Now that the two months he had planned had stretched to nearly four, he had been in England long enough, so Viggo told himself. It was time to go home.
He had also been absolutely determined never to go back to Wragby Hall, but when his host and cousin,James, told him that just as two months ago in Spring, he and his wife, Marjorie, were invited for a long weekend and Lady Constance had kindly asked them to bring Viggo, he’d accepted eagerly.
What had happened between him and Mellors had shocked him, but not for the obvious reasons. How Mellors seemed to have known, when Viggo himself had not and the way he had been in control, that was the most shocking part of it; shocking, but also very exciting. He had tried to forget that time he’d spent in Mellors’s cottage, but found he could not.
Arriving at the Hall late in the afternoon, Viggo could not go out for a stroll in the woods immediately. That would have been awfully rude. Instead he surrendered to Sir Clifford’s rant about the lower classes over drinks, dinner and port afterwards, The evening dragged along and Viggo was glad when he could finally escape to his bedroom. He sat on one of the window seats and looked out over the large garden. It was almost dark and he could only see a faint shadow of the woods in the distance. He sat there for a long while, staring out into the dark until he finally gave in and went to bed.
Luckily, the Chatterleys did not expect their guests to have breakfast at a certain time, so Viggo slipped down early and made his choice from several dishes on the large table. He was out of the house before anyone else was downstairs, which was exactly what he had hoped for. Last night at the dinner table, plans had been made for today, which included dancing and doing charades and Viggo felt he would rather slit his throat then be a part of that.
It was August and it had been sunny and hot for weeks now, so much that even the early morning air felt warm and humid. Viggo did not hesitate, but went to Mellors’ cottage straight away, admitting to himself Mellors was the only reason he was here and there was no sense in denying it; Mellors would know. He imagined when he walked around the little house to the rear that Mellors would be there like that first morning, washing himself, cool water running over his naked chest, but he was not. Viggo knocked at the door, but no one answered. Mellors could be anywhere in the woods, he assumed and he wouldn’t know where to look for him.
Deeply disappointed he turned around and walked away. Deciding against going back to the Hall -anything would be better than that- he decided he would instead take a walk around the small lake. At least he could enjoy the beauty of the countryside, whilst he was here.
The water in the lake had a strange green colour and there were fishes slowly circling the surface as if they had to take a breath of fresh air every now and then. *Damned heat,* he thought, taking off his cap to fan some cool air onto his face.
He was halfway round, when he heard a dog barking and he startled, remembering the dog in front of Mellors’ fireplace. As the black dog burst from the thick bushes surrounding the lake Viggo squatted down and petted the big head. Viggo loved dogs and most of them loved him back. Bramble was no exception.
“Where’s your master then?” he asked the excited dog, stroking its broad back.
“I am here,” a voice said, and Viggo jumped to his feet, startled.
Mellors stood leaning against a tree, arms folded, “So you’re back, Viggo.”
Viggo nodded then said the one thing that came to mind, “I was at the cottage earlier.”
“I am working,” Mellors said, whistling for his dog and then turned to walk away. “Poachers. I found a few traps yesterday and I knew they would come around early in the morning to check their traps, so I hoped to catch them in the act. Well, I did not.”
He shrugged and then bent down, pulling away a few branches covering the forest floor, “Look, here’s one,” pointing out what looked like a few pieces of wood with a length of wire between them.
“So what do you do when you catch them in the act?” Viggo asked, squatting down to have a better look.
“Hand them over to the police, what else? It is Sir Clifford’s land and all that is on it is his property. He has given me strict orders. Sir Clifford does not believe in sharing.”
It was a strange thing, but somehow Viggo pictured himself being a poacher and falling into the hands of a merciless Mellors. He shivered, watching Mellors as he removed the trap.
“What if they asked you not to hand them over? Would you agree if they offered you something?”
Mellors turned around to look at him, “Money you mean? Poachers are poor Viggo, that’s why they steal food instead of buying it.”
Viggo forced himself to look into those green eyes.
“No, not money. I mean if someone was caught and he would swear he would do anything if you didn’t hand him over to the police, what then?”
Mellors grinned while he stepped closer and there was that look upon his face again, telling that he knew exactly what Viggo meant. “It would depend what that someone might look like I suppose.”
“Say, he looked like… well, like me.”
“Even if he did look like you I could not just let him get away with it, could I?” Mellors asked, stretching out his hand to stroke Viggo’s face. ”Maybe I would not hand him over to the law, but there would be some kind of punishment, just to make sure he would never do it again. Sir Clifford pays my wages after all.”
Viggo looked down at his feet, his voice soft,
“What kind of punishment?”
Mellors’ hand cupped Viggo’s face, tilting it upwards slightly. His smile was gone and he looked very serious now. Mellors leaned in closely and for a moment Viggo thought that Mellors was about to kiss him, but instead he stopped maybe only an inch away, close enough to feel warm breath on his face.
“Would you like me to show you?”
He could not speak, the fight to not avert his eyes difficult enough. He swallowed when Mellors grabbed his wrist, pulling Viggo’s body close enough to be almost touching.
“Come on then,” turning around on his heels, he pulled Viggo behind him.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked, feebly wondering if Mellors would drag him to his cottage by the wrist and what would happen if anyone should see them?
“To the hut,” or something like that was the answer, which made no sense at all, but Mellors fingers pressed into Viggo’s flesh, would probably leave bruises and he was really beyond caring where they were going.
What Mellors had called a ‘hut’ didn’t seem to be more than a wooden tool shed in the middle of a clearing. Inside there was the strong smell of wet soil and leaves.
“You still want me to show you?” Mellors asked, and the way he looked, his face and voice so stern, made it impossible to speak, so he nodded, ready to take everything Mellors would give him.
“Then take off your jacket and shirt.”
Viggo fumbled with buttons and fabric, while Mellors leaned against the door and watched him. Finally, he was done, just wearing his pants and shoes, shivering despite the warmth inside the secluded area of the hut.
Mellors’ hand on Viggo’s back pushed him forward until he was leaning against a big bag of lord knows what, birdfeed maybe? He stole a glance over his shoulder, a small sound escaping him when he watched Mellors pulling the leather belt from the loops of his pants. *Oh,god*
“Since this is the first time you’ve stolen one of Sir Clifford’s pheasants and since you’ve begged me so nicely, I will only give you five stripes with me belt,” Mellors said. “That’ll teach you.”
His hands reached around Viggo, opened the buttons of his pants and shoved them halfway his thighs, Viggo closed his eyes, trying to imagine what he looked like now.
Mellors’ hand stroked his back briefly, lingered a bit longer on the swelling of his buttocks and then it fell away. Viggo could hear the belt slashing the air, could feel the sudden breeze just before it hit his back and part of his ass and he cried out, unprepared for the sound the leather made both in the air and on his flesh and the burn it left. He was about to push himself upright and put a stop to this insanity he had inflicted on himself, when Mellors hand was on his back again, calloused fingers stroking the burning welt.
“Do you want it to stop? Mellors asked, voice soft, but steady.
“No.”
Mellors hand came up to cup Viggo’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze and Viggo relaxed under the pressure of that hand, let his weight rest over the rough cotton of the bag. Again and again the belt came down on his back and each time Mellors put a bit more force to it. His eyes closed, Viggo gave in to the sensation washing over him, felt the heat on his back spreading over his entire body then pooling down to his groin. Viggo’s head felt heavy and he couldn’t bring himself to lift it and look over his shoulder when he heard Mellors curse and throw the belt down.
Opening his eyes he saw Mellors grabbing a big jar from a shelf and unscrewing the lid. Rough fingers spreading cool ointment over his back, carefully massaging the ridges of the welts and he moaned softly. His pants were pulled down and Viggo wriggled in an effort to get them off sooner. He gasped when strong hands spread his cheeks, rubbing the ointment in between generously.
Clawing his fingers into the fabric of the bag, Viggo spread his legs for Mellors pressing in between them, opened up for Mellors pushing in slowly, but relentlessly. Groaning, feeling as if every inch of his skin, inside and out, was on fire, Viggo willed his body to relax until Mellors was all the way in. Stubble rasped over heated skin as Mellors rubbed his face over Viggo’s back, causing a delicious sensation and then finally they were moving together.
He opened his eyes when Mellor’s foot nudged him, and sat up in the small pile of hay Mellors had spread out for them afterwards, watching Mellors dress.
A smell and taste of decay in his nose and on his tongue, rotting leaves, indefinable things, all mingled with the fumes of sex.
Mellors looked at him, the doorknob in his hand. “Will you manage?”
“Yes, I will,” and when the other man opened the door, “Mellors? I am here for three more days.”
Mellors turned around to give him his coy smile.
“Well, you know where to find me, Viggo. Any time.”
Summary: Viggo gets what he wants from Mellors.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Crossovers Pairing: Oliver Mellors/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1930 Read: 1226
Published: 02 Apr 2010 Updated: 02 Apr 2010
Story Notes:
Follows Finders Keepers