The gift arrived two days before Sean was scheduled to fly to LA, just when he'd had enough time to get himself all worked up over the flight. The problem with being both organized and terrified of flying was that he inevitably packed far earlier than he needed to, giving him nothing to do but fret.
The package was, therefore, a welcome diversion. Sean found himself scrutinizing it while he waited for the kettle to come to a boil, wondering who had sent it. The customs slip was no help whatsoever; all it said was "gift." Not that he didn't have his suspicions, but whoever was responsible hadn't addressed it or filled out the customs form himself.
"That rules out Elijah," Sean muttered as he made a big mug of tea and settled back down at the kitchen table with the package and a buttered crumpet. Not only did Elijah address things himself, he usually drew silly little things all over the package. Nor had it come from Orlando, who didn't draw things on boxes, but whose handwriting was unmistakable.
Then again, so is Viggo's, Sean thought with a broad grin as he finally lost patience and started opening up the tough little package with his butter knife. Inside the Tyvek envelope was a plain white box carefully secured with tape. Once he'd pried through that -- using his pocket knife this time -- he found yet another box nestled in tissue. The box was glossy black and looked like it came from a jewelry store trying a little too hard to be upscale.
There was also a note and Sean felt a smile spread across his face. Unlike the anonymity of the gift, the sight of the his name, scrawled on what looked like handmade paper, was more than enough to tell Sean -- even before he unfolded the note to read it -- who'd sent the gift.
Sean, the note began, and for some reason Sean remembered a night in New Zealand where the Fellowship had sat round and tried to top each other at making up inane endearments.
"I think you should call Beanie 'Sweet-cheeks,'" Orlando had told Viggo, who had shaken his head.
Expecting him to come up with something deep and profound, everyone except Sean -- who'd learned not to trust Viggo when he had most of a bottle of wine in him and that maniacal look in his eyes -- leaned forward to hear what Viggo was about to say. "Snuggle Muffin," Viggo had drawled. "Sean's my little Snuggle Muffin."
All eyes had turned to Sean, who had looked up with wide innocent eyes. "Whatever you say, Daddy."
Later that night, in all seriousness, both of them had agreed that sappy endearments were for younger men, and they'd promised each other never to use them. There were things Sean occasionally called Viggo in intimate moments, however, and looking at the box, Sean knew that the gift had something to do with those intimate moments.
That he was right was confirmed as he read the rest of the note.
When you're halfway through the flight, put this on.
Love, Viggo
In spite of his dislike of silly romantic gestures, Sean couldn't help kissing Viggo's name. He resisted the urge to look around after; it wasn't as if there was anyone to see him behave like an idiot just because he'd gotten instructions from his top.
That the box contained a cock ring was no huge surprise, although the ring itself wasn't like any Sean had seen in shops or catalogs. Made of a thick black leather strap that closed with a single snap, it had small rounded rivets on the inside. That explained the thickness of the strap, Sean realized; the backs of the rivets were covered with another piece of leather.
Viggo made this, Sean thought, staring down at the strap while remembering Viggo's competent hands as he repaired the leather of Aragorn's costume. Sean's cock, which had already reacted to the note, throbbed even harder now as Sean thought of Viggo sitting in his studio working on the ring. Sean figured he probably made more than one to get one that looked this good, and it was that knowledge that was affecting him now. For Viggo to take that kind of time over something, the kind of slow, steady care that was so unlike the way Viggo approached his art, was incredibly meaningful.
"Christ," Sean muttered, once more resisting the urge to look around. "I'm a romantic git."
He turned the ring over in his hands, running a finger along the rivets. While they were blunt, -- -- certainly not spikes -- he knew that he'd be feeling them after several hours in the air. In spite of the fact that he wouldn't need it in LA's milder climate, he resolved to take his trench coat. Come to think of it, I should wear a button-down shirt and leave it untucked. No point in giving everybody in LAX a free show.
Not to mention that once he obeyed one order, he turned himself over to Viggo's control and Viggo's ideas about sharing were surprisingly strict. In fact, the idea that he might be under orders right now occurred to Sean, and he glanced at the kitchen clock, mentally doing very familiar math. Before he could reach for the phone, however, it rang, and he gave it a suspicious look before picking it up.
"Yeah?"
"Tell me what your first thought was when you opened the box." Viggo's voice was gravelly and Sean could tell that, once more, Viggo's latest attempt to quit smoking had failed.
"An utter lack of surprise, given the note," Sean said. "And then I realized you made it, and I got harder than I had been thinking about you working on it in the studio."
"I got hard making it," Viggo admitted. "I had to stop and jerk off between making the prototype and the one I sent to you."
"God," Sean said with a faint groan. "Viggo...."
"Not yet," Viggo said, and Sean felt himself settle down. It was a familiar feeling, and he remembered how just the sound of Viggo's authoritative voice had calmed him in the early days of their relationship when he'd been used to submitting but not at all used to the idea of a male lover.
"Will you be able to bear it for that long? Or would it be better if you only put it on two hours out of LA?"
"I could probably bear it through the whole flight."
"Sean," Viggo said a little sternly. "Did I ask that?"
"No," Sean replied softly. "I'm sorry; I overstepped."
"Actually, I'm glad you did, in a way," Viggo said after a short pause that made Sean fret more than he really needed to. "It brings up something I've been meaning to discuss with you." He paused again but this time Sean heard the soft crackle of plastic and paper and knew that Viggo was rolling a cigarette.
While Viggo rolled, Sean got up and refilled the kettle, smiling at the idea that within a few days, they might be doing these very same things without an ocean and a continent between them. "I've missed you," he said.
"Mmmmm...." Viggo hummed and drew in a deep breath. "Missed you too," he said on the exhale.
"So," Viggo continued, "I've been thinking that we might want to take this to a higher level." Sean remained silent, knowing that Viggo would explain what he had in mind without Sean asking.
"I like that you think about things before you agree to them," Viggo said. "I like that you try to anticipate where I'm going with an order. I can work with those traits, use them. But ... you sometimes choose to share that anticipation with me, and that's less acceptable."
"I understand," Sean said after a moment spent waiting to see if Viggo had anything to add.
"And?"
"And I think you're right," Sean admitted. "It's that perfection thing of mine."
"I figured as much," Viggo said. "And you know that I prefer to be the one who defines the perfection you're to reach for."
"That," Sean said, pulling the plug on the kettle and pouring the boiling water over a fresh tea bag, "is far more difficult than the physical aspects of submission."
"I know," Viggo murmured with a certain degree of sympathy evident in his voice. "That's why I ask for it. You kneel beautifully, and you take an incredible amount of pain. You're a very accomplished submissive." He paused and Sean heard him taking a deep drag. "Which is, of course, a way for you to maintain control."
"True," Sean said, squeezing lemon into his tea. "You're good yourself; most tops don't notice that."
"Their misfortune is not an excuse.a33;
"Neither is an explanation for my behavior," Sean replied, calmly. With any other top, the words would merit punishment, but he knew that Viggo would take them at face value.
"True enough," Viggo said. "I want to work on this issue," he continued. "I think you need training. You're good, but you could be better."
The words put a little warm glow in Sean's belly that had nothing to do with the tea. You're good but you could be better, said so damn much. It was praise and from someone who was damn god top, praise was always good. That, combined with the fact that Viggo considered him worth training, would be more than enough, but there was also the implication that Viggo was talking about a long term commitment.
We'll need to discuss that too, Sean thought, sighing a little. While not as adverse to conversation as most blokes, there were times when he would prefer a lot more fucking or beating and a lot less talking things over.
"What kind of training?" he asked, wondering how Viggo could train him to know when to offer more and when not to.
"We're going to work on control," Viggo said firmly. "I'm going to give you certain times when the only acceptable answer to a question is a yes or a no. I want that to become automatic; I want you to recognize that kind of question the moment you hear it."
Sean wanted to say that he did, but he knew it would come across as sheer willfulness. "All right," he said. "Do you want formality when I'm in that mindset?"
Formality had been one of their early sticking points. The bits and pieces of training Sean had received from various dommes over the years had stressed formality and Sean was quite versed in terms of address and even varying forms of formal speech, including referring to himself in the third person.
Viggo, on the other hand, felt that formality encouraged subs to hide behind empty words. He'd explained to Sean that he wanted to get past all that, to get to the raw experience as he put it. He saw no disrespect in a sub using their top's name when begging, but he also understood the power of words and what part they played in headspace.
Now Sean wondered if he could ask for more. Calling Viggo "sir" felt good and right at times and there were other times when he almost desperately wanted to call him "master." Hoever, he knew better than to do it without discussion; Viggo's world was about tops and bottoms, dominants and submissives, and not about masters and slaves.
"I think we could work with that," Viggo said. "I trust you not to hide behind it, and I'm finding that it means a lot to me to hear it from you."
"I mean it when I say it, Sir," Sean said. "And I do want to live up to your standard of perfection, even more than I want to live up to mine."
"Good," Viggo said, and he sighed. "Seems stupid to miss you when you'll be here in a couple of days, but I wish I could see you right now, Sean."
"You will see me, Sir," Sean replied. "You'll see me when I get out of the cab so hard I can hardly walk and wanting you so much that I'll have a difficult time not kneeling right there on your porch and begging you to fuck me."
"Mmmmm," Viggo murmured. "I like the idea of you being that desperate for it. You're not to come before now and then."
"Yes, Sir," Sean said. Well there's one way to get me to endure the flight; I'll be so fucking randy my eyes'll be crossed.
"In that condition can you manage to wear the thing for half the flight?" Viggo asked. "Or would it be too much."
"I can do it, Sir," Sean said. "For you."
"Mmmm ... good boy. That's the kind of answer I want to hear." Viggo drew a deep breath. "I should let you go now; I'm sure we both have things to do."
"Yeah," Sean replied reluctantly. "I'll see you on Tuesday, Sir. I'll call once I'm in the cab."
"Sounds good. Love you, Sean."
"Love you too, Viggo."
Summary: Viggo sends Sean a gift that leads to an interesting conversation.
Rated: R
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: KinkChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 2199 Read: 875
Published: 16 Aug 2009 Updated: 16 Aug 2009