#rudi van disarnio

[ancientbooshartifacts]

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away...

Author: xThursdayNextx

Year: 2010

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Naboo, Bollo, Vince, Howard, Rudi

Episode 1: The Bantam Menace

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away... "Naboo the enigma, you have been charged with this most secret and sacred of tasks, do you accept?" "I'm getting de ja vu. Must have smoked too much in that cantina on Tatooine." "You must take this magical artefact and return it to us in our hour of need." "Alright, haven't got much on anyway." "You're sure you can fulfill this mission? The safety of the entire Galaxy rests on your shoulders." "Yeah, yeah, just hand over whatever's under your dress." "This is not a dress, this is the sacred robe of the Jedi Knights." "Pretty boring robe if you ask me, you look like a monk. See what I've got going on here, a vibrant blue teamed with a turban, giving off a mystical air." "The Jedi council has more pressing matters than the colour of robes." "It's a nice fabric, too, have a feel." "Er, yes, very nice. Now, take this." "Not very big, is it?" "Size matters not. You should know that." "Fair point." "Naboo, your mission awaits and time is of the essence. May the force be with you." "Live long and prosper." "That's Star Trek." "Sorry."

Episode II: Attack of the Stoned Some time later, a small flat in Dalston... "...What do you mean you'll be back in a decade or so?" Vince demanded, hands on hips. "Are you high." "Yeah," Naboo nodded, "But that's not it. I've got a mission to fulfill." "How do you know you've got to go back right now, you bumberclart?" Vince asked. Naboo tookn a puff of his hookah. "Read the stars," he shrugged. Vince looked up to see Get your arse to Alderaan now Naboo! spelled out. "Oh, I see." He paused. "Can I come? I've always wanted to go to the future, see what they're wearing..." "It's not actually the future, though, Vince, it's the past. See those other words up there, the ones that say 'A long time ago in a galaxy far far away...'?" "Oh yeah." His face fell then instantly brightened. "Retro space age. It'll be genius." "Go on then. Don't get in the way. Bollo have you got that carpet ready yet?" "Where are you off to?" Howard asked, smiling benignly as he entered the room. "Little holiday?" "Space," Naboo informed him curtly. "The final frontier," Vince added. "Isn't that Star Trek?" Howard frowned. "Whatever," Vince shrugged, "I'm off to check out the space age retro look, might even take a few photographs, maybe even get an article published in Cheekbone." "Yeah, Vince, there ain't going to be time for holiday snaps, this is a serious mission affecting the future of the entire galaxy." "And they entrusted it to you?" "Fair point." "If it's a serious mission, you know you can count on me, Howard Moon, man of action, space explorer, boldly going where no man has been before..." "That's definitely Star Trek," Vince cut in, "And what are you on about, there's whole civilizations out there." "And I, Howard Moon, shall, like a modern missionary, bring them knowledge of our Earth ways, our cultures and peace-loving nature..." "Earth cultures, that's a brilliant idea, howard, I'm just going to get some Gary Numan tapes..." "Right, you two," Naboo interjected, "Let's get this straight - no tapes, no culture and no messing about, yeah? Carpet leaves in ten minutes." Ten minutes later they found themselves sat on the carpet, Howard sucking furiously on travel sweets and Vince humming under his breath. Bollo lumbered up. "Right, Bollo, you finished now you hairy ballbag?" "Sorry. Space travel give Bollo weak bladder." "Right, commencing countdown, engines on." "Take your protein pills and put your helmet on," Vince grinned. "What?" Howard looked at him. "Bowie," Vince whispered back, as if it explained everything. Which in this instance it actually did. "Hold onto your hats," Naboo called back. Vince clutched the armful of headgear he had inexplicably decided to bring on the journey tightly to his chest. "How are we going to get there?" Howard asked, "Won't it take a long time?" "Nah, just your basic slingshot around the moon and we'll be there in no time." "Slingshot around the moon? Isn't that Star Trek?" "I got a bad feeling about this." ...Meanwhile, in a galaxy far far away... Leia clutched Han's arm and pointed at one of the scanners. "What's that?" "Looks like some kind of asteroid or small moon." Han frowned at it. "Chewie, can you get a closer look?" "Auuuuraaaagggh!" "You're right, Chewie. That's no moon!" "When you are the moon, sometimes people they look at you and they say you are not the moon. Cheeky bastards. Look at my chalky white face! I'm the moon!" Leia frowned. "And is that a... flying carpet?"

[ladadee195]

Chapters: 1/7 Fandom: The Mighty Boosh (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Howard Moon & Vince Noir Characters: Howard Moon, Vince Noir, Naboo the Enigma, Leroy (Mighty Boosh), Baboo "The Hitcher" Yagu, Old Gregg, Bob Fossil, Neon (Mighty Boosh), Ultra (Mighty Boosh), Original Characters, Rudi van DiSarnio, Spider Dijon, Hogwarts Staff, Dixon Bainbridge Additional Tags: Hogwarts AU, Hogwarts Second Year, Humor, Friendship, Alternate Universe, Best Friends, Mystery Series: Part 2 of The Boosh Attends Hogwarts Summary:

As Howard and Vince start their second year at Hogwarts, new adventures are abound, and mysteries are revealed and along with the consistent bulling and seemingly endless amounts of homework, Howard starts to wonder if he and Vince aren't as good as friends as he thought.

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Beyond Rudi's Door

Author: Jolieperruche

Year: 2011

Rating: PG

Characters: Rudi, Vince

"Enter into the door, and you shall find the answers you seek." "Yeah, I already told you, I'm not looking for any answers, I just needed to return this ascot I borrowed off one of the mod wolves." "Wolves? What are mod wolves?" "You know them, they're the furry guys in the blue suits? Howling around the jungle all the time?" "Ah. Those guys. Yes, I know them. Still, you must enter into the door!" "Yeah, whatever, if I go inside your door will you leave me alone so I can find Johnny Rocket and his mates?" "No." "Then I'm not going in. I didn't even want to go in in the first place! It's well weird in there." "You have passed the test." "What test?" "The door test. You see, most men would have gone inside my door, for it is within they can influence my mind to make me leave them. But you, you respected its sanctity and mystique." "Mystique. Right. Have you seen the modwolves or not?" "Yes, they're three kilometers down, third tree on your left." "Thanks."

[ancientbooshartifacts]

His Guitar

Author: LuridLolly

Year: 2011

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Rudi/Guitar

She understood him on a level beyond the seen world, beyond the petty lives of the shallow people surrounding him. She understood, and she called to him in the night with her unsung songs, waiting to awaken the world with him. He stroked the curve of her body, the long line of her neck. He ached to bring himself to fulfillment with her, to be borne up on a wave of music, to crest and break on the shore of eternity— “Rudi, what you doin’ behind that bush? Oh, for fuck’s—your guitar? Again? You are a sick fuck, man.”

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Anything Is Possible

Author: IDeserveYou

Year: 2013

Rating: R

Pairing: Rudi Van DiSarzio/Spider Dijon

Rudi and Spider wake in a heap on the verandah, looking out over the neatly hoovered courtyard, the morning sun bright in their narrowed eyes. The girls are nowhere to be seen, though from the bar comes the sound of snoring. The bongo brothers look at each other, and cautiously unwind their tangled limbs. ‘We didn’t…?’ Rudi looks hastily away. Spider throws back his tatty mane and laughs raucously. ‘No, my friend, you would know about it if we had. Although…’ And then the laughter has gone from his voice, and he is speaking honestly, as he never has all through the years Rudi has known him. ‘Although I think per’aps we would have liked to. And maybe one day we will, no? You think zat might be possible for us?’ ‘I do not know.’ Rudi watches the sparkle of sunlight on the water-trough. ‘I cannot see how.’ ‘Look into your mind,’ Spider says. ‘Use the door.’ ‘I do not think the door was put there for this kind of purpose.’ ‘Who is to say why ze door is zere? But it is zere, and ma door is telling me zat if you look behind your door you will see what it is zat might be possible. So look.’ Rudi pushes the door open, just a crack, and looks. Spider waits with an air of expectancy, hopefulness even. His eyes are very blue. Presently he says: ‘Tell me.’ ‘Your body...’ Rudi struggles to find the words to describe what he saw last night: the sinuous twist of Spider’s slim hips in silhouette against the torchlight, the tangled fall of his hair, the abandoned joy in his face. And how his own mouth had suddenly gone dry with wanting. ‘What about ma body?’ Spider stretches his legs out, glances casually downwards and shrugs. ‘It is ze same one I’ve always ’ad.’ ‘The way… the way it moves.’ Rudi looks at Spider’s belt, the way it lies flat across his belly. ‘When the music takes you, and you dance, you are… you are…’ ‘What am I?’ ‘Beautiful,’ Rudi says, and then he turns away, blushing. ‘I never saw it before. It makes me want to… to do things…’ He hears Spider shift beside him; about to get up and walk away, perhaps. He cannot look round. Then a hand is laid over his own. ‘Tell me of zese things.’ Spider’s hoarse, harsh voice is almost gentle. ‘Many people, zey want to do things with Spider, zey tell ’im ’e is sexy and charismatic and a bongo genius, but nobody ever told him he was beautiful.’ Rudi looks down at their joined hands, and takes a deep breath. ‘Promise me one thing, brother. Promise me you will not laugh.’ ‘I promise,’ Spider says. ‘I promise I will not laugh.’ ‘Thank you.’ Rudi opens his mind; dares to push the door open further, and look closer. ‘I want… I want to take you away from here. Just you and me, like it was at the beginning, when we were young and laughed a lot more than we do now.’ ‘Back to Cancun?’ Spider says hopefully. ‘Spider had a great time there, yeah, got drunk for two weeks and laid every senorita on the beach at least once…’ ‘That is not what I am talking about.’ Rudi sighs. Perhaps it was a mistake to think Spider could ever understand. ‘Listen, you got drunk for two weeks and had sex many times. I spent two weeks looking for you and another week sitting by your bedside in the hospital fending off weeping women and their aggrieved boyfriends. Spider may have had a great time, but Rudi certainly did not.’ ‘So, this time it would be different.’ Spider tightens his grip on Rudi’s hand. ‘Spider is older and wiser, knows how to have a good time without killing himself, yeah?’ ‘Spider, what I am trying to say is, that that was a good time for you but not for me.’ ‘Oh… but it ’as always been zat way, ze bongo brothers make an album an’ go on tour, Spider gets wrecked, Rudi takes care of Spider, Spider gets better, zey make anozzer album, zey go on tour again…’ Spider falls silent. Then looks up, his eyes full of sudden tears. ‘But zis time, ze door is telling me, it does not ’ave to be zat way, and I think you are telling me too, no? Zis time we ’ave a good time together, both of us, and Rudi my brother, I am sorry for all ze ozzer good times zat were bad times for you.’ He wipes his eyes on the back of his hand. ‘I am sorry,’ he whispers. ‘That’s… all right.’ Rudi pats him awkwardly on the back. ‘So will you tell me more?’ Spider asks, sniffing. ‘More about what you want?’ ‘Very well. I want to take you to a fancy hotel, it does not matter where. And hire a suite, run a big bath full of hot water…’ ‘Hey, you tellin’ Spider ’e smells bad?’ ‘No. Not at all. You are not the biggest advert for personal hygiene, but…’ Rudi leans down and breathes in the dusty, sweaty, spicy fragrance of Spider’s matted dreadlocks. ‘I like the way you smell. I should like to get to know it better.’ ‘Oh, by takin’ off all ma clothes, hmmm?’ Spider is smiling again now. ‘Yes,’ Rudi says, taking courage, ‘I want to take off all your clothes and look at you.’ Spider shrugs. ‘Precious little zere zat you ’aven’t seen already over ze years.’ ‘Yes, but I will never have looked at you in quite that way before. And when I have looked my fill, I want to bathe you all over, touch you all over –’ ‘And per’aps Spider could do ze same for you, no? Take off your dress –’ ‘This is not a dress. It is –’ ‘Ze sacred robe of ze psychedelic monks, I know, I know, I wear ze same dress too now. Just not all ze time, Spider likes ze support of nice tight trousers around his specially gifted parts.’ Spider hitches at the bulge in his crotch, then looks up and grins. ‘And you like it too,’ he adds thoughtfully. ‘I –’ Rudi is stilled, quivering, a rabbit caught in headlights. Spider’s grin is positively predatory. ‘Even you,’ he chuckles. ‘Even you, Rudi van der Sarzio, you cannot resist ze Spider and ’is eight –’ ‘Exactly. I cannot resist, I no longer wish to resist, I want us to free ourselves of our sacred robes and be together, with nothing coming between us.’ Spider splutters with laughter. ‘Except for nine ’appy cocks, per’aps.’ Rudi frowns. ‘Do not be coarse, my friend. This is a delicate matter. It may not be easy. I will admit, I do not have quite your… experience. I will need to feel my way…’ ‘Fine by me,’ Spider murmurs, shuffling a little closer. ‘You can start now, if you like… Ah. Too much too soon, hmmm? Is OK, stay zere, keep talkin’, tell ze Spider ’ow it will be when you make love to ’im, I am thinkin’ of you bollock naked on ze bathmat and then… does a bed per’aps feature in your plans for our future?’ ‘A bed… Yes.’ Rudi lies down again, his head on Spider’s chest. ‘A big bed with crisp white sheets. I want to pick you up in my arms and carry you to that bed and lay you down, and then…’ ‘And zen what?’ Spider’s heartbeat is loud in Rudi’s ears. ‘What will you do wiz Spider when ’e is all washed clean and lying in your bed?’ ‘I will kneel,’ Rudi whispers, ‘kneel beside the bed…’ Spider chuckles wickedly. ‘You will find it easier to reach if you kneel on ze bed. Zen you will ’ave ze choice of all eight, no?’ Rudi feels suddenly dizzy with the marvellous visions that Spider’s words are spinning in his head. ‘Very well. I will kneel on the bed. And I will lean over and…’ ‘Slide your big mouth over one of ma big ’ard pricks…’ Spider breathes, reaching up to trail a fingertip suggestively over Rudi’s lower lip. ‘I will not be in such a hurry.’ Rudi takes the finger briefly into his mouth, feeling Spider shudder beneath him as he licks at it and then lets it go. ‘First, I will kiss you. On the mouth, then on the nipples, perhaps, if that is something that you would like.’ ‘Oh.’ Spider wriggles ecstatically. ‘Oh, yes, zat is most definitely a thing that Spider would like. An’ when Spider’s nipples are as rock-solid as ’is cocks, zen what will you do?’ ‘I will kiss your beautiful flat belly, and your thighs, and then –’ ‘You missed something. What about ma belly bouton?’ ‘What about it?’ Rudi’s never really noticed Spider’s navel, but now he comes to think of it, peeking above Spider’s low-slung belt, it does have potential… ‘You want me to kiss you there too?’ ‘Ohhhh yes. An’ per’aps slide your tongue in, or a wet finger, as though it were ma –’ Rudi shivers with delicious anticipation. ‘I will do those things for you, my brother, and then I will kneel between your legs and – and – ’ He closes his eyes, breathing hard. ‘And do… exactly what you said earlier. With my mouth. And my hands…’ Spider gentles him; strokes his hair. ‘Easy there, brother. I know, zese things zey are not easy for you to say. But Spider is getting ze message, loud and clear.’ He shifts his position a little, just enough for Rudi to feel the hardness pressing against his lower back. Then he chuckles. ‘An’ when Spider ’as come all over your face an’ your ’ands, an’ ‘e ‘as finished apologizing an’ cleanin’ you up, zen what will you do?’ ‘I will roll you over,’ Rudi says with sudden boldness, ‘face down on those crisp white sheets with a pillow under your... specially gifted parts. And I will kiss you and touch you all over your back and your delectable arse until I am as hard as rock and you are begging me to – to –’ ‘To fuck me.’ Spider’s hoarse, needy whisper almost undoes Rudi on the spot. ‘Yes. To do that. I will prepare the way for myself, carefully, so carefully, I will of course have obtained the proper lubricants and prophylactics, I will work my fingers inside you little by little until you are wet and open and ready for me...’ ‘You seem to know a lot about ’ow to prepare a man for fucking.’ ‘I... read a lot about it. On the internet.’ Rudi blushes. ‘Many women write about it in great detail, and it seemed to me to be something it might one day be necessary for even a psychedelic monk to know.’ ‘It’s good zat you know. An’ one day you will know it with your body, an’ not just in your mind...’ Spider puts his arms around Rudi, and holds on tight. ‘Go on. What will ’appen next?’ Rudi heaves a deep breath. He has thought about this so often, but saying it out loud is an entirely different matter. And actually doing it – if this turns out to be real, and not just another of Spider’s crazy fantasies – will be an entirely different matter again. ‘I will...’ He clears his throat. ‘I will kneel once again between your thighs, and when my erection is suitably protected and lubricated I will spread you apart with my hands, and press the hot, hard head of my cock against your...’ ‘Entrance,’ Spider murmurs. ‘Or my ’ole, or my ring, I do not care what you call it so long as you get inside it.’ ‘I will be gentle, but persistent.’ Rudi’s cock twitches under his robes. ‘And eventually you will let me in, I will slide smoothly inside you and...’ ‘Oh. Oh...’ Spider grinds his hips desperately against Rudi’s back. ‘Oh, my brother, you ’ave undone ze Spider with your lovely filthy talk, I cannot ’old back ze floodgates any longer, I am coming, with all eight at once...’ Rudi doesn’t know what to say; just rolls over and holds the quivering, jerking Spider tight until the climax appears to be more or less finished. ‘Thank you,’ Spider whispers. His face is wet with tears; and when he pulls away from Rudi’s front, his trousers are wet with something quite different. He looks down at himself with a faintly puzzled expression, as though unsure what to do next. ‘Perhaps... a wash?’ Rudi suggests. Spider’s blue eyes come gradually back into focus. ‘Yes, I will go and wash and put on ze dress again, at least it is clean.’ He looks from his own groin to Rudi’s, where the purple fabric is standing up in an impressive tent, and grins like his old self. ‘Zat barn over zere is a good quiet place for a monk to practise some meditation while he is waiting...’ The barn is dusty and peaceful. Rudi pushes the creaking door shut, leans against it, and takes himself in hand under his robe. He summons up the image of Spider, dancing and swaying in the moonlight, and it takes only a couple of strokes before he’s spilling over his fingers and onto the dirt floor. As he’s wiping his hands clean on a wisp of hay, he hears shrill welcoming cries from the courtyard, running footsteps, and then deeper voices: the men of the village are coming home. More running footsteps are followed by a sudden creak, and Spider reappears in the doorway; somehow Rudi knows that he’s wearing nothing underneath that purple robe. The thought is intoxicating. And so is the music that’s just started up again. ‘Can you hear it?’ Rudi asks. ‘The new sound, in the music?’ Spider snorts. ‘Forget about ze new sound, let’s get out of ’ere. Some of zese men are big and tall an’ zey will not be too pleased to find zeir girlfriends ’ave ’ad some Spider Loving... do you think our doors will tell us the way to the nearest travel agent?’ ‘You mean that?’ Rudi is amazed. He didn’t think Spider could possibly be serious. ‘Of course I do.’ From now on, all of ze Spider Loving, it is for you.’ Spider kisses Rudi on the cheek. ‘Now come on, you big man in a dress, stop staring at ze Spider, an’ get moving. I wanna book zat trip. An’ it ’ad better be somewhere far away.’ ‘Why?’ Spider laughs, and takes his hand. ‘Because, ma friend, you ’ave told me what you would like to do to me, an’ now we’ll need a long flight to give me time to tell you what I would like to do to you...’

[ancientbooshartifacts]

In the Band

Author: Accio_arse

Year: 2008

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Howard/Rudi

Howard was, quite frankly, astounded. Here he was- Howard T.J. Moon, easily the greatest jazz player Yorkshire had ever seen, a legend in his own right- and he was on the verge of getting booted out of his own band. It was pathetic. He, he constantly reminded himself, was the one who'd come up here to play jazz in the first place, he was the one who'd started the bloody band! And it had been fantastic; he and Mrs. Gideon had been the king and queen of the Blue Aubergine. Together they had enraptured crowds, spun many-layered bebop duets- they were the toast of the town. And then had come Rudi. Rudi bloody Van Di-bloody-Sarnio, with his ridiculous Afro and his pompous, pretentious dress, and his door. Who had a door in their head, anyway? Howard had scoffed at Rudi when he had said, in that slow, measured way of his that he had gained the door because he was wise, that it allowed him to see beyond. Humph. And humph a-bloody-gain. Howard was wise! Howard was a guru; people climbed mountains to see Howard and get his advice on life. Or they would have, if Howard had lived on top of a mountain. The point was- Howard didn't need a door to be wise, he didn't need to put on airs and affectations. He was Howard Moon, and there was a simple truth to him that people appreciated. Except, apparently, Mrs. Gideon. For the instant Rudi had come swanning into their lives with his idiotic, affected 'rustic wisdom' and his jazz fusion guitar, she had attached herself to him like a particularly clingy limpet and hadn't looked at Howard since. She couldn't even remember his name anymore. And Howard couldn't lie; his music had suffered. But should it not have? Jazz, after all, was Howard's heart and soul, and between Mrs. Gideon and Rudi, both heart and soul had been fairly thoroughly trampled upon. He sighed, sitting at the empty bar, and ran a hand over the top of his trumpet case. The name label on it was now curling away at the corners, and unless you smoothed it out, it read Howard T.J. Moo. Moo, Howard thought bitterly, That's all I am. A great bloody useless cow He'd tried to plead his case with Mrs. Gideon, had begged her (in a dignified, gentlemanly fashion, of course) to let him stay in the band, to remember all the good times they'd had together, the music they'd made, but to no avail. Granted, he might have chosen a bad time to talk to her, as she had been practising scales at the time, taking calculated swigs of whiskey in between arpeggios to get the right 'cigarettes and booze' quality to her voice, and hadn't even noticed Howard standing there. Once he'd finished his beautifully constructed monologue on why he was an integral part of the group, she'd merely looked up from the piano, blinked at him, and inquired politely 'Excuse me, do I know you?' He groaned at the memory. The only option left then, was Rudi. And Rudi had no particular fondness for Howard. Not that he ever acted spiteful or nasty towards him- he really didn't act like much of anything towards him. Howard, to Rudi, was simply a part of the scenery. But, on reflection, that was worse than outright malice would have been. Howard bristled. How on earth was he supposed to convince him that he was worthy to stay in the band? The situation seemed utterly hopeless, and Howard slumped at the bar, listlessly picking at a sticky spot on the counter with one fingernail.

Howard was not allowed to stew in his tortured self-pity for long though, for the faint sound of cloth rustling against cloth came from the back of the bar, and a voice echoed behind him.

'What is this, Howard Moon? You look like a man sunk deep within the depths of despair. A man, I daresay, in sore need of advice. Perhaps I can be of assistance.'

The voice was deep and mysterious, and it lisped slightly on its s's and t's. Rudi. Speak of the devil. Stiffly, Howard lifted his head up off the bar and gave the other man a quick, obviously feigned smile.

'Despair?' He forced a chuckle. 'No sir, not me! I was simply resting my head. Thinking deep thoughts, you know how it is.'

'Ahh.' Rudi nodded magisterially, and his afro wobbled precariously. He looked up at it in irritation and steadied it with a hand.That taken care of, he turned back to Howard. 'Thought, yes.' He intoned, 'That force which sustains us all, yet which we so often take for granted.'

He stared impressively off into space for a moment, and Howard had to restrain the urge to slap him. Instead, mindful of the fact that he somehow had to ingratiate himself to this infuriating man, he nodded, raising his eyebrows in agreement.

'Very true, sir.' He said. When Rudi added nothing else, Howard cleared his throat and swivelled 'round on his barstool until he could casually prop an elbow up on the counter and face Rudi.

'Say,' he began, ever so casually, 'I actually was looking for you earlier, Rudi. I, ah, had something I wanted to talk to you about.'

'Oh?' The other man looked intrigued, and Howard was about to elaborate when Rudi held up a quelling hand.

'No! Do not tell me. I know all things!'

Howard eyed him dubiously. Know all things, my arse, he thought, but once again, he kept his thoughts to himself. Rudi's face was screwed up in thought, and after a long moment, he snapped his fingers.

'Aha! I know what it is you seek, Howard Moon- you wish to know the secrets of eternal life, for I have seen that as you age, you will only grow more and more hideous-'

'Oi!' Howard interrupted him irritably. 'There's no need for that. And that wasn't what I wanted to know.'

Rudi looked terribly disappointed. 'Oh.'

‘What I wanted to talk about,’ Howard continued, picking up a bit of steam now, ‘was the band. What’s this about you and Mrs. Gideon chucking me, mmm? You’ve got talent, sir, I won’t deny it, but to come up and usurp my place- I, who founded the band in the first place on nothing more than a dream, sir- and a burning passion for jazz- that is bad form. Decidedly bad form.’

He halted and drew a breath, forcing himself to calm down somewhat. He was supposed to be ingratiating himself with Rudi, not picking a fight with the man. Howard cleared his throat and flashed a tiny, apologetic smile. ‘What I mean to say,’ he said, ‘Is that I would very much appreciate it, Rudi, if you and Mrs. Gideon would reconsider. There is no band without Howard Moon, sir, and you will learn that quickly if you get rid of me.’

‘Hmm.’ Rudi stroked his chin pensively, tapping a fingernail against his sizeable front teeth. ‘Perhaps,’ he said eventually, ‘Perhaps I will talk to the lady. And I myself would certainly be willing to listen to any arguments you might have.’

Oh, thank you! Howard was about to say- only in a way which seemed a little less desperate- but one long brown finger snapped up to silence him, and Rudi fixed tiny, intense eyes on him.

‘If,’ he continued simply, ‘you kiss my balls.’

Howard gaped. He knew what this was; this was one of those goddamn bloody tests that Rudi was so fond of- the flute test, or the pancake test, or sellotape test, or the Finnish Language Efficiency Test, or whatever. Howard knew the drill; he knew how these went, and he was just about to give the expected response, to say that there was no way he was going to kiss Rudi Van DiSarnio’s balls, when a novel thought struck him with all the force of a weighted cricket bat.

What would Rudi do if he said yes?   The man would be completely unprepared for the sheer, raw sexual power that was Howard Moon. That in itself might be enough to convince him to keep Howard in the band.   And Howard... well, it was shameful. Yes, it was very shameful, but he would be getting one up on Rudi by doing this!   And it wasn’t as if he was whoring himself out, anyway; it was his own decision. This in mind, he looked Rudi straight in the eyes and said:

‘Very well, sir.’

And just as he’d predicted, Rudi’s eyes went momentarily wide, and he began to stutter wildly.

‘I did not mean- that is- Rudi Van DiSarnio is a man above the pleasures of the flesh! I am of the order of the psychedelic monks, I do not-’

Howard smirked at him, now feeling much more sure of himself- he had never kissed a man’s balls, but it was a decidedly satisfying feeling, having this much power over another person- and slid off his stool to the ground before Rudi. The other man fell suddenly and conspicuously silent, and Howard heard an intake of breath above him. He focussed on the drape of Rudi’s robe before him, and lifted the hem, stroking fingers over the fabric. It was deceptively light, and almost slick against the pads his fingers, like silk. He raised an eyebrow up at Rudi.

‘Nice dress.’

‘It is not a dress!’ Rudi snapped, ‘It is the sacred robe of the psychedelic monks.’ The retort lacked its usual vigour, however.Indeed, it sounded decidedly strained, and looking up, Howard saw that Rudi was biting his lip and the handle on his door was rattling, as though it had been locked, and someone was trying desperately to get out.

And with that, he threw the hem of the robe over his head and ducked underneath. It suddenly felt curiously as though he’d entered another room entirely, centred bizarrely around a pair of dark legs; everything was dim and vaguely purple, and the air smelt of sweat and musk and man. Howard wrinkled his nose. The only problem, though, was that Howard couldn’t really see much, and he didn’t fancy having a go at another bloke’s bits when he couldn’t see them, so he ran a hand up one of Rudi’s legs until he simply ran into what he sought. The thigh muscle gave a great twitch beneath his hand.

And then there- yes indeed, Rudi’s bollocks, and above, the quickly hardening shape of his prick. Hesitantly at first, Howard ran a finger over the shape of them, then stroked with all his fingertips, before cupping the sac, weighing it in his hand. Dark and heavy, fuzzed over with wiry black hair, Howard found that they were not at all unpleasant to the touch; rather, they were warm and soft, and he gave a light squeeze. Above him, he heard Rudi choke out a curse. Trying not to inhale any more of the smell of Rudi’s sweat than he could help, Howard leant up and pressed a soft, close-lipped kiss to the warm, roused skin of them.

There, he thought, I’ve kissed your balls.

But he had the notion that now he’d started the thing, he might as well finish it properly. After all, if Howard Moon was to be a filthy ball-fondler, he was damn well going to be a good one.

He pressed his mouth to Rudi’s bollocks again, but this time he opened his lips and flicked his tongue out, drawing it up and over the heated flesh, drawing a patch of skin between his lips and sucking at it until Rudi was cursing in languages Howard had never even heard of. Again Howard did it, and again, his hands braced on Rudi’s thighs, which shuddered and quaked with the effort of keeping him upright. It was pleasurable in a strangely absorbing way, dragging his tongue over soft skin, sucking and licking everywhere he could reach. Even more enjoyable were the noises Rudi made, the quiver of his body under Howard’s ministrations.

Closer and closer he took him until:

‘Howard!’ Rudi gasped, ‘Remove yourself from under my robe, I’m- fuck- I’m almost-’

And hastily Howard did remove himself, for though he had, not moments before, literally been licking Rudi’s balls, he had no desire to get any of his bodily fluids on him. He straightened awkwardly to see Rudi palming himself desperately through the gorgeous silk of his robe, biting hard at his lip, little grunts escaping from the back of his throat. Howard’s mouth went dry watching him, and a little whimper tripped across his lips.

Suddenly, the door in Rudi’s head flew open and a rapturous cry tore itself from his throat; he surged up onto the balls of his feet and his whole body went rigid for a moment, save for the movement of his hips against his own hand. His face was twisted in ecstasy for one moment, two, three, before he sagged, collapsing against a table, breathing heavily.

‘Howard,’ he murmured, beckoning with a quick curl of two fingers, and Howard- suddenly awkward once again- shuffled over.Rudi let out another grunt, and Howard started when he saw a hand- identical to Rudi’s own- making its way out of the door in his head. It clutched a piece of paper, which Howard took nervously. Rudi smiled a lazy, sated sort of smile at him, and nodded at the paper.

‘Read of the wisdom of the door, Howard Moon.’

The paper crinkled loudly as Howard unfolded it, and once open, large, black-printed words stared back at him: You’re still not in the band. Sorry.

For a moment, Howard didn’t fully process what the paper said, his mind still fogged with what he’d just been doing, what he’d just seen. After that moment passed, however, and the message hit him, he looked at Rudi with renewed loathing.

‘You bastard.’ He said, and punched Rudi full in the face.

All things considered, it’s not really a wonder Howard didn’t play jazz after that.

[ancientbooshartifacts]

A Man like Rudi

Author: Culumacilinte

Year: 2008

Rating: R

Pairing: Rudi Van DiSarnio/Spider Dijon

Rudi Van DiSarnio is a holy man.  He is a priest; a brother of the order of the psychedelic monks; a man above the crude, carnal pleasures of drink and smoke and loose women.  Rudi has a door; he needs none of these things.   Rudi has his music, his Miranda, he has his quests- always searching, is Rudi, for the higher place.  It is, after all, in that place that a man like Rudi Van DiSarnio belongs.  He is not for this world.

But even a man like Rudi is not perfect.

And if the bandmate of a man like Rudi should slip into his bed, should pin him to the mattress with sinewy arms and legs as strong as sin; well, that’s not Rudi’s fault.  If he should mark his way up and down a man like Rudi’s neck with kisses that taste like tequila and overeager teeth and a scratchy moustache; well, it’s not as if Rudi can do anything about it.  If, perhaps, a man like Spider Dijon should whisper filthy things into a man like Rudi’s ear until he’s moaning with want on the bed, his robe rucked up around his thighs-

-(‘It’s a fucking dress, you know?’  Spider growls at him, grinning like an animal. ‘Look at you- the great Rudi- getting fucked with your dress up like some kind of harlot!  Eh?  That what you are, my brother?’

And Rudi groans and presses back against Spider, feeling every inch inside him, the door in his head knocking unceremoniously against the headboard)-

-and his legs wrapped around Spider’s skinny waist; well, that’s really not in Rudi’s jurisdiction at all.  Not at all.  And if a man like Rudi should beg, beg with his voice broken and breathless to be touched, to be licked and stroked and owned by a man like Spider Dijon… Well, maybe it sort of is Rudi’s fault.

Just a little.

But mostly it’s Spider’s fault; and when Rudi tells him this afterwards, when he’s lying on his bed loose and exhausted and hazed over with pleasure with Spider next to him, Spider just grins that wide, mad grin of his.  

‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘Yeah it is. It’s gonna be Spider’s fault the next seven times, too.’

[ladadee195]

Chapters: 5/7 Fandom: The Mighty Boosh (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Howard Moon & Vince Noir Characters: Howard Moon, Vince Noir, Naboo the Enigma, Leroy (Mighty Boosh), Baboo "The Hitcher" Yagu, Old Gregg, Bob Fossil, Neon (Mighty Boosh), Ultra (Mighty Boosh), Original Characters, Rudi van DiSarnio, Spider Dijon, Hogwarts Staff, Dixon Bainbridge Additional Tags: Hogwarts AU, Hogwarts Second Year, Humor, Friendship, Alternate Universe, Best Friends, Mystery Series: Part 2 of The Boosh Attends Hogwarts Summary:

As Howard and Vince start their second year at Hogwarts, new adventures are abound, and mysteries are revealed and along with the consistent bulling and seemingly endless amounts of homework, Howard starts to wonder if he and Vince aren't as good as friends as he thought.

[ladadee195]

Chapters: 2/7 Fandom: The Mighty Boosh (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Howard Moon & Vince Noir Characters: Howard Moon, Vince Noir, Naboo the Enigma, Leroy (Mighty Boosh), Baboo "The Hitcher" Yagu, Old Gregg, Bob Fossil, Neon (Mighty Boosh), Ultra (Mighty Boosh), Original Characters, Rudi van DiSarnio, Spider Dijon, Hogwarts Staff, Dixon Bainbridge Additional Tags: Hogwarts AU, Hogwarts Second Year, Humor, Friendship, Alternate Universe, Best Friends, Mystery Series: Part 2 of The Boosh Attends Hogwarts Summary:

As Howard and Vince start their second year at Hogwarts, new adventures are abound, and mysteries are revealed and along with the consistent bulling and seemingly endless amounts of homework, Howard starts to wonder if he and Vince aren't as good as friends as he thought.