Sean woke slowly from a satisfying, dreamless sleep. Momentarily disoriented by the lack of a shrieking alarm clock two inches from his ear or by being rudely shaken awake by Viggo at some ungodly hour, he was able to stretch hesitantly before being forced into further movement. Lately, his first priority on waking was to locate any parts of his anatomy that would echo the previous night’s exertions.
His languid movements yielded no aches or pains other than those associated with being a hard-living man in his forties. As full consciousness began to dissipate his morning lassitude, he realized why there were no new bruises or sore muscles. Nothing had happened last night. Nothing. None of the normal activities Sean had begun to associate with Viggo’s creative moods. Huh. That terminology brought home how accustomed Sean had become to what some would label an unusual relationship.
No, nothing had happened last night . . . not unless he counted Viggo’s startling statement just before he’d gone to sleep. Everything Sean had obsessed about before finally succumbing to exhaustion came back to him in a rush. Sean even imagined he could feel his heart rate speed up as he was bombarded with images in intricate detail of the possibilities Viggo’s suggestion implied. Sean knew that his heart rate hadn’t really increased, but his hands were definitely sweating. He vaguely wondered if this was what a panic attack felt like. Breathing deeply, Sean rubbed his hands slowly back and forth on the sheets, letting his arms and shoulders tense and then relax until he felt calmer.
He and Viggo had been lovers, or to put it more crudely, they’d been fucking each others brains out, for more than a year. It had only been about six months ago that they had embarked on their erotic adventures and he’d finally begun to accept the more exotic episodes as normal. Despite these occasional forays into dominance and submission they still spent long, lazy afternoons making love in addition to their more energetic endeavors. At this point in their relationship Sean didn’t know which he preferred. Shrugging at that particular thought, he doubted that he’d ever have to choose.
A quick perusal of the bedroom and the adjoining en suite revealed that he was definitely alone, thank God. Freaking out was bad enough, but if Viggo had seen him panicking he would have been embarrassed as hell and he would have had to come up with a plausible explanation. Viggo was almost a human lie detector. He would have known Sean wasn’t being truthful if he’d tried to make something up, especially on the spur of the moment.
Squinting against the strong morning sunlight, he checked the bedside clock and was shocked to see that he’d been allowed to sleep undisturbed until nearly ten. Untangling himself from the sheets, he wandered into the large bathroom to take care of the morning’s first order of business. Then he washed his hands and brushed his teeth, rinsing his morning breath away with the foul-tasting organic preparation Viggo favored. Sean snorted half-heartedly at Viggo and his “Save the Earth” policies. He’d often teasingly called Viggo a tree-hugger and an old hippie because of his tendencies to insist on certain types of good-for-the-earth purchases. Surely, it wouldn’t cause permanent damage to the environment to use mouthwash with some sort of pleasant taste. Sean spit out the rancid organic shite and vowed to buy a travel size bottle of Scope that he could hide in his shaving kit.
When he finished, Sean wandered back into the bedroom and tossed the wet hand towel he’d been using across the end of the bed in childish payback for the horrible mouthwash, slightly surprised at his own daring. He stubbornly left it where it landed, knowing there’d be a damp spot on the comforter later. After a short search through the drawers on his side of the dresser for clean boxers, he came up empty handed. Sean simply pulled on the pair of jeans and long-sleeved shirt he’d thrown in the general direction of the overflowing hamper the previous evening. Laundry would certainly be on the agenda later.
Sean noted that the entire house seemed quiet. That was very, very good. No sounds were drifting upstairs to indicate that Viggo was engaged in any of his usual morning activities. Viggo tended to be an early riser even when it wasn’t necessary. Sean had discovered when he’d semi-moved in that sometimes even before the sun rose Viggo liked to read in the den with the stereo tuned to jazz and turned low. Occasionally Viggo might even get an early start on his painting or poetry. But there was no muffled music coming from the den or the studio. Sean couldn’t detect the smell of breakfast being cooked wafting up the stairs from the kitchen either. The lack of activity merited careful investigation.
With stealthy moves that would have done 006 proud, Sean quietly padded barefoot down the stairs and checked Viggo’s large workspace in case he was painting or prepping a new canvas, but Viggo wasn’t there. The den was empty and the kitchen also proved deserted although there was a small mess in the sink adding a bit of clutter to the obsessively tidy kitchen. Viggo insisted on brewing that foul-smelling, leafy liquid instead of the coffee most Americans craved in the morning. Sean noted that Viggo’s favorite gourd and bombilla were also missing in action.
Sean refilled the kettle and set out a large mug, rummaging through the cabinet for the much more civilized choice of tea even though he had to settle for the bagged variety. Next time, he was going to make sure he went with Viggo to the market to purchase a few items he considered to be bare necessities. As an afterthought, he added a packet of biscuits to accompany his tea. Sean decided that wherever Viggo had gone, he might be back soon and perhaps Sean could persuade him to make one of his delicious omelets.
While he waited on the kettle to boil, he glanced at the telephone to see if there had been any important calls or messages and discovered a small piece of paper taped to the hand set. On the back of a grocery receipt, Viggo had scrawled his whereabouts. “Checking on TJ”. Sean grinned in amusement knowing that Viggo could disappear at the barn riding or just keeping that spoiled horse company for an hour or all day.
There was no time on the note, but Sean hoped he’d have the house to himself long enough to shower, shave and contemplate the bombshell Viggo had lobbed at him last night. Contemplate being a charitable euphemism for what would probably be a full-blown panic attack before Viggo reappeared. He’d think about that later. Much later. A mug of tea would serve to both wake him up and give him time for contemplation of Viggo’s surprising announcement. Hopefully, the tea and the solitude would also calm the near hysteria he was experiencing at the thought of what Viggo might have meant by “changing places”.
The kettle whistled shrilly and Sean brewed an exceptionally strong cup of English Breakfast tea. As usual, he took it black without any nancy milk or sugar to ruin the taste. Balancing the steaming mug and a handful of shortbread, he wandered back upstairs to the bedroom and daringly propped himself against the headboard with all four overstuffed pillows and the telly changer.
He may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb since Viggo might not be back for hours. In the meantime, Sean would indulge in the unexpected and expressly forbidden luxury of nibbling, sipping and probably spreading piles of crumbs among the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets while surfing for the latest sports news. If he only had a cigarette, life would be good. Sean’s cravings had lessened considerably but today he felt that just one cigarette would help to calm his nerves. He had stashed a few packs in the very top of the hall closet behind some old shoe boxes but was too comfortable to retrieve one and go out on the deck to smoke. It was unfair that Viggo participated in the nasty habit but gave Sean hell when he indulged. Sean decided that if Viggo didn’t return for another hour or so, he’d see about sneaking a smoke or three.
Just as Sean drank the last of the tea and licked his fingers to remove the stubbornly clinging shortbread bits, he heard the kitchen door open and close. Viggo must have parked his disreputable old truck in the alley that ran from the side street to the back of what Sean now considered his garden. Bloody hell! Not only was he busted and in violation of at least four household rules, five if he’d pulled on shoes, but he hadn’t even managed to shower, shave or get dressed for the day. Nor had he had time to fully contemplate Viggo’s cryptic remark.
Sean panicked, almost dropping the damm mug as he tried to set it on the nightstand. No! Not out in the open! Finally he hid it behind the lamp and the ever present stack of books. Then Sean hastily checked for any crumbs that had fallen into the bedclothes, brushing the few he found to the foot of the bed before pulling the sheets back over them. It was too late to silence ESPN since he knew from experience that the television could be easily heard from the top of the stairs. Probably best to just brazen it out and hope that Viggo was either tired from riding and working at the barn or just in a very, very good mood. It was still far too early in the day to start an argument.
Putting on a tentatively brave face, Sean squirmed a little deeper into the pillows and called on his years of acting experience to appear normal, calm and completely innocent. A suitable scenario that popped into his head would be pretending he was Richard Sharpe facing a sneering superior officer. That should put him in a properly defensive mode in case Viggo came back in a bad mood.
On cue, Viggo turned the corner into the master bedroom looking pale and exhausted as though he’d been awake and hard at work for hours. And knowing Viggo as well has he did, he probably wouldn’t have taken time to eat anything before he left for the barn. His worn jeans and faded shirt were adorned with bits of straw and what Sean charitably chose to think of as sweat and not horse slobber. Noting that Viggo’s boots were in even worse condition than his shirt and jeans, Sean thought it a bit odd that he hadn’t paused to kick them off in the mud room before tracking all the way through the house. Viggo must have been very preoccupied not to notice that he was getting mud and stable detritus on the carpets.
Sean flipped off the telly and casually untangled himself from his cozy pile of pillows in case Viggo took exception to his wanton sprawl on the unmade bed. It was always better to be standing if he was going to be reprimanded for his slovenly ways. Some habits from his school days still remained and Viggo seemed to know how to make him feel like he was still the quintessential bad boy.
Sean had chosen to make his exit on the opposite side of the king size bed from where Viggo was haphazardly emptying his pockets on top of the dresser. Sean noted that Viggo removed a wallet, two key rings, and the stub of a pencil, assorted bits of paper and what looked like a loop of baling twine. As Sean watched the ritual, he realized too late that Viggo was now between him and the hall door. So much for a quick escape route.
“Morning.” Viggo’s low voice still sounded husky and unused even though Sean knew he’d probably been up for several hours.
Sean nodded in wary acknowledgement to Viggo’s greeting, but maintained his guarded silence as Viggo advanced into his personal space, causing him to retreat against the narrow strip of wall between the nightstand and the bathroom door.
Viggo’s riding boots gave him an advantage in height since Sean was still barefoot and he seemed to loom almost ominously for a few moments before slowly moving closer. Sean swallowed a little nervously, but after pulling Sean into an embrace, filthy shirt and all, languorous good morning kisses were apparently all Viggo had on his mind and Sean returned the salutation with fervor. He’d worry about the transfer of the unidentified stains when the laundry was sorted.
As Viggo relented slightly from plundering Sean’s mouth to nuzzle his neck affectionately, Sean began to relax until he realized that he was effectively cornered. Shite! He’d been so caught up in the heated exchange of kisses that he hadn’t noticed he’d been maneuvered into the small space with no means of escape.
When Viggo suddenly raised his hands, Sean found himself flinching slightly but Viggo only began to loosen the buttons of Sean’s shirt. He paused after undoing each one to run his hands slowly across Sean’s smooth, pale skin as the shirt parted. Viggo paid special attention to Sean’s nipples. Sean had always reacted strongly to any touch there and Viggo would know that their sensitivity would be at their peak with his skin still warm from bed and Viggo’s hands cool after just coming inside. Obligingly, Sean’s nipples responded to the stimulus and greeted Viggo’s ministrations by standing up and begging for more.
Sean let his head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. Eyes half closed, he remained complacent as Viggo stepped back slightly and started on his own buttons. Sean was breathing harder now, flushed from the heated kisses and more than half hard in anticipation of what promised to be a return to a leisurely morning in bed. This beat the hell out of an omelet anytime.
When Viggo had undone the last button of his shirt, he struck with the speed of a snake.
Viggo gripped Sean’s open shirt roughly, trapping his arms at his sides and pulling Sean abruptly forward. While Sean was distracted and off balance by the sudden assault, Viggo jerked the garment half-way down his arms and efficiently tied the loosened material behind Sean in an intricate knot that immobilized him as surely as if he’d been handcuffed. Viggo stepped back, not even breathing hard, and watched Sean’s face change from hot arousal to cold fury. Sean struggled briefly with his bonds and then stilled. He wasn’t going anywhere unless Viggo chose to release him. Caught between Viggo’s muscular frame and the wall, he was blazing with helpless rage in contrast to Viggo’s cool demeanor. Normally Sean would have grudgingly cooperated with whatever scenario Viggo had in mind, knowing that it would eventually end with fantastic sex. But not today. Not after Viggo’s suggestion of last night.
Viggo slowly pressed back against Sean, holding him gently by his bound arms and pressing intimate kisses against the corners of his now sullen mouth, sliding his tongue against the seam of Sean’s lips even though they remained firmly shut. Sean stiffened his whole body as much as possible, radiating his anger and defiance.
“Don’t fight me, Sean. Please.”
Before Sean could react to the uncharacteristic request or spit out even one colorful curse, Viggo slid to his knees and began to unbutton Sean’s jeans. He murmured his approval as the buttons parted to reveal nothing under the 501s but a semi-aroused Sean.
With difficulty Sean swallowed what he’d been about to spit out. After realizing that what Viggo had in mind wasn’t a morning spent in making love slowly he’d been prepared for an abrupt command to kneel and suck Viggo’s cock. Sean had also been prepared to tell Viggo to go to hell. He’d intended to refuse any abrupt orders, to inform Viggo that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted this bloody time.
Glancing down, Sean noted that with Viggo’s legs slightly spread as he worked on Sean’s buttons he could see his erection straining against his own jeans. The defiant words died in Sean’s throat, replaced with a needy moan.
Viggo gently drew Sean’s cock out of his unbuttoned jeans, careful not to scratch the rapidly hardening flesh against the stiff denim. Viggo began slowly teasing Sean with gentle nips and kisses, before using his tongue to lave moist strips along Sean’s entire length that rapidly turned cool against Sean’s hot flesh. Sean shuddered at the exquisite torture which soon had him moaning almost incoherently interspersed with faint pleas for “More” and “Harder”. Finally Viggo took Sean’s now fully erect cock into his talented mouth and used the heat, suction and his agile tongue to reduce Sean to a boneless wreck.
Sean could only brace himself as much as his trembling legs would allow as he leaned his bound arms and shoulders against the wall with his head thrown back, lost in ecstasy. Sean fought against closing his eyes, the unusually erotic turnabout was driving Sean quickly toward completion and he wanted to savor every second. Wanted to capture this rare moment of Viggo on his knees with his eyes closed in concentration, the steady up and down movement of his bowed head as he took all of Sean’s considerable length and girth into his mouth, the glistening lips wet from his own saliva and Sean’s pre-come, and Oh God . . . the sounds.
Sean had always been the vocal one during sex. Oh, Viggo certainly made appropriate sounds of pleasure but this was completely different. The encouraging moans and the wet, sucking noises as Viggo almost completely withdrew before taking Sean back into his hot, soft mouth were sending Sean racing far too quickly towards orgasm. Sean wanted this to last forever. But whatever Viggo was doing with his tongue was causing Sean to rapidly lose what little control he still possessed.
Even with his arms bound immobile behind his back by the knotted shirt and his body held firmly captive against the bedroom wall, Sean felt like a God with Viggo worshipping his cock.
“Slower . . . slow down.” Sean thought that was what he roughly whispered but the power of coherent speech had retreated along with rational thought. And Viggo, typically, gave no notice that’d he’d heard Sean’s pleas.
Instead of toning the intense pleasure down, Sean felt Viggo began to add even more intricate twists of his tongue, concentrating on the head of Sean’s cock and applying harder suction to the highly sensitive area underneath. Viggo pressed the flat of his tongue repeatedly against the throbbing veins, knowing exactly what would drive Sean wild. It was difficult to pull Sean’s jeans down further, but Viggo managed and inserted one hand inside the denim to gently roll Sean’s balls back and forth, noting with another pleased hum that his caresses caused them to tighten, drawing them up against Sean’s body.
Viggo relented his intimate caress of Sean’s balls and removed his hand from between Sean’s thighs. Sean watched mesmerized as Viggo slid his index finger into his mouth to wet it thoroughly, and neither stopping nor slowing down his assault on Sean’s cock, he gently slipped the moist digit back into the denim and behind Sean’s balls. Viggo carefully began to tease at Sean’s entrance. Sean jerked at the additional stimulation and would have slid to the floor if Viggo hadn’t been keeping one hand hard against his stomach as he slowly worked the wet digit into Sean’s hot, tight entrance. Viggo’s saliva wasn’t enough lubrication to push in far without hurting Sean so he only worked his finger in enough to reach the sensitive spot he knew would quickly drive Sean crazy with need.
Sean remained off-balance from his bound arms, from Viggo’s hot mouth on his cock and now by Viggo’s index finger curling to find his prostate and rubbing it gently. This was either Heaven or Hell and Sean neither knew nor cared which. He wanted this to last forever, he wanted to come in Viggo’s talented mouth, he wanted to shout out his climax, but most of all he wanted to return the same intense pleasure Viggo was giving him. Sean was no longer angry at the turn of events.
As Viggo sensed that Sean was precariously riding the edge of his orgasm, he drew Sean’s entire length in until the head of Sean’s cock was touching the back of his throat. Viggo massaged the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure to send Sean into the beginning spasms of pleasure. Then he relaxed his throat and swallowed. Sean decided that this was indeed Heaven as he climaxed, every muscle going into lockdown, except his hips which continued to thrust, fucking Viggo’s mouth with erratic force. Sean’s cock pulsed hard once, twice, three times. Viggo carefully swallowed every drop, savoring the slightly bitter, salty liquid as if he were sipping the finest aged brandy.
It couldn’t have been more than a few moments, but Sean felt as if the intense pleasure had lasted forever. He was always extremely sensitive after he came, but Viggo kept soothing him, murmuring soft nonsensical encouragement while using one hand to gently rub circles on his stomach. He carefully used his tongue to clean Sean thoroughly before tucking his flaccid cock back inside his jeans.
As Sean began to recover he watched Viggo rise a little unsteadily from his knees without his usual lithe grace. Sean had thought he’d looked pale and exhausted before but now Viggo was literally as white as the crumpled sheets on their bed.
“Viggo?”
“Just . . . just give me a minute . . . I’ll . . .
Viggo took a deep, shaky breath and tenderly embraced Sean. He lovingly placed slow, sweet, lingering kisses on Sean’s mouth, his forehead, each eyelid, nuzzled under his ear and down the side of his throat, all the time working the material of the shirt loose so that Sean could finish freeing himself. Viggo finally stepped back to give Sean room to move away from the wall. Sean kept watchful eyes on Viggo as he promptly discarded his stained and rumpled shirt carelessly on the floor.
Both men stood silently except for their harsh breathing, physically separated by only a few feet, but with a chasm of intense emotions crackling in the air between them that neither one seemed able to identify or verbalize. Viggo finally broke the impasse by awkwardly sliding his shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor beside Sean’s then turning towards the master bath without even acknowledging his own erection.
As Viggo turned to go, Sean gasped in shock. Viggo’s upper back and shoulders were crisscrossed with darkening bruises and raised ridges that burned an angry red, a few crimson trickles of blood marking the places where the welts had overlapped and broken the skin. Sean had a pretty good idea what had caused those marks. After all, he’d had an almost matching set once from a riding crop that took the better part of two weeks to heal.
Sean froze for a moment, paralyzed by the knowledge that Viggo had been viciously whipped. By someone else.
Until now Sean had been absolutely certain that Viggo hadn’t been with anyone else during the year they’d been together. But with the evidence literally written on Viggo’s body, Sean instantly lost control of his insanely jealous temper and he shook with anger and betrayal. He clenched his fists with an almost uncontrollable urge to lash out at his lover. To beat the name of his rival out of Viggo. And after that to go find the bastard who’d done this and kill him. Very, very slowly.
Just last night Viggo had implied that perhaps they could change the rules of the rougher parts of their relationship. That they reverse their roles. Had Viggo submitted to someone else instead of him because he regretted that suggestion or did Viggo think that Sean didn’t have what it would take to assume the dominant lead? Had Viggo been lying when he’d whispered all those filthy promises to Sean each time he’d had the best sex he’d ever experienced? After a night of consideration did he think that Sean was too weak, a coward, a fucking pansy who could never be anything more than submissive to Viggo’s dominance?
Viggo continued to walk a little unsteadily towards the bathroom until Sean managed to break out of his angry paralysis, stepping forward not to use his clenched fists in anger, but to gently grasp Viggo’s arm, stopping his slightly unsteady movement forward.
“Viggo? Who . . . what . . . why the bloody hell did you let someone do this?” The incredulous “to you” remained unspoken.
There was no doubt in Sean’s mind that Viggo had been a willing participant in whatever had taken place. Sean outweighed Viggo and he was no stranger to barroom brawls, but Viggo was a formidable force in an altercation. He was deceptively strong and as quick as a cat. Viggo had defeated Sean, pining him down, more than once. One man could never have bested him in a fight. Viggo had *allowed* this to happen. Sean wasn’t going to let this betrayal, sacrifice, experiment or whatever Viggo thought it was go without a damm good explanation.
At first, Sean didn’t think Viggo was going to answer his questions. He had paused, almost having made it to the doorway of the bathroom, and then turned to stare at Sean’s grip on his arm. Sean kept his hand in place but turned his restraining touch into a gentle caress, still deeply concerned and confused but wise enough to hesitate to push Viggo too far.
Sean knew that Viggo was hurting but the pain wasn’t evident from his expression. He looked exhausted and strained but, if anything, Viggo seemed almost proud of the damage he’d sustained. Viggo was reacting as if the welts, the bruising and the blood were a badge of honor earned in some war that Sean couldn’t comprehend. At the very least, his demeanor screamed defiance.
“I didn’t know if you were ready to take control yet. Or even if you ever would be. I wanted to show you that I could handle either role in our games. This was . . . it was all for you. I did this for you, Sean.”
Sean let Viggo’s arm slip away to drop back by his side and Viggo continued into the en suite, firmly closing the door behind him, effectively ending Sean’s questions. But only for now, Sean promised himself. This wasn’t over.
In the aftermath of Sean’s anger and Viggo’s startling revelation a myriad of emotions rolled over Sean as he attempted to comprehend Viggo’s actions. Anger, fear and confusion warred with concern, puzzlement and yes, even sympathy.
But most disturbing of all, Sean felt a renewed, overpowering rush of arousal that began low in his belly, spreading through his body and licking at his composure like a wildfire catching dry tinder from a wayward spark. The sensation was so intense he swayed on his feet even as he felt his cock fill rapidly and become impossibly hard again.
He was surprised and a little ashamed as he realized that he found Viggo’s pain and submission arousing. Was he beginning to see this part of their relationship from the other side of the coin?
Sean had the sudden urge to throw open the door to the bathroom, grab Viggo and pin him against the cold tiled wall. Sean wanted to fuck him just as he was, raw, unprepared and still bleeding from the beating he’d taken. To pump into him without mercy, to make him scream Sean’s name. To trace his fingers roughly over the livid welts, to smear the drops of blood across his shoulders and to hear Viggo moan in renewed pain. To wipe forever from his mind the other man who’d done this. To claim him as *his*!
Sean had tried cocaine years ago at a party. Once. It had hit him too hard. Too fast. Took him too high too quickly. He remembered thinking that he was invincible. That there was nothing he couldn’t or wouldn’t be able to do. Sean knew it was dangerous. He’d heard that it was highly addictive. Sean never used it again. Not because he didn’t like it, but because he liked it too much. He was beginning to feel the same way about Viggo.
Summary: Sean has the house to himself, and time to think about Viggo´s request.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 4958 Read: 982
Published: 15 Aug 2009 Updated: 15 Aug 2009