"I always tended to urinate outside whenever the option presented itself, even in cities. There is something reassuring about standing on frosty ground, gazing up at the stars, for example, and letting myself flow, melting rime off the grass. Or pissing when it rains, in the sea, off a cliff, from a tree, on gravel, down an alley."
-Viggo Mortensen, in “I Forget You For Ever” page 9
At first, Sean habitually complained whenever I suggested we have outdoor sex. He used to go on ranting about ants, bees, grasshoppers, all sorts of insects; snails, worms, icky slimy little creepy creatures; thorns, stones with sharp edges, rabbit shit, wild beasts which were likely to bite vulnerable parts. He was very eloquent about the wide variety of repulsive and dangerous aspects of wildlife sex.
However, after a while he discovered nature’s beauty in all its multitude of blessings. Once he sat down on a low tree stump with a large diameter and made me lay down on my belly in front of him, with my legs opened wide and wrapped around the stump. Then he spanked me like that… the damn thing held my legs apart as effectively as a spreader bar.
His favourite little scene happened when he fucked me in a hunters’ stand. It was incredibly inconvenient and narrow, and I had to lean out the window opening with my upper body while he fucked me. Of course, it didn’t take long before a jolly club of strollers passed by, jovially engaging me in an endless conversation. Sean not only did not stop, the pervert got off on having me in that awkward position – making me take it up the ass while I was forced to keep a neutral expression, struggle for leverage under his relentless thrusts, and even think of monosyllabic answers while sweat poured down my temples. Thank god those naïve walkers finally tooled away down the path and spared me the indignity of cumming in front of them. He’d primed me well. As it was, once I would finally let myself free to participate instead of resist in the near-violent banging, the possibility of being found out washed over me and ratcheted my libido so much I was spurting loads of cream all over the wall within mere seconds.
Not that I didn’t pay him back. Sometimes, we needed a little deliberate pain. Such occasions were a means to explore our seldom-allowed dark waters. For a man so golden, Sean had a side of him that frankly… needed to be beaten into submission. That he let me was an honor. That it was mutual… was a miracle.
Deep in the woods one day, miles from anyone, I half-stripped him and used his belt to tie him to a branch, arms raised above his head. Tides of lust and aggression crashing and rising, I used my own belt for something else. One of Sean’s many desirable, appreciable attributes was that he would never back down once he’d taken a dare, even an informal one. He could see me shaking out the short leather coil of it. A shiver ran up his long, pale body; his jaw worked till he could arrange his face for easier breathing. When he was ready, he gave a little nod and turned his head away. I unleashed, striking without inhibition at his wide, muscled shoulders, making bright red lines and mottled flesh below. The stubborn bastard wouldn’t cry out. The more he kept his silence, the harder I swung.
His breath came out in harsh rasps; from the side, I could see how he squeezed his eyes shut tight. The short, gold-tipped lashes stood straight out from beneath his lids, quivering with each blow, sticky with moisture he’d try to hide if he could. Then it dawned on me… he was squirming, the long ridge of his erection noticeable behind his fly. It drove me to whirl and bring the force of my whole body’s momentum with it. He recoiled from the other side of that strike. A hoarse grunt and a bit of spit flew from his mouth, but it was enough.
Taking out my butterfly knife, I flashed it open. Cut him down, but left his wrists bound together. He landed with a heavy thud on all fours. Nearly shredding his pants, for sure cutting through the back of his waist band and a belt loop or two, I yanked them down. The lube in my pocket was warm already. The knife went blade-first into a tuft of grass near where we knelt, and I did likewise into the rich loam of his ass. Rarely did the call of the wild hit me so hard… I needed to take him there, semi-clothed but stripped all at once, his face to the side framed by dry strands of grass, my hand around the back of his neck to keep him under control. The belt still coiled around his wrists. Even like that, after defiance and punishment, he took everything I dished out, every thrust and slide, every drop of my seed when it sprang free deep inside him. I was screaming, crying, everything too much. And never enough; I could never have enough of him. Taking his surging cock into my hand and jerking him off, I helped him leave a piece of himself for the forest.
On less intensive days, I always loved to get him to cling to a tree, and simply push his jeans and shorts down over his hips, or, even better, push his costume up – layers and layers of rich luscious green and red satin, until finally his ass was naked and exposed, but decoratively framed by gracefully flowing cloth, like in a decadent painting, “beyond baroque.”
We fucked in fields, clearings, meadows freckled with little white flowers; at, under and on trees; behind woodpiles, on windy hills, in caves… After we’d been together for a few months, we could hardly go anywhere without passing by several of our favourite fucking spots. I liked that, the way our eyes met in these moments. Though I missed him while he was in England, on my long lonely walks through the forest I would pat this nice tree or that with the especially “graspable” bark, and it made me smile…
One of the aspects I especially enjoyed about having sex outdoors was relieving ourselves afterwards. We always did that together. Standing side by side, we would pee on the tree we’d just fucked against, the darkly glittering rocks in a cave wall, or simply into the grass or dirt where ever we happened to be. Once we urinated down from a cliff in complete darkness, standing close to the edge, and counted the seconds until the first splatters hit the ground. At the beach, we pissed our names in the sand, or tried. We were laughing too hard to get much past “S” and “V.” In a combined effort, we painted a heart in the snow another time, until finally our streams met and mingled. It was utterly ridiculous in the way only very romantic things can be
I really did take pleasure in those miniature, temporarily little streamlets and puddles, and I think Sean did, too. Water we drink to stay alive is from the Earth… that was one way of giving it back. Lord knows we left plenty of cum out in nature as well, scattered here and there. Our scents permeated our environment, seeping into soil. I imagined it filtering into aquifers, purified by its travels underground. Trees never complained about the watering. Our combined minerals were accepted, probably eventually photosynthesized into oxygen. Maybe it’s a male thing, to be able to make your mark and say, “Viggo was here.”
Is it so very surprising I’d want to do the same to Sean, who I found I loved more than anyone or anything? My mind leapt in that direction. We’d bitten, scratched, bruised with our hands during our rough sex play. What I wanted to do… that wouldn’t hurt a bit. I wanted to see him naked on the ground, covered in my essence, the one I could let flow for a good long while, which would cover, wash, and baptise him into me.
Naturally he grumbled when I finally brought it up, just casually, letting a little splash of warm piss tickle his bare toes. He jumped and practically squealed, balked, moaned that I was a sick freak. Expecting such, I found it easy to keep the thoughtful and bemused little smirk on my face while he paced and pulled at his hair, his green eyes throwing emerald sparks while those black rims got blacker and his nostrils flared and his ears went all pointy.
I already knew these were signs of anticipation at least as much as of rejection as well as I knew that the things he fights most are exactly the things that excite him most. Having him throw a fit means you hit where it “hurts” – directly at his weak spots, his most secret desires.
Complementing these patterns of reaction on my side, there was nothing that got me off more than his defiance. Even if a sexual experiment wasn’t so tempting in itself first – as soon as I noticed that the idea of it made Sean cringe and flush and his exes sparkle with indignation and rebellion, I wouldn’t yield until he succumbed to it. Nothing could be better than to watch the rage and defiance in his expressive eyes melt into surrender… to feel his tense and ready-to-fight muscles slacken with devotion when he finally gave in to our lust…
I needed him on his back, pleading with me: “Piss on me, Viggo….” I had a fantasy of him: I was watching TV and felt the urge to relieve my bladder in the midst of an interesting scene. He knelt down in front of me and I opened my legs to let him between them. I casually opened my fly, never taking eyes off the TV, and emptied myself in his ready mouth while he swallowed obediently, thus sparing me having to get up and miss a part of the movie. The key was letting it flow slowly and not overwhelm him which would make it that much more of a relief, sweet and sensual, that slow drain of the bladder.
In reality, I didn’t intend to go quite that far.
Next time when it came to our after-outdoor-sex-piss, after that little incident when I sullied his toes, there was an awkward insecurity between us. Before the non-verbal hint in the direction I wanted to go, this had been the fun part, simple relaxation after the intensity of our sex games, frolicking about with silly pissing contests about who can pee farther, higher, longer or perform any kind of pissing acrobatics, like “pissing soccer”, which was moving a little stone from its initial place to a given “goal” only with the driving force of the stream; or “shooting” at certain targets (which wasn’t very funny anymore when we agreed on a little black round hole in the earth which proved to be a wasp’s nest immediately after Sean “won”…).
This time, Sean obviously wasn’t in the mood for funny pissing contests.
The sex had been extraordinarily, even by our standards. We hardly ever did it less than three times, but that night one fuck seamlessly flowed into the next… between the last two times, I didn’t even draw out. I rested on him and in him while he was bedded on moss and soft grass, and I almost fell asleep on him, and he under me… until our bodies started to make love again, and we woke up mid-sex, already happily fucking…
The surrounding was almost surreal, we lay in a clearing on a hill, green and blue fireflies sparkling against the black silhouettes of the old trees and the moon shining so bright it was like the artificial world of a movie set for “Alice in Wonderland.”
Somehow, I didn’t want to finish yet… The fucking had started half-consciously, but I didn’t want just an easy-going relief; I wanted to keep us like this, halfway to orgasm, forever… at least for longer.
I pulled out. Though Sean was hard and aroused, as close as I was, he didn’t protest. As if he understood. We both rolled on our backs and looked up in the starry sky, our glistening erections softy cooling in the fresh but warm night air.
After a while he got up; he smiled down at me – it was a gorgeous sight to see him from below, his cock still pointing at the stars, bluish light flowing all around him; his beautiful smile directly behind his erection from that perspective.
He walked over to a boulder a few yards away, lit a cigarette and sat down on it; his back was to me, because this way he had the nightly landscape laid out in front of him, soft curves of the hillside in the moonlight-tinted mist and black-shaped forests. I became aware of the whispering sounds of nature around us… faint rustling in the branches and the call of an owl far away.
I followed him. When he turned his head a little and looked up at me, memory struck me – the lighting was very similar to our scene in Lothlorien, when I come to him in the night and Boromir and Aragorn have their one friendly talk together - all silvery-blue and softly sparkling. That was before we had slept with each other. I remembered the sudden impact of longing when I had been overwhelmed by the look on his face: shy, but proud; troubled, but trusting. It was not even physical desire primarily. It was more the deep shock of real beauty; in this moment, I felt humbled to be allowed to be near him, a feeling of deference and gratefulness.
Now, he looked at me with the same expression in his face. When he opened his mouth to speak, I saw his still half-stiff cock stirring, underlining the tension in his voice:
“Viggo… what you did the other day…” he didn’t have to explain what he was referring to. He looked up, unsure, but I nodded encouragement. “You want to do this…?”
He already knew it, or he wouldn’t have asked, and I reminded him of that. “Yeah, or I’d never have suggested it, even non-verbally.”
After a moment, he flicked his cigarette butt away, looked briefly to the side, then back up at me. “Shall I kneel?” His nostrils flared just a little.
“Right where you are is fine, Sean…” The excitement of it, that he was going to let me do it, almost made it impossible to actually do it. Heart pounding, I shifted a little, so I was standing over him, aiming at his chest, half-hard cock still seeping clear drops from before. The force of will it took to let myself go soft enough to piss was formidable, but finally, the familiar rush of it flowed… from me, onto Sean.
Steam rose in the cool air, and the warmth and flow, the smell of it, of me ran down his skin. My piss tickled his erection, for he was fully hard. It dripped from his balls onto the rock he was still seated on, down around his arse and into the ground. In sudden inspiration, I moved to focus the stream on one of his tiny pink nipples. It had been tight and beaded; the warmth relaxed it, then it hardened again when I moved away. My piss spattered off his collarbones, into the little hollow of his throat. Sean raised his chin, staring directly into my eyes, compelling… and then he lowered his lids; his mouth a determined line, closed.
Shit! Could I? An unexpected bob of my cock waiting to rise answered for me… the mead of my water splashed his face, flowing into the lines, following them, catching in stubble and eyelashes.
Abruptly I couldn’t piss any more. Blood flooding my groin squeezed it off the tubing inside. My body, especially my groin tingled as I fought down my arousal enough to go on. And again it did flow from me, a single stream of light gold and warmth. It felt like rain, as always good to get it out and let it just pour out. This didn’t seem at all like a dirty act, only natural. Something of me was running down Sean’s chest and belly, gilding him in the moonlight. The look his face was priceless, halfway between ‘ew!’ and ‘this is the hottest thing we’ve ever done.
After a while I went around him, spraying the width of his back, and down his spine. Piss found the cleft of his ass and pooled around it on the rock. Beautiful.
“Put your head back,” I thought, wishing I didn’t have to tell him out loud. Using my free hand, I directed him to do that, and let more piss caress the back of his head, and higher up to his crown. It wetted his hair, making it stick into a few clumps which released the droplets from their ends. Gold and gold.
He shuddered. “It’s just water,” I said quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment. Sean replied simply with the expression on his face and bearing that he knew it.
Before it could end, I went around to the front of him again. The warm liquid dripped down into Sean’s light brown pubic hair, running into the inside creases of his leg joints and some onto his balls. Centred in the midst of it all, his erection jutted proudly. All of nature I could see in my peripheral vision.
Smiling a little, I looked up at the half moon. I stood utterly still, but for the piss still draining unchecked. I would’ve sworn right then I could feel the rotation of the Earth, the gravitational pull of the heavenly bodies, myself and Sean just brief specks in time and space. Once again, I left my mark that said, “Viggo was here,” on both my mate and my habitation. My offering soaked into the ground, into the never-ending cycle of life
To anyone else, it might have been demeaning, but to me, nothing could break Sean’s inborn dignity, and this was sacred. The sight of it was my undoing… and next thing I knew, I was still standing over him, stroking myself. Sean wouldn’t open his eyes—I couldn’t blame him—still covered in my salty pee, but he did give his head a little shake and open his mouth. Perfect. I slid my cock between his firm lips, to meet with his lashing tongue and hot suction.
He sank on his knees and tilted his head back, a silent offer for me to push in even farther. This was the way he signalled he was ready to deep throat me, but usually he did that at the end of a blowjob, after a longer warm-up with licking, tongue-flicking and sucking. He normally also needed some preparation time to get in the head-space for it, to make himself pliant and submissive enough to not actively suck me off, but let me fuck his mouth without restraint. The suddenness of his complete submission pushed the button for a rocket start – all my sexual energy set loose, I jerked forward, slamming into him.
I stroked back his hair strands, wet from what I did to him before. He was so beautiful and sexy like that, slick hair pushed back, eyes closed in concentration, completely giving himself over to the feel of my cock moving inside his mouth. Tiny drops still hung between his lashes, like dew sparkling in the moonlight. Though I didn’t reign myself in, it wasn’t brutal – I simply knew that he could and wanted to take it. He didn’t gag; there was no resistance in his body. He was all open for me.
All the time I looked down at him, my thumbs lightly stroking over his eyelids while I held his head firmly, but without force. It was when he opened his eyes that I came undone. What I saw in them was something eternal, as if they mirrored back the infinite blackness above us. I groaned and spilled, holding him fast without effort and feeding him all I had to give. Never taking his iridescent gaze from my eyes he kept my cock enveloped and sucked softly, until the last shudders subsided.
“God, Sean…” He drew back. My cock slid from his lips, but his eyes still held mine.
“I’d do anything for you, Viggo,” he said very solemnly. “I’d do everything you want. Beat me. Piss on me. I’d even let you cut me if you wanted it.”
There was nothing even remotely weak in his voice or posture. He wasn’t humiliating himself. I could feel his pride, his strength. I knew how much this meant; when we first met he was distanced, clipped, closed. Even after we had sex it took a long time until he started to let his guard down. He had come all the way from there.
I could have told him, honestly, that the same went for me – I loved him more than my life. But that would have made it look like I thought he wanted something in exchange, as if he needed my assurance it was mutual. It would have diminished what was freely given.
Instead, I tenderly lifted him up on his boulder seat again. Tears of precum were sliding down his shaft. I would tell him with words, another time, but now I would just show him how much I loved him.
“Just like that… Stay still.” I didn’t need much prep, for we’d done that before. Simply crawling up on him, I landed in his wet lap, all that damp, pungent skin coming into contact with mine. His mouth was open again, and I latched on with relish; he was always so responsive when it was just us. Beneath my balls, between my legs, he was hot and hard; my own cock pulsed against his belly. His arms wound around me, pulling me in, kneading my arse.
“Ride meh…” he whispered.
I whispered back, “That’s exactly what I had in mind.” Raising up, with a little guidance in the form of Sean’s hand on his cock to point it, I fitted my opening onto the tip of him. He was pulling at my hips, growling at me. I gave him his wish and sank down fast.
“Oh, fuck!” he gasped. “Jesus, Viggo, move!”
After the first couple tentative slides, I sped up, bouncing up and down on him. That slide and burn turned to pure pleasure quickly. Sean still played with my ass while trying to convince me to go faster yet. “Go on, you… Faster, dammit!” His jaw was set, as determined as I’d ever seen him. He wiggled around and hit my sweet spot, and then, I have to admit, I bucked and rode all over him. It was almost a fight, a wrestling match, only we fought for greater pleasure for each other. Things were a little slippery, with the rock and himself both wet, but we managed.
It only took a couple minutes before Sean threw his head back and went utterly still. His mouth opened wide and snarling. Quickly I found his nipples and pinched; he’d told me once it heightened his orgasms. He groaned, a deep and primal sound. It was so purely sexual. Inside me, his cock surged with the releasing flood of cum. His whole body shivered at last, and he fell back onto the boulder.
What a picture he made… Sated, wet with my piss, his well-formed arms straight out to the sides like the proverbial sacrifice, veins raised by pounding blood, his chest heaving and trembling. Even though I had come shortly before, I already fantasised of his body streaked with jets of my cum, or, even better… I wanted to fuck him again even more.
Before he’d really recovered, he had taken my erection in his hand, stealthily stroking it. He always knew exactly how to slide the skin. My organ swelled in his fist, and almost hurt by now. I’d taken a good amount of him rubbing up against my prostate throughout - and oh, no, I wasn’t done with him yet this night, but we both needed some recovery time.
I pulled off him, which of course he moaned a little over. I sat down beside him. For a while, we simply sat there side by side in holy silence, pulse, breaths and souls in synch. The moon had flushed a little and it seemed like he had slightly tipped over. All the stars were twinkling at us conspiratorially. The night was not all black, but of a dark luminous blue you wouldn’t find on any painter’s palette, like thick blue glass lit from candles behind it. The rustle of the wind like a tender whisper in the grass.
“In five minutes,” Sean announced, “I want you bent over this rock. I’m gonna fuck your ass so good…”
“Ready when you are, Sir…” I smirked.
Summary: The story was inspired by Viggo's text "Everything is really water", which mostly deals with the pleasure and "being-one-with-nature" feeling of pissing outdoors :). Co-written with Helena
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 4282 Read: 816
Published: 15 Aug 2009 Updated: 15 Aug 2009