The Mighty Boosh Halloween Special of Doom - the end???
Author: Concupid
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Purple prose and suggestive talk.
Summary: The resolution to our Halloween round robin, just in time for Christmas. Will Howard and Vince survive??? Yes.
Author's note: So, I didn't want to jump line, but the amazing karneol_vision made us fanart! You can't not finish a round robin what's got fanart! This has been kicking around in my head for a while, inspired by yet anothe piece by karneol_vision.
Howard gripped Vince's slight frame in his strong arms, clutching his lover to his broad and manly chest.
"Oh, Howard, I've waited so long for you to hold me like this," Vince sighed, melting into the embrace as their world was literally shaken.
"I'll never let you go," Howard whispered before pressing his lips to Vince's. His tongue explored the smaller man's mouth, savoring his natural sweetness. Vince moaned as Howard's strong hand closed over his tight little arse. He could feel the hardness of Howard against his belly. So much promise, so many dreams never to be realized.
"This might be our last chance," Howard murmured, as he unfastened Vince's trousers, "The time for being shy is over."
The feel of Howard's hand on his throbbing love muscle made Vince weak in the knees...
"Throbbing love muscle?" Howard sighed, "I can't read this drivel again!"
Vince was hiding behind an enormous carved pumpkin, peering out from under his glittery blanket, "This is the best part! You can't stop now."
"This part didn't even happen," Howard sniffed, "This is taking artistic license too far."
"Well, I don't think 'And then Gerald puked Howard and Vince onto the floor 'cause Naboo rammed a broom down his throat' has quite the same style and panache," Vince argued, his pale eyes glowing from the light of the jack-o-lantern as he leaned over it. Naboo had worked his magic on a regular pumpkin, making it enormous. Now it didn't fit through the door, and had become a part of their regular decor. Vince had worked his own magic on it, carving one of his famous 'monkey heads' into it.
"Panache? This is purple prosed nonsense," Howard snapped, although he couldn't help but glance at the part where he smoothly inserted his sword of desire into Vince's velvety sheath.
"It's an artistic interpretation, it ain't s'posed to be a photograph," Vince argued, "How can you complain when them fanfic writers had the story bound and everything? That is well nice."
Howard had to admit, the embossed leather was a nice touch. After the initial embarrassment of realizing he'd eaten his mate's boarders (five hours later, when Naboo's party was over and he came to make Gerald vomit up Vince and Howard), Gerald joined forces with the spirits of fanfic writers past to create a novel of their epic journey through the wild and terrifying land of... Gerald.
The writers had gotten a bit creative with the tale. A five hour adventure had become a 400 page novel. Sometimes Howard felt chaffed just reading about all the sex. That didn't stop him from reading it to Vince every Halloween. Technically, they started on Halloween, but didn't usually finish up until about Christmas. It was a long book. It was the tenth time Howard had read it, but Vince got scared every time, as though he didn't know exactly how the story ended.
"It was a nice gesture," Howard conceded.
Vince wrapped himself in his blanket, like a cocoon, and crawled next to Howard. He flipped the book to page 254.
"No, that's a nice gesture!"
Howard went red at the paragraph, "My fingers aren't that long."
"Don't sell yourself short, sir."
"I call people sir, sir," Howard said, in his most authoritative tone.
"Oh, do you, sir?" Vince teased. Howard had him pinned to the ground and was about to teach him a lesson about respect and literary interpretation, when the door creaked open.
"Daddies?" Marianne called.
Howard jumped off of Vince, "What's wrong, sweetie?"
Marianne clutched the Mick Jagger doll that Vince had made her the year before to her chest, "There's a monster in my closet."
"We know that, sweetie," Howard said patiently, "His name is Mr. Susan."
"Well, he keeps movin' my mirrors. I woke up and couldn't see the back of my hair..." Marianne's eyes welled with tears.
"I'll straighten them out," Vince said, jumping to his feet, "Daddy will take care of it."
Marianne held both of their hands as they walked her back to her bedroom.
"Now, the story of how we got little Marianne, that should be a novel," Howard mused, admiring his angel in an oversized Maynard Ferguson tee-shirt. There was still glitter on her hands from earlier that day, when they'd decorated bookmarks for Christmas gifts.
"That is an amazin' story!" Vince agreed, "I remember it like it was yesterday. I was wearing a new taupe eye-liner..."
"Daddy," Marianne sighed, "That's another story, for another time."
Marianne winked at no one.
"What did Daddy tell you about breaking the fourth wall?" Howard reprimanded.
"I know, I know," Marianne sighed, "Pause for the music cue."