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booshslashhavenTitle: Out of the Wilderness
Pairing: Bollo/Naboo
Rating: NC-17 (see warnings)
Warning: Bestiality, of a sort! Also Naboo's canon (lack of) genitalia. Mention of drugs.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Boosh or make any money from this.
Beta: The wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
world_of_tights
Naboo clings to Bollo's fur tightly, hides his face in its roughness. The pleasure is hitching higher and higher inside him, too fast to cope with, but he doesn't want it to stop, not ever, so he clings tighter and holds his breath to stop the helpless nonsense noises from spilling out of his mouth like incantations, until he feels the pleasure start to break in waves that start deep inside him and drift to the tips of his fingers. “Oh,” he says, breathless and dizzy. Then “oh, oh.” He's fraying like a scrap of silk, unravelling, coming undone. Bollo is silent save for the unusual heaviness of his breath as he holds Naboo's shaking form steady.
Naboo is all smoothness. His hair and his skin, the space between his legs and the lisp of his voice, all smooth as satin. Beside him Bollo feels rough and clumsy. He worries that his clumsy hands will break him. He concentrates on being as soft as it's possible to be and tries not to be distracted when Naboo cries out breathlessly, when he grabs hold of his fur so tightly it hurts. He encircles Naboo's throat gently with one big, hot hand, and feels how his skin is as delicate as paper. Naboo whimpers, and the sound makes Bollo's blood in his veins pulse fast and dark as a single drum.
Afterwards Naboo sleeps on Bollo's chest, in his arms, curls up in his pelt like a rug. The smell of incense clings. The silk sheets slip over his bare skin like water. Beneath him Bollo rumbles and shifts, and he finds it oddly calming.
The first time it happened Bollo was out late, and Naboo lay awake and felt restless and didn't know why. He squirmed in his bed. The deep red silk whispered as it moved under him. Something inside ached. He ran a hand over the perfect, smooth skin where his legs met, trying to make sense of how it felt, trying to work out what it was supposed to feel like. The bed dipped when Bollo finally lumbered into it reeking of sweat and fur and smoke. “Bollo?” he asked, and wasn't able to find the words to continue.
“Bollo understand,” he'd said, in a voice so low it rumbled, and he drew Naboo close. The ache grew.
Bollo wasn't sure how he knew what to do that first time. Instinct, he supposed. He ran his massive hands all over the tiny body in front of him, the neck and shoulders, the back he could span with one hand. He thumbed Naboo's chest, and pressed an open, rough palm between thighs so slender he could have snapped them like twigs.
It was new for Naboo. This much he understood.
It's always too cold. The place where Naboo comes from is arid and hot, and the bright light stains everything golden. He tries to re-capture the haze of that heat here, with smoke and sweat and drugs that make everything as slow as midday. In the end nothing is as hot as Bollo's wet breath on his skin, or his thick tongue between his parted legs.
He knows what sex is. He's been around for a while, yeah. And even if he hadn't known before, it would be impossible not to living with Vince. He brings a different human home every night, and the sounds they make float on the air like opium. Naboo sits on the couch and crinkles his nose in disgust. It seems somehow unbearably raw. The humans rut like animals, he thinks, they grunt and pant and snarl. Naboo was never more than vaguely curious about it before. He assumed he wasn't made that way. Still, sometimes at night he'd feel that strange tickle on his skin and feel open, gaping. He stirs now, on the couch beside Bollo. He exhales slowly and the fabric of his robe brushes against his skin. He's a higher being, he tells himself.
It takes a lot of complex magic, creating a familiar. Serious juju. Bollo belongs to him in so many ways. Naboo struggles to remember that when he's on his back with his legs spread, feeling like he's being touched everywhere. But afterwards, as he's falling asleep, he thinks about what Bollo was like before his magic, and his mind is full of his wild eyes and shapeless roar.
Naboo is ancient. Old as trees and rock and soil are old. Bollo knows this. But when he's sleeping he looks so very young that it's hard not to feel something primitive inside, something possessive. He tries to remember what life was like before Naboo, but there were no words then so he finds it hard to think about.
Bollo likes to watch Naboo practice his magic. He likes his voice when he chants, even if he can't understand the words. He likes the shift of power in the air, he can smell it, like rain. Naboo is supposed to be bound by Shamanic law, but Bollo thinks he sometimes casts spells just to see his reaction, a strange kind of indulgence. He watches him with glassy eyes. In the end nothing's as magic as the words in his mouth, or his own name on Naboo's lips.
Pairing: Bollo/Naboo
Rating: NC-17 (see warnings)
Warning: Bestiality, of a sort! Also Naboo's canon (lack of) genitalia. Mention of drugs.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Boosh or make any money from this.
Beta: The wonderful
world_of_tightsNaboo clings to Bollo's fur tightly, hides his face in its roughness. The pleasure is hitching higher and higher inside him, too fast to cope with, but he doesn't want it to stop, not ever, so he clings tighter and holds his breath to stop the helpless nonsense noises from spilling out of his mouth like incantations, until he feels the pleasure start to break in waves that start deep inside him and drift to the tips of his fingers. “Oh,” he says, breathless and dizzy. Then “oh, oh.” He's fraying like a scrap of silk, unravelling, coming undone. Bollo is silent save for the unusual heaviness of his breath as he holds Naboo's shaking form steady.
Naboo is all smoothness. His hair and his skin, the space between his legs and the lisp of his voice, all smooth as satin. Beside him Bollo feels rough and clumsy. He worries that his clumsy hands will break him. He concentrates on being as soft as it's possible to be and tries not to be distracted when Naboo cries out breathlessly, when he grabs hold of his fur so tightly it hurts. He encircles Naboo's throat gently with one big, hot hand, and feels how his skin is as delicate as paper. Naboo whimpers, and the sound makes Bollo's blood in his veins pulse fast and dark as a single drum.
Afterwards Naboo sleeps on Bollo's chest, in his arms, curls up in his pelt like a rug. The smell of incense clings. The silk sheets slip over his bare skin like water. Beneath him Bollo rumbles and shifts, and he finds it oddly calming.
The first time it happened Bollo was out late, and Naboo lay awake and felt restless and didn't know why. He squirmed in his bed. The deep red silk whispered as it moved under him. Something inside ached. He ran a hand over the perfect, smooth skin where his legs met, trying to make sense of how it felt, trying to work out what it was supposed to feel like. The bed dipped when Bollo finally lumbered into it reeking of sweat and fur and smoke. “Bollo?” he asked, and wasn't able to find the words to continue.
“Bollo understand,” he'd said, in a voice so low it rumbled, and he drew Naboo close. The ache grew.
Bollo wasn't sure how he knew what to do that first time. Instinct, he supposed. He ran his massive hands all over the tiny body in front of him, the neck and shoulders, the back he could span with one hand. He thumbed Naboo's chest, and pressed an open, rough palm between thighs so slender he could have snapped them like twigs.
It was new for Naboo. This much he understood.
It's always too cold. The place where Naboo comes from is arid and hot, and the bright light stains everything golden. He tries to re-capture the haze of that heat here, with smoke and sweat and drugs that make everything as slow as midday. In the end nothing is as hot as Bollo's wet breath on his skin, or his thick tongue between his parted legs.
He knows what sex is. He's been around for a while, yeah. And even if he hadn't known before, it would be impossible not to living with Vince. He brings a different human home every night, and the sounds they make float on the air like opium. Naboo sits on the couch and crinkles his nose in disgust. It seems somehow unbearably raw. The humans rut like animals, he thinks, they grunt and pant and snarl. Naboo was never more than vaguely curious about it before. He assumed he wasn't made that way. Still, sometimes at night he'd feel that strange tickle on his skin and feel open, gaping. He stirs now, on the couch beside Bollo. He exhales slowly and the fabric of his robe brushes against his skin. He's a higher being, he tells himself.
It takes a lot of complex magic, creating a familiar. Serious juju. Bollo belongs to him in so many ways. Naboo struggles to remember that when he's on his back with his legs spread, feeling like he's being touched everywhere. But afterwards, as he's falling asleep, he thinks about what Bollo was like before his magic, and his mind is full of his wild eyes and shapeless roar.
Naboo is ancient. Old as trees and rock and soil are old. Bollo knows this. But when he's sleeping he looks so very young that it's hard not to feel something primitive inside, something possessive. He tries to remember what life was like before Naboo, but there were no words then so he finds it hard to think about.
Bollo likes to watch Naboo practice his magic. He likes his voice when he chants, even if he can't understand the words. He likes the shift of power in the air, he can smell it, like rain. Naboo is supposed to be bound by Shamanic law, but Bollo thinks he sometimes casts spells just to see his reaction, a strange kind of indulgence. He watches him with glassy eyes. In the end nothing's as magic as the words in his mouth, or his own name on Naboo's lips.
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no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 08:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 08:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 08:58 pm (UTC)Very sweet!
no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:15 pm (UTC)I wasn't sure if the serious tone worked, and I can see how Naboo's a bit off - the whole thing was pure indulgence really, just something that's been stuck in my head that I couldn't get rid of.
So pleased you think Bollo is lovely too!
no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-25 09:49 am (UTC)Ahh I will stop spaffing now.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-25 10:04 am (UTC)That third last paragraph is kind of heartbreaking, its so intense - Thank you! I have all these ideas in my head of how Naboo and Bollo as we know them came about, but I just wanted to hint at that here, have it play a little on Naboo's mind. I wanted it to come across as basically selfish, on Naboo's part. Not good or bad necessarily, just selfish. I don't know if I'm making sense, but oh well :)
no subject
Date: 2008-07-25 10:14 am (UTC)Aw, you made me go a bit fangirly, hehe.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:17 pm (UTC)x x x
no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-27 12:42 pm (UTC)I feel my innocence has been violated.
Still, it's also pretty funny!
*snerk*
no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:27 pm (UTC)I love Naboo/Bollo crack, but apparently I love Bollo/Naboo when it's sensible as well. As long as it's as good as this.
:]
Lovelovelove
xx-xx
no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-25 09:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-26 01:16 pm (UTC)i read the warning & i wasn't sure what i was going to make of this..
but you wrote it so beautifully & pulled it off so nicely.
very, very well done. :]
no subject
Date: 2008-07-26 02:41 pm (UTC)long-winded ros is long-winded
Date: 2008-07-26 02:15 pm (UTC)I love this image both for the contrast it creates between Naboo and Bollo and for the image of sex making someone unravel like silk. The way you make Naboo seem overwhelmed, falling apart, and yet how he does not want it to stop. As I've said before, your writing has such momentum; there's an inevitability to it that makes it feel like you are thinking about every word and image. There's a sense of that inevitability too in this image of sex: the juxtaposition (or the inevitability?) of the coming undone and the never wanting it to end.
The place where Naboo comes from is arid and hot, and the bright light stains everything golden.
I love your imagery. I was going to quote more, but that line is such a good example of it. You write with such precision: even when the piece is not linear it doesn't loose its sense of exactness (your poetry has that too, which I admire), and I think precision is something that makes for the best imagery. You write with total clarity and immediacy, yet if you want to create a mood that is somewhat "dreamy" or you want your characters to be uncertain, you manage to achieve that simultaneously. It's so interesting.
He tries to remember what life was like before Naboo, but there were no words then so he finds it hard to think about.
And, this back story about them, it's fascinating. The idea of Bollo's "shapeless roar"---what he was before Naboo, and what he makes Naboo. I love how you can create so much about the characters with so little detail. Your writing style just works so well.
Re: long-winded ros is long-winded
Date: 2008-07-26 02:55 pm (UTC)I think precision is something that makes for the best imagery - I totally agree, and I think I have this problem with a lot of more modern, free-verse poetry. It's too sloppy and unrefined. I like form because it usually forces the writer to be more precise, and I love free verse where that precision carries through. I think that's also where I'm usually most unhappy with my prose, it gets too many usless words in it. I always want to strip it down really bare, but then I worry that I'm not getting the right meaning across. It means so much that you think it works :)
And, this back story about them, it's fascinating - I find them really interesting characters, so much is left unsaid about their history. I wonder if they will ever go into it in more detail than they already have in the Boosh.
Perhaps you'll write some Naboo/Bollo now? Pretty please?
no subject
Date: 2008-07-28 09:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-06 09:56 am (UTC)I don't think anyone, ever, and that includes canon, has given us a better portrayal of these characters than you do here. You've made them real. And they're a non-gendered shaman and a sentient gorilla. That's what you've gone and done!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-07 12:37 pm (UTC)wow, beautifully visualised. Am very very impressed :o) Will go back to talking to you just as soon as I reboot my brain.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-07 12:40 pm (UTC)