Rookie/Bobby, PG/NC-17
I wrote a drouble for boosh_shorts based on eggnogged’s Mint Royale Fast Fuse universe. Then I went a bit mad and had to expand on it. With porn.
Fandom: Mint Royale (eggnogged’s Fast Fuse Universe!)
Pairing: undercover!Neil/OC!Barratt
Disclaimer: I don’t own them.
Notes: Years prior to events of Fast Fuse. Many thanks to eggnogged for giving me permission to play in her sandbox. Additionally, check out this super illustration by the amazing ftw302!
Title: Rookie
Rating: PG for situation
One of his first assignments is prozzies and he reckons, even with his buff-smooth baby face, he’ll be made for a cop the second those knowing, painted eyes settle on him. He’s thinking he’ll grow it out, dye it, but for now, even under a hat, his close, neat cut is a dead giveaway.
Doesn’t matter, though. He reckons it’s somebody’s idea of a joke when he learns he’s meant to be the prozzie, not the John. He hates to admit it but, really, it suits him.
His pants are tight across his hips and the bootheels are hell after a few hours but his arse looks amazing. They don’t have to pick him up, proposition is enough, and it’s more fun that he thought. He likes being admired.
They don’t have to pick him up but when the man with curls and glasses and a lost, shifty-eyed expression asks politely if he has a moment to spare, watches the ground and clears his throat uncertainly, then stares too long at Neil’s mouth, well…
“Only a moment?” he asks.
Later, when he’s asked to explain the loss of radio contact, he’ll feign ignorance, running his tongue slowly between his lips.
Title: Bobby
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Missing scene from Rookie. Thanks once again to eggnogged for the kind beta! :)
When they step around the corner he casually reaches as if scratching his back to turn off the wire and hurries the man along.
“Let’s go somewhere quiet, yeah,” he says, close to the man’s ear and the man only nods. They move through alleyways and around corners and the man seems to grow nervous so Neil talks to him, holds his hand even though he know it’s not really in character.
“You’ll need a name,” he says off the top of his head, smiling when the man slows his steps. He pulls him along. “Don’t worry, I’ll make one up. Only, you’re my first, in the professional sense, yeah? I reckon I’ll remember you better with a name.”
They come to an alcove at the end of an empty alley. There’s a door that looks like it hasn’t been opened in a decade and Neil turns the man, smiling at him reassuringly, walks him backward and presses him against the chipping blue paint. The man’s wearing a coat even though it’s warm and Neil unbuttons it thoughtfully, then slips his hands beneath and around the man’s sides.
“Trevor?” Neil asks but shakes his head, “Nah, something more traditional.” The man is smirking a little and watching Neil’s mouth almost exclusively, a one track mind, so Neil licks his lower lip slowly, wetting it thickly, then the top. A little sigh escapes the man, and Neil smiles, pushes his hips forward and tries “Percival?” He’s already hard and so is the man and it feel so sweet, even through layers of clothing, that Neil can’t help rubbing against him, panting when he says “too formal”, and thinking he’s doing a really shit job at being a professional, cop or whore.
“You are really good at this,” the man praises him, breathless as well, and apparently having found the nerve to finally return Neil’s touch, hands on his sides at first, squeezing, as if sizing him up. Neil’s much smaller than him, slighter, narrower, a bit shorter even in the heels, but he’s not worried, he can handle himself, and anyway, he likes the feeling of those big hands on his sides, down and around to his arse where they lift a bit and pull his hips in harder.
“Howard,” Neil suggests against a clean-shaven throat and leans back to see the man make a face. “I like it,” he says, “if you don’t, you can fuck off, alright.”
“Howard’s good,” the man says, nodding slowly, suddenly keen on the idea. “What do I call you, then?”
Neil smiles, reaches between them to massage Howard through his trousers. “You could call me Bobby, yeah?” He grins wickedly, tips back the joke shop cop’s hat on his head with his free hand then laughs when the man makes a panicked face, shrinking against the door. “Easy, mate, I’m only joking.”
Howard laughs uncertainly and doesn’t relax until Neil’s hands have his trousers open, moving artfully against his full, thick cock.
“Don’t you,” the man manages, but only just. “I mean… before?”
Neil wouldn’t even think of money except that Howard makes a vague gesture toward the breast pocket of his coat. He’s really shit at this, training be damned. He’ll have to try harder next time.
“Yeah,” he says, “was about to ask. Told you you was my first.” It’s torture to stand there, aching like mad in those fucking tight pants and watch Howard fumble with his wallet, fingers too hurried and clumsy with excitement, useless when Neil squeezes, just a bit, the man’s cock still in his hand. Neil names off some amount he knows to be a lot more than the girls get for the same, but Howard doesn’t flinch, just shoves the money into Neil’s waiting hand and Neil hastily tucks it into a back pocket that’s almost too tight to slip his fingers into.
He drops to his knees.
“Anything you like in particular?” he asks from where he kneels, looking up at the man and running his free hand over Howard’s thigh, the other at the base of his cock. Howard shifts his eyes about until they finally land on Neil’s face.
“Could you…” he hesitates, so Neil gives him a firm stroke and the words tumble from his mouth, a moan and a request, “suck my balls…”
Neil laughs, delighted, but when Howard looks offended he assures him, “You are so fucking cute,” and leans forward, nuzzles the underside of the Howard’s cock, then further to lick at the soft, heavy sack. Howard moans above him as Neil both strokes Howard’s shaft and gently gathers one testicle into his mouth, easy and loose, and sucks with a slow, even pressure, nursing one for a while, then the other.
Howard’s cursing and, it seems, finding religion at once and the sound of it is making Neil squirm, wishing he had a free hand to press against his erection. Maybe being a prozzie suits him a little too well.
When Howard’s soft cries become a long, unbroken moan, Neil backs off, takes a breath, and before Howard can complain Neil’s mouth is on his cock, sucking shallow, a little too expert for a first-time prozzie but he’s too far gone to care. He cups Howard’s balls, fondling them, and stretches his middle finger to massage Howard’s sensitive perineum.
Howard comes with almost no sound at all, just heavy breathing and a long whine that ends in a great exhalation as his thighs tremble next to Neil’s shoulders.
When Neil leans back to wipe his mouth and smile up at the man, Howard is still panting, limp against the door, eyes closed. Neil reckons it would be alright, just a little relief, so he quickly presses his hand against the obscene bulge in his skin-tight pants, but can’t stop the moan that escapes him and then Howard’s eyes are open again, watching him.
He stops. He’s pretty sure this isn’t proper prozzie behavior.
“Is it... extra?” Howard asks suddenly. “To watch?”
Neil smiles, slides his hand back up his own thigh to unbutton his trousers, “Nah, mate, the show’s free.”
Neil learned a long time ago just how much he likes to be watched, so it’s especially thrilling to be kneeling in an alley, having a fantastic wank while a stranger stares so blatantly, eyes only for Neil even as he puts himself away and zips his trousers. Neil’s hand is swift and eager, hips snapping slightly, and he’s been too hard too long, so that when Howard pushes off of the wall and kneels down opposite him, he’s already on the edge.
“Bobby,” Howard says and Neil’s only just with it enough to notice Howard’s hand, outstretched.
“Christ,” Neil says, but releases his erection and leans up to put his hands on Howard’s shoulders instead, breath hot and wet as he pants against Howard’s throat, moans into his collar when Howard takes hold of his cock. It only takes a few strokes, and they’re both looking down between them, fascinated by each other, by themselves, when Neil comes over Howard’s hand, with a sound more breath and grunt than shout, forehead against Howard’s shoulder, fingers tight in the folds of a stranger’s coat.
After a moment Neil leans back to sit on his haunches, and when Howard doesn’t seem to know what to do with the mess on his hand, Neil takes it and cleans his own come away, sucking indulgently on the large fingers, licking his palm and the back of his hand.
“Are you all like this?” Howard asks, a little dazed. Neil tucks himself away but there’s no way he’s doing up his trousers without standing.
“All who like what?” He asks without thinking.
They’re both still kneeling, the alley is still quiet and empty, but Howard looks around before he makes a strange gesture toward Neil’s person, the first of his words are unintelligible. “… like you… so good at it?”
“What, prozzies?”
“Yeah.”
Neil smiles in spite of himself. “Was this… was I your first as well?”
Howard looks down for a second, then back at Neil with a tiny fire in his eyes, “It’s my birthday.”
Neil fights not to laugh, not because it’s ridiculous. It definitely isn’t ridiculous. But he smiles when he asks, “Really?”
“Yeah.”
Neil leans up onto his knees, hands on Howard’s shoulders again. “You’ve really got to stop being so adorable, mate. You’re like a kitten in glasses and a mack. I could eat you alive.” As if to prove it he leans forward, smiling at Howard’s sudden intake of breath when he kisses him. Not especially long or heated, but nice and friendly.
“Happy birthday,” he says when they part, and he pushes off of Howard’s shoulders to get himself up onto shaking legs, then zips his trousers and pulls the wad of money from his back pocket. “On the house,” he says as he stuffs it into Howard’s coat pocket, then kisses the top of his head where he’s still kneeling.
“Could I see you again?” Howard asks, not bothering to stand as Neil backs away, smiling.
“Better not,” he laughs, turns on his heel and over his shoulder he shouts, “Find a boyfriend, yeah? One who likes kittens!”
Fandom: Mint Royale (eggnogged’s Fast Fuse Universe!)
Pairing: undercover!Neil/OC!Barratt
Disclaimer: I don’t own them.
Notes: Years prior to events of Fast Fuse. Many thanks to eggnogged for giving me permission to play in her sandbox. Additionally, check out this super illustration by the amazing ftw302!
Title: Rookie
Rating: PG for situation
One of his first assignments is prozzies and he reckons, even with his buff-smooth baby face, he’ll be made for a cop the second those knowing, painted eyes settle on him. He’s thinking he’ll grow it out, dye it, but for now, even under a hat, his close, neat cut is a dead giveaway.
Doesn’t matter, though. He reckons it’s somebody’s idea of a joke when he learns he’s meant to be the prozzie, not the John. He hates to admit it but, really, it suits him.
His pants are tight across his hips and the bootheels are hell after a few hours but his arse looks amazing. They don’t have to pick him up, proposition is enough, and it’s more fun that he thought. He likes being admired.
They don’t have to pick him up but when the man with curls and glasses and a lost, shifty-eyed expression asks politely if he has a moment to spare, watches the ground and clears his throat uncertainly, then stares too long at Neil’s mouth, well…
“Only a moment?” he asks.
Later, when he’s asked to explain the loss of radio contact, he’ll feign ignorance, running his tongue slowly between his lips.
Title: Bobby
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Missing scene from Rookie. Thanks once again to eggnogged for the kind beta! :)
When they step around the corner he casually reaches as if scratching his back to turn off the wire and hurries the man along.
“Let’s go somewhere quiet, yeah,” he says, close to the man’s ear and the man only nods. They move through alleyways and around corners and the man seems to grow nervous so Neil talks to him, holds his hand even though he know it’s not really in character.
“You’ll need a name,” he says off the top of his head, smiling when the man slows his steps. He pulls him along. “Don’t worry, I’ll make one up. Only, you’re my first, in the professional sense, yeah? I reckon I’ll remember you better with a name.”
They come to an alcove at the end of an empty alley. There’s a door that looks like it hasn’t been opened in a decade and Neil turns the man, smiling at him reassuringly, walks him backward and presses him against the chipping blue paint. The man’s wearing a coat even though it’s warm and Neil unbuttons it thoughtfully, then slips his hands beneath and around the man’s sides.
“Trevor?” Neil asks but shakes his head, “Nah, something more traditional.” The man is smirking a little and watching Neil’s mouth almost exclusively, a one track mind, so Neil licks his lower lip slowly, wetting it thickly, then the top. A little sigh escapes the man, and Neil smiles, pushes his hips forward and tries “Percival?” He’s already hard and so is the man and it feel so sweet, even through layers of clothing, that Neil can’t help rubbing against him, panting when he says “too formal”, and thinking he’s doing a really shit job at being a professional, cop or whore.
“You are really good at this,” the man praises him, breathless as well, and apparently having found the nerve to finally return Neil’s touch, hands on his sides at first, squeezing, as if sizing him up. Neil’s much smaller than him, slighter, narrower, a bit shorter even in the heels, but he’s not worried, he can handle himself, and anyway, he likes the feeling of those big hands on his sides, down and around to his arse where they lift a bit and pull his hips in harder.
“Howard,” Neil suggests against a clean-shaven throat and leans back to see the man make a face. “I like it,” he says, “if you don’t, you can fuck off, alright.”
“Howard’s good,” the man says, nodding slowly, suddenly keen on the idea. “What do I call you, then?”
Neil smiles, reaches between them to massage Howard through his trousers. “You could call me Bobby, yeah?” He grins wickedly, tips back the joke shop cop’s hat on his head with his free hand then laughs when the man makes a panicked face, shrinking against the door. “Easy, mate, I’m only joking.”
Howard laughs uncertainly and doesn’t relax until Neil’s hands have his trousers open, moving artfully against his full, thick cock.
“Don’t you,” the man manages, but only just. “I mean… before?”
Neil wouldn’t even think of money except that Howard makes a vague gesture toward the breast pocket of his coat. He’s really shit at this, training be damned. He’ll have to try harder next time.
“Yeah,” he says, “was about to ask. Told you you was my first.” It’s torture to stand there, aching like mad in those fucking tight pants and watch Howard fumble with his wallet, fingers too hurried and clumsy with excitement, useless when Neil squeezes, just a bit, the man’s cock still in his hand. Neil names off some amount he knows to be a lot more than the girls get for the same, but Howard doesn’t flinch, just shoves the money into Neil’s waiting hand and Neil hastily tucks it into a back pocket that’s almost too tight to slip his fingers into.
He drops to his knees.
“Anything you like in particular?” he asks from where he kneels, looking up at the man and running his free hand over Howard’s thigh, the other at the base of his cock. Howard shifts his eyes about until they finally land on Neil’s face.
“Could you…” he hesitates, so Neil gives him a firm stroke and the words tumble from his mouth, a moan and a request, “suck my balls…”
Neil laughs, delighted, but when Howard looks offended he assures him, “You are so fucking cute,” and leans forward, nuzzles the underside of the Howard’s cock, then further to lick at the soft, heavy sack. Howard moans above him as Neil both strokes Howard’s shaft and gently gathers one testicle into his mouth, easy and loose, and sucks with a slow, even pressure, nursing one for a while, then the other.
Howard’s cursing and, it seems, finding religion at once and the sound of it is making Neil squirm, wishing he had a free hand to press against his erection. Maybe being a prozzie suits him a little too well.
When Howard’s soft cries become a long, unbroken moan, Neil backs off, takes a breath, and before Howard can complain Neil’s mouth is on his cock, sucking shallow, a little too expert for a first-time prozzie but he’s too far gone to care. He cups Howard’s balls, fondling them, and stretches his middle finger to massage Howard’s sensitive perineum.
Howard comes with almost no sound at all, just heavy breathing and a long whine that ends in a great exhalation as his thighs tremble next to Neil’s shoulders.
When Neil leans back to wipe his mouth and smile up at the man, Howard is still panting, limp against the door, eyes closed. Neil reckons it would be alright, just a little relief, so he quickly presses his hand against the obscene bulge in his skin-tight pants, but can’t stop the moan that escapes him and then Howard’s eyes are open again, watching him.
He stops. He’s pretty sure this isn’t proper prozzie behavior.
“Is it... extra?” Howard asks suddenly. “To watch?”
Neil smiles, slides his hand back up his own thigh to unbutton his trousers, “Nah, mate, the show’s free.”
Neil learned a long time ago just how much he likes to be watched, so it’s especially thrilling to be kneeling in an alley, having a fantastic wank while a stranger stares so blatantly, eyes only for Neil even as he puts himself away and zips his trousers. Neil’s hand is swift and eager, hips snapping slightly, and he’s been too hard too long, so that when Howard pushes off of the wall and kneels down opposite him, he’s already on the edge.
“Bobby,” Howard says and Neil’s only just with it enough to notice Howard’s hand, outstretched.
“Christ,” Neil says, but releases his erection and leans up to put his hands on Howard’s shoulders instead, breath hot and wet as he pants against Howard’s throat, moans into his collar when Howard takes hold of his cock. It only takes a few strokes, and they’re both looking down between them, fascinated by each other, by themselves, when Neil comes over Howard’s hand, with a sound more breath and grunt than shout, forehead against Howard’s shoulder, fingers tight in the folds of a stranger’s coat.
After a moment Neil leans back to sit on his haunches, and when Howard doesn’t seem to know what to do with the mess on his hand, Neil takes it and cleans his own come away, sucking indulgently on the large fingers, licking his palm and the back of his hand.
“Are you all like this?” Howard asks, a little dazed. Neil tucks himself away but there’s no way he’s doing up his trousers without standing.
“All who like what?” He asks without thinking.
They’re both still kneeling, the alley is still quiet and empty, but Howard looks around before he makes a strange gesture toward Neil’s person, the first of his words are unintelligible. “… like you… so good at it?”
“What, prozzies?”
“Yeah.”
Neil smiles in spite of himself. “Was this… was I your first as well?”
Howard looks down for a second, then back at Neil with a tiny fire in his eyes, “It’s my birthday.”
Neil fights not to laugh, not because it’s ridiculous. It definitely isn’t ridiculous. But he smiles when he asks, “Really?”
“Yeah.”
Neil leans up onto his knees, hands on Howard’s shoulders again. “You’ve really got to stop being so adorable, mate. You’re like a kitten in glasses and a mack. I could eat you alive.” As if to prove it he leans forward, smiling at Howard’s sudden intake of breath when he kisses him. Not especially long or heated, but nice and friendly.
“Happy birthday,” he says when they part, and he pushes off of Howard’s shoulders to get himself up onto shaking legs, then zips his trousers and pulls the wad of money from his back pocket. “On the house,” he says as he stuffs it into Howard’s coat pocket, then kisses the top of his head where he’s still kneeling.
“Could I see you again?” Howard asks, not bothering to stand as Neil backs away, smiling.
“Better not,” he laughs, turns on his heel and over his shoulder he shouts, “Find a boyfriend, yeah? One who likes kittens!”