Sometimes it was a good tired, after a long shoot. A satisfied bone-deep ache that accompanied the knowledge that sleeping would be easy and restful that night. Not often, or at least not often enough, but sometimes it happened that way.
That was how Viggo felt at the moment, trudging up the hill and past the cameras. He smiled and nodded at anyone who took the time to give him a distracted thumbs up or a slap on the back. Yep, he'd been on his mark today, the puzzle pieces of lines and movement falling easily into their own place and there was satisfaction in that too.
Still, it took until he reached the small clearing near their trailers for a real smile to curve his lips. All the actors and directors had their own chairs, their names stenciled on the canvas and they were set in a circular pattern from script readings early that day, a sort of wooden and cloth Stonehenge.
It was the man sitting in one of the chairs that made him smile. His chin propped drowsily on his hand, Sean looked like he was sound asleep. Still in costume, though someone had apparently taken advantage of his stillness to remove his wig and his hair was standing up in odd, sticky tufts.
He wondered if Sean even knew he wasn't sitting in his own chair.
With just the tips of his fingers, Viggo smoothed away some of the more unusual hair sculptures. Sean didn't so much as stir; not even when Viggo let his fingers drift lower, tracing the delicate curve of Sean's ear.
He didn't dare do much more than that, not if he wanted Sean to come home with him tonight. As temperamental as a cat and if Sean were a cat he'd surely be Siamese, all temper and quiet haughtiness. The fanciful thought made him smile. He'd had a Siamese once, a pretty, bitchy little thing and she'd been both devoted and fickle. That sounded like Sean too, not that he'd ever tell Sean that; he suspected that whatever manners held Brits tied into prissy little knots wouldn't save him from getting a black eye over that one.
Daringly, he slid his hand to Sean's cheek and tested the crisp texture of his beard against his palm. He wondered if he could make Sean blush and what that would feel like, if he could actually feel the heat of it against his hand.
It was actually quite an adorable look on Sean, high color on his cheekbones, just over the line of his beard and wasn't that just the curse of a fair complexion?
Sean, who could curse like a sailor and blush like a virgin and who was so utterly charming in his quiet arrogance. When Viggo had offered to come home with him that first night, casual in tone if not in his chest, Sean had simply raised an eyebrow and nodded and fuck, even watching Sean for weeks and seeing glimpses of liquid sexuality beneath his proper veneer hadn't prepared him for the tangibility of raw sex that was Sean. He'd do anything, anything at all, and he would beg without a shred of shame, and he could take, force, in the exact same way.
Sex on wheels, Orlando had called him once, slyly, and Viggo hadn't pursued the whys of Orli knowing that. Bad enough that Orli did know and Viggo didn't doubt that perhaps a dozen other people on set could back him up on it.
He didn't expect anything else and if sometimes it made him ache inside in a very not-satisfied manner, sharp and acrid as a match struck on concrete, then he would simply accept it and know that if you tried to force a Siamese to accept you, all you'd end up with was a bloody scratch mark and an empty lap.
Warm breath touched his palm, Sean sighing and maybe waking up a bit, rolling his head and after a moment his eyes opened, focusing drowsily on Viggo before he smiled, warm and perfectly pliable and that was good enough, to know Sean had been waiting for him. That Sean was coming home with him tonight and would be in his bed, perhaps beneath him, clenching the sheets in his whitened fists and demanding more, begging to be fucked.
Or maybe they'd not make it past the foyer and Sean would have him on the floor like he had before, more dressed than not and Viggo would be choking on his own breath, eyes watering as Sean forced a flexibility he didn't possess and simply took him, shoving his cock inside without any preamble. Laughter, silver-bright, and Sean would soothe away any protests with his addictive voice, crooning obscene pleasantries until Viggo was moving with him, and on those nights he could taste the terror at the back of his throat, sharp as a penny, that Sean would absorb everything he was, imprint himself on Viggo like a tattoo and he could never be just Viggo again.
"Ready?" Sean's voice was thick with sleep, the word blurred into something hardly recognizable by his accent.
"Sure," Viggo traced Sean's lips with his finger, until his eyes darkened into deep-sea green, a mingled promise and warning. "Just let me change into something else."
He promised himself he'd never wish Sean would do the same.
Summary: There's tired and there's satisfied, and there is neither too.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 900 Read: 880
Published: 16 Aug 2009 Updated: 16 Aug 2009
Story Notes:
Website: The Lair of the Evil Bitches