"Don't move!"
Though not really planning to obey this order for any longer period of time, Sean does sit still for the moment. He only raises his gaze over the rim of his reading glasses to look at Viggo questioningly. Viggo, taking obedience for granted, is not looking back at him, in fact, the only parts of him that Sean can see are his bare feet and the lowest bit of a pair of faded blue jeans. The rest of his lover is effectively hidden by the monstrous aisle with a canvas the size of Scottland right in the middle of their living room.
"Viggo" Sean says, speaking his lover's name with that kind of suspicion that lingers somewhere between amusement and terror "what are you doing?"
From somewhere behind the intimidating canvas Viggo snorts softly. "Taking a good long bath. - What does it look like? I'm painting."
"Huh" is Sean's reply and he spares himself the trouble to say that painting is the activity you do in the bleeding studio, aka the painting room. He shrugs and turns back to his book, immediately drawn back into the plot developing in front of his eyes (well, his glasses to be precise but who cares). So, it startles the fuck out of him when Viggo interrupts his journey to fantasy land by barking. "Don't move, dammit!"
Once he's partly recovered from the shock, Sean realises that he's gotten up from the sofa while reading. Probably to get himself some tea, he tells himself, his subconsciousness being the most British part of him and insisting on a nice cuppa regularly. Anyways, now he stands in front of his sofa, book in his hand and finds himself obeying to some stupid order from the man without an upper body.
"Why the fuck not? Am I stealing your light?" Sean shakes his head and attempts to move - out of the way, that is - but Viggo repeats his order and now his head becomes visible at the side of the aisle. "Stay right where you are. On the sofa, that is."
Sean whines a "But why?", knowing the answer already, but Viggo says it anyway. "You're my muse. So sit the fuck still, Bean. Rule number eight: 'Sit still when Viggo paints.'"
"Rule number eight, Mortensen, is 'Don't buy geraniums 'cause Viggo doesn't like their colours.'" Sean knows since he's the one actually remembering all the crazy guidelines Viggo has come up with over the last week. "And besides, I don't follow your rules. I'm" he sits down again "a free spirit and all, you know."
Viggo makes 'uh huh' to that distractedly and Sean can hear him squishing new amounts of acrylic paint onto the canvas. Sean shakes his head and lifts his book to read on. It's not unusual that Viggo speaks of himself in the third person, in fact Viggo does it that frequently that Sean suspects the Dane thinks himself at war with personal pronouns or some such. Anyways, the third person is not new, the rules are. Viggo wouldn't strike you as an organising freak and by all means, he surely isn't. Wasn't, to be precise, because ever since that little 'incident' involving Sean, his beautiful car and a nosy cop, leading to Sean behind bars, Viggo has developed this 'thing' for law and order. Not that Sean minds, really, he is the one in their relationship that can actually read and understand manuals for the VCR, following rules of programming the stupid thing. And anyways, Sean quite likes Viggo's way of punishing contraventions...
He catches himself smiling a private smile and clears his throat. Dammit, he was supposed to be angry with Vig for ordering him around! For good measures he lifts his gaze from the pages of his book to scowl at Viggo. Or at Viggo's feet, since the rest of the Dane has disappeared behind the aisle again. Scowling at a pair of naked and not really daisy clean feet might sound a bit unrewarding, but Sean likes Viggo's feet. Especially now, because he can see the toes of the right foot moving, tapping a little onto the parquet in obvious excitement over what Viggo's fingers currently do on the canvas. Speaking of, Sean likes Viggo's fingers, too, even better than his feet, if he ever had to do a ranking list. Compared to Viggo's hands Sean thinks his own small and almost too rangy - he loves their roughness, loves all the tiny scars covering them, loves their idle precision. Even more so when they're touching Sean's skin, stroke through Sean's hair, close around Sean's cock.
Currently, though, they are holding a brush and paint and the longer Sean thinks about that the more he thinks it a waste. He hears the light scratch of the bristles on the already dried first layer of paint, hears Viggo's happy humming, oblivious to anything but strokes and spots and scratches on canvas and very, very silently he draws his feet up onto the sofa, hoping that the mad artist won't notice the change of position.
Sean doesn't know much about art and would definitely prefer a prop's sword over a brush any time, but yeah, Viggo's paintings are very arty and full of inspiration and all. Only thing is that Sean doesn't get the point in his having to sit around, bloody motionless for hours, bored properly - and did he mention near to starving? Viggo sometimes is so caught up in his art that he forgets to feed his muse, for heaven's sake! - And for what? Last time Viggo claimed to paint him and made him sit still for four hours, Sean couldn't recognise even the slightest resemblance to a human form in the finished work, let alone any alikeness to himself. Lots of blue paint and green tones mixed into the darkish chaos? Yes. Sean Bean, well known and having his face in the yellow press way too often? Nope.
Viggo moves behind his aisle and a second later grey blue eyes look Sean up and down. Sean shifts on the sofa and smirks daringly and Viggo answers with a blindingly bright grin. Making use of Viggo's flying visit to reality, Sean offers him a bargain - a cuppa tea for him in exchange for a few hours of reading out loud for Viggo.
***
"No looking at the painting, Sean." Viggo says for the third time before Sean pushes him out of the door, chuckling. After the grumbling sound coming from Sean's stomach had reached a volume too loud even for Viggo to ignore, the Dane offered to take care of that. His own fault that he left it too late to get supplies from the supermarket 'round the corner and now has to drive to the next take out. Personally, Sean thinks Viggo's swearing about 'stupid British closing times' justified - after all, if the great Sean Bean obeys to Mr. Mortensen's orders, the British supermarket chains can very well do the same, can't they? But then, he is probably better off with Chinese take out than with Couscous or with whatever crazy cooking idea Viggo gets into his head, straying through the grocery store.
'No looking at the painting'. Sean smiles as he walks back into the living room to set the table. Seriously, Sean probably wouldn't even have thought about that, but now that Vig has put that idea into his head... After all, Sean wouldn't even know whether the painting was upside down or not. Viggo's abstract art is completely wasted on Sean, who has ages ago stopped looking at pictures more complicated than the daily cartoon in his newspaper. But forbidden fruits and all that...
Sean straightens the cutlery for a third time, reads the label of the wine bottle, switches the telly on, switches the telly off, brings his book and glasses from the sofa to the bedroom and accidentally walks by the painting. And he doesn't close his eyes in his own living room just to deliberately not-look at something, does he?
'Huh' says Sean's brain, surprised that for once he can tell that the painting is not upside down or anything. He doesn't dare to touch the canvas, afraid that the paint has still not dried properly, so he takes a cautious step back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Frowns and smiles at the same time as only his gaze traces the strokes of intense colours, focuses on the eyes knowingly staring back at him from the canvas. He hears the front door opening and clicking shut and moments later Viggo steps up behind him.
"Tsk, tsk," he makes and Sean can feel his breath puffing against his neck, "seems like you really have gotten a taste for being a criminal element these days, haven't you?"
Sean smiles but admits. "Caught me in the act."
"Too bad. Now you won't get any dinner" Viggo steps closer yet and licks a wet path of saliva up Sean's neck "before I've punished you."
Sean sighs in overdone, mock desperation but nods. "Aye, I reckon I deserve that."
He attempts to walk towards their bedroom but strong arms, closing around his waist, stop him.
"No better place for punishment than the actual crime scene." Viggo decides and moments later Sean finds himself facedown against the smooth and cool parquet with Viggo's weight pressing him down. He winces a little because the floor is hard against his kneecaps and his elbows but instantly starts to breathe heavily when he feels Viggo's jeans clad erection against his arse.
He bites down on his lower lip to stop himself from urging Viggo on, knowing that this would set off hours of merciless teasing that he couldn't take at the moment. He only wriggles a little, feigning a bit of resistance against the authorities. Viggo's chest is heavy against his back now as the Dane lifts up his hips to drag down his and then Sean's pants just enough.
"Fuck" Sean curses happily when Viggo lowers himself again and he can feel his lover's hot flesh against his naket butt now.
"You" Viggo finishes the sentence, a little breathless already, "Yeah, that's the plan." He pushes one of his hands under the soft fabric of Sean's sweater to stroke Sean's back up and down, making the Brit hum in pleasure at the roughness of Viggo's palms.
"Lube" Viggo whispers against Sean's ear and spoken in that voice Sean decides this to be the most erotic word of the year. Sean reaches out and unceremoniously pushes over the little table with drawing stuff and the ever present little bottle of lube right next to the aisle. Brushes and tubes of acrylic paint scatter all over the parquet and the lube lands conveniently close to Sean's elbow.
"There you are." Sean manages to say very politely. Viggo chuckles softly and bites Sean's ear shell as he reaches out for the bottle in question. The Dane licks his neck soothingly when Sean hisses as the cold liquid touches his heated skin but otherwise waits patiently. Only when he feels one of Viggo's digits gently probing his entrance, that's it for his self control. He growls and whines at the same time, "Viggo, I've waited all bloody afternoon for this. I _am_ bleeding ready. Give me your cock right now or I swear, I'll kill you!" Viggo's tongue stops fucking his ear and Sean thinks it necessary to add: "Please?"
"And there I was thinking you were only bored properly." Viggo replies and Sean feels him withdrawing his fingers and coating himself. "But sexual frustration in this house? Can't have that, can we?"
The latter clearly was a rhetorical question because no one could expect Sean to be able to remember language right now. Not with the head of Viggo's cock finallybloodyfinally pushing into him, breaching him with that exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain. Sean gasps and reaches behind him to cup Viggo's butt, holding him close as the Dane's cock has slid into his body completely. His muscles relax quickly and they both groan as he now closes them around Viggo's erection deliberately, silently pleading him to move.
Viggo rocks his hips, slowly but still it makes Sean whimper in pleasure and the Brit gets a low groan form his lover as a reply. Sean knows that all that arty stuff sets free a lot of energy inside his usually ever calm Dane and with the first harder thrust of Viggo's Sean practically howls in anticipation.
One hand firmly grasping Sean's hip, Viggo's other entangles in Sean's blond strands and yanks them back. Forced to arch his neck Sean screams his pleasure into Viggo's open mouth now, that lovely mouth that muffles every following scream triggered by Viggo's cock effortlessly sliding in and out of his ass now.
Sean's entire body starts trembling in what feels like too intense pleasure and he tries to suck the oxygen out of Viggo's lungs since breathing through his nose doesn't supply him with air sufficiently anymore. He struggles to break the kiss and when Viggo finally lets him go he gulps down what feels like entire cubicmetres of precious air. Viggo licks his cheek as Sean pants helplessly and shakily starts to beg, "Don't stop, never stop, please, please, Viggo."
Viggo growls quietly but his voice sounds almost teasing as he whispers into Sean's ear, "No? And there I was thinking you'd like me to come in your mouth..."
"Viggo!" is all Sean can reply, very near to weeping by now, not able to think properly anymore, not able at all to make such a decision.
"Poor baby." Viggo chuckles and thrust hard at the same time, making Sean forget to make a note to himself to kill Viggo later for calling him stupid pet names. "How 'bout," he licks Sean's ear once again and waits until at least a minority of Sean's braincells has taken up work again, "I fuck you till you come and _then_ let you taste me."
"Please, please" is Sean's answer and he nods affirmatively. Viggo shifts on top of him and turns them to their sides. Sean blindly reaches out behind him to touch Viggo's sweaty skin as his lover starts to pull out almost completely before thrusting back into Sean's ass. Sean turns his head, not having to wait long until Viggo's tongue invades his mouth again. Soclosesoclose already and every forceful thrust, every tiny moan vibrating on Viggo's lips, pushes him closer to the edge.
He lowers his hand to close it around his too long neglected cock, groaning as his thumb glides over its leaking head. It doesn't take more than three or four strokes before he has to submit to his climax approaching and he groans and whimpers as he comes, Viggo's tongue down his throat, Viggo's hand on his hip, Viggo's cock buried deep inside of him.
His lover breaks the kiss to let him catch his breath and Sean instantly starts chanting Viggo's name over and over again, this being the only possible focus in his momentarily haziness. He feels Viggo's breath hitching against his cheek, mingled with quiet curses, feels Viggo's thrusts growing erratic, waits.
"Now, Sean." Viggo orders with a shaky voice and groans as he pulls out of Sean's arse. Even though Sean shifts quickly, turning around and sliding down a little, the first spurt of Viggo's come hits his chin and only the second, third and forth reach their destination between Sean's lips, on Sean's tongue, down Sean's throat.
"Fuck" Sean hears Viggo whispering as he licks the last traces of come of Viggo's cock and from his own chin. Chuckling softly, he pushes himself up a bit, dragging his pants at least half way up his hips again, too - his own come has made a right mess of his clothes already anyway, not speaking of the living room floor...
Viggo's arms draw him close and Sean purrs contentedly as his lover's chin rests on top of his head and he can hear Viggo's loud and healthy heartbeat pounding right next to his ear.
"Vig?" Sean asks after both of their pulses are back to normal and Viggo's finger idly stroke through his damp hair.
"Yeah?"
Sean rubs the tip of his nose against Viggo's chest and feels his lover chuckling. Snuggling closer yet he asks, voice completely conversational again: "The painting, that isn't me."
"No?" Viggo's voice bears amusement and mock surprise as his fingers straighten Sean's blond strands.
"Arsehole" Sean elbows him as best as he can in their current position, "I might not be able to tell when you're going all blue-explosion-of-colours, claiming that chaos to be me, but I'd be damned if I didn't recognise that portray. That scar on the upper lip? The blue eyes?" He pulls back a little to find said blue eyes looking down on him now. "'tis you, all cubist, like."
"Yeah." Viggo nods.
Sean scowls at him, his hand running down Viggo's exposed side gently betraying his grumpy expression, "Why the fuck did you make me sit still for that bloody eternity then? When you were painting yerself?"
Viggo takes his time in answering this, knowing perfectly well the plus points of rhetorical breaks. "'Cause looking at you makes my cubist self feel whole and paintable?" he finally offers with a smile right between honesty and mockery.
Sean tilts his head and arches an eyebrow, grinning as well, "Yeah, right. Got nothing to do with deliberately torturing me for fun's sake, eh?" Viggo just gives him his patented innocent 'who, me?' look and Sean growls at him again: "Fucker."
"Rule number twenty seven:," Viggo says very seriously, "'Never call Viggo a fucker - even if he is yours - only because he fancies to stare at you with your reading glasses.'"
Sean tries to keep a straight face, but Viggo beats him in their acting-serious contest and he starts laughing. Resting his head against Viggo's chest again they both listen to the silence for a while before Sean mumbles: "Vig?"
"Hm?"
"Rule number twenty seven is 'Don't talk back when it comes to breakfast flakes.'"
-- END --
Summary: Don't move!
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 3042 Read: 914
Published: 29 Jul 2009 Updated: 29 Jul 2009