Viggo stumbled ashore, nearly tripping up on the passerelle disembarking passengers from the ship. He vowed never to travel this way again, he had not enjoyed the trip from the States. The ship was big, noisy and full of plastic people making plastic whoopee, and in six days he hadn't been able to find a quiet corner where he could sit in peace, think, and read, and think those thoughts he should be sorting out within himself.
He was glad to feel the hard tarmac, but wished the doctor hadn't advised him not to fly at present as his ear would not enjoy it. Viggo's ear had been troubling him for some time, and at last he'd taken advice which meant "No climbing Mount Everest, NO hot-air ballooning, and no flying..."from jokey Dr Bardisen. As if he'd climb Mt. Everest,.....well...maybe....if a good documentary presented itself, on, say Tibetan Martial Arts? He headed, with apparently thousands of others of assorted shapes, sizes and colours, to the baggage pick-up area, and found his one dufflebag, amongst the larger solid cases, which seemed to hold enough to clothe the whole world. Winding his way through to the exit, he saw the queue for taxis, and decided he'd rather walk, - however far 'it' was; not that he'd much idea where 'it' located itself in this town?city? called Southampton.
He stepped off the kerb - looking left for oncoming traffic, but found himself pulled hard back by a large hand grabbing the back of his jacket,
"Yer wanna wotchit..." growled a chocolate-chip-caramel voice - in an accent unfamiliar to Viggo's American ear.
"Yer nearly got yerself squashed flat, and yer'd've made a mess in't road like!;"
Viggo turned, bumping his holdall against the knees of the burly, blond figure, thirty-ish, donned in a fluourescent green-yellow jacket that almost reflected his eye-colour. He held a bristle-broom clutched in his other hand, making it look almost small enough to work a house-floor.
"Thanks, thanks," Viggo found his voice, "er... I'm not used to traffic from that side...." His eyes fixated on the shy grin his saviour was offering - like golden guineas..golden...?
"Yerss, I seed that..." The laugh that came with that remark made Viggo's heart really try to leap out of his chest - his stomach contracted, and he knew - there it was again...., the lusting, the need, the urge to stroke, to touch...
The green-gold eyes looked at him now, with concern,
"Yer're OK mate,..? you look a bit odd.. d'yer wanna sit down eh...?" Viggo shook his head, as much to clear it, as to indicate that he was functioning,
"O.K. , oh ..its alright, I'm ok",
"Look, why don'cha come and have a cuppa tea - there's me caff just around here - its me lunch hour - I'll treat yer," and with a chuckle he picked up Viggo's holdall and placed it carefully, beside the broom on the big yellow-painted council trolley.
Viggo couldn't help himself, he followed that fluourescent jacket - would have followed it anywhere at that moment, but found himself sitting in a booth with his bag beside him, holding a large, thick, white mug of what looked like Starbuck's best coffee, but what tasted more like his maté, two days old, and reheated!
"Aaaah tha's good tea that is, real Yorkshire tea - the spoon screams afore it goes in !" and the green-gold eyes disappeared in a crinkled-up grin, and a wet pink tongue slid over the just-removed teaspoon, before the long-fingered brown hand gently laid it on the Formica table.
"Wotcher doin' here, American aren't yer.." An eyebrow rose, (oh, thought Viggo, those creases....) but he managed to take a sip of his tea; and replied,
"Yep, I'm from L.A.....Los Angeles - the other side of the world ....By the way, thanks really, for pulling me from under that van - it was a biggun !! My name is Viggo - Viggo Mortensen..." and he proffered his hand, aware of the still purple-blue-green bruises left by the hammering his hand had received on the practice runs for his Kendo scenes.
"Viggo, that's an odd name - but the Yanks do have funny names. Knew one called hisself 'Bleeter, Tero Bleeter', and boy, didn't he bleat..." That laugh rang out again, Viggo gazed enraptured.
"What would a Viggo do,... vigger...??? heh, oh, I'm a Bean, sorta Irish from way back, 'twas spelt B-E-H-A-N then, but lost the H in England a while back. Anyways, it goes with me other name, that's Sean - spelled S-E-A-N - like Bean only with the S in front.....Heh,. I say 'Seen Bean, and Done That! ' Viggo laughed, this gentle joshing was so relaxing, he felt himself uncrease, unwind, and become Viggo Mortensen again - NOT the famous lecturer on Japanese and Far Eastern unarmed combat and Martial Arts, at present filming a documentary on Samurai traditions.
"Nope, I just lecture on stuff - the Uni. here wants a lecturer on Japanese Warrior Arts, and I've been asked here for several weeks. My first time in the U.K. since I was seven, my Dad came as a Consul, and we came too."
Sean nodded,
"Hey, got me sarnies here" delving into the pocket of his jacket:
"Would yer like a bite;? Tis Cheddar cheese, an' some home-made pickle of me Mam's, - she's good at pickling an'stuff." He shoved a wad of bread at Viggo, almost as large as the ship he'd just left, Viggo thought idiotically, but he decided he was very hungry, and he wanted to stay, and stay, for other hungry reasons... He bit into the sandwich, found it really very good,- lots of thick slices of strong tasty cheese, the pickle, yes, tangy, and tasty.. Mumbling through his mouthful he asked
"What's your job - you sweep the streets round here - or...something....??"
"Ooh aye, its just summat to keep the wolf an' me door apart, yer see, I'd like... " he paused, and Viggo was surprised to see Sean's ears glow a pretty rose-pink, and he shyly looked down at his half-eaten sandwich, " I'd like ter paint, an' play the pianner properly.... but.." he looked up, still flushed, "but tha's not a proper job....?"
"No, it does take time, and some luck I think, to make a decent living - so do you do this, and dream....?"
"Nay, don't dream - I do paint , got loads 'n loads, can't get in me room fer canvases an' paint, but I ain't got a girlfriend or owt, so it don't bother none."
Viggo swallowed another mouthful and a swig of tea,
"I paint a bit -do other stuff as well, its all part of this 'Karma' thing, you know, letting your mind go out and do its own thing, I write a bit, poetry, small things, and I like photography - They've a big Photography Department here at the Uni. I gather...?"
Sean slurped more tea, bit a huge chunk from his last sandwich, mumbled "Aye, competition last month, won by a Lord someone - twould be a Lord o' course...! he swallowed ,
"Hey, Viggo, wotta yer gonna do fer digs eh? D'yer sleep at the 'Versity ... with all them kids..?" Viggo squirmed with ripples of delight as he listened - Sean pronounced his 'ly' or 'light E' endings as 'eh' so it came out as 'Versiteh' and 'meh'. He found this accent so musical and anything said in that voice.....,
"I don't know really, I expect I shall stay in a hotel for a bit until I find something....." his voice trailed off...
"Wel, dunno, I got some nice digs, they're only about ten minutes' walk from the Versiteh, and Mrs Routledge has just lost two of her best "gents" as she calls 'em - one got pushed, and t'other's gone to Germany to start up his own firm, so she's got the two best rooms - the big'un has even got a bathroom and lav. attached! Me lav.'s down the passage but - shouldn't say this, I do sometimes piss in me washbasin..." He blushed again, looking up at Viggo for his reaction; Viggo smiled
"Good idea , and it all goes the same way - I hope you don't 'dump' in it though...?" and the idea struck him as so funny, he had no idea why, but he felt so ...drunk?... he gave his crazy cackle, and then Sean giggled, Viggo hooted , and then they both roared with laughter until tears ran down both their cheeks, and the table was thumped with breathless frustration, as they tried to contain the irrepressible mirth.
"Eeeh yer a bludy daft one y'are an' all," Sean sobbed , wiping the tears from his eyes with the heel of hs hand, Viggo so nearly reached out for that hand, to kiss and nibble the pads of his thumb....and then looked up into Seen Been's eyes and finally fell, totally, utterly irrevocably in love. Sean grinned, and he reached up, across, and ran his fingers over Viggo's lips, ostensibly to brush away a crumb, but his fingers lingered, touched, - a forefinger pushed Viggo's bottom lip down a little, stroked so lightly the inside wetness.... then Sean said
"'Ere, yer better come back wi'meh this evening, and I'll introduce yer to Mrs Routledge...she'll like yer - so do I..." and he coloured again, shining, almost incandescent. Viggo nodded;
"Yes, oh yes - Mrs Routledge sounds most suitable..." Feeling he sounded postively pompous, he added, "I'll wait here then, shall I?"
"Well, it'd be at least half-five, quarter to six afore I should be back - hey, wait a minnit - I'll get Charley to bell me card.....HEY CHARLEY .." he bellowed across the crowded cafe. Charley fat, round and blessed with an exceedingly fine set of Regency mustaches, turned and bellowed back
"Wocherwant Sean..?"
"Can yer bell fer meh s'arternoon Chas ?"
"Cost yer!!"
"OK, a fiver? "
"Righty-oh, a fiver does it!"
Sean sat back grinning
"Now all I hafter do is get meh trolley back inter the depot, and we'll be off like...!"
Viggo had no option , he rose, picked up his bag, and followed the yellow jacket, now trailing on the floor, its owner waving and blowing a kiss at the pretty redheaded girl serving tea, who giggled and blew one shyly back. Sean led the way, his bag, the broom and jacket atop his ' barrer', and whistling, Sean shoved it among several others in the recesses of the 'Deepoh' as Viggo thought of it.
Back into the sunshine, down a tree-lined road not far from the main shopping road, above the 'South Gate', to where the University to the north-east, was visible to bus-riders through the trees. Mrs Routledge possessed a large Regency-styled house, partitioned into three apartments and four 'studios'. Sean whistled as he went through the deep blue door with a highly polished lion's head brass knocker,
"Heyoop Mrs R. I'm home early.." and from the back room, wiping floury hands on a brightly flowered pinafore, bustled 'Mrs R', She wrapped her still-flour-dusted hands on the sides of Sean's face, and reaching up, kissed him soundly. He hugged her back,
"Like me Mam she is, " he grinned, " This 'ere is Viggo, me mate, he's wanting a nice room, and I know.....",
'Mrs R' smiled up, her eyes looking Viggo up and down, then she looked back at Sean, then back to Viggo...she paused...
"Oh all right dear, if he's a friend... you'll both be good, won't you...?" she added "It'll be ten pounds a week, gas and electrc all in, but extra for hot water: If you want a meal in the evening just let me know, but I only do plain healthy meals, nothing fancy, mind. Anyway, you sort it out between you, I've a pie in the oven," and she bustled back into the food perfumed air of her own room.
"There y'are, I told yer..!"
"Sounds very reasonable, sounds good - you gonna fill me in like she suggests....?
"Yeah, yeah, I'd like that...yeah...!"
Sitting on Viggo's bed, still pristine, and nicely solid, as Viggo had checked, they stayed, looking, just absorbing, Viggo's grey eyes locked into Sean's golden ones. Neither moved for a long time.....Then Viggo said
"Well, Seen Been , how about you show me what 'Done That' means.....?"
Sean smiled, a smile that grew up from the soles of his feet, up..up through his heart, his throat, until it burst forth - a smile 'that could save the World from any catastrophe!' thought Viggo...
"Aye, let's show yer how its done yere in England eh..." he stood, and slowly lifted the hem of his red and white striped jersey, up his chest; up...up past that strong column of neck - Viggo could hardly breathe, then Sean freed his corn-gold shaggy hair which fell back, caressing the tips of his ears. Smiling, glowing, he reached for Viggo's shirt, lifted him so he stood face to face, and began to undo the buttons. Viggo made a noise, somewhere between a squeak, a moan, and a whimper. He leant forward, and kissed Sean's nose, then his mouth, then deeply into his mouth.....Their hands were both grappling furiously at each other's trouser fronts,when Sean giggled into Viggo's mouth,
"Let's do it proper, you do yours, an' I'll do mine, then we'll know where we are....!"
He unzipped, put his hands to his hips, pushed downwards. Viggo groaned, and gave a definite whimper, a loud whimper as Sean"s aroused deep rose cock bounced free and upward, and seemed to wave gaily at Viggo. Viggo's fingers had stopped working - he was feebly fiddling with some part of his belt, he thought; Sean laughed softly, , pushed Viggo's hands gently away, and undid belt, button and zip in one smooth, seemingly practised, movement - it felt like that to Viggo, who just stood, his own erection tapping on Sean's own, as if in greeting.
Sean bent then, lifted Viggo's legs free of his clothes, picked them up, folded them and laid them carefully, over the back of the one chair. He did the same with his own, turning and bending to gather up his jeans, allowing Viggo to drool and dither, hissing at the sight of a pair of roundly gleaming firm pale-gold buttocks, with the dark cleft just deepening to bronze.......
Jeans disposed of, Sean turned , held out his arms, Viggo just stepped forward, laid his head on Sean's shoulder, kissing his neck, while Sean's hands, firmly gripping Viggo's ass, lifted him, pressed him hard against his own belly, and shuffled with him to the bed.
Bare feet, Viggo couldn't think where his shoes and socks had gone,, didn't care, his bare feet and toes slid up the back of Sean's thighs, then higher, over his back, until they clasped one another behind that beautiful blond head. Somewhere among all these happenings, Viggo's hand had been smothered with something that smelled like hair conditioner, or bath oil- he felt a tiny giggle try to escape as he wondered, very very vaguely, if the expression 'suck you in, and blow you out in bubbles' came from a rather enthusiastic overuse of bathfoam oil....
Sean grunted, and grunted again, Viggo relaxed as much as he could, revelling in the sight of this powerful golden body, poised, leaning over him, into him, taking him - conquering him, as Sean stroked firmly, deeply, and took Viggo where he'd longed to go, the moment he saw Sean.
They lay, later, sleepily, gently whispering, when Viggo snickered, sat up, and solemnly declared
"VENI VIDI VINCIT!"
"Eh, wossat..,... C'm'ere..."
Viggo posed, drawing up a corner of the sheet, draping it toga-fashion over his shoulder, one hand on his chest, the other raised in heroic salute to the bedside lamp, declaimed..
"I came, I saw .......YOU CONQUERED!" and firmly kissed Sean's belly-button.
Summary: Viggo arrives on foreign soil.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 2663 Read: 666
Published: 03 Jul 2011 Updated: 03 Jul 2011