Last of My Kink Meme Contributions

[easilyled]

Because I have to stop after this - at least to catch up on my slash reading! So sorry if I promised you a rose garden and didn't follow through (even though you won't know if it was me).

Easing you in with a short one again, just a little bit of crack.

Prompt: Vince's Brain Cell/Brain Cell's Secretary
Rating: 16ish
Disclaimer: I don't own Vince's Brain, but that's quite a concept



It had been a hard week for Vince's brain cell. First that strange bloke with the moustache in the wicked scuba-diving gear had burst in and started giving orders, and then he'd chased out that interesting Rogue Jazz Cell freak. And then the Brain Cell had been taxed with the duty of coming up with an idea to save Big Vince and Howard, which had left him feeling capable of nothing but channel-surfing for at least a year. It was unfair, really, the way he had to do all the work around the cranium. And, being the only Brain Cell, he never got to go on holiday, either. The one time he'd rebelled and done so anyway, going on a cruise to the Big Toe, it had been a right disaster. When he came back, Big Vince was wearing hats that didn't suit him and had very nearly gotten a perm. At least it had made him feel needed.

When it all got to be too much for him like this, his thoughts always turned to that delicious piece of ass at the desk just outside the door. Alluringly close and available at all times, while he sat at his station all alone and largely idle. And you know what they say about idle brain cells.

The Vince and the little Vinces at home couldn't possibly understand him the way she did. Her understanding was blatant in the motion of her hips in that tight little red number she liked to wear (or he liked her to wear - he was the one in charge of the decor in the place, although he often forgot that). His Vince and the Vinces never even asked him how he felt. Very self-absorbed, them.

He'd been pacing all day in his office, trying to decide what it was best to do. It was too much to ask that he should be responsible for his own ethics as well as Big Vince's. And ethics - they'd always well confused him, anyway.

At last he made a decision. The door to the waiting room slid open, and he poked his tall shiny head outside.

"Alright?" he asked the Secretary, grinning shyly.

"Oi! Hello there, dahlink," she purred over her shoulder, her hand going up to smooth her beehive, in that vain feminine way he loved.

He waited for an invitation, but when none was forthcoming and they just smiled inanely at each other for several long moments, he came the rest of the way out of the doorway, and stood in front of her desk.

"How's it going today?" he asked, smiling.

"Not so bad, thank you, love," she replied, smiling.

They faced each other, grinning. Possibly an hour passed.

"Anyone ask to see me?" the Brain Cell wondered at length.

"No, no. Your schedule's clear for ...," she looked in her ledger, "Oh! You've got no appointments at all."

"Alright. Genius," the Brain Cell grinned. "Hey!" He suddenly remembered why he'd left his office. "Do you want to go get something to eat?"

"I'm not too bothered, actually, dahlink," the Secretary drawled.

"Oh," said the Brain Cell, disappointed.

"I can blow you right here if you want, though," she continued.

"That would be well genius!" the Brain Cell enthused.

He climbed onto her desk and sat facing her, his legs swinging over the front. She bent over immediately, but not towards him. He registered with consternation that she was leaning over the bin next to her desk, and wondered if she were going to throw up.

"Alright, love?" he asked.

"Just spitting out my gum," she explained, and returned to an upright position, looking at her boss and grinning.

"I do love that red lipstick," the Brain Cell told her. "It's genius."

"It'll look even better on your cock," she replied.

"Yeah," the Brain Cell agreed, grinning.

The Secretary set to her task, as conscientious in her blow-jobs as in all her work. She was an enthusiastic and well-practiced cocksucker with a tireless jaw, taking him all in, again and again.

"Unnnnnngggggh," said the Brain Cell. "That is well relaxing." He looked down, feeling slightly wistful that he couldn't see her face, much as he loved her hair, which was practically poking him in the nose.

"Can I come in your beehive?" he asked suddenly, struck by the best idea he'd had since the safety pin. And it had come to him without effort. Was he getting better at thinking? Blow-jobs made it easier, he decided.

She removed herself from his cock with a wet pop. Her mouth was a mess of smeared lipstick and saliva. Gasping, she said, "I'm not too bothered."

"Alright!" said the Brain Cell, and she got on her knees and waited patiently, filing her nails, while he finished himself off, grunting and groaning, and finally splattered his cum in the soft black mesh of her hair. He felt slightly abashed afterwards, watching it drip from all the places he'd streaked as she settled herself back in her seat daintily, bustling that fine, tightly-encased behind against the seat.

"Will that be all now, love?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, fidgeting.

When he didn't go away, she asked, "You alright?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Just fine." She beamed, cocking her head, as she always did.

"Well, then. See you later, sweetheart."

"Mm-hm, that's fine." She'd already pulled out a makeup mirror and was attempting to work the cum as part of her look, examining the hair-tower from different angles.

As he went back to his office, his heart constricted a little. "She's a wonderful woman, my secretary," he thought. Followed by, "Wonder what Vince is up to on the telly?"

And now here I go, officially losing my Boosh RPS cherry! I'm posting this here *instead* of to the meme, because it got quite long and involved, incorporating some ideas I already had. I don't think it's up to the standards of my FPS for this fandom, or up to the RPS standards of this fandom... but, I HAD to.

Prompt: First time Julian and Noel kiss in a club. Lots and lots of UST.
Rating: 14ish
Disclaimer: Never happened... well, the kiss in the club did, according to Noel Fielding, but I don't know anything about it, unfortunately. Which means: FICTION
Warnings/Author's Notes: I'm a total hypocrite, because there are girlfriend mentions, even though it makes me uncomfortable to read them! Also warning for FLUFF. And to the prompter: Hope this is enough UST for you!!



"Where's Fielding?"

Dave was so used to that question from Julian, spoken in a carefully casual tone and accompanied in this case by a light touch to his shoulder, that his response was automatic.

"In the shower, I expect. Washing the merman off."

Julian giggled. Dave glanced up at his face - it was unusual, though not unheard-of, for Julian to make a sound like that. A faint blush was tingeing Julian's cheeks, referring, Dave presumed, to the scenes he and Noel shot today for "The Legend of Old Gregg." Dave wasn't sure if the blush was embarrassment or something else. It did no good to wonder about the relationship between those two, and didn't much interest him, either. They weren't shagging; Noel would have told him, Dave was sure.

So he just asked, "Are you coming out with us to the club later?"

Julian, already leaving, simply smiled at him abstractedly and kept going. Had he even heard him?

It was no use wondering about Julian, period.

The little dressing room was full of stifling steam when Julian entered, the mirrors clouded up. Noel always took scalding showers, and they were eternal. It used to drive Julian mad when Noel would stay over at his when they'd been writing and take a shower in the morning.

He shut the dressing room door behind him. The door to the washroom was open. He approached the doorway, and paused there.

"Noel?" he called - loudly and firmly, so Noel wouldn't startle.

"Ju?" Noel answered, raising his voice to be heard over the water. "Come in!"

Julian did, and leaned against one of the sweating walls, next to the shower door. It, too, was clouded up with steam, thankfully for Noel's modesty.

"What is it?" Noel called. "Anything wrong?"

"No," Julian answered.

"I'm almost done!" Noel assured him.

"Sure," Julian smirked. But added, "Take your time."

To entertain him while he waited, Noel started singing "Love Games" in his Old Gregg voice.

Love games
Are you playing those love games with me?
I just need to know for sure
Coz I need your love a lot!

Julian cracked up, putting a hand over his eyes - a delicate gesture of thumb and middle finger, touching at the temples - in apparent embarrassment although no one was watching him. Noel, hearing him, did as well, but then rallied and, wickedly, took Julian's part as well, singing in falsetto.

Julian stepped forward suddenly, impulsively. He put a forefinger to the glass door of the shower and traced a tiny heart. Noel fell silent. The hiss of the water and roar of the pipes sounded louder now.

And then suddenly, with a protesting squeal of pipe, the noise ceased. In the ensuing silence, Noel informed Julian from the other side of the door, quietly, "You made me cry, ya prick."

The acknowledgment touched Julian as well. He swallowed the scratchy lump in his throat.

But Noel was already whistling their song, and calling jauntily, "Hand me a towel, will you?"

Julian grabbed a fluffy pink one - Noel had requested them as a lark when asked what he wanted for the dressing room - from the floor, where it had been discarded on a previous occasion. He held it in his hand, rubbing its softness idly, and leaned back against the wall. Noel opened the shower door, his white body dripping and gleaming. Julian's gaze automatically flicked to his cock - a normal gesture among men, perhaps not so normal in the way it caused a blush to sting his cheeks, just under the eyes. He suppressed it automatically as well, and all the while his expression didn't change - blank, open. Noel, meanwhile, was beaming. He took the towel from Julian and wrapped it around his hips, tightly, then stood on tiptoe, placed his dripping arms around Julian's neck, and kissed his left eyebrow, their bodies briefly flush.

There was no fighting it this time. Julian, already flushed from the heat, went a darker shade of red.

Meanwhile Noel, pretending to notice nothing, spun around (leg kicking out in that awkward, girlish way - an affectation that made Julian's cock twitch under the right circumstances, and these definitely were) and fetched himself another towel for his hair, which he started drying vigorously.

"I'm feeling it today - are you?" Noel inquired.

"What's that?" Julian's eyes were fixed on Noel's arse, clad in the ridiculous towel, which was presumably what Noel intended, since he was bent over drying his hair upside-down.

"The attraction."

"Oh - that," Julian said in the same soft, mild tone.

"Yeah - that!" Noel straightened and turned to face Julian. His eyes were glittering, his pale face rose-flushed, and his black hair wild around his face from the towel-treatment and glistening with damp. He took a step towards Julian and shoved at his chest playfully. "'That' - you wanker!"

Julian didn't move, but grinned just a little, lazily. His eyes were at half-mast, as though he might fall asleep at any moment during the conversation. "Well," he admitted, "it's always there."

"No," Noel chirped, moving into the dressing room. Julian followed him. "Not always. Least not for me." He leaned forward and wiped a spot clear in the mirror with the towel he'd used for his hair. "But when it flares up, unexpected-like...." He grinned wickedly at Julian's reflection in the cleared circle in the mirror, behind his. "It's really something, isn't it?"

Julian said nothing, simply watched Noel in the mirror as Noel slowly and deliberately ran his tongue from the corner of his mouth along his upper lip. Julian quirked an eyebrow. They held each other's gaze that way, in the mirror, for a long time, as if daring the other to keep it going, see how long they could maintain the spell... until something gave.

It was obscene, Julian thought, the kind of shows Noel liked to put on. Even for him. And yet, when he did turn the flirtation on him, Julian always felt flattered. He never expected it - it went against his self-perception to suddenly find himself basking in the warm sunshine of such attention, like being sprayed with sticky soda. The women Julian was interested in were strong, intelligent, dry, cool. Not giddy, girlish sluts, as his best mate seemed to be able to morph into at will.

Right now, for example, Noel's mouth had dropped open wide, hanging slack, as he continued to hold eye contact with Julian in the mirror, bent over slightly, his weight on his hands on the dressing table.

Julian took a step forward. He noticed Noel tense involuntarily, and a sort of glazed look come into his eyes.

His hand shot out and smacked Noel's arse once, firmly - Noel giggled in surprise - and squeezed the cheek through the thick damp towel. "Tart," he pronounced, in a tone comically heavy with warning.

The spell was broken.

"'Have ya been on a tour of Barratt's barrow?'" Noel mocked him, laughing.

Julian scrunched his face at Noel in the mirror, the "checking-in" signal he always used. And then turned to leave.

"Ju!" Noel called after him, distressed, as always, when Julian's presence was torn away from him suddenly. "Are you coming out later?"

"Might do," Julian acknowledged lazily.

"If you don't - ring me later, okay? On my mobile, because I’ll be out."

"Alright, if I can."

"No fucking 'if I can'!" Noel pursued, sticking his head out the door. "I want to hear your voice before I go to bed tonight - you got that?"

"You're a fucking exhibitionist, Fielding," Julian replied calmly, nodding to the odd member of the filming crew staring at him, or at Noel, as he made his way down the corridor.

*

Noel didn’t know just how much he’d been missing Julian until he spotted him across the club, standing and talking to a group.

It didn’t matter that they spent all day of every day together, writing or filming or touring. Or not that it didn’t matter - it made it worse. They were addicted to each other’s proximity, and after ten years of working together constantly, intimately, Noel was still excited at the prospect of seeing Julian every morning. Even, as frequently happened, if they’d only parted a few hours before.

Julian saw that Noel had seen him - they greeted each other with their eyes. Noel’s were lit up to see Julian, and Julian raised his eyebrows just slightly, and that was all it took. The connection was established across the room; they might take minutes now, or an hour, to approach each other.

Half an hour later, Noel had forgotten about Julian, except for the comfort that knowing he was there always brought to the back of his mind. He was standing talking to some people, paying no particular attention to what he was saying, when he felt warm arms wrap around him from behind. Without a break in his flow of speech, he relaxed against Julian, and placed his hands on Julian’s forearms lightly. As he continued to talk he slid his hands into Julian’s and grasped them, their sweat mingling.

This was such normal behavior from them no one ever commented, and no one except themselves would know there was something special in the air between them tonight.

He felt Julian rousing himself to withdraw, and snaked a hand up behind him to grasp the back of his head and keep him there. His hips had been moving slightly the entire time to the music, his arse brushing against Julian’s crotch. His friend’s cock was half-hard, he noted. Normally that would make him move away, just slightly, casually, put a respectful distance between them. But not tonight.

His friends went back to the dancefloor (Noel had finished the conversation with them without noticing it), but he and Julian stayed where they were. This was unusual as well. They were now in danger of drawing attention to themselves. Including their own attention.

At some point Noel had closed his eyes without remembering it. Now he shifted slightly and buried his nose in Julian’s neck, his lips almost touching the hot skin. Feeling conspicuous, even vulnerable, he pulled Julian’s arm down so that it covered his burgeoning erection. It throbbed against Julian’s wrist, against his pulse. Their hands were clasped at Noel’s hip. Noel fought not to squirm contentedly in his tight encasement between Julian’s arms and body.

Julian was aching to taste the sweat on Noel’s brow, within his reach. And yet he didn’t quite dare. The wrong move, and they would both break up laughing, and it would be over, the way it usually was. But neither of them wanted it to be over quickly tonight. Instead, they seemed to be seeing how long they could draw it out, how far they could push themselves and each other.

So instead he raised one of his hands, the one that wasn’t clutching Noel’s, up along the side of Noel’s body, and felt his ribs lightly, then held his hand there. “Like cupping a breast,” he thought, and immediately tried to suppress the thought.

“Fuckssake, Barratt, snog him already!”

That was Dee’s voice, close. Noel grinned with his eyes closed.

Julian opened one eye like a sleepy lion to regard Dee. “Got to admit, I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he said at length.

Noel’s cock throbbed in his jeans at this information. He tilted his head up a little further. His lips pressed against the skin of Julian’s neck, and he darted out his tongue to taste the salty tang of it. He felt Julian’s cock jerk against his arse in response. His thumb grazed Noel’s nipple through his thin T-shirt.

“Do it, then!” Dee continued. “He wants it, or can’t you tell?”

Even now, with Noel’s cock stiff against his forearm, the heat from it blazing, Julian wasn’t sure that he could. He hesitated.

Noel tilted his head back again, so that it was resting against Julian’s shoulder, their lips positioned inches away from each other. Julian studied him. Noel’s eyes remained closed, surrender etched in every feature. He entwined his fingers further into the hair at the back of Julian’s head, playing with it, but he was otherwise still. Julian still waited. In another moment, it would be rejection. To reassure Noel, he squeezed his fingers. The sweat from Noel’s armpit was dank against the fingers of his other hand, splayed across Noel’s ribs, and he dug them in further.

To close the gap, to forestall the rejection, Noel pressed his lips against Julian’s - chastely, mouths closed. And then left his mouth there. Their mouths fell open slightly, to breathe, but remained touching. Their lips and breath were hot, and stung each other's faces with alcohol. Julian was amazed by how sweet Noel tasted despite this. It was his own taste, his own smell… like melon. He felt self-conscious about how he must smell and taste.

“You taste wonderful,” Noel murmured against his lips, just then.

“Mm,” said Julian, and sank his mouth against Noel’s. This time the kiss was in earnest, slow and deep. It sped up quickly, though. Their lips came together again and again, tugging and pulling at each other. Dimly, Julian was aware of Dee calling for tongue. Noel’s obligingly shot out, but Julian started and swerved to avoid it, and it ended up licking his face.

Frowning, Noel dropped Julian’s hand and raised his hand to Julian’s face, which he pulled in closer to his. He tried with his tongue again, with unmistakable aggression, and this time Julian responded. They took turns sucking on each other’s tongues inside the other’s mouth. Julian’s hand dropped from Noel’s ribs and grabbed hold of his hip instead to pull the lower part of Noel’s body in closer to his groin, possessively.

They had their tongues deep in each other’s mouths, and they were both sucking hard. Kissing was abandoned now, and thought blocked out by sheer sensation. The electricity passing between them swallowed up everything else, and they seemed to dissolve into it and become one.

Noel opened his eyes in response to a flicker of impulse. Julian was close - incredibly close. It seemed like no one had ever been this close to him before, and he felt fear, suddenly. He had no bearings; it was all overwhelming. He was falling, perhaps, but through space, endlessly. There was no way to fight this, nothing to resist. The ache in his groin was severe, and seemed to travel up into his throat. Still they sucked at each other’s tongues, tangled up in each other, struggling.

“Oh, God. Anybody mind if I jerk myself off?”

That was Rich’s voice. Everything shifted on its axis, just slightly, and it was over. Everything else would be pantomime now. They were putting on a show; they would act, for themselves and the others, as though that’s what they’d been doing all along.

They broke off the kiss and looked at each other, panting. Julian felt faint surprise to see that Noel’s eyes were already open. But he recovered instantly, and grinned. He moved his hand to Noel’s crotch and pressed against it (“You bastard,” Noel thought), and proceeded to dry-hump him for a few moments, to the cheers of the others, then let go of him all of a sudden. Off-balance as usual, but worse, Noel nearly fell, but Dee grabbed his arm, laughing. He didn’t know that his expression was a bit dazed and wild. To his relief, Dee pulled him onto the dancefloor, and he quickly lost himself in the music, vaguely aware, behind him and to his left, of Julian standing around with Rich and Dave, among others, looking pleased and smug, accepting what would seem to be congratulations.

He and Julian didn’t talk again for the rest of the night, until Julian came up to him while he was sitting at a table, once again engaged in haphazard, excitable conversation, and put his hands on Noel’s shoulders, crouching beside his chair.

“I’m going home.”

Noel turned his face quickly and kissed Julian on the lips. Drunkenly, with bad aim, which made them both laugh.

“Love you,” Noel told him, brushing his hand over Julian’s, which was now resting on Noel's knee.

“I know you do,” Julian replied, not meeting his eyes, but grinning.

“Idiot.” Noel pursed his lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Julian gave Noel’s knee a squeeze before rising with the exaggerated effort of the self-consciously aging. He didn’t know why he’d made it a question. There was no doubt about it.

“I’ll see you before that in my dreams.”

Julian shot Noel a look of askance, but he was already turned back to his conversation, apparently fully absorbed in it. He probably hadn’t even known he said it, or if he did, he probably didn’t even think it was strange. Or it could be idle flirtation.

It didn’t always bear wondering, with Fielding.

And so Julian didn’t. Or question why, as he walked out the door of the club, his heart unusually filled with sunshine even as he felt mildly ill from alcohol consumption, he was singing “Love Games” to himself again.