Sean opened his eyes when he heard the camera's soft click. "Bloody hell," he growled up at Viggo. "Can't a bloke have some privacy around here?"
"Nope," Viggo replied as he clicked off another shot. Afternoon sunlight spilled through the small window and caught the gold and reddish strands in Sean's short hair, turned the drops of water on his shoulder into a spray of small diamonds. Viggo lowered himself to the cool floor and leaned against the claw-foot tub. Sean looked grouchy but edible, rosy-cheeked from the heat of the water. "I have some bath salts around here somewhere," Viggo offered.
"Don't need bath salts," Sean grumbled. "Don't want to smell like some fuckin' flower."
"You are such an ass when you're tired," Viggo replied gently.
"Bite me," Sean replied.
Viggo took another shot. Sean slid lower into the tub, knees breaking the surface of the water. He rested his arms along the tub's rim. Viggo focused on forearm and throat, jaw and temple. He caught one green eye steady on him, lashes wet and dark and spiky. "Stop pouting," he told Sean, and got a lazy upward flick of a middle finger in return.
Viggo pulled the folded towel over and put the camera on top, then slid both well out of the way. Sean eyed him, green eyes cat-like narrow over the rim of the tub. The cabinet under the sink was a jumble of junk, but he found the thin wax paper envelope and the small plastic tub without too much trouble. He knee-walked back to the tub, wincing a little because his knees were 45 like the rest of him and didn't like cold hard tile much, thanks anyway. Two more folded towels under his knees helped. Sean's dark gold eyebrows had lowered during all of this; he looked as though he might bolt out of the tub at any minute. He'd been like this since he'd arrived from New York the day before---twitchy and touchy and cranky. Aside from a dry, chaste kiss last night, they'd hardly touched, not even in sleep.
Viggo ripped the seal on the envelope and tipped its contents into the steaming water. Sean grumbled but subsided when the scent of lemons rose from the water. "Masculine enough for you?" Viggo asked, dipping one hand in to stir the salts around. He could see Sean's body beneath the water, hip and flank, the shadow of his navel, the rosy-tan circles of his nipples. He withdrew his hand, used his other to open the tub. The smell of the verbena body salt was still pleasantly sharp. He scooped out a dollop and used the water on his hand to work the mix into a paste. "Give me your hand," he instructed.
Sean sighed but flopped one hand over the rim of the tub. "You gonna give me a manicure?" he asked.
"Nope." Viggo began to work the scented salt into Sean's palm. He'd always had a weakness for Sean's hands, the slender, elegant fingers, the graceful cup of his palms. Sean could make lighting a cigarette an exercise in visual delight: fingertips pinching the match, palms curving to cup the flame, long fingers scissoring the cigarette.
Viggo tried not to think of Sean's hands on his body. Tried not to think of the way Sean used to tangle his fingers in Viggo's hair or scrape his short nails across Viggo's inner thigh or the way he'd curl his fingers around Viggo's rigid cock, thumb stroking soft and sure across the weeping slit. Viggo let go of Sean's hand, glistening now with oil and a thin layer of white salt. "You can wash that off now," he told Sean. He chanced a glance over, saw that Sean was watching him with steady eyes and parted lips. "What?" he asked.
"Nothin'," Sean replied, trying for a growl but failing. "That felt good."
"It was supposed to." Viggo got to his feet, snagged tub of salt mix and the towels, and moved to the other side of the tub. He was working the salt into Sean's other hand when Sean cleared his throat, shifted in the tub. Here it comes, Viggo thought, and he concentrated on the tender webbing between Sean's thumb and forefinger.
"I saw the pictures from your premiere," Sean began. "Who was the girl?"
Viggo looked up, met Sean's gaze. "What girl---you mean Zuleikha? Long dark hair, big dark eyes?"
Sean's lips twisted in what could have been a grimace or an attempt at a tight smile. "That's the one."
"She played Jazira in the movie, Sean."
"You seemed...the pictures werea33;" Sean trailed off, shifted again. Cleared his throat.
"It was her first movie premiere," Viggo told him quietly. "She was shaking like a leaf. I held her hand, put my arm around her. That was it." He released Sean's hand. "You can wash that off now."
Sean concentrated on dipping his hand in the water and rinsing it clean. Even in the dimming light, Viggo could see the flush on his cheekbones, a flush that had nothing to do with his cooling bath. Viggo reached down between Sean's feet, soaking his sleeve in the process, and pulled the plug to drain a little water out of the tub, then turned on the hot tap. Sean braced his feet and slid back so he could sit up. He wouldn't meet Viggo's gaze.
Viggo turned off the tap. He knew that Sean was embarrassed, that he considered his jealousy a weakness. He knew Sean liked being in control of his life, his career, his emotions. He liked being in control in bed with Viggo, liked knowing he could make Viggo cry out his name, beg for more, beg for Sean to fuck him harder.
A few pictures of Viggo with a pretty girl shouldn't have shaken Sean's confidence in his place in Viggo's life, but Viggo knew better than to press, to ask too many questions. Sean didn't like psychoanalysis.
He knew what would make Sean feel better.
Viggo leaned over the rim of the tub and pressed his lips to Sean's. He breathed in the scent of warm wet skin and waited. Sean's lips were soft and lax at first, and then Viggo felt the flick of the tip of his tongue. He opened his mouth, moaned a little as Sean slid his tongue between his lips. Oh, but he'd missed this, missed the way Sean kissed, soft tongue and sharp teeth, warm breath against his cheek. When Viggo pulled away, Sean licked his lips and followed, captured his mouth in another hungry, demanding kiss. Water sloshed as he rose to his knees. Viggo pulled away once more, sat back on his heels. "Here or bed?" he asked, and Sean's eyes gleamed.
"Bed," Sean growled. He stood up, water streaming down his chest and belly, cock jutting thick and rosy. Viggo let his eyes fix on Sean's cock. He licked his lips slowly, then let his gaze travel up Sean's long torso to his face. Sean was flushed again, this time with arousal. He stepped out of the tub and stood in front of Viggo, one hip cocked. Viggo chased a droplet of water up one long thigh with his tongue, nuzzled Sean's soft, damp sac. He heard Sean rumble, felt his long fingers in his hair. "Bed," Sean growled again.
They barely made it to Viggo's bed. Viggo heard his t-shirt rip and didn't care, wrestled with his jeans, spread his legs. Sean's mouth was hot on his nipples, his navel, the crease between his hip and thigh. Viggo cried out at the touch of Sean's tongue on his cock, his balls, the hypersensitive skin beneath them. He arched his back, clawed at Sean's damp shoulders. "Please," he groaned. "In me, I want you in me."
"Wait, baby," Sean crooned, rising up over him. He leaned over Viggo, long arm reaching for the beside table. Pale lamplight flooded the bed. Viggo heard the drawer slide open, heard Sean mutter about all the junk in the drawer. Viggo squirmed against him, ran his hands over the warm lush curve of Sean's buttocks. He wanted to twist around, wiggle down there to bite and suck on that smooth skin. He felt a pillow bunch beneath his hips, felt Sean's hands sliding along his inner thighs. He grunted at the slick touch of lube and Sean's finger. "Open up for me," Sean murmured. "Oh, there, that's it," he cooed.
"Uunnh, yes," Viggo groaned. "Hurry. Please." He grabbed the headboard as Sean's finger brushed against his prostate. He was burning up, arching, bucking his hips, shamelessly fucking Sean's long finger, pleading with Sean to take him, fuck him, please. Another finger made him whimper, but then the pressure was gone, and oh God, Sean was pushing in, slow and steady, his eyes glittering in the lamplight. "More," Viggo pleaded, and Sean gave him what he needed, the burn and stretch almost too much to bear, until his toes curled and his knees clenched against Sean's sides and he could feel the wiry tickle of Sean's pubic hair against his balls.
"To the hilt," Sean muttered, and he began to move, carefully at first, sweat running down his chest and into the soft hair on his flat belly. Viggo blinked sweat out of his eyes and watched him, watched him move, watched the way his expression changed with every thrust. His cock was aching, pre-come glazing a thin line on his stomach. Sean angled his hips, and Viggo howled his pleasure, struggling to keep his eyes open. He watched Sean curl his elegant fingers around his cock, watched his thumb stroke soft and sure across the slippery slit, watched himself come in long spurts. His throat was aching from shouting, his asshole was aching from Sean's rapid thrusts and his orgasm, but he kept his eyes open and watched Sean's face as he came, Viggo's name on his lips, his white teeth showing in a fierce grimace of rapture. Two, three more bone-rattling thrusts, and then Sean was leaning over him, panting heavily, his breath cooling Viggo's superheated skin.
"Jesus Christ," Sean muttered in a raspy whisper.
"Mmmrrrm," was all Viggo could manage. He shuddered as Sean pulled out gently and helped him straighten his legs. "Oooh. Ouch. Damn."
"We're getting so old," Sean commented ruefully as he got rid of the condom. "I heard your knees creaking."
"That was my ass," Viggo replied.
"You were the one begging for more," Sean replied with a toothy grin.
"Yes, I was," Viggo agreed, stretching a little. He reached up and ran a gentle finger over the scar below Sean's eyebrow. "You know I'm yours, right?"
Sean's green eyes were steady and clear. "Yeah," he said softly. "I do."
Viggo held out his arms. Sean slid over him, warm and solid. Viggo turned his head and kissed Sean's ear, made him wiggle a little against him. Sean raised up enough to kiss his mouth, their tongues flickering together lazily, sweetly. "All yours," Viggo added when they parted, and Sean smiled down at him.
Summary: Grumpy!Sean gets some ViggoTherapy.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1856 Read: 995
Published: 31 Jul 2009 Updated: 31 Jul 2009