Shameless shoe!kink fic-and-pics: These Boots are Made for... uh...

[squishyturtle.livejournal.com]

Title: These Boots are Made for... uh...
Pairing: Vince/Howard... /boots
Summary: Howard takes Vince shoe shopping. It's a bit too exciting.
Word Count: 3600 + picspam
Rating: R, to be safe
Warnings: boot fetish (fairly tame though, nothing outrageous)
Disclaimer: I own none of it, no profit made and no harm or insult intended. I don't own any of the images either.

Author’s Notes: For graymalkin13 , who was having a rough time. Hope this cheers you up a little bit - I didn't really stick to the prompt and I am too vanilla to write proper porn. Fail.
But I had a grand old time googling boots for inspiration, so I decided to include the pics. Though, most of them are lady shoes - use your imagination people. And why yes, some of them ARE stripper shoes. Oh, and those are actual topshop shoes - brown ones.

 

Later, Howard would ask himself how it came to this. Of course, he knew how it came to this – Vince had been pushed around by a pack of aging builders on his way home, and had showed up at the flat with torn jeans and a broken heel on one of his boots. Howard wasn't made of stone, it's not like he could stand around looking at Vince's kicked puppy face and not want to do something.

So he'd administered the usual therapy of sickly sweet hot chocolate and awkward, reluctant cuddles on the settee. But it didn't seem to work. By bed time, Vince was still quiet and miserable, and he hadn't even looked at the ruined boots, abandoned by the door. And his big sad eyes were messing with Howard's brusque, manly constitution.

He'd gotten Vince into bed eventually (alone, despite Vince's persistently grabby cuddle-me hands), and left him with an order to get some sleep, because they were going shopping for replacement boots in the morning. Which, admittedly, had prompted an impressively radiant smile, dawning slowly on his face.

And that was how Howard Moon found himself standing in Topshop on a Saturday afternoon.

It was horrifying. Apart from the ridiculous clothes and useless accessories everywhere, it was packed with trendies and Camden dollybirds, all peering suspiciously at Howard as if he was so much wastepaper blown inside on the breeze.

Vince spent the first five minutes bounding around the shop, ogling and fondling things like a kid in a sequined candy shop. But Howard was following him around like a one man storm cloud, and his tweedy influence seemed to spread around the shop in their wake.

An alarmed and irritable Howard tried to lose the small crowd amassing to stare at him in the dress section, but he got enough dirty looks to drive him back to Vince's side before long.

Vince didn't seem to be faring any better. “Everything's brown,” he muttered dejectedly. And it was. The shoe selection was dotted with an array of shoes in varying shades of cinnamon, cappuccino and baby poo brown. “And look, these ones think they're a cardigan. And not even a colourful one.”

“Oh,” was all Howard could say, and Vince looked up at him and leaned into him with one denim clad hip. Then he noticed Howard's fanclub, hovering around them to judge Howard in all his beige hawaiian print glory. “Erm,” said Howard. “Sorry. I don't think I'm quite welcome here.”

Vince looked him up and down. “You're... not what they're used to,” he said with uncharacteristic tact.

“They're intimidated,” Howard blustered, guilty at potentially ruining his own cheer-up mission. “Not used to seeing men of culture. I'm a distinguished gentleman, Vince, some people just can't handle that.”

Vince grinned at him. “Yeah Howard, I'm sure that's it.” He sobered after a moment and looked back to the brown shoes, then around at the collage of judging looks surrounding them. “Maybe we should just go home.”

Howard deflated like a balloon. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Vince shrugged. “Not your fault. Wasn't meant to be, I guess.”

That was just depressing. They left Topshop in shame, and headed back out to where the van was parked (Howard had anticipated having a lot more to carry home, and driven them there). But then Howard caught sight of something a little more encouraging.

“Wait.” He stopped Vince with a hand to his chest, noticing the way Vince's breath caught under his palm. In surprise, or something. “Let's go in there.”

Vince squinted in the direction he was pointing, and pulled a face. “There? Howard, that looks well creepy. And, more importantly, unfashionable!”

Howard snorted, and tried to disguise it as a cough. “Well, it could be worth a look.”

All he got for that was that familiar exasperated sigh, the one that screamed 'oh, the things I put up with from you, poor me'.

Alright, the little shop he'd spotted was a little bit creepy, now they were inside. Only a little bit. But it was quite dimly lit, and very cluttered, tucked away between a bookshop and a deserted chinese restaurant.

There was an aging hippy in a long floral skirt behind the counter at the back, and she smiled at them when they walked in, and went straight back to her crossword book.

Vince took a few hesitant steps inside, before his attention was caught by the shelves packed with brightly coloured shoes and clothes and accessories.

“Oooh,” he cooed to a haphazard pile of vibrant silk scarves, which he promptly buried his hands in as if they were cool water on a hot day. Howard had to look away from the look of pleasure on his friend's face, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, but he was soon roped into holding Vince's 'to-try-on' pile.

He was like a shopping caddy, following Vince around with his potential purchases. It was demeaning. But Vince did look awfully happy, so Howard thought perhaps he could let it slide for today.

By the time Vince had collected enough to head for the change room, Howard couldn't see over the mountain in his arms. He was extremely relieved to dump it all inside the surprisingly roomy changing room. And then-

“Wait,” Vince said suddenly. “I don't need all of this, I'm supposed to be looking for shoes.”

Howard glared.

But Vince didn't even notice, he had dashed out to the shop again, and within moments he was returning with an enormous tower of shoeboxes. He dumped them next to the first pile, and surveyed the mess. “Still,” he said, grinning impishly. “I might need something to go with the shoes.”

Howard just huffed quietly. Apparently taking his silence for consent, Vince steered him into the chair oppoosite the change room door. Howard had a sneaking suspicion that it was in fact a husband chair – but at least that meant he wasn't the wife.

There was a flurry of rustling and zipping in the change room, before Vince emerged to show Howard the first option. Howard realised he was probably going to do this for every one of them, and braced himself for a long day of pretending he cared.

The first few choices were fairly understated, for Vince.

    

“Bit feminine,” Howard said uncertainly, at the first.

“Not feminine enough,” at the second.

“Don't you have some that colour already?” to the third.

“Not very unique,” at the fourth.

By then he was starting to get the hang of it, and Vince did look a lot perkier now, posing dramatically and getting more into it with each one, even adding accessories to the ensemble.

“What do you think?” he asked Howard as he adjusted a cravat he had found god knows where. “Victorian gentleman?”

“Bit beige,” Howard declared, leaning back and stroking thoughtfully at his chin like a judge.

Vince didn't seem deterred at all, and threw Howard a cheeky grin as he disappeared into the change room again. At this point it was fairly obvious he was only going into the change room for the dramatic unveiling it afforded him when he emerged again, but Howard had to admit he was enjoying having Vince show off just for him.

“Tranny biker?” Vince asked, attempting what he probably thought was a manly, intimidating pose.
 

“Is there a broad market for that?” Howard countered. He refused to admit it, even to himself, but it was fun, and he wasn't going to let Vince settle on one and leave this early in the game.

The knowing grin Vince gave him as he disappeared again suggested that maybe he knew this, and was going along with it.

“Kitchen curtains for your feet?”
 

Howard laughed, and then tried to pretend he hadn't. But the choices just kept getting more outlandish.

“Goth tinman?” was his next suggestion, complete with shiny metal cuffs and choker.
 

Howard just shook his head.

“Cowboys?” Vince tried next, complete with mimed guns and a cocky pose that accentuated his jutting hipbones and... other assets. Howard blushed.
 

“Or Indians?” And that was worse, this time he'd taken his shirt off and replaced it with only a string of beads in earthy colours, and stuck a feather in his hair that brought back some uncomfortable memories of being in bed with Vince in the forest, headed straight for some unwanted sexual encounters of the Yeti variety. And he still looked good, when every other person on the planet would have looked ridiculous.

By then Howard's face was burning hot, and Vince was grinning at him with unusually bright eyes.

“Shall I try some more?” Vince asked him quietly, still staring.

Howard swallowed around a dry throat. “Well, you haven't found anything good yet, right?”

Vince grinned, and closed the door again.

“Glam rock astronaut?” He'd added a shirt, thank god, but this look came complete with slow motion walking on the moon, in a circle outside the change room.
 

Which resulted in him facing away from Howard for a lot longer than it took to realise that heels had a very good effect on his arse. “No,” Howard barked.

Vince just giggled, and slow motion bounced back into the change room.

“Funky Inuit?”

“Been done before,” Howard said blithely.

“Yeah, by me,” Vince muttered as he ducked inside again. “Marching band chic?” Where on earth he'd found a conductor's hat and baton was a mystery.

Howard fought to think of something to say that wasn't 'wear more red'. But all he came up with was a noice that came out like “Eeehhh,” which wasn't helpful at all.

Vince shrugged, and went back for another impressively speedy outfit change. “Look Howard, the laces are in knuckle dusters!” was his next offering. “I can kick your arse and then punch your lights out too!”

“That's kind of an aggressive message, isn't it?” Howard muttered, wondering if Vince was picking all these high heels just to torment him. As if his legs weren't long and lithe enough already.

And there were still more heels. “I'm off to the Emerald City or something,” he declared with a grin, and clicked his heels together.

“If you only had a brain,” Howard countered. But the glittering green of the shoes and the jacket he'd paired with them really complimented the excited flush on his ridiculous cheekbones.

Howard knew the next one would be bad before Vince even came out, from the muffled giggling coming from behind the door.

“Patriotic stripper?” Vince said, laughing, when he finally emerged. He was still clothed, thank christy, but really, the skintight black skinnies and soft, clinging t-shirt weren't really helping matters.

Howard laughed too, but it sounded more hysterical than amused. “You're ridiculous,” he choked out.

Vince smirked. “You love it,” he said quietly, endlessly cheeky, and promptly disappeared behind the door, leaving Howard in embarrassed silence.

He took a deep breath and dropped his head back against the wall behind him. This was not at all what he had expected when he suggested this trip. But at least Vince appeared to have forgotten his bigoted-builder-induced sulk.

Howard got up to peer around the corner at the hippy behind the counter, who was still apparently engrossed in her crossword puzzle.

“Oh,” came a voice from the changing room.

“What?” Howard called quietly, coming to stand outside the change room door.

“Nothing,” Vince answered. “I just thought these were knee highs.”

“So?” Howard persisted, completely lost. There was only silence. “Try them on anyway?”

“Nah,” Vince said absently, possibly talking to himself. “They're a bit kinky, even for me.”

Well now Howard was intrigued.

“Besides,” Vince continued, still sounding like he was thinking out loud. “They'd take hours to lace up.”

Howard rested a hand against the door. “I could help?”

There was silence from the other side. Then the door opened, and Howard's hand dropped back to his side. Vince stood still, peering around the door at him for a long moment. “Yeah,” he breathed at length. “Alright. Come in here though, I don't want that old bint seeing.”

Which is how Howard found himself kneeling at Vince's feet in a cluttered changing room in an almost deserted shop. And...

“Ah,” Howard said. “These aren't knee high.”

Vince gave a breathy laugh. “No,” he murmured.

Howard reached for the laces at the bottom, and Vince went for the other foot. But they immediately got in each other's way, bumping elbows and shoulders, and Vince's hair was everywhere when Howard turned to see where Vince was aiming. They stopped, faces too close together, and Vince laughed quietly, face flushed and sounding breathless.

“Maybe you should-” he started, as Howard said, “Why don't I-”

Vince laughed again, and sat up. “Yeah.”

Howard gathered the laces and pulled them taut, slowly working his way up the buttery soft, matte black leather. He could hear Vince inhale when Howard reached his knee, but he continued before he lost his nerve.

When he reached the top, halfway up Vince's thigh, his hands were shaking just slightly, and he fumbled with the laces before managing a shaky bow. On impulse, he dipped a finger just below the top of the boots and ran it around Vince's inner thigh. “Too tight?” he said quietly, trying not to let his voice crack and give him away.

“No.” Vince's voice was suspiciously strangled, and Howard looked up to see a rather fetching shade of pink decorating Vince's pale skin. His blue eyes were oddly bright, staring down at Howard.

Howard needlessly smoothed over the top of the soft leather boots once more, feeling the heat of Vince's skin even through denim, his hand entirely too close to where the fly of Vince's jeans was straining over-

Oh.

Howard froze, then looked up just in time to see Vince drop his head back, eyes screwed shut and biting his lower lip, blush darker than ever. His pale, delicate hands were clenched white knuckled around the bench he was sitting on, but he didn't move.

“Howard-” he muttered, and then stopped, because Howard had grabbed his other foot and was gathering the laces of that boot into his hand.

This one seemed to take even longer. His hands completely refused to cooperate, and Vince kept shifting jerkily and twitching away.

“Hold still,” Howard reprimanded him quietly, and got a sudden huff of breath in reply.

He shuffled closer on his knees as he reached the top, and Vince spread his legs accommodatingly. He fumbled the knot a couple of times before he managed a lopsided bow, and then rest his broad palm on Vince's inner thigh, his thumb resting lightly over the knot.

“Howaaaard,” Vince whined.

Howard clambered to his feet and extended his hands to Vince to help him up. The heels were really quite impressive, and when Vince lurched to his feet – entirely too close to Howard, or not close enough – they were almost the same height.

“Howard,” Vince hissed, but Howard didn't move. “Howard. Howard! Howard. Howard? Howard! Howard-”

“What?” Howard snapped, and then kissed him.

Vince immediately melted into it, draping himself all over Howard like a limpet and pawing desperately at him. He couldn't seem to be still, squirming about like he couldn't control himself. Howard slipped a hand under his t-shirt to find the warm skin of his back, while the other crept into that unruly mop of dark hair as if in defiance of Vince's refusal to let anyone touch his precious coiffure.

Vince's mouth was burning hot, even when he pulled back to nip at Howard's lower lip. They stood for a moment, panting into each other's mouths, until Howard dropped both hands down to grab Vince's arse, and the smaller man whimpered.

Impulsively, Howard hauled him closer and up to kiss him again, feeling those long legs immediately go around his waist, the boots warm and solid at his back, heels brushing the backs of his thighs. Vince was heavy, especially with the boots, and Howard moved to the wall and pressed him against it, letting it take some of his weight.

Vince's arms twined around his neck like ivy, one hand ducking below his collar, the other tangling in his short curls and tugging ruthlessly even as he kissed Howard like his life depended on it.

Howard broke off with a gasp and Vince released his vice like grip on his hair. “Cheeky,” he murmured, and Vince dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling as he writhed shamelessly against Howard.

He shifted his weight and Vince unwrapped himself from around the taller man to drop his feet back to the floor with a dull thud. Howard shoved them back together and licked at Vince's neck, wanting, wanting, wanting, and not knowing what to do.

Vince wriggled a hand down between them, and Howard worked out what he wanted. He drew back just enough to swat Vince's hand away and get those ridiculously tight jeans open, before shoving his hand inside and - oh fucking hell, he was wanking Vince off in a changing room. Him! With Vince! In a changing room.

Vince gave a fairly pathetic sounding whine and bucked against Howard's hand and his hips, which set Howard off with a moan of his own. He belatedly tried to muffle it in Vince's collarbone, but that just made Vince moan again. Howard bit him without thinking, and was rewarded with a trail of open mouthed kisses up his neck and over his jaw until their mouths met again.

It was completely ridiculous. He had a hand down his best friend's pants, in a shop, with an aging hippy outside just waiting to catch them. It was the single most mortifying moment of Howard's life, and it was brilliant. He had no idea what he was doing, or what Vince was thinking, or what the hell would happen later, and he couldn't work out why they hadn't been doing this for years.

“Shh,” he hissed in Vince's ear, and Vince hitched a leg up around Howard's to pull them closer together. Which left Howard plastered to Vince's body with not enough room to fumble incompetently at Vince's cock, and with one heavy leather boot wrapped around him, one heel nudged between his calves.

There was a noise outside in the shop, and Howard, filled with terror at the thought that it might be the lady from behind the counter checking up on them, shoved a hand in Vince's hair again to pull him into a kiss, hoping to silence his panting.

And Vince came all over his hand.

There was another rustle outside the door, but Vince didn't seem to notice, instead clinging desperately to Howard as if he could somehow pull him closer. He buried his face in Howard's neck and whimpered a final, plaintive, “Howard,” and Howard was following him over the edge.

And then they were both standing in a change room all sweaty and breathless and having come in their trousers like teenagers.

“Are you alright in there?” came the voice from outside, and Vince had to smother a sudden onslaught of giggles into Howard's collarbone.

Howard clutched at him in panic, and Vince pulled back to grin at him. “Yeah, fine thanks, just I think this one's a bit small!” he called out. “Here, unzip this again for me,” he said loudly to Howard, even as he reached for an abandoned silk scarf in a cheerful floral pattern and wiped Howard's hand off on it.

“Oh,” Howard stuttered, catching on. “Here – there's a little button – there we go, that's got it.”

Vince was valiantly holding in another fit of laughter. “Thanks mate, I just couldn't reach it myself.”

“Alright,” said the lady from outside. “Let me know if you need anything.”

They waited for her footsteps to retreat, and Vince promptly started sniggering.

“What's so funny?” Howard grumbled, feeling his face burn.

“Think I'll have to buy this,” Vince giggled, balling up the ruined scarf. “Also possibly some new trousers.”

Howard frowned, still crushed by shame and sudden anxiety. Vince was being so casual, what if he'd totally misinterpreted the situation and Vince thought it was all a big laugh?

“Also,”Vince whispered, somehow looking up at Howard through his fringe even though they were basically the same height at the moment. He bent his knee and slid one long leg just a little way up the outside of Howard's, pressing the soft, smooth leather and the chunky heel against him. “Maybe these too?”

Howard nodded helplessly, and Vince pulled him into another kiss, shallow because he was smiling too much.

“Successful shopping trip, then,” Vince said cheerfully as they set about fixing the giant mess in the little room. “And I don't even have to show you what I bought when I get home, since you were here the whole time, you've seen it.”

Howard awkwardly fumbled for Vince's hand, and got a smile for his efforts. “I don't know,” he said quietly. “You could still show me at home. I might forget, you understand.”

And that got an even bigger, slightly more wicked, smile.

Comments

[graymalkin13.livejournal.com]

OMG, I love this! The humour is perfect -- “If you only had a brain" sent me rolling -- and the way you used the pictures is adorable. The scarf at the end -- so cute! The scene in the changing room -- so HOT! Thank you so much for writing this for me. I feel very honored and very cheered up! I'll be rereading this often.

[squishyturtle.livejournal.com]

Yaaaay, I'm so glad you like it! Haha, I was worried the scarf was too seedy. XD And hey, my pleasure! :)

[graymalkin13.livejournal.com]

The scarf is the perfect ending! <3 <3 <3

[agentadvocate.livejournal.com]

Oh Howard, you sweet distinguished gentleman you.

despite Vince's persistently grabby cuddle-me hands

OH THE MENTAL IMAGE. Perfect.

The banter was killer as well. Very Vince-Howard-esque. "If you only had a brain" made me haphazardly laugh out loud.

This was possibly the most fun I've ever had reading a fic. I've never seen something so hot & hilarious done with images to boot, so I'm totally in love. graymalkin13 should sure be honoured! I love changing rooms now.

[squishyturtle.livejournal.com]

Thankyou!
And since you pointed out the mental image, all I can picture is Vince's grabby hands, ALL THE TIME.

[oaktree89.livejournal.com]

Aww, this is very cute! I love the inclusion of the pictures. Hot, too!

[unbelievable2.livejournal.com]

Fantastic! And I love the images. Some of those boots are straight out of Funkadelic!

[pitpony13.livejournal.com]

This was adorable and hot! Vince's descriptions of his looks made me laugh.

[gurkboll.livejournal.com]

Haha, this is awesome! I like the pictures, and it was just the right mix of humour and hot!

[graymalkin13.livejournal.com]

Oh my stars, I can totally see Vince in these. A little padlock at the top of each lacing could be interesting. "You're going to wear these boots until I unlock 'em!"

[squishyturtle.livejournal.com]

They were pretty much those, except I pictured them non-shiny (for some reason - maybe to make them more strokable?), and with the laces at the front (closer to the goods XD).

And I'm very glad to hear it cheered you up, I hate knowing people have had a crappy day/week/life. Hope your day got better!

[graymalkin13.livejournal.com]

There's something wonderfully sensuous about "buttery soft, matte black leather" as you described in the story. It made me think of glove leather, which is thin and conforms to the leg and warms up from body heat. And yeah, I pictured the laces at the front. That's the style I would choose for myself. But I love the shiny ones as well. And with the laces on the side -- wouldn't you need someone to help you lace them up? *heh heh*

[mandybling.livejournal.com]

Aw but this was awesome!

[jadore-histoire.livejournal.com]

This was adorable and hot at the same time! I absolutely loved it!

“Patriotic stripper?” Vince said, laughing, when he finally emerged. He was still clothed, thank christy, but really, the skintight black skinnies and soft, clinging t-shirt weren't really helping matters.

VINCE! DID YOU STEAL BOOTS FROM GINGER SPICE?!

[agentadvocate.livejournal.com]

Oh man- I THOUGHT THE EXACT SAME THING.

[squishyturtle.livejournal.com]

YES HE DID, HE MUGGED HER IN THE STREET WITH A SLAP FIGHT, AND STOLE HER SLUTTY BOOTS.

[jadore-histoire.livejournal.com]

Vince, how could you?!

I actually own the boots Vince said looked like a cardigan XD Only I wear them buttoned all the way up, so they're knee-high and look totally silly, but that's besides the point. They keep you warm, Vince!

[squishyturtle.livejournal.com]

Oh man, I actually wanted those ones! They look comfy. Buuuut, I didn't think they were really Vince's style.

Vince has no morals or mercy when it comes to fashion!

[appleton840.livejournal.com]

so cute and so hot! please write more, i absolutely loved this. using all those boot pictures was really creative too. adding to memories for sure.

[squishyturtle.livejournal.com]

haha, I'm still working on my current multiparter. Just, slowly... X(

[gina-r-snape.livejournal.com]

This was delicious. Of course Howard would over think it, and of course Vince would want moar.

And I love the ridiculous scarf at the end. All the pictures added a nice touch. LOL

[500daysofbummer.livejournal.com]

oh yes! cute/funny/hot. yay for howard cheering up his boy :) really enjoyed the pics, so fun, made me feel like i was there shopping too!

[squishyturtle.livejournal.com]

oh, I think we'd ALL like to be in that shop with them :P

[monooccularcat.livejournal.com]

Oh, that was just yummy. And the yummy aside, the tone is just fantastic- you really put the voices in my head which is a great thing.

[squishyturtle.livejournal.com]

Thank you!
Appropriate icon is appropriate :P

[bookends999.livejournal.com]

“They'd take hours to lace up.” *dies*

Excellent!! Very very excellent :)

And p.s. I love you name squishyturtle <3

[squishyturtle.livejournal.com]

Hours of fun :D
And thank you! You know, I honestly cannot remember what the hell inspired it. I like yours though!

[meobnal.livejournal.com]

BEST. FIC. EVER.

[squishyturtle.livejournal.com]

YOU. JUST MADE. MY DAY.