First Step
During his first day on set most of the cast dropped by to greet him. Viggo tried to tie the names to the right faces, and succeeded mostly.
He was on his way to his car, tired, bruised and still jet lagged when a voice stopped him. He turned around to a blond man who looked vaguely familiar.
“Sean,” the man said, extending his hand. “I just wanted to greet you, that’s all. You look exhausted, so I’ll let you off the hook for tonight. Tomorrow night I’ll buy you a beer.”
He turned and left, and so it began.
Promise
Viggo and Sean got along very well from the beginning. They were peers and shared love for art, music and wicked humour. Their acquaintance was easy, and the beer flowing the result, not the reason.
Now and then other cast members dropped by their table, hoping to share a few laughs and beers, but left, feeling strangely excluded.
Both proud fathers, they talked about their kids. Both actors, they talked about work. Both men, they realized some things didn’t need talking.
The promise was there though, right between the watery rings on the beer stained table, and they left together.
The Road
Sean drove them up to his place, as he seemed sober enough to do so. It was a thirty minute drive, maybe just ten miles, but the road was winding.
For a while Viggo’s hand rested on the seat between them, and then it lifted and settled on Sean’s thigh. There was no pressure, it just rested there.
It felt good, like Viggo’s hand belonged there, and it somehow eased Sean’s anxieties about what would happen when they got there.
Viggo looked like he knew, and maybe he did, and all Sean had to do was follow the road.
The kiss
Viggo took no time for small talk, once inside the house he pulled Sean close. Sean struggled against him, and Viggo understood this was alien for Sean, who maybe expected a hand on his cock, but not on his face. Viggo going down to take in his dick wouldn’t faze him, but the tongue sneaking into his mouth sure did.
But Sean looked so damned kissable, and Viggo firmly stood his ground, never relenting until Sean gave in and kissed him back. Fight out of him, he let Viggo press him up against the wall and melted into his kiss.
Broken Rules
Like a stubborn child, digging its heels in, clawing toes in loose sand, he clung to his last bit of reason. He was never kissed before by a man, at least not like this with tongue and teeth, a warm hand on the nape of his neck, keeping him immobile.
Sean knew if he really wanted he could break loose, but something kept him pinned. The rules in Sean’s law, cast in iron, were simple, this for girls, that for blokes, and he liked simple, but were now to break.
Sinking into Viggo’s kiss, he put a stop to reason.
Flesh
Like a kid tugging on gift wrapped parcels, tearing away paper and tape, he ripped open fabric, buttons, and zippers, without ever breaking the searing kiss.
A tearing sound and Sean grunted, in pleasure or complaint, Viggo didn’t really know or give a fuck, just wanted to get his hands on naked flesh.
He tried to tug Sean’s unzipped jeans down, struggling with the belt keeping it in place, until he finally succeeded. He reluctantly let go of Sean’s mouth, and slowly licked a path down the arching body, tasting every sweet inch of his sweaty, naked, golden unwrapped gift.
Taking the Lead
Having his nipples sucked made Sean hiss, the tongue dipping into his navel made him squirm, and when Viggo took in his weeping cock Sean was close to whimpering.
Instead his hands went down, fingers tangled in strands of silken hair, holding Viggo’s head in place. Tired of being led, he took the lead, grabbing a hand full of hair, pulling Viggo’s head back almost violently, feeding him as much of his cock as he could take without actually choking.
Dizzy, he looked down at Viggo’s face, mouth rounded around his cock, soft hair tickling his fingers, and he came.
Perfect Poetry
Viggo mumbling a few lines, probably poetry, made Sean open his eyes slowly. Even on his knees Viggo looked like he rightfully owned him, and how the fuck did he do that ?
Grabbing Viggo’s wrists Sean pulled him onto his feet, until they were face to face. Still catching his breath, Sean looked at Viggo, stating my house, my turn, and he dragged Viggo behind him.
The bedroom seemed days away because they had to stop again and again to let Sean taste himself on Viggo’s lips.
Then Viggo was naked, bent over the bed, poetry turned into perfection.
Fearless
Viggo closed his eyes, clinging to the dreamy feel of perfection, Sean rummaging and cursing in the en suite bathroom ; a triumphant growl, the bed dipping under Sean’s weight.
Sean’s cock burnt hot against his legs, urging Viggo to open and allow the long slick fingers to slide and twist inside him. His body sang in harmony with pain and lust, and the last time he felt like this was when he tried LSD for the first and only time. Being high like that had scared him shitless back then.
Now he welcomed the rush when Sean's cock filled him.
La petite mort
It was not like before, no more dreaming, now all was rawness and need and hunger. Viggo’s body ached, arched and then let go underneath Sean, and Sean’s hand on his cock.
He spilled over that hand hotly, unable to make any sound, and then Sean shuddered against him, uttering a deafening cry.
“La petite mort,” Viggo said, when he regained breath.
Sean lifted a brow, not really up to listening to poetry, or whatever it was Viggo was on about.
“Little death,” Viggo translated, “that’s what the French call orgasm, and for the first time I think they’re right.
Not leaving
Somehow Sean was not surprised when Viggo, after cleaning up, made no attempt to leave. He settled in Sean’s not very large bed like he belonged there, and Sean had to get up to find an extra pillow, because Viggo’s head rested on the only pillow there.
He asked him what time he had to be on the set, and Viggo answered sleepily. Sean shrugged and set the alarm, then crawled into bed next to him, punching the pillow into submission.
Only when deep breathing betrayed Viggo sleeping, Sean snuggled closer, his arm sliding around Viggo’s waist, holding him close.
Woof !
Sean usually grabbed breakfast on set, which was far easier than fixing it himself. But maybe Viggo would expect tea and toast. Tea he could do, but there was no bread, nor a bakery anyway near.
He could ask Billy, who lived only three houses away from him. But he knew Sean never ate breakfast at home...
Ten minutes later he knocked on Billy’s door, telling him about the poor starved dog he found in his garden this morning. Could Billy spare some bread ?
Billy looked at him, his eyes dancing,
“Does Viggo bark and play dead Sean ?”
Turn and turn about
Viggo looked a bit uncomfortable riding Brego today, he shifted on the saddle, a slightly pained expression on his face.
Sean rapidly swallowed his smirk, when he noticed Viggo looking at him. Too late though, and he knew he was in trouble. Thank God – and Eru to be on the safe side – Boromir didn’t go on horseback too much, and Rivendell was shot already.
In his mind he went through the coming days filming and paled, thinking about the very basic wooden canoes Pete showed them a few days ago.
He had actually been looking forward to that. Seemed fun.
Frustration
They are shooting the scene on the shore of the river Anduin, Boromir arguing with Aragorn on the path to follow, on Gondor, on Aragorn himself.
For some reason it needs a lot of takes, and they both get tired. Something starts to surface in their performance. They know it’s there, and maybe Pete does, but manage to hide it mostly.
Then, when Boromir grabs Aragorn’s arm in his utter frustration, and Pete shouts “Cut,” it is Viggo looking at Boromir, his voice a low growl,
“If only I could, I would have you now, right here in the sand.”
Drunk on Viggo
The shower cubicle in the trailer was pretty small for one man alone, but they still managed to get in together. They kissed under the cascade, anything else impossible, tongues curling and twining, until the water turned cold.
Grabbing a towel, Sean started to rub himself dry, his short hair spiked.
Viggo rested a wet hand on Sean’s shoulder, waiting for his turn. Hair dripping and sticking wet to his face made him look like a boy. Sean dropped his towel and pulled Viggo even closer.
Lapping on rivulets streaming down the bared throat he got himself drunk on Viggo.
Opening up
Sean allowed Viggo to push him onto the bed, their tongues flicking, Viggo’s hand stroking the inside of his leg, then higher, more intimately and Sean gasped when the first slick finger entered him.
Viggo looked grave, almost stern, breeching Sean’s body, and Sean turned his face aside, hiding the tear escaping.
A slow burn turning into fire, Viggo’s face softening and melting in the heat, focus forgotten.
Sean’s hands clawed in the sheets, then shot up to cling to the headboard. Something inside him unravelling slowly with every deep perfect thrust, and maybe soon would come out in words.
Pet Name
Eyes closed in bliss, jaw slackened, Sean came. For a moment he looked like an angel, Viggo thought, but thought it wiser not to say so.
Only recently Sean had loosened up a little, slowly lowering his defences. At first he had pushed Viggo away when he tried kissing Sean, or even holding him. Struggling with the concept of male sex being more than just that. Calling him “angel” would probably prove a bit too much.
Viggo mused about the demonic things Sean might do to him then, and he grinned..
“What ?” Sean asked suspiciously.
“Angel,” Viggo said tenderly.
Don't ask, you might just get an answer.
Viggo had the unnerving habit of waking up in the middle of the night, switching on the bedside lamp, and scribbling words on his notepad. Turning off the light he was back asleep in minutes, leaving Sean wide awake on his side of the bed, deciding on kicking Viggo out first thing next morning. He needed to sleep, dammit.
Only once, Sean read the scribbled words and managed to decipher them; salt, waves, wet, and asked Viggo, ”is it a poem about the sea ?”
Viggo squinted at the paper, then shook his head.
“The taste of your come Sean.”
Starved
When he got home Viggo was on his couch, writing in his journal, flat on his belly and stark naked. Sean climbed on the couch between spread legs. He had been hungry for Viggo all day, almost starved.
He licked the smooth flesh of a shoulder, and Viggo’s pen shot out over the paper, stilling when Sean’s tongue dipped lower, lingering on the small of Viggo’s back.
Hungry for more, Sean pulled at firm cheeks, lured by irresistible dark scent, and then delved in, tasting all of Viggo . A choked cry, almost a sob, and then the pen dropped.
Green fingers
For some reason they are at Sean’s place almost all of the time, but not tonight. Viggo goes to his bedroom, opens the window, and changes the sheets.
Sean steps out of the kitchen door into the surprisingly large garden. When Viggo joins him later, Sean turns to look at him sternly.
“Okay Vig, our next day off I will try and turn this sad prairie into a garden.”
Viggo, who has entirely different ideas on how to spend a mutual day off argues, but Sean doesn’t budge.
Suddenly picturing a sweaty, half naked Sean, Viggo grins and readily relents.
Down to Earth
Every time Sean looked up from weeding, Viggo schooled his face to thoughtful, like he was thinking about a poem, and then he quickly scribbled down some words, laying his hand on the rough bark of the tree he was sitting under.
Sean looked sweaty and delicious, and thinking about shoving down the dirty shorts and fucking him wasn’t really very poetic.
“You’re eying my arse, aren’t you, you pervert,? ” Sean finally asked.
Viggo looked indignant. “No Sean, I am in contact with this beautiful tree.”
“Bollocks,” Sean said. “You were pissing against that tree only last night !”
Precaution
They were about to go to the pub, there was a football match on big screen tonight, and when Viggo came out of the bedroom wearing his San Lorenzo shirt, Sean decided to put on his Blades shirt.
“Hang on,” he said, and knelt in front of his big dresser, to open the safe that came with the rented apartment.
“Are you keeping your Blades shirts in the safe?” Viggo laughed and Sean looked at him defiantly.
“Those fucking hobbits stole my last two Fray Bentos pies, and used them as Frisbees, I am not taking a chance Vig.
Favour
They made a bet about the football match. Forfeit was *a favour,* and Sean had been quite sure to win, and also quite sure about the favour he would demand from Viggo .
Unfortunately he lost.
Viggo looked him straight in the face when he told what he wanted, and Sean could feel his face turn fiery red. He hoped Viggo was joking, but at the same time he just knew he wasn’t.
Sean cursed, and Viggo waited it out patiently. Finally Sean muttered, “Fine.” yanked down his pants and shorts in one go and lay down over Viggo’s lap.
Shameful Delight
Like the blushing skin of perfect apples, Viggo mused, admiring Sean’s freshly spanked ass. Not a thought to share with Sean though, who had to be challenged into it in the first place.
Sean made no attempt to move, seemed to take to it with shameful delight. He even raised his ass a little, obviously asking for more. The gloved hand came down once again, and Sean groaned, rubbing his cock against Viggo’s jeans clad leg.
Unable to resist, Viggo tasted the hot smooth skin, then bit down sharply. “An apple a day,” he said in answer to Sean’s cry.
Doubts
The fake blood on Viggo’s face tasted vaguely sweet, even a bit sickening. Boromir’s face looked strangely untouched by death.
Viggo noticed things – people - characters – got blurred in his head, all because of Boromir’s impending death.
Not that Sean would leave anytime soon, but he would at one time. Boromir dying meant Sean leaving and Viggo did not know what it would mean, not at this moment when he lay on top of Boromir, staring at the stilled face.
Eyes opening, Sean’s seemingly bloodless face betrayed nothing but a faint wet trickle, telling Viggo what he needed to know.
Summary: A serie of New Zealand drabbles, written for Viggo's 50th birthday.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 2 Completed: Yes
Word count: 5218 Read: 2277
Published: 02 Aug 2009 Updated: 02 Aug 2009