He is asleep, stretched out prone diagonally across the bed. The summer nights are warm, and so he's sleeping in boxers and nothing more. The sheets have bunched, draping and tangling around his legs, leaving the long back bare all the way down to the waistband of the boxers.
I don't know exactly what I'm doing. I'm standing here by his bed, half-dressed and sleepless, and it's in the middle of the goddamn night and all I can think of is how much I enjoy merely looking at him.
It's the wine I've drunk earlier and I know it, lust born of wine; it's him dreaming something pleasant and he gives a content little sound in the back of his throat; and it's me wanting to touch him, the longing so intense I feel almost ill. It's me awakening to something I've probably felt all along and it's me being scared of going too far.
And now it's me climbing onto the bed, careful not to jostle it too much.
He's so warm I can feel it from here, and his hair fans out over the sheets, shadow-brown against cream, and I twine my fingers into that silky mass before I'm aware of what I'm doing. He doesn't wake up, and I loosen the panicked grasp of my hand, sliding my fingers down his neck, to the little hillock where neck meets back. I want to run my hands all over him, take in every minute shift in texture, learn every sharp angle and slope -- and I can't.
Moving a little, he murmurs something, and the vibrations of it dance up through his chest and against my hand.
I feel like a fool.
I'm kneeling on my co-star's bed while he's asleep, and I have my hand pressed to his back, and my body is very demonstrative in telling me that my jeans are too tight and that the air is too thin. Scooting a little closer, I bend down, wanting to hear if he has something more to say. No. Just his deep, calm breathing, the broad back rising and falling under the hand I still haven't moved.
I feel like fucking him right here and now.
And just the idea of that is painfully arousing.Tear the sheets away and spread his legs, nail him to the mattress with a heavy arm across his back and never mind if anything is in the way and bury my face in his neck and let him scream.
I kneel over him, the insane fool that I am, my knees on either side of his hips and my hands insecurely lifted in mid-air. Lust-led marionette, that's me.
He turns over to lie on his back.
Oh hell.
There is a sleep-crease across his left cheek, and the hair over his ears is sleep-folded, sticking out to the sides. His lips are lightly parted, and the line of shadow running down his chin and onto his neck is like a tattoo, moving in time with his breathing.
I only want to kiss him, I realize.
And before I know what I'm thinking, I'm doing just that. It's a chaste kiss, but soft and warm and full of promise. I flick my tongue out to taste his lips, and I take a gentle hold of his face, my thumbs resting against his cheekbones.
I don't want this to end. I want to freeze this one moment in time, this silly stolen kiss.
His lips part then, deepening the kiss, and I almost lose my balance. This wasn't part of the script. He still seems to sleep, his heartbeat slow and regular, the beats echoing in my ears.
When I open my eyes he is looking at me. I jerk my head back, mind full of excuses and lies.
He doesn't move, and though the gunmetal grey of his eyes is sleep-hazed, I still feel like squirming. Endless seconds like that, eyes locked, unblinking. Then, a hand on my neck in an unsettling, inverted replay of the death scene we filmed two days ago, and he draws me close, sealing his mouth to mine. I splay my legs wider, bringing more of our bodies into contact.
Eventually, we have to break the kiss to breathe. He gives a drowsy smile, letting his hand drop from my neck, then closes his eyes and turns his head to the side.
He's giving me time.
I rise, and stand looking at him again. Can I go this far? Can I take what he offers?
Shrugging, I pull my jeans off, draping them over the back of the nearest chair. The bed is big enough for two. Big enough for two to share it chastely or intimately.
Solid body against mine, arches and hollows fitting perfectly, warm skin under my hands. Always this warmth. He answers the kiss, his mouth on mine, sharp teeth nipping at my lip and a slick tongue demanding entry. Hard body pressing up to me, leanly muscled legs tangling with mine.
We have no need for words of instruction, and even the stripping of the last items of clothing is silent and synchronized clumsiness. The rasp of the sheets is loud to my ears, and then it is replaced by the silken caress of his voice in my ear, saying my name and nothing more. And it is enough, the acknowledgement, enough to let me go on.
Rocking with that muscled body, feeling the drawn-in breaths as if they are my own, feeling the slickened sex against my own. A hand reaching down to stroke me, knowing just how. The mouth on mine stealing my breath, and I gasp between kisses, my head spinning from the lack of oxygen and from the friction of the demanding hand wrapped around my cock. Pebbled nipples brushing mine, and fire trails in their touch, and his-mine-our hands clutch helplessly at the sheets.
So close to the peak, and he takes hold of my neck, pulling me close, as close as can get. More kisses, sweet and dangerous at the same time, and the tempo of the strokes building. Faster. Hotter. Slicker. Until neither he nor I can take it anymore, and both come with a bitten-back scream that would sound like pain were it not for the complacent little sigh at the end of it.
As I lie back, staring at the shadow-mottled ceiling, sex and sleep weighing heavy in every limb, he clasps my shoulder and pushes me over to lie on my side, then nestles in close. His square chin planted in the soft valley between neck and shoulder, and his knees to the backs of my knees.
The bed is big enough for two. Big enough for two to share it chastely or intimately.
I choose the latter. Because regret can wait until the morning.
Summary: Short piece of SB/VM fluff.
Rated: R
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1142 Read: 661
Published: 02 Aug 2009 Updated: 02 Aug 2009