Marks
Sean had applied a well-defined bite mark on Viggo’s thigh the night before he departed from New Zealand and flew back home. Slowly stroking the fading, inevitably paling imprint of Sean’s sharp, strong teeth, Viggo contemplated all the times when Sean had left visible traces on his body…
*
Eyes sparkling and glittering suspiciously, Orli sat down beside Viggo during a break in filming and handed him a beer. For hours, Viggo had wondered what was going on with his friend. The riddle was solved when Orli leaned in, sheltering his mouth and Viggo’s ear with one hand. “So today you’re wearing a sign that says, ‘I’m getting fucked by Sean Bean,’” he murmured, drew back with a grin and a leer, then brought his lips close again. “It suits you nicely.”
Viggo stared at him, mouth gaping, and Orlando laughed. “You don’t even know, do you? It’s here…” His finger softly brushed the nape of Viggo’s neck, pushing a few strands of longish hair out of the way. “Well, of course you can’t see it there… but a bite mark of that quality you can certainly feel - even for days afterwards.”
“How can you – I mean, what makes you so sure it was Sean?” Viggo asked, swallowing hard and blushing a bit. He had told Orli many things, but his crush on Sean had been an anxiously-kept secret – Viggo usually opted for discretion in those things.
“Oh, I recognise the imprint,” Orli nodded with the grave seriousness of an expert who’d been consulted in an issue of scientific importance. “You see, his sharp canines result in a characteristic structure, while the more blunt molars show a special angle…” he pointed out, like explaining a prehistoric skeleton. Again he laughed heartily at Viggo’s confusion. “No, you bugger, it was a wild guess! Or not quite so wild actually, because ‘I need to get laid by Sean Bean’ was clearly written in your eyes until just days ago. And this time, I’m not taking the piss.”
“So, this bite mark was the reason you looked at me like that all day? I was starting to worry. Are you jealous? Do you want him - did I miss something?” asked Viggo, but there was indeed a tinge of jealousy in his own voice.
Orli grinned. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re both attractive men, but – you’re not exactly my age class…”
“You’re saying we’re old?” Viggo faked sullenness.
“Wrong.” Orli cocked his head. “I’m more into men like Sir Ian, you know?”
Viggo gave a small cough of surprise.
“But I’m sure you’ll age beautifully, too.” Orli patted Viggo’s shoulder reassuringly for consolation. “So, in twenty years or so, ask me again.”
“Okay, if you don’t want me, or Sean, then why did you give me these salacious looks all day?”
Orli’s eyes immediately lit up with lust-shine again. “It’s just that the thought of Sean biting your neck while he fucks you… holding you down like that… growling, with his teeth buried in that tender spot on your neck and his cock deep in your ass… that is… - excuse me, Viggo, I need to go to the men’s room for a moment…” He winked.
Viggo unconsciously rubbed the spot on his neck that still faintly prickled. Orli’s description had been quite accurate, to tell the truth. Sean had first pinned him to the bed with one hand firmly placed in his neck while he fucked him senseless. But in the end Sean had wanted more skin contact and stretched out on top of him, his full length covering Viggo’s body. Viggo tried to move a little beneath him, mostly because his cock was trapped somewhat inconveniently, but in the heat of the moment Sean mistook Viggo’s squirming.
Sean’s primal instincts warned him his prey might try to escape. He gave an angry roar and bit Viggo hard, forcing him to hold still and just take it.
God, Sean like this had been so arousing… Uncomfortable position forgotten, Viggo instantly came into the sheets.
*
Since then, Viggo often wore marks and bruises gained in battles of love with Sean on his body. He cherished each one of the scratches, bites and little bluish spots on his skin. They told him who he was and who he belonged to; they were part of his identity. He took them with pleasure and wore them with pride and joy; they were more precious to him than any jewel or medal could ever be.
Years ago he had read the ‘Kama Sutra’ and had smiled at the paragraph saying you shouldn’t leave love marks on visible parts of a woman’s body, because, as soon as a man gets sight them on the shoulder or above the breasts of a beautiful woman, it excites him so much he’ll entirely lose control…
Now Viggo himself was treated to that sort of glances full of admiration and desire by men and women – some of them lusting for him, some of them for Sean, all of them aroused and envious. Sean’s handprints and tooth-marks were like a protection spell, a reminder and evidence, a love letter written on living skin.
*
First he’d been afraid that Sean would go on fucking around with men and women, like he knew Sean had done before their first time.
He didn’t want to ask, much less investigate. But every time he called – his heart beating so loud and fast he was hardly able to understand a word on the phone – Sean picked up, and every time he suggested they spend time together, Sean was up for it. Whatever he asked for, Sean said ‘yes’ to; whenever he looked for Sean – Sean was there.
It took a week or so and they were inseparable night and day.
It had to be, Viggo told himself, because Sean liked his daily life simple and stress-free: some footie, a couple of beers, a good shag. Things were casually easy-going and uncomplicated with Viggo. Surely, in the middle of a third divorce, Sean was fed up with histrionics, arguments and relationship-talk. Viggo made a mental note to stay away from all of these.
*
They had only six weeks from their first time to the day Sean left. Viggo struggled hard not to delude himself with any illusions, but he desperately wished for something to keep and to remember, something that would stay with him forever, even when Sean was gone.
One night they relaxed side by side during the afterglow, smoking an after-sex-cigarette, both of them lost in their own dreams and troubles. “What are you thinking?” Sean suddenly asked softly.
In that moment, all his nerves and fibres singing with pleasure, with drugs smuggled out of paradise still coursing through his veins, Viggo’s defences were down and he simply spoke out what was going through his mind. “There’s that scene in Scarlet… you stub out your cigarette on that girl… do it to me.” Viggo had murmured as if to himself, but turned to Sean with the last word – to find him utterly shocked.
“No, Viggo…no.” Sean’s beautiful eyes darkened with honest concern.
“I can take it,” Viggo urged him, stretching out his arm for Sean to brand him. He was sure he wouldn’t even feel the pain, endorphins coursing through his brain and body, his skin burning with enduring sexual heat anyway. “Here on my arm.”
Sean frowned, his face deeply sad and worried now. “No, Viggo.” Instead, he put down the cigarette in the ash tray on the nightstand near his side of the bed, grabbed Viggo’s arm and tenderly kissed the spot Viggo offered.
Viggo finally came to his senses. Sean thought Viggo was demanding a sadistic treat of him – and from his side of things, what else could Sean make of it? No, Viggo couldn’t really expect him to understand his true motives. Viggo wasn’t interested in pain and masochism – all he wanted was a permanent mark to remind him of Sean.
*
He hadn’t dared to explain the real reasons behind the strange request, then. Sean might have found it appalling to believe Viggo was a masochist who liked getting burned by cigarettes - but, Viggo was convinced, he’d be even more disgusted if he found out Viggo was such a romantic sod.
Viggo half-snorted, half-sobbed at the memory. They had never mentioned the incident again and Sean had forgotten about it. Their sex was rough and experimental, they both liked to surrender to each other, took turns in dominating each other, but they weren’t into the more painful kinks.
*
Viggo touched the bite mark on his thigh one last time, then pulled up his jeans and went to the nearest tattoo studio. He had done it once before, long ago, when his little son had scribbled an “H” on his wrist.
“Tattoo over it,” he said. The tattooist studied the mark long and skeptically. At last she shook her head. “I’d better not. This doesn’t look attractive.” Viggo barked a little laugh, thinking of all the longing looks he’d received for marks like that. She obviously had no clue.
“I mean, as a tattoo,” she said with a little smile. He was about to ask which price he had to pay to make her shut up and just do it, when she added, ”Go back to him, whoever did that.” Viggo was impressed enough to leave.
*
In front of his doorstep he met Orlando, who obviously had wanted to visit him and told him he’d already been waiting for half an hour, so he grudgingly let him in.
“I take it you didn’t talk to Sean before he left,” Orlando stated.
“About what?” Viggo muttered.
“About your feelings for him,” Orlando said simply.
“What for?” Viggo retorted ill-temperedly. “We’ve been together for only six weeks. We live in different countries and spend half of our lives on various movie sets. How’s that supposed to work? Apart from that, I can’t imagine he feels the same.”
Orli shrugged. “Yeah, well. That’s kinda what all the talking stuff is about – to find out.” He shook his head. “Jesus, everybody thinks you’re so good at rhetoric. But that’s only true as long as it refers to politics and general philosophy. Now, watch this…”
He took out a CD from the bag he carried and already had started it on Viggo’s notebook before Viggo had stopped grumbling over his latest remark.
It took Viggo just a second to realise the video was from Sean’s last day in New Zealand. They had made love all night long the night before. Even though Sean had no more scenes to do, he paid a visit to the set and watched from a small distance, sitting on a flat boulder. He smiled, chuckled quietly, then narrowed his eyes and followed the proceedings on set more seriously, now and then nodding appreciatively as if professionally assessing the work of his mates.
“He didn’t know you filmed him!” Viggo said accusingly, but Orli rolled his eyes. “You’re always taking snapshots with that camera of yours , so don’t give me that.”
Viggo was ready to object and argue the point, but Orli stepped behind him, grabbed his head with both hands and ‘steered’ it back into position, forcing Viggo to watch the screen again.
Viggo gave up. The truth was that he wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes away at this point, as much as it hurt to see Sean, who looked a little dreamy now, smiling an irresistible Seany-ish smile.
Sean had begun to unbutton his shirt… What the fuck was he doing? The camera zoomed in.
Three scratches appeared on Sean’s chest, right above where his nipple was supposed to be, still hidden beneath the fabric, running diagonally up to his collarbone.
Viggo knew what he saw – it was traces of his fingernails from the night before, leftovers from their passionate love-making.
Sean looked down at his chest. He lifted his hand. His thumb softly followed the red lines. The soundtrack of the video held only the voices on set which had been close to Orli’s camera; nevertheless it was clearly visible that Sean gave a small moan. His fingers all stroked the still-fresh scratches.
The camera zoomed in even closer. Sean looked up again, his eyes moist and shiny. Then his lids closed. He smiled in pure bliss, touching the red marks above his heart. His lips parted, and they formed a name...
Summary: Sean has left a bite mark on Viggo...
Rated: G
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 2141 Read: 802
Published: 15 Aug 2009 Updated: 15 Aug 2009