TO MISS YOU
He watches morning unwillingly crawl up into the embrace of another insignificance. Everything looks so pale, unreal, tastes stale, smells shale. Searching meaning, searching some sense he walks down the streets of Wellington, waiting for miracles to happen, anything to happen, anything more than nothing.
He watches the unfamiliar empty streets clutter over with people. Where did they come from? From self-suffocated dreams, from love- and lust-starved beds, out of their neat, tidy flats into everyday-uselessness.
Hissing out the smoke of his first cigarette of the day he speeds his pacing up. Winter's just around the corner and the chill creeps into the collar of his black leather-coat. He runs a hand through his blonde hair, sighing. Okay, this should be the most important movie of his life, being all great and brilliant but hell, was he the only one here recognising that something that something was missing all the time.
He finds himself longing for something - and doesn't know what it is.
But then at the airport, when he sees HIM... Aragorn, he thought immediately... he suddenly thinks he can remember to feel something else than emptiness spreading through his heart and mind. For a moment he sees, feels, smells rain-somewhere in the grey-blue of HIS eyes, Viggo's eyes.
Peter had sent him with the vague instruction:" His name's Viggo, he'll maybe barefoot. You'll recognise that it's just him, when you face him."
Oh yes, he knows- but the tired, slightly nervous, jetlagged man fumbling with his suitcases doesn't.
A small smile creeps onto his lips and he steps nearer: "Hey, Viggo, over here!" The barefoot man looks up, rewarding him with a tired smile, leaving him in anticipation for a real one.
They shake hands and Sean feels spring in his chest-but it isn't even winter now. Short: "I'm Sean" and "May I help you with those" gesturing at his suitcases. The American just nods, doesn't say a word, his eyes are distant and he moves like he's sleepwalking. Sean first thinks, it's just jetlag but days after on set, he finally finds out.
No Viggo behind those tired eyes, not Viggo's voice from Aragorn's pretty mouth, not Viggo's scent just pipe-weed and horses, not at all. Viggo got lost somewhere over the Atlantic, over the clouds as he clutched a copy of "The Lord of the Rings", Aragorn was in charge now, wise and frightened, stern and full of self-doubt, crying and laughing, not Viggo at all. Strange, he thought, I'D MISSED YOU EVERY INSTANT BEFORE WE MET. And we haven't met yet anyway.
Suddenly I don't care anymore about the difference between Viggo and Aragorn because there's no difference between slender thighs - and sex numbs the pain that filled my emptiness instead. Winter is large and dark over us.
TO FIND YOU
I loved Aragorn once there in New Zealand. I loved the intensity of his strength, beauty, even his stench. Loved his voice: smooth but slightly raspy at the edges, his sword-calluses, his greasy tangled hair, loving my brother, my captain, my king dominating me.
But Aragorn left and left Viggo behind - shy, soft-spoken, restless, artsy Half-Dane. Bare and vulnerable without a role to play, affectionate and docile - not king-like at all, gentle like late-summer-rain.
I pushed him away, out of my embrace he'd curled up into after I'd fucked him raw. He'd bled, he'd cried but I didn't care, because I don't love him. So I have no use for his love anymore. Ignoring his pathetic pleas, his broken sobs, the way his words shatter on the lump of pain in his chest, ignoring his letters, cards, the messages left on my mailbox. He says, he doesn't understand, keeps telling me, that he needs me.
I broke him, his vitreous heart is all mine and I crush its shards in my bleeding hands as long as I want.
Like a child I feel standing on his doorstep, like a child looking for the familiar old broken toy after trying new ones. All I thought of - this day and the day before and before the days before, after I'd left him for, what I'd sworn, forever, was his light, pliable body under mine, of his elegant, gentle hands, the love shining from his eyes clouding over with lust and agony. I want him, I want him to whisper those words again, telling me, that he loves me and letting me forget my pain in his.
In the dark I reach out to ring the bell. Just a few moments and some muffled footsteps later he opens the door wearing nothing but boxers and a shocked expression. My gaze rakes hotly over his body. Scrawny, he'd lost much weigh, revealing even more of his delicate frame. Just fragile bones so easily to break like his heart. He smells unwashed, sharply male like Aragorn but tears forming in his pale grey-blue eyes distract me this time.
I reach out for him, feeling alive again as my fingertips find his burning skin. My cold hands make him shiver all over and his nipples harden. Oh yes, my favourite toy, so responsive, so sweet, melting into my embrace with a little sigh and a strangled sob. He's crying again, every tear impacting on the bare skin of my neck sends waves of heartfelt pain through my system and I don't dare to open my eyes, I already can feel an answer burning like acid under my closed eyelids. Why? Why now? My lips search his tears, I kiss them away with his doubts and hesitation, urging him into the bedroom, shoving him down onto the mattress. His boxers have probably joined their brothers scattered over the messy floor somewhere, because he's gloriously naked, smiling softly at me, mumbling how much he'd longed for me, slightly slurred and drowsy.
I reward him with a full exploration of his body, through a trembling landscape of life, formed by flesh and bone, his gasps and moans guiding me. Dizzy by his taste I reach his face, finally daring to look into his eyes again. Trust and hope I'd been looking for and I find both to destroy again. And again, as if his tears and blood could clean me, wipe everything away, all that filth, all that pain. The little needy sounds he makes bring me back out of my musing and I slide between his willing thighs.
He winces but I mercilessly slide all the way in - slowly, no need to cause permanent damage. His tight heat is almost unbearable and I watch helplessly my own reflection in his eyes. They are open, so wide, as if they could swallow me whole like his pretty mouth, sucking me down into him. I'm spellbound. He doesn't close them, reducing my trusts into soft rocking. It's the first time I take him face to face and I realise my mistake. I should never have done that, it feels too good, too right.
He smiles and wraps his long legs even tighter around my waist.
I can't sleep after climbing new heights of pleasure with him. Now he's resting in my arms like a ruffled little bird. I inhale the scent of his long silky hair, kiss his forehead and he wiggles even closer with a happy smile on his lips. So much sweetness, so much pain forgotten by his body and soul, so much hurt I'd caused.
Searching freedom in his sky-coloured orbs, I'd ripped his wings out, that he never could fly again, leaving me alone and cold like all the others did. I broke him with violence of hands and words, used his weakness, abused it like his beautiful body and soul.
Suddenly I feel unable to get up and leave with his taste lingering on my lips and his scent on my fingertips before he awakes with questions in his eyes. I wait for the sun to paint night-grey shapes colourful again and watch him sleep peacefully, my chest his pillow.
As he awakes again, all fluttering of lashes against my skin, then he tenses, unbelievingly, sitting up to look at me with one wide eye, the other receiving an adorable rubbing by the back of his hand. I chuckle and bent him down to kiss his confusion away.
Finally words drip out of my mouth, longing to rest in his ears, then in the shelter of his healing heart: "I know, there's no forgiveness to grant for what I've done to you. I was afraid, so afraid of your intensity, your vulnerability, felt so helpless. I hurt you to hide my own weakness, to punish you for stirring those feelings inside me. But I won't do that again, never again, I'll stop being a coward, I promise. I love you despite all I ever said and did and I'm so sorry, so sorry..."
He stares at me like expecting to be beaten. I smile to soothe him, reaching for his hand: "Show me, Viggo, please, let me relearn to love - with you."
Viggo just smiles a little broken smile, mild, too mild before his shaking hands take rest on his neck like exhausted pale birds, but unbelievingly strong as they press down, one of Viggo's tears splashing into his left eye.
Summary: All about loving Viggo and trying to destroy that feeling, that fills the familiar emptiness inside.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: Non-conChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1552 Read: 1108
Published: 15 Aug 2009 Updated: 15 Aug 2009