He had planned to listen to the St Matthew Passion when he got home, had even laid out the CD on the coffee table, anticipating splaying out on his big couch in his battered, baggy pants and favourite Blades sweatshirt later to enjoy the music.
Instead he found himself in Viggo’s fancy hotel room, in Viggo’s bed, listening to Viggo’s steady breathing and slight snoring. For some reason, Viggo was wearing his – Sean’s – tie. It did look good on him, but maybe that was just because he wasn’t wearing anything else. He wasn’t trying to hide anything either, was displayed on the coverlet as if he was doing some tacky photo shoot which would end up with him on the centrefold of a magazine with staples in his belly, and a fine belly it was.
Sean tried to remember the events that had led up to this, them being there on Viggo’s bed with the proof of their drunken enthusiasm turning his pubic hair into a sticky, gooey mess.
He had been more than pleased when they asked him to present Viggo’s award; he hadn’t seen Viggo for a long time. Still, when he had changed into the obligatory suit and tie yesterday evening he had felt regret for agreeing. Just suppose Viggo’s memories weren’t like Sean’s and he would shake hands as if they were strangers, not like the close friends they used to be; that would hurt.
The moment their eyes met they were back to were they once were though and they had hugged for long enough to make Sean feel giddy. There was Press all around, pictures being taken and the sponsors took the opportunity to pimp their products. Within an hour, Viggo, exhausted and extremely jetlagged from travelling to all four corners of the world over two weeks, was slightly drunk.
By the time Sean called him on stage to accept his award he was more than that and Sean had to actually coax Viggo off, as his rambling acceptance speech seemed to last for ever, even though it was pretty funny. After talking to the gathered Press and having more pictures taken, while drinking from the same bottle, they were giggling like schoolboys, Viggo taking the piss out of anyone holding a mike in front of him.
Sean – affected by now too, but not half as drunk as Viggo – had managed to get them into a cab to Viggo’s hotel, had steered Viggo into the lift and up to his suite. Viggo had been either too drunk to remember or was just fucking around, but Sean had to actually go back to the reception desk to find out Viggo’s room number and the floor he was on. By the time they stumbled into the room they had been breathless with laughter.
Opening the complementary bottle of Jameson’s was not really a good idea, as much as Viggo insisted on it, so Sean tried to take it from him and they ended in a giggling heap on the bed, Viggo shielding the bottle under his body. Finally Viggo gave in and rolled the bottle from the bed. Still laughing they lay on their backs, until Sean decided he really should be going and made a half hearted attempt to climb off.
“What the fuck Sean?” Viggo had said, “Why don’t you crash here? The bed is big enough for the both of us, and it's not like we see each other that much”, so Sean had kicked off his shoes. When he had started working on the rest of his clothes he suddenly noticed Viggo was watching him intently, looking as sober as if he had drunk nothing more than water, and Sean blushed.
“Are you going to sleep in your suit?” he asked, which made Viggo burst out in another – thank god very drunk – giggle.
“I always sleep naked,” he stated and started unbuttoning his shirt. Sean struggled clumsily with the less than perfect knot of his tie and then forced it open with both hands. He hated ties anyway.
Before he could pull it over his head, Viggo was bodily on top of him, shirt opened apart from the last button, the fly of his pants open and the buckle of his god awful brown belt pressing painfully into Sean’s lower belly.
“For fuck’s sake, what are you doing Vig?” he started asking but then Viggo’s hands pulled both ends of the tie, until Sean’s breath was nearly taken from him. He opened his mouth again to protest but then Viggo’s mouth closed over his and his tongue slid in, and there wasn’t any fooling around about it.
The hugging, the touching, the kissing had all worked on Sean like foreplay, as almost the whole year in New Zealand with Viggo had felt like foreplay. That was then and there, and somehow nothing ever came from it but friendship and Sean had told himself it was better that way as sex always screwed everything up and love even more. Right now he was willing to admit he didn’t give a fuck about screwing up and tangled his tongue around Viggo’s, despite the lack of oxygen.
Now that Sean was kissing him back eagerly, Viggo loosened the grip on the tie and pulled it over Sean’s head, almost ripping off an ear in the process. His fingers worked on Sean’s expensive shirt, tugging impatiently on buttons, probably tearing a few off, and Sean moaned when he finally felt Viggo’s naked skin against his.
They worked down their pants between the two of them, without ever really losing contact entirely. Their hands united around their cocks, rubbing them against each other. He could hear Viggo’s ragged breathing in his ear; feel the pressure of his hands on throbbing flesh. They kissed again; deep and hot, stealing each other’s breath and then suddenly it all came together and Sean fell apart, spilling hotly over Viggo’s fist. He was still sucking in breath when Viggo cried out and slumped on top of him.
He vaguely remembered pulling off the remnants of his clothes, rubbing his bare feet where Viggo who was still wearing his shoes, had chafed the skin of his instep and he hadn’t even felt it. One moment Viggo was laughing about something, maybe that was when he had put on Sean’s tie like some fucking trophy and the next moment, Sean had been out.
He turned his head to look at Viggo again and thought about what would happen next; thought about the options.
Probably the best was to blame it all on too much booze; two friends who’d had a little fun and a grope, so what? Or Sean could go into safe mode, could get up in silence, try to make himself somewhat decent and go home, as if nothing had ever happened, except that it did happen and he would never forget.
He slowly moved closer to Viggo until he could touch him and then clutched a long strand of greying hair. Viggo would have a terrible headache once he woke up, no doubt and he would probably be sick too. Sean could only hope Viggo wouldn’t look at him with disgust, or –even worse – would make fun of the whole thing.
He decided that the safest way was to get up now and leave and the next time they met they could pretend it never did happen; they were actors after all. What use was there in staying and hoping for more only to be hurt more, probably? He would go right now.
When Viggo finally opened his eyes and groaned, Sean was still there, still clutching the strand of hair; still clutching his hopes.
Summary: What happened after the Jameson's Empire Awards?
Rated: R
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1320 Read: 881
Published: 02 Aug 2009 Updated: 02 Aug 2009