Licking the Salt from the Biscuit of Life - BOOSHFIC: Mistletoe Threeway Part 4/8?

> Recent Entries
> Archive
> Friends
> User Info
> My Live Journal Account

Links
My Booshy Masterlist - all fics, picspams, icons, essays etc

My HP fanfics

My fave other people's Booshfics on LJ

Some fics of mine
Truly, Madly Fishy (Boosh fic, Howard/ Old Gregg, Howard/ Vince)

Get Foxed (NC-17)

Bongos In The Hub (Torchwood/Boosh)

Lupin Triumphant (Lupin/Snape, NC-17)

Mighty Boosh images
Mighty Boosh series three
Mighty Boosh icons
Mighty Boosh picspam

Online Places
The Mighty Boosh asylum
Sigune on Deviant Art
Boosh Slash Haven Archive
Pokey The Penguin
BBC Listen Again radio comedy

Handy Stuff For Me
My fic drafts
Post an entry
Log in
Log out

February 19th, 2008


Previous Entry Add to Memories Tell a Friend Next Entry
09:32 pm - BOOSHFIC: Mistletoe Threeway Part 4/8?
Title: Mistletoe Threeway Part 4/8?
This part by: [info]accio_arse, collaboration with [info]easilyled
Characters: Howard, Vince, Dennis the Head Shaman, Lester Corncrake, other
Pairings: YES! AND MUCH SEXUAL TENSION TOO!
Word Count: 5400
Rating: this part (R), series (NC-17)
Beta: wonderful work by [info]darksafari and [info]artistsonly
Summary: Howard and the Head Shaman meet again for the first time since Howard’s fateful devirginisation.

Part One
Part Two
Part Three



*

Dennis the Head Shaman flew backwards through the air, his cloak streaming in front of his face and his arms spinning like a windmill on in a gale. There was a sickening thud as he hit the ground.

Howard stretched his knuckles, grimacing with satisfaction. Finally, he’d hit the right person. He ran around the side of the flying carpet and over to where Dennis lay.

Dennis was sprawled on his back, groaning. A few feathers from his headdress stuck up around his bald head, the rest were already flattened down by the rain. He lifted his hand, gesturing to Howard in acknowledgement. “I can tell you’re a bit upset.”

“Upset? You lost me everything! You wanker!” Howard roared as he kicked Dennis in the ribs, and angling back, got ready to kick again.

“Enough!” Dennis lifted his outer robe to reveal a glint. Even through the downpour, there was the sound of metal scraping across metal.

Howard stepped back, stretching his arms out wide, and yelling across the hiss of rain. “Well, go on then, kill me! Or are you going to fuck me first? Isn’t that the way you usually work?”

Using slow, deliberate movements, Dennis returned the sword to its scabbard. “No. I told you. I just want to talk.” He stood up, brushed some street debris from his robe – gravel, a crisp packet and two used condoms - and climbed back onto his carpet. “Get on. We’ll go somewhere.”

“Go with you? Hah! You must be off your head!” And with that, Howard spun on his heels, and took off down the street.

His already-wet Jesus sandals were slipping all over the place as he ran. It was as if he’d tied a pair of uncooperative halibuts to his feet. For a second, Howard dared a look to the side, and he skidded so hard he almost fell.

Dennis had kicked his carpet into a low gear and was just cruising beside him, kerb-crawling along with a nonchalant air. What was worse, the rain wasn’t coming anywhere near the flying carpet. A wonderful dry bubble somehow surrounded him. Howard grit his teeth, put his head down and ran even faster. His hatred intensified with every soggy stride.

Howard’s lungs were burning now, his back was aching and a pain was stabbing him right through his side. All he’d had to eat since lunchtime yesterday was one pack of pickled onion crisps. He didn’t think he could keep this running up for long on that.

As he sprinted round a corner, Howard saw a light.

Dennis pointed at the illuminated building, “I believe that may be a place of mortal refreshment! We may stop – yes?”

Howard squinted through the downpour. It looked like Ma O’Bunions Greasy Spoon and Potato Bar.

“Would that be an acceptable place of gathering?”

It would be dry in the café. There would be food there, too - and people. Other people. It would be safe. Howard came to a decision, skidding through a pool of water to stand, gasping. “Yeah. Why… not?”

Dennis’s face lit up. “You agree to my proposal? We shall talk?”

Howard’s knuckles were still red and raw from where they’d slammed against Dennis’s face. Now they’d been battered frozen on his run and were stiff and swollen. Carefully, he slipped them in his pockets.

He let himself think of breakfast. Cooked breakfast. Mounds of food, so hot they hissed and sizzled. Hunching his shoulders, he began to slosh through the cold puddles towards the light. “Yeah, okay. We talk. But only if we eat. And you’re paying.”

*

“I can only offer my humble apologies.”

Howard snorted. He dipped his sausage in ketchup, stuck it in his mouth and chewed.

“Do you accept my contrition?” Dennis stretched out with his fingertips, almost reaching the bruise on Howard’s face.

Howard stabbed wildly at him with his fork. Splats of red hit the tablecloth. “Hey, you! I said no touching! Stay on your side of the table!”

Dennis dropped his hand, but his albino eyes kept staring. “You tell me this now, but that’s not what you said last night. You told me to proceed with the lovemaking. You insisted I tighten the bonds. When I struck your face, your manhood only hardened the further.”

Howard shot a look around, in case any other customers were listening in. He bent in closer. ““Keep it down! Yeah, when I thought I was doing it with Vince! Haven’t you got it at all yet?”

“Yes. I thought it preferable to use the girlish one’s body. You seemed to enjoy mouth to mouth contact with him - and he came surprisingly well equipped.”

“So that was it? Just steal Vince for the night? Didn’t you think about him? That he might not want his body stolen?”

Dennis sat back in his chair, apparently bewildered by this concept.

Howard speared a sausage. He eyed it with some violence. A few bites, and it was gone.

“In any case, that is not my reason for requesting this gathering. No. Naboo has informed me you no longer are in his employ.”

Howard raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Funny thing, that. It happened right after he found me tied up and naked, and you scuttling away down the stairs.”

“At least let me help you in this. I can find you alternative employ.”

Howard laughed through a mouthful of beans. He leant in again. “Really? Why the sudden concern? Last night, the only thing you wanted from me, if I remember, was that I should suck you off like a good little bitch.” He sat back, suddenly suspicious. “Or is that what…?”

Behind Dennis’s eyes flashed a sudden spark.

Howard jabbed forward with his fork, trying to redefine some personal boundaries. “No way! Forget I said it! That’s never going to happen! Not again, anyway...”

Dennis set his white fingers on the table, interweaving them and thinking deeply. Finally, he heaved a sigh. “Alas. That it should come to this. But it seems that I must tell you all.” And with that, he began to unbutton his shirt.

Howard’s fork clattered down. “Hey! Stop that! No! You can’t get naked in a greasy spoon!”

But Dennis had already pulled his shirt down, as far as a rosy left nipple, down to several lines of tattoos curving across his chest like blue waves on the sea. Then he opened his shirt even further, and bared his ribs – the same ribs which Howard had been kicking at fiercely just a short while ago.

“My wife – Methuselah – she did this. With a squash racket.” Dennis gestured at himself, and then to Howard’s face. “Just as I have done that to you.”

Howard stared in horror. There were huge bruises flaring across Dennis’s side like fireworks – blue, green and violet, tinting to jaundiced yellow at the edges. “Why the hell did she do that?”

Dennis pulled his shirt closed. “I asked her. The same way, last night, you asked me.”

“No, I didn’t…”

“But I saw it. I saw your pleasure. I saw your manhood stiffen as I struck you.”

Howard sat back from the table, appalled.

“It is good, is it not? After it is done? There is a kind of pleasure in it. A fire.”

Before he could stop himself, Howard was nodding. He clenched his fists, trying to hold himself back from revealing any more.

“Howard! Do not feel such shame!”

To his horror, Howard felt himself flush.

“And the others - you must not tell them. They will not understand. They will despise you.”

“They… despise me?”

“Of course! Have they not done so already? Thrown you out upon the streets of a cold winter night?”

Howard swallowed. He gave another little nod.

“Yes! Like a bucket of llama’s scrotum parts, once they are too old and withered to be of use any longer! Whoosh! Into the gutter!” Dennis made a brusque gesture to illustrate, and ended by clasping his hand down onto Howard’s. “So you see, those who are like us, we must stand together!”

This time, Howard didn’t even flinch at the contact. He was too busy remembering. Last night - when he’d been tied up, and hit, and had his…. reaction. Vince had been there the whole time. Watching it all. Seeing what Howard was really like.

And the next morning, when they’d been kissing - what had Howard done? Only gone and hit him! By now, Vince must think that Howard couldn’t get even slightly aroused without some form of extreme violence being necessary.

Dennis was stroking Howard’s hand now, lingering on the rawness around the knuckles, dragging across it with his large, white fingers. “Yes, we are alike. We are as brothers, yes?”

Howard nodded again. It felt as though he was hardly there.

“Good! Now. The first thing. You have no place to live, correct?”

Howard came to in time to catch the last few words. “Actually, I…”

“But you do not. I saw you standing there in the rain. Alone, wretched and pathetic. Like a badly smelling llama that is also a eunuch.”

“No, it’s just while…”

“So I will find you somewhere to live! Wait! I shall do this thing for you!”

Dennis gave Howard’s hand a final squeeze. Then he threw the sleeves of his robe back with a flourish, whipped out his mobile and began tapping on the keys like a demon.

Howard looked around. His head was in a blur. People were talking, eating, drinking tea, shaking rain off their coats at the door… it all seemed normal enough. Harmless, even. Now Howard knew better. If these people knew what he was like, if they knew how he’d got this bruise, he’d be thrown out of here and shunned, just like he had at the Nabootique.

He brought his fingers to the side of his face and pushed at his bruise. It ached, but that was somehow okay. Manageable. Unlike so much else in his life right now.

But perhaps… if he just sat down quietly for a little while… perhaps it all could just wait till later… Howard’s eyes fluttered. The sausage, bacon, and everything else were starting to hit his digestion like a big, warm sleepy brick. His surroundings began fading in and out.

Dennis was still shouting into his mobile, mostly in a language foreign to Howard. He laughed, and it sounded very far away. As if down a dank, deep, clanging tunnel. There was a tiny little digital beep – like the Control Tower of Howard’s brain had finally given him permission to sleep. Howard’s head slumped over to the side. He began to drift.

Suddenly, he leapt up. A great heavy slap had landed on his shoulder.

Dennis’s voice was very loud and near. “Good news, my friend! Eat up!”

Howard picked up his fork. He stared at the last few beans on his plate.

“More quickly! With all speed! We must depart!”

“Oh… Where to?”

“You are in luck - I have found a place, and very close! Now - the time for eating is over! The time for leaving has begun!”

“Oh. Okay. Right. Give me a minute, then.” Getting to his feet, Howard staggered in the direction of the café toilet.

A few seconds later, he’d clanged open the door of the cubicle, undid his belt, and been reminded in the blood still seeping from his arse of what Dennis had done to him the night before.

Howard was suddenly a lot more awake.

When he came back into to the café, Dennis just standing there, completely relaxed, for all the world as if everything was just fine between them. Dennis was waiting for Howard. He held open the front door of the café and bared his teeth in a kind of a smile.

Howard glanced back at the table they’d just been sitting at. It was already full with new customers. There were no empty spaces left anywhere in the breakfast-time rush, no room for someone without money to quietly disappear.

Winter rain was whipping now through the open front door. Howard hadn’t even stepped outside, but his clothes already felt like they were freezing back against his body. A lady pushed past him, shoving him even closer to Dennis as she made her way to the back of the jostling queue.

It was then, with a thud, that Howard realised what was going to happen.

All he needed was a place to go, somewhere to sleep, somewhere away from the rain and loneliness and the cold winter night. Somewhere he could just curl up in a ball until all of this had gone away.

Dennis had promised him a place. And so Howard was going with Dennis. It was as simple as that.

Howard pulled up the collar of his coat. As he left the building, he tried not to make contact with Dennis or any part of his smugly outstretched arm. And there Howard was, out on the street. He’d made his decision.

Dennis followed, unrolling his magic carpet, and throwing it so that it rose with a hum to hover several feet above the tarmac. Taking a run-up, he landed expertly and cross-legged on top.

At first, Howard was too tired to climb aboard. Head bent, he just stood beside the carpet, dimly grateful for its dryness amid the storm. All around him, rain was flicked away by some invisible shamanistic force field.

Eventually, Howard attempted to get on. And after several goes, he was sprawled on the carpet, clinging to its saggy centre.

And then they were off.

The carpet gave a sharp swerve, knocking Howard back down from the seated position he’d managed to work up to. He lay face down again, flat against the pile. Slowly, he untangled himself once more. He looked over at Dennis, ramrod-straight at the helm, arms crossed and head high as he steered the carpet.

Dennis spared a look at his ungainly passenger, and smirked, showing teeth all the way back to the canines. Howard suspected he was being mocked.

He managed to wobble himself up into a kneeling position. “Thought this was supposed to be a magic carpet. I’d say it’s more like a very tedious one.” Howard harrumphed at his own joke.

Dennis turned around. “Oh. Did you wish for the scenic route? You should have made a request. I could have looped by the Pyramids of Dalston.”

Howard grabbed on tightly as they took another corner. “Yeah, why not? The Oblongs of Hackney while you’re at it, too.”

Then the carpet screeched to a sudden halt, and Howard fell over all over again.

“In any case, you are too late. We have arrived.”

Howard set his wet hat at a jaunty angle, pulled his overcoat into shape, and attempted to dismount.

“Howard? Was it your intention to fall into that mud-filled drainage system? Do you require assistance?”

“No! No! I’m alright! Just… urrgh… might be a bit carpet sick. Too many sausages. That last one is repeating on me.”

But at the first “no” Dennis was already marching away, through the rain and towards the bright entrance of a high-rise apartment building.

Howard inspected his arm. He’d acquired some new dirt in his fall, down his arm and behind his elbow, the colour of twice-distilled night but smelling far more foul.

He picked himself up. The street was narrow and bare. The grey on grey of buildings loomed up and down. Outside the weather-shelter of the magic carpet there was nothing except for the deadening hiss of rain. Silent, dark and empty. No witnesses as to what was about to happen.

Meanwhile, Dennis was at the door to the apartment building, holding open the front door, impatient to usher Howard on.

Howard hesitated. This did not seem like a good idea.

Dennis’s eyebrows lifted as he looked back into the building. “Aha! And here is Balthazar with the keys!”

A short, thin man emerged, wearing a bright orange boiler suit, horribly stained, several sizes too large for him and held up with a utility belt. He had the face of a ferret on a diet. Dennis went inside to greet him with much bluff backslapping. The ferret, on his part, tried to dodge away, his face becoming even more sour.

After a minute, Dennis came back out, full of grins. He neatly rolled the carpet up, stuck it under his arm and strode back into the building, beckoning at Howard to follow.

As soon as the carpet was gone, the rain returned with a vengeance. A hundred painful needles pelted down across Howard’s neck and face as he stood there, miserable and cold.

Dennis was inside, waving at him. The ferret man, that Balthazar - he looked up too. His thin face twisted at Howard expectantly. Both of them were waiting. It seemed stupid to just keep standing out in the rain like this. Warmth was only a few feet away, and it looked like heaven.

Reluctantly, Howard opened the door and stepped inside.

Immediately, his coat began to steam. It was almost a jungle in here, it was so hot and so lush. Potted ferns were grouped about the entrance hall, some as high as small trees. Cunningly spotlit works of art shone out through broad and dripping leaves. The floor was creamy marble, and all the fittings gleamed.

Dennis and Balthazar were by the lifts, reflected by the many walls of glass. Dennis said something - Howard couldn’t hear quite what. Then both of them turned in Howard’s direction. They stared at him, and began to laugh. Balthazar’s laugh was high and nasal, Dennis’s was low and oily. Their grotesquely stretched faces reflected back in a dozen ways.

A drip of sweat slithered into the hollow of Howard’s back.

Of course – Dennis must do this all the time - take strangers like him to anonymous buildings for god knows what. And now Dennis was showing off his latest pickup to weasel-face, and both of them were laughing themselves stupid.

Or perhaps Dennis had been telling the story of last night - how he’d been so clever and Howard had been so trusting, and how he’d tricked a fuck out of Howard, taken away his virginity, and even made him beg in the process.

Dennis laughed again. Balthazar was silent, his eyes calculating and slatted. Howard’s stomach twisted as the noise slid round the glassy walls. He shifted backwards and heard a squelching underfoot. Looking down, he saw trails of rainwater from under each of his sandaled feet. He was soiling the nice clean marble floor.

Perhaps they were just laughing at that - the state of him, at how sodden and filthy he’d become. God knows what they wanted with him, a mulch-based street random like he was. Whatever they were plotting for him over there, it might be far, far worse than just a quick shag from Dennis.

Howard’s skin crawled all over. He’d been such an idiot. He had to get out, and now.

At that moment, Dennis shouted across, “Come, Howard. Over here! Balthazar - he was just showing me a picture! His wife’s second sister – she has a moustache just like yours, yes, exactly the same! But she is a woman, so that makes it very humorous!” Dennis bellowed with laughter and waved at Balthazar as he left. “Next time you bring more photographs – yes?”

Balthazar pushed past Howard as he made for the exit. His face was puckering up into the consistency of an affronted raisin. He mumbled, “Great big knob-headed twat… Being all friendly-like, showing you pictures of my daughter’s wedding? You can stuff it up your…”

Howard felt such a sense of relief that it propelled him all the way to the lifts.

Dennis jangled a set of keys at Howard, beaming as he punched at the lift buttons. “Yes, having fun with friends is always good! Is it not?”

“Yes,” agreed Howard. Then he nearly toppled over as Dennis slapped him on the back in celebration of their hearty accord.

*

Howard took a tiny step back, while trying not to make it too obvious.

“I sense you are uneasy with me, Howard.”

“No! No!”

“Did you not wish for a place to stay? Have I not found you one?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what, Howard? Have I done something to displease you?”

Howard shuffled back even further. “Of course not!” But it was hard to get too far away when trapped in a small, moving, glass-lined lift with a medium large shaman.

And Dennis seemed to fill up the whole space just by existing. He was taller than Howard, or bigger, or more solid – Howard wasn’t sure which one. In any case, while Dennis stood wide-legged, fluffing up his huge cloak and rearranging his sword, Howard was busy shrinking into a corner, as if he could possibly hide in a tiny, well-lit, mirror-lined room.

Dennis took a step forward. “No, Howard! You must not feel under any pressure!”

“I don’t!” insisted Howard, cowering a little more.

“If you wish, we do not have to go to this flat. Even though I have taken so much trouble in arranging this, and all for you.”

Howard thought of the cold rain outside, the darkness, and how he couldn’t go back to Lester’s for hours yet. “Well… we might as well have a look. Now that we’re here.”

“And I will not visit you while you live here - unless you ask it of me. I will respect your privacy. ”

Howard was surprised. He’d expected certain… conditions to come attached to Dennis’s generosity. “Oh… really?”

“Yes. I will not visit you here before you ask me first.”

“Oh. Well… that’s very good of you…. ”

Dennis raised his arms either side of Howard and above his head, pushing his hands against the glass and trapping Howard between them. “Unless you say you do not want to see me. Is that how it is? After all that I have done for you?”

Howard pushed himself back against the lift wall. The mirror glass was slick against his fingertips. “No, no! Of course not!”

“So you are telling me that I should come?”

Tendrils from the huge, shaggy shaman’s over-robe were brushing at Howard’s neck. He took in shallow lungfuls of air, unable to break Dennis’s gaze.

“You do want me to visit?”

Howard gasped out a tiny yes.

Dennis raised his forefinger. He brushed the back of it against Howard’s lower lip. “And when I visit… You will show me how much you’ve been looking forward to seeing me?”

A lump caught in Howard’s throat. He felt the weight of terrible expectation.

Howard jumped up with shock as the lift gave a loud ping. They had had reached their floor.

Like a flash, Howard slithered under Dennis. With a twist, and a push from the wall, he fled out of the lift. And like a fish into the fire, he jumped straight towards the unknown.

*

“Fuck, it’s huge!”

Dennis smiled benevolently, his eyelids half-closed. “Ahhh… I knew you only had to see it to approve.

Howard looked up from where he was kneeling on the floor. “Yeah, I had no idea!”

Dennis widened his leg stance, and extended his attitude of satisfaction.

“No really… you weren’t kidding!” Howard felt genuine flutterings of excitement as he knelt down and opened another cabinet. He was imagining how his one record, ‘Some Kind of Haze’, would sound on this setup. Pretty good, he reckoned. These amps were amazing. “Hey! What’s this, another LP player? And this one’s from the fifties! It’s vintage! What’s that control panel? Are there speakers all over the flat?”

Dennis looked over Howard’s shoulder. “Yes. It is all wired together. To the bathrooms, to the bongo museum, the medieval library, the sauna-cum-billiard room... It is a good place, no?”

Howard stopped. Slowly, he put the lid of a turntable down. “It’s amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it. But… there’s no way I can afford it. I told you. I’m broke.”

Dennis put his hand on Howard’s arm. “With this kind of talk, you offend me.”

“But really…”

Dennis came closer. Gently, he touched Howard’s face. “What I told you, in the refreshment house - did you not believe it? The payment does not concern you. It is not your money that I want.”

Howard took in a deep breath. This was it - the moment he’d been dreading. The moment when it all had to be paid for. “Dennis. I… don’t think I can do this.”

Dennis lifted an eyebrow. “Can? Can do what?”

Howard closed his eyes. “Well… you hurt me pretty bad last night. There’s blood. I’ve been bleeding all day. I’m not up to… not tonight. I just can’t. Please.”

Dennis drew in a deep and jagged breath.

Howard looked straight at Dennis, trying to judge his reaction. “So… that’s okay then?”

Dennis looked back into Howard’s eyes. His fingers brushed the corner of Howard’s mouth. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Howard shivered. So – it wasn’t going to be enough. “Well, I could always… I mean, if you want… “

“What do I want?” whispered Dennis, his voice low.

“I thought you might… I mean… something…”

Now Dennis was cradling Howard’s face. “What something?”

“I don’t know…” said Howard. He felt trapped under Dennis’s gaze.

Dennis’s pupils had melted wide and dark. “Howard. Whatever happens now, it’s up to you.”

Howard wanted to twist out of Dennis’s grasp, to scream, to cry, to shout. He’d just spent the night on the street in a cardboard box, for Christ’s ake! What the hell did he have to do, just to get a bed in the dry and warmth? “No! Stop saying that! Just tell me what you want!”

“I think you know that already, Howard.”

And then Howard caught it – that slight look downwards from Dennis. It was just a momentary flick, but it reminded him of how Dennis had gone on about cocksucking, kept calling Howard his good little cocksucking bitch. And in the café, there’d been that light in his eyes as soon as Howard had mentioned it again.

Howard fell to his knees. He grabbed at Dennis’s robes, pushing them back, trying to find the opening. Dennis was breathing deep now, his ribcage twitching in and out, his fingers gripping Howard’s shoulder.

There it was - a rough tie fastening at the crotch. Howard pulled it loose, whipping the string through the eyelet with still-numb fingers. The fabric opened up, revealing pale white flesh. Dennis gave a groan and grabbed at Howard’s head.

All of sudden, Howard was in incredible pain. Strong fingers had grabbed his hair and were pulling it backwards by the roots. Arse first, he landed on the thick wool carpet. He winced with the impact on his abused parts.

“Yet again you insult me!”

Howard crawled backwards, more than slightly intimidated.

“I offer you sanctuary, all through the goodness of my heart, and this is how you repay me?” Dennis did up his breeches, somehow managing to do even that with a flourish, and flung his cloak back down on top of them with a snap.

Howard was stunned. He couldn’t understand how he’d read it all so wrong. “No! I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t mean to offer me this insult? But what did you think you were doing?”

“I…I don’t…”

Dennis strode about the room. He found some paper on a side table and scribbled on it. “Here! This is my number.”

Howard got off the floor. “I didn’t mean to… “

Dennis looked at him with cold fury. “Perhaps you should wait before you call. I do not think we should see each other for quite a while. Not until you have mastered both your ingratitude and your… urges.”

“No, I meant to say… I just didn’t get round… Please, don’t go! I meant to say - thanks for the flat!”

But he was talking to thin air. The door had already slammed shut, and Dennis was long gone.

*

Howard dragged himself into the first bedroom he found, stripping off his wet overcoat on the way. He fell on the bed, trailing his wet and his dirt. The bruises from where Dennis had tied him up had become vivid purple rings now, encircling his wrists.

But he was far too tired to care.

Howard turned his head on the once-clean pillow, and there were pictures of people wrestling all over the walls, in black and white and without any clothes on. That didn’t matter either now. All he wanted was some sleep.

At last, he was safe. What a relief. And what a relief to have got it all so wrong. No more hitting, no more tying up, no more confusing arousal and definitely no more sex with Dennis, ever and ever again.

The very last thing Howard thought before he fell asleep was how lonely it was going to be, sleeping in this huge bedroom every night from now on without Vince.

Then the ten-ton elephant of sleep rolled over, trumpeted its call of unconsciousness, and parked itself firmly across Howard’s face.

*

Dennis was downstairs in the foyer beside a particularly resplendent fern, standing with his legs wide, chest out, and barking into his mobile phone.

“Of course, I indulged him before, when I relieved him of his virginity. So it’s only natural he should come back for more!”

He laughed - a dirty growling sound.

“Ha! There he was, crawling towards me, tongue out and begging for it! So I just threw him to the floor and told him to control himself. He has to learn I’m a busy man. Anyway, there’ll be plenty of time later for when he wants to suck my…”

He gave a sudden noise, halfway between an exhalation and a snort.

“You don’t want to hear any more? Jealous, are we? Ha! I’m not surprised! I know what you go back home to every night! I’ve seen pictures of your wife, remember…”

He stopped mid flow.

“Ah, yes, I grant you, that one tonight didn’t look particularly great either. Last night I got some heavy use out of him. I think I might have broken him a little. That’s the problem with these modern virgins, they wear out so quickly. But at least he’s keen! Ah, yes! At the rate he’s going, I’ll need chains just to stop him humping my leg every time I walk in! That reminds me. Can I borrow your larger whip? Yes, the one belonging to your wife’s sister’s uncle?”

He listened to the reply on the phone, then sighed.

“Yes, I know, Balthazar, I know. I owe you already for getting me the flat. Ten crates of cosmic juice. Tomorrow night shall surely be acceptable?“

He paused, hoisting up his roll of magic carpet and transferring the weight beneath his other arm.

“No, I haven’t tried this gear myself. Not exactly. Blue grade cosmic juice gives me a slight… allergic reaction. But it’s all good stuff, I promise. Come on, Balthazar - when have I ever let you down?”

He listened again.

“Yes, apart from that one time… yes, and perhaps that other. But this time I’m good, I swear! Listen, I really have to get back now. It’s my wife’s cheese and dwarf party and she’s been planning it for weeks. If I’m late, she will thrash me, and not in the good way, with the jet ski cables and the ping pong ball insertion and the melons…”

He paused.

“Yes, alright, Balthazar. I understand. You didn’t want to hear about that either. So tomorrow I’ll be there with the juice. And yes, it’ll be the high grade stuff. See you there.” Dennis clicked off the phone.

He pushed the doors of the foyer open and went to stand outside. Atmospheric pressure had changed, and he raised a cautious finger to test the new wind speed.

Then, patting the side of his robe, Dennis checked to see that the special aral wood cocktail sticks were still in place. They were cut from the hills of Turkmenistan, excellent for making cheese and pickle hedgehogs, and the perfect early-morning, cross-time zone excuse for his unsuspecting wife.

With a swish, Dennis hopped on board his carpet, put it into gear, and zoomed up high among the clouds.

Over Dalston, sunrise was breaking. The storm had stopped, and a fresh new day had been swept down in its wake. The sky was full of flush, and fire, and the fingers of ebbing clouds.

Red sky at morning – shaman’s warning. It was the promise of many storms yet to come.

*

NEXT PART TO BE WRITTEN BY EASILYLED! YAY, CAN'T WAIT!

(Indulge your wild theories here)

Comments:


From:[info]dark_safari
Date:February 14th, 2008 06:37 pm (UTC)
(Link)
I'll do my best to take a look at this for you in the next couple of days. I want to beta but I'm just really pushed for time atm. I hope that's OK with you. x
From:[info]tiantian123
Date:September 9th, 2010 07:06 am (UTC)
(Link)
These customers often say that why spend huge sums on original Gucci when these replicas have all what we want to have from a Gucci Watches . The only thing which seems to make a difference is the price tags of the Replica Gucci . They have the same style and design as well as features and functions which you can see in the original Replica Gucci Watches of this brand.

> Go to Top
InsaneJournal