ ‘I dunno, Vince, this looks bad, I might ’ave to call Dennis.’ ‘Please don’t,’ Saboo whispers, and bites his lip with the pain. ‘Well, alright, I’ll do my best. We need to lay you out flat. Vince, if you’re gonna puke, go an’ do it somewhere else.’ ‘I’m not.’ ‘Good. Go an’ boil the kettle, we need hot water. Howard, can you…?’ ‘Like this?’ ‘Fine, yeah.’ Saboo finds himself lying with his head across Howard’s knees and two big warm hands holding him down as Naboo cleans away the blood and then does something with an evil-smelling potion that makes Saboo arch his back in agony, and also swear his tits off. ‘Sorry ’bout that, it does tend to sting a bit.’ Was that a tiny tremor in Naboo’s level voice? ‘It should all go numb in a minute, then I’ll just squeeze this frog over it…’ ‘Does the frog’s slime have healing powers or something?’ Howard asks. ‘Nah, but look at its stupid expression, if ever an amphibian deserved a good squeezin’ this one does. Then I’ll put some fillin’ in the holes an’ it’ll all be fine… Vince, quit fiddlin’ with those jars, that’s powerful magic stuff in there.’ ‘Shouldn’t this one be in the kitchen? It says “cherry pie” on the label.’ ‘Course it does. It’s the best fillin’ there is. Hand it over, an’ get us a teaspoon. An’ if you manage not to faint, you can scrape the jar out afterwards.’ Nobody faints, not even Saboo, although having your brain and lungs reconstructed with a teaspoon is not a pleasant sensation. Howard draws the occasional sharp breath, but he doesn’t let go of Saboo’s shoulders until Naboo drops the spoon back into the jar with a faint ‘clink’ and hands it to Vince. ‘There you go, knock yourself out, pity to waste it… Cheers, Howard. Saboo, ya ballbag, you still with us?’ Saboo forces himself to croak: ‘Yes.’ ‘Sit up, then, an’ we’ll see whether it’s worked.’ ‘It had better have worked.’ Saboo groans as Howard helps him to sit up and swing his legs to the floor. ‘I’m not going through that again. And I much prefer rhubarb, anyway.’ ‘Beggars can’t be choosers, sir,’ Howard intones sanctimoniously. Saboo is about to point out that this is something he neither begged for nor chose, but something in Naboo’s expression stops him. Little tit’s actually worried. ‘He looks alright to me,’ Vince says, sucking thoughtfully on the teaspoon. ‘You look a bit peaky, though, Vince.’ Howard gets off the sofa and puts a hand on Vince’s shoulder. ‘Bit pale.’ Vince is indeed very white and wide-eyed, his mouth stained a vivid cherry-pink. He looks at himself in the mirror. ‘I do, don’t I?’ His expression brightens. ‘Genius. It’s just perfect for the goth look.’ ‘Is that all you can think about – how you look?’ Naboo snaps. ‘Howard, get this idiot out of here before I shove a frog somewhere he didn’t even know I could.’ ‘Sorry, Naboo,’ Vince mumbles. Howard whispers something in his ear, and he nods. ‘I’ll – we’ll see you in the morning, yeah?’ ‘Whatever.’ Naboo turns his back on the two of them, and bends over to check Saboo’s injuries. ‘Those don’t look too bad, if I say so myself. I’m not really trained in magical surgery. Good thing you didn’t get a hole in the heart as well.’ His face is intent, professional, concerned. Those black-and-silver robes are stunning, even crumpled and stained from a night’s hard partying followed by a life-or-death rescue mission; and someone (Vince, most likely) has artfully applied eyeliner and just a touch of makeup, to emphasise Naboo’s wide dark eyes and fine-boned features. There’s still a trace of lipgloss on his mouth, that soft mouth, so gentle, Saboo knows he didn’t imagine it… Naboo looks up, smirking slightly; evidently not worried any more, then. ‘We need to get your core temperature back up. You’re still shiverin’. You wanna have a hot shower?’ ‘Won’t the holes –’ ‘Nah, they’ll be fine now. Look.’ Saboo steals a hasty glance, and is reassured: a large area of his midriff is covered by multicoloured bruising, but the four little round knitting-needle scars are already almost invisible. A chance to be warm again is tempting, very tempting… ‘I’ll wash your back.’ That shouldn’t sound as tempting as it does. ‘I can manage.’ ‘Yeah, I know, but I’ll do it anyway… I’d offer to wash your front too, but I don’t wanna push it.’ Naboo is giggling again. Saboo suddenly feels very weary. ‘All right, you know what? I give up. Just do – whatever.’ He wriggles free of the rest of his outfit and gets unsteadily to his feet. ‘Happy now? I’m standing here in my underwear, completely at rock bottom, and all you can think about is your own smutty little fantasy. Well, I hope you’re enjoying this. Because I’m most certainly not.’ ‘I didn’t mean it to sound like that.’ ‘Oh, and what did you mean it to sound like? No, don’t tell me, I don’t care. Just get me fucking well warm and then let me sleep. Just – ’ Naboo puts an arm round him, to hold him up. ‘Hey. It’s all right.’ ‘No, it’s not. It’s not…’ And now Naboo has both arms round him, and he’s resting his cheek on Naboo’s sleek hair, and choking out: ‘I’m sorry.’ Naboo gives him a friendly squeeze. ‘ ’S’OK, I know you’ve ’ad a tough week. Come on. Bathroom’s this way. An’ I promise I won’t look if you don’t want me to.’

~~~

‘Naboo, you plum, what on earth are these supposed to be?’ ‘They’re Howard’s pyjamas. You’re both tall… I thought they’d prob’ly fit you OK. An’ they do, look.’ ‘I am looking, and they don’t.’ Saboo glares at his multiple and extremely unflattering reflections in the bathroom’s many mirrors. ‘They’re a baggy nightmare. And for fuck’s sake, they’re paisley patterned. I cannot go out of this bathroom looking like this.’ Naboo’s mouth twitches. ‘Might look better if you put the matchin’ top on as well.’ ‘Somehow I seriously doubt it.’ ‘Well,’ Naboo says calmly, ‘you can walk round the flat naked if you’d prefer that. I know I would…’ ‘Well, I wouldn’t.’ ‘Thought not. But a shaman can dream, can’t he?’ Naboo passes the pyjama jacket, and watches Saboo shrug his way reluctantly into it. ‘Hmmm. Maybe I was wrong about that lookin’ better... Here you go, cover it up with this.’ He holds out a fluffy brown dressing-gown. At least it’s warm, and it does hide most of the offensive pattern. Naboo’s doing his best, even if it’s a bit crap. ‘Thank you,’ Saboo growls. Naboo smirks. But only slightly. ‘You’re welcome… and hey, Howard an’ Vince are makin’ us dinner, it was Vince’s idea to make you feel better an’ make me not be pissed off with him any more, which means Howard’ll be doin’ most of the actual cookin’, so don’t diss his terrible taste in nightwear in front of him.’ ‘I won’t. But you have to promise me not to laugh.’ ‘At you? I wouldn’t dare.’ Grinning openly now, Naboo pulls his robes on over his head, and jams his turban back onto his damp hair. ‘Come on, whatever it is it smells great.’ Whatever-it-is turns out to be macaroni cheese, great creamy mounds of it, and it tastes even better than it smelt. After his first few desperate, ravenous mouthfuls, the subtlety of the flavour has fully registered, and Saboo is able to withdraw his attention from his plate for a few moments, in order to look at Howard with a new respect. ‘This is delicious. Thank you.’ Howard looks back at him with mild puzzlement. ‘Are those my pyjamas?’ ‘I borrowed ’em,’ Naboo says unrepentantly and indistinctly, through a mouthful of cheese. ‘Knew you wouldn’t mind. An’ it’s not as though you’ll be needin’ em tonight, is it?’ ‘Ummm… well, actually…’ ‘Oh, c’m’on Howard,’ Vince laughs, putting a hand on Howard’s shoulder. ‘Naboo’s right. An’ they look better on Saboo. Still pretty ridiculous, but better.’ Howard blushes, mumbles ‘You’re welcome,’ shrugs off Vince’s hand, and starts fussing with the saucepan, doling out second helpings. Saboo takes refuge in diplomatic silence, trying to be sensible and eat slowly, sneaking glances at Naboo every so often as the little shaman checks his mobile phone – ‘Twenty-three messages from Dennis, anybody’d think he was worried about you, better send ’im one back to say I found you I suppose’ – while he tucks away a second and then a third helping. Naboo really is an enigma. How is it possible for someone so small to eat that much macaroni cheese without exploding? And how is it possible for an eccentric midget you don’t even like to wreak such havoc on your well-trained shamanic mind? Not to mention your body… He watches Naboo’s small hands flickering over the phone buttons; the same hands that had spread the shower gel across Saboo’s aching back, carefully going so far and no further, the power of the little shaman’s touch unknotting the tension until it washed away like the bubbles. It was bliss. He’d turned round to thank Naboo without even thinking about it. Only to find that Naboo was standing actually in the bath, which hadn’t actually been part of the deal, and that he was stark naked, which hadn’t been part of the deal either. How had he even got out of those robes without making a sound? And as to what was inside them – Saboo’s face must have registered his shock: Naboo frowned, and said quietly: ‘What is your problem with me? Is it this?’ ‘What makes you think I have a problem?’ At least I have fucking genitals… He turned away, staring at the crumbling grout between the off-white tiles on the wall. Naboo snorted. ‘Here I am, offerin’ you the smoulderin’ sexual release you so clearly need, an’ equally clearly haven’t had in years, an’ you look at me as though I’m a bat-dropping on your shoe, an’ then turn your back. Makes me wonder why I bother.’ ‘Why do you?’ ‘Dunno really, I just… Does there have to be a why?’ ‘Perhaps there doesn’t.’ Saboo had carried on staring at the tiles, while the water sluiced down and filled the bathroom with steam. ‘Haven’t you seen a third-sexer before?’ It wasn’t a challenge, or a condemnation; it sounded, if anything, sympathetic. Saboo shook his pounding head. ‘I didn’t know.’ ‘Not many people do. It’s not exactly somethin’ you shout from the rooftops. Even on Xooberon, which this isn’t.’ ‘Do they know?’ ‘Vince’n’Howard? Not unless Bollo’s said anythin’. Mind you, they’re unusual for humans, they take all sorts of other weird stuff in their stride, if they found out I ’ad no tackle I don’t think it’d even make ’em blink. Vince might ask a few embarrassin’ questions, but Howard’d tell ’im it wasn’t any of their business, and we’d all just make another pot of tea an’ carry on.’ ‘I’m not like them.’ ‘I’m not expectin’ you to be. Listen, I’m getting’ cold stood ’ere, an’ we need to sort this out one way or the other.’ ‘But I don’t even –’ ‘Oh, change the fuckin’ record. How do you know you don’t like somethin’ you’ve never even tried? I’m not a bat-dropping on your shoe, I’m Naboo, that’s who. Gimme a bit of respect. At least look me in the eye while you’re tellin’ me you don’t want me.’ Saboo had turned round and taken one look, and then dropped his gaze, his cheeks burning. ‘Go on, look all you like.’ Naboo’s voice had lost its waspish edge. ‘I know the timin’s crap an’ I won’t bother you if this really isn’t what you want. Or if you need more time to think. Third-sex isn’t everyone’s bag… but I never had any complaints before…’ Somehow Saboo had forced his eyes to meet Naboo’s, and he’d wanted to say something lightly humorous, like ‘I’m not surprised,’ to prove that he was still in control of this situation, but his throat had seized up. And as for being in control… ‘Alright, you don’t need to say anythin’, your body’s doin’ the talkin’ for you. An’ it’s told me all I need to know for now.’ Naboo’s grin lit up the steamy bathroom. ‘Now move over, I wanna do my hair. Towels are on the rail, an’ I borrowed some pyjamas for you…’ ‘You OK there?’ Howard’s voice cuts through Saboo’s reverie. ‘Can I get you anything else – more food? I think there are some biscuits somewhere if Vince hasn’t eaten them all.’ ‘Shut up Howard, I’m not a total pig, I always leave at least one just in case.’ ‘No, I – I’m fine.’ Saboo makes himself focus on the humans across the table. ‘That was great. Thank you. I hadn’t eaten for days.’ A huge yawn wracks him. ‘You look like you need to sleep for days,’ Vince says. ‘Tell you what, how about bedtime cocoa an’ a hot water bottle? You’ll go to sleep quicker if you’re warm. I always do. An’ I don’t need the hot water bottle any more, not since I’ve bin sleepin’ with Howard, he’s always warm...’ ‘There is such a thing as too much information, Vince,’ Howard cuts in. ‘There certainly is.’ Naboo wrinkles his nose in disgust. ‘Leave him alone, he’s making very sensible suggestions.’ Saboo yawns hugely again, and staggers over to the sofa. ‘Thank you, Vince. A hot drink and some non-human portable warmth would be very welcome.’ ‘Do I fall within that definition?’ Naboo asks very quietly, as Howard and Vince are bickering amicably over the kettle and the clearing-up and who’s done what with the stopper for the hot-water bottle. Please, no more tonight. There’s been enough to deal with today. And the thought of lying next to that small smooth body… so tempting, but also so terrifying. Saboo’s not entirely sure why he’s afraid. After all, it’s not as though Naboo could physically invade him. But the little one is already walking around in Saboo’s mind as though he owns the place, even though the hole is mended and Saboo’s thoughts are no longer leaking out… Naboo looks at him with those fathomless dark eyes, and he wonders how true that last thought is. ‘OK then,’ Naboo says. ‘Not tonight. Stay on the sofa – I’ll get you another blanket or three.’ Four blankets and a hot-water bottle render the lumpy sofa tolerably comfortable. It’s the first time Saboo’s feet have been properly warm since he broke into that charity shop and stole those ridiculous high heels. He’s barely got under the covers and already his eyes are closing. He murmurs a sleepy goodnight to Vince and Howard, but he’s not sure they’ve heard him, they seem very focused on each other… ‘G’night, ballbag. Sweet dreams.’ Naboo is smiling down at him. ‘No, shut up, don’t say anyfink you’ll regret in the mornin’. Just go to sleep.’ There’s a command in his words that Saboo is powerless to disobey. A dark tide of sleep rolls over him and carries him away, and he’s not sure whether the silken touch of lips on his cheek is the last impression of reality or the first of dreams.

~~~

On the sofa, Saboo dreams. He dreams of lights dancing with gorillas, of stars and music streaming across the sky. He dreams of a sleek white body and silken dark hair jewelled with raindrops, of kohl-rimmed eyes looking into his soul. Then the lights and the stars fade to dimness, and he is alone in echoing silence. His feet are cold. He looks down; he is standing up to his ankles in a dark pool. A tiny, fragile body floats just out of reach, its dead hair tangled around its neck and its dull eyes gazing sightlessly at him: black holes leading into nothingness. It sinks below the surface as he watches, and the last of the stars go out. There is nothing left. He wakes abruptly, shuddering all over and drenched in icy sweat. The hot-water bottle at his feet is no longer hot, but cold and unfriendly. He boots it onto the floor with a dull flump that sounds too loud in the echoing silence of the lounge. His heart is thudding wildly. He has a sudden urge to go and check on Naboo, to open the bedroom door just a crack, to see that he’s breathing; maybe to lean over, close enough to see that the pulse is still beating in his neck… Stupid, really. Of course Naboo’s perfectly all right. But it’s impossible to sleep without knowing. And his feet are cold. And the thought of the dream returning – Saboo pulls the dressing gown close round him, and creeps down the passageway. There’s a giggle from the bed, the moment the door creaks open. ‘Swallowed your pride, did you?’ ‘I’ve none left.’ ‘Hey.’ Naboo turns on the bedside lamp; he is no longer laughing. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘I was cold,’ Saboo mutters. ‘An’ you had a bad dream.’ ‘How did you know?’ ‘I saw it too. My shaman-senses picked it up. Either that, or we’ve both had too much cheese.’ ‘I’m sorry I woke you.’ ‘You didn’t. Those two did.’ There is a muffled thud and the sound of faint laughter from the next-door bedroom; then an unmistakable, rhythmic creaking, as of elderly and much-abused bedsprings. Naboo rolls his eyes. ‘At it like bloody rabbits. That’s the third time tonight, an’ it’s not even midnight yet. I mean, I’m happy for them an’ everything, but there are limits… Listen, I can hear your teeth chatterin’, you better get in ’ere, you won’t heal properly unless you’re warm.’ Saboo takes a couple of steps towards the bed. ‘Don’t pretend you didn’t come in here for this. Cos I won’t believe you.’ Naboo turns back the bedcovers, and looks down at himself. ‘D’you want me to put somefink on, though?’ ‘No, it’s all right, I –’ Explaining is just too complicated. Even to himself. Saboo strips off the dressing gown and drops it on the floor. ‘You get better heat transmission skin to skin,’ Naboo says, very seriously. Saboo sighs, and takes off the pyjama jacket as well. The bed is soft and welcoming; the covers smell of incense. He lies down, cautiously, flat on his back. ‘This way, I think.’ Naboo pushes him onto his side, facing the door. ‘More contact. I’ll turn up my metabolism f’r a bit.’ He pulls the blankets back over them both and presses close against Saboo’s back, with one arm over him. He takes several deep breaths, and his temperature starts to rise, and rise, until he’s as hot as a blue desert rock basking under the suns of Xooberon. There’s a sharp cry from the bedroom next door, then more laughter, and footsteps stumbling down the hall to the bathroom and back again. A door clicks shut, and then all is quiet. The warmth soaks through Saboo’s skin, through his body, right down to his freezing toes. ‘Better?’ Naboo murmurs, his breath tickling Saboo’s shoulder-blade. ‘Much better. Thank you.’ ‘You’re welcome. ’S’only a bit of energy.’ ‘No, I mean, thank you for all of it – rescuing me, and all that. I have to admit, I was pretty much at the end of my resources. I don’t think I’d have survived another night.’ ‘Yeah,’ Naboo says thoughtfully, ‘you were a bit wrecked by the time I called you in.’ ‘Called me in?’ ‘Told you I had the power. I was puttin’ out a subconscious signal irresistible to any other mighty shamanic mind on this primitive planet. Trouble was, you were out of it an’ not receivin’… Tony Harrison showed up days before you did.’ ‘Was he all right?’ ‘When’s the H-Man ever not all right? Thought ’e’d never stop drivellin’ on, the pink ballbag. He had some cock’n’bull story about you kickin’ ’im off the carpet for getting’ you lost, an’ then him landin’ on top of the O2, bouncin’ off into the Thames an’ bein’ rescued by the Royal Yacht.’ ‘I did kick him off the carpet. He’s a crap navigator, and bloody annoying to boot. But I expect he’s making the rest of it up.’ ‘He said the Queen invited him to dinner and plied him with champagne and caviar…’ Saboo snorts. ‘Tony has a remarkable ability to home in on alcohol. The rest of it’ll be pure bullshit. He probably raided a skip at the back of Tesco, like he did on the way to Kirk’s birthday party.’ ‘He did have a hell of a hangover. But he wasn’t in anywhere near as bad a state as you were. He’d missed all the demon action.’ Naboo shudders, and holds on a little tighter. ‘When that came to the crunch, it wasn’t pretty.’ ‘You can speak to me of the crunch?’ ‘Reckon I can now. I hit rock bottom too, you know. Six hours on the Northern Line an’ two bottles of tequila… an’ no magic. You’ve never had your powers revoked, you don’t know –’ ‘What it’s like to be helpless? I think I do, actually.’ ‘Maybe you do an’ all. Don’t mind admittin’, it teared me up a bit, seein’ you like that.’ ‘You disguised it very well,’ Saboo says drily. ‘Yeah, well… I’ve had a lot of practice at that. Keepin’ deadpan, not sayin’ anyfink. Makes life simpler.’ ‘You won’t say anything about all this, will you?’ ‘To the Board, you mean?’ ‘Yes. I – I’ve got a professional reputation to maintain. I can’t afford to have the others finding out that I’ve been – ’ ‘Dressin’ up in tights? Pretendin’ to be a nana? Fraternising with a council colleague?’ Naboo shakes with laughter. ‘Nah, don’t worry, I won’t tell ’em. I texted Dennis that you needed three days’ peace an’ quiet to recover from the evil killer knittin’ needles. Gave him way more medical information than he’ll have wanted. We’re not goin’ to get interrupted. Even though this is much more irregular behaviour than dj’ing with my familiar.’ ‘Talking of which… we’re not going to get interrupted by a gorilla, are we?’ ‘No way, I don’t sleep with my familiar. What sort of perve d’you fink I am? Bollo sleeps on the beanbags in the corner. Or in the broom cupboard if he’s been on a bender. Like tonight. He’ll come rollin’ in at four a.m. an’ crash out among the hoover bags. If he comes home at all… Is your back warm yet?’ ‘I’m fine now, thanks. Should I go back to the sofa?’ ‘Not unless you want. Plenty of room in this bed. An’ I don’t mind. Look, why don’t you roll over this way, then I can warm your front up too.’ Not even hesitating any more, Saboo rolls over and pulls Naboo close, hot and comforting against the dull ache of the needle-scars. ‘Can’t keep this up much longer, I’m afraid.’ Naboo’s breathing hard, as though he’s been running; his forehead is damp with sweat. ‘You should stop right now.’ Saboo puts a hand on Naboo’s chest. ‘Your heart’s going like a hammer. That can’t be good.’ ‘It isn’t. Generatin’ heat uses up a lot of energy. Good thing I had a third helping, thought I might need it… might have overdone it a bit there… Gimme a minute.’ He’s shaking all over. Saboo holds him while his breathing calms. His skin’s soft and smooth and his hair feels like silk and he fits into Saboo’s arms as though he belongs there and… oh. Fuck. Saboo shifts away, too late. ‘’S nothin’ to be embarrassed about,’ Naboo murmurs. ‘I’m the same.’ He takes Saboo’s hand and places it over his groin: firm and swollen and pulsing slightly. Saboo lifts his hand hastily away again. ‘But I thought you didn’t –’ ‘Just cos you can’t see it, don’t mean it ain’t there. It’s all internal. Adaptation to conserve water, apparently. Genetic remnant of our desert past. Rare, now. We can be fathers, but it needs a lot of ingenuity an’ an understandin’ female.’ ‘Stop being so blasted technical,’ Saboo grits between clenched teeth. He shivers. ‘You cold again?’ ‘No, it’s not that. It’s… it’s this, it’s you, it’s the dream, it’s being tired, it’s… I don’t know what it is.’ His throat feels tight. He’s losing it. He’s lost it. He should never have let this happen. He should be getting out of this bed, right now, and running away, far away. But he’s so tired… so weak… ‘Don’t cry.’ Naboo brushes the tears away. ‘I never cry. I told you.’ ‘Yeah, right. Well if anyone asks me, I never saw it ’appen.’ ‘Help me.’ The last shreds of Saboo’s pride are dissolving under those gentle touches to his cheek. ‘I can’t fight it, I can’t…’ ‘Then don’t.’ Naboo strokes his hair; kisses him softly, open-mouthed, until Saboo pulls away. ‘But this isn’t right – we’re professionals, colleagues on the Board, we shouldn’t, we can’t do this.’ ‘Stuff the Board. We’re mighty shamen, yeah? We can do whatever the fuck we want. As long as we’re sure we do want.’ Saboo buries his head in Naboo’s shoulder. ‘I do want.’ ‘I know you do. Just had to wait for you to work it out, didn’t I? Now, get your arse out of those ludicrous pyjamas. They don’t suit you.’ Saboo obeys happily, and stretches out under the covers, naked and hard and no longer embarrassed. ‘Beautiful,’ Naboo murmurs, running a hand down from nipple to navel, careful to avoid the bruising. ‘Just beautiful. Can I…?’ ‘Of course. That is, you don’t have to, but if you want – Oh.’ ‘Told you I ’adn’t ’ad many complaints.’ Naboo’s voice is warm with affection. ‘Go on, touch me too, you’re goin’ in there in a minute and you should know your enemy.’ ‘You’re not my enemy.’ Saboo strokes over the strange, smooth mound between Naboo’s thighs; dares to reach lower, tracing a fingertip around the edge of the opening that’s there, feeling it quiver at his touch. ‘You’ve come a long way from the bloke who turned his back on me in the shower.’ ‘We live and learn.’ Saboo thrusts against Naboo’s grip. ‘If you want me to fuck you, by the way, you’re going to have to stop doing that.’ ‘OK.’ Naboo stops doing that, and rolls onto his back. ‘I do want you to fuck me. An’ I want you to look at me while you’re fuckin’ me, an’ all.’ He kicks the bedcovers off and lies there smiling and slender and irresistible. ‘Do we need…’ Naboo shakes his head, grinning wickedly. ‘Just lookin’ at you makes me wet.’ ‘Don’t be coarse. Not when we’re about to – to make love.’ ‘Is this love?’ Naboo asks, as Saboo kneels above him. ‘Don’t ask me that. I don’t know. I’ve –’ Saboo looks away, blushing. ‘I’ve very little by which to judge.’ ‘Fair enough. I guess sex’ll have to do.’ Naboo reaches down to touch himself, and slicks Saboo’s length with wet fingers. ‘An’ maybe later on there’ll be more to it than that.’ ‘Do you want there to be more?’ ‘Well, yeah. I know, surprised me too, but like I said, there doesn’t always have to be a “why”.’ Saboo hesitates. ‘Stop over-thinkin’ it, it’s very simple an’ it goes like this. You want me, I want you, we’re gonna fuck an’ we’re gonna enjoy it, end of story.’ He takes firm hold of Saboo’s cock and guides him in. End of story? It feels more like a beginning. The opening is smooth and tight. It feels awkward and a little disconcerting: not quite where either a first- or a second-sexer’s would be. ‘Bit weird, huh?’ Naboo is smiling up at him. ‘At least it means we can do it face-to-face. An’ we can do this…’ He reaches up to caress Saboo’s cheekbone; draws him down for kisses, deep and sweet. When they break for air, Saboo has somehow worked all the way into Naboo’s body and it doesn’t feel awkward any more. ‘Are you all right? You’re still hot. And your heart’s racing.’ ‘That’s… not a bad thing, in this context. I’m fine.’ Naboo lifts his hips and pushes against Saboo’s weight, slowly; muscles ripple deep inside. In all Saboo’s sexual experience (three times if you don’t count Tony Harrison, and he always tries very hard not to), he’s never felt anything like this. ‘Open your eyes,’ Naboo whispers. ‘I wanna see…’ Saboo looks down at him, seeing Naboo with his veneer of cocky assurance stripped away, with his tangled hair fanned out around his flushed face, and his eyes wide and dark. He looks… vulnerable. And very, very sexy. Naboo smiles. ‘You look pretty fit yourself an’ all.’ Those small hands are everywhere, touching, searching, stroking; and something inside Naboo is tightening, drawing up. It’s not going to be long. The lights are dancing with the stars and Saboo can’t remember why he was afraid of this. Naboo gives a sudden sharp gasp. ‘Am I hurting you?’ ‘Yes. No. Don’t stop.’ Naboo rolls his head from side to side on the pillow. ‘That’s good. Fuck, that’s good…’ The lights blaze bright; Naboo’s smile brighter. ‘Little one… oh, little one…’ Naboo shudders and lets out a faint squeak. All the lights go on in a burst of whiteness; someone is yelling and sobbing. There is a thump on the wall. ‘Oi, keep it down will ya, we’re tryin’ to sleep in ’ere.’ Somehow this strikes Saboo as incredibly funny, and once he’s started laughing he can’t stop. Beside him Naboo is laughing too; they try to stifle the noise with pillows, but they can’t help but quiver and snort until they’re limp and weak. Finally they get a grip, breathless and tearful and tangled together. Naboo pushes Saboo’s damp hair out of his eyes and says very seriously: ‘I was right. You fucking well did need that.’ ‘Much though it pains me to admit it, you were. And I did.’ ‘Me too.’ Naboo stretches languorously. ‘Oops, I seem to’ve stuck to you a bit.’ ‘Did you…?’ ‘Yeah. Didn’t you hear me? Here you go. Share the proof.’ Naboo trails a finger through the wetness between his thighs; brings it up to Saboo’s lips. It’s musky and sweet and to Saboo’s surprise, utterly delicious. ‘I don’t always, an’ I didn’t expect it tonight, but seein’ you like that…’ ‘Like what?’ ‘Like’ – Naboo throws back his head and puts on an expression of utter bliss and abandonment – ‘like, “Oh, little one…” Tipped me over the edge, bein’ able to do that for you.’ He leans over for a kiss, warm and affectionate. ‘An’ now – ’ ‘And now I think we need to clean up.’ Saboo shifts uncomfortably in the stickiness on the sheet. ‘Got the perfect thing right here.’ Naboo reaches down beside the bed and picks up the paisley pyjama trousers. By the time Saboo comes back from the bathroom, Naboo is curled up in bed with his eyes tight shut and a peaceful smile curving his mouth. Saboo slides under the covers without disturbing him, and watches the pulse beating in his slender throat, the flickering of his long lashes, the even come-and-go of his breath. This is love. It is definitely love; and there doesn’t have to be a ‘why’. Naboo opens one bright eye. ‘Yeah, I know. Good, innit?’

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #naboo the enigma #naboo #naboo/saboo #vince noir #vince noir/howard moon #howince #howard moon #howard moon/vince noir

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