Prologue
I sit in my conservatory, sipping Earl Grey tea from a translucent, Crown Derby cup and watching the sun come up over my oh-so- English garden.
A slim fox is watching me from the shelter of a holly bush, his delicate, slender muzzle raised to sniff the morning air, before he turns and slips back to his burrow to sleep away the day. I salute his departing brush, from one cunning devil to another.
A glance at the calendar has reminded me that in one month, it will be the anniversary of my little triumph and my lips curl in a satisfied smile.
I enjoy playing the puppet master and since then, there have been other successes, but that one really was the crowning glory of my career in manipulating the strings.
They are, from my information, still very much together, although I have not seen them in some time and they have never been back to my exclusive little club.
Time to remedy that, I feel and I have designed ornate invitations to entice them to a little anniversary ball. My club is always private, but this time the invitations are few and very carefully selected.
This time, I have prepared just one joint invitation for King and Steward and as I slip it into the thick, creamy envelope, I add a few inducements to ensure their attendance.
Now all I have to do is while away those tedious hours until this special night, but it will be worth waiting for.
I ring the silver bell for my butler to bring my breakfast and take my mail to the post box, my toes curling with delicious anticipation.
Viggo
I wake first, as always, having got used over the years to very little sleep.
Returning silently from the bathroom, I slip carefully into bed, so as not to wake him. He is lying on his side, turned toward me, one arm pillowing his head, the other loose and relaxed against his bare flank. He has kicked the covers off in the night and I can play the voyeur, delighting in the lines of his body, elegant and graceful, even in repose.
I love the luxury of watching him sleep, his face unguarded and vulnerable, the lines from years of living life to the full, working hard and playing hard, ironed out, lips slightly parted, warm breath whispering with the rise and fall of his chest.
It is hard to believe that it is almost a year since that fateful night at the club, when we got together, but in spite of the sheer logistical difficulties of carrying on this relationship, let alone keeping it secret, this is working for us ! Boy is this working for us !
True, we spend a hell of a lot of time on separate continents, but the phone sex is pretty good and the brief reunions are amazing.
I gently brush a strand of hair away from his forehead - he is growing his hair for his next role - and shake my head to think how dumb we were not to realize this before.
Whoever our mystery host was, we sure have a lot to thank him for !
Sean stirs in that hazy transition from sleep to wakefulness and wrinkles his nose cutely, muttering something incomprehensible and turning onto his back.
I decide to speed the waking process and lean over to blow gently on his exposed nipples, following up with my tongue, circling gently at first, then nipping a little, which causes his green eyes to snap open, still a little unfocused at first !
His hand comes up involuntarily, as if to swat a fly, but I catch his wrist and continue working my way down toward his navel. By the time I reach my goal, I have his undivided, wide awake attention.
He protests and I reluctantly release him to go to the bathroom, waiting impatiently for his return.
Of course, once he is back, he is awake enough not to let me have things my own way and a very satisfying skirmish ensues, in which honours are shared equally.
This gives us quite an appetite for breakfast , so we grab a quick shower and head for the kitchen, where Sean begins making tea, English breakfast for him and maté for me, and I start on the omelettes.
Then the mail box rattles and there is a soft thud, as Sean’s mail lands on the door mat.
He pads into the hallway and doesn’t return for some time.
I have tipped the omelettes onto two warmed plates, added grilled bacon and tomatoes and made toast, before he comes in slowly, his brow furrowed and shoulders hunched a little.
My gut clenches and I instinctively reach out my hand to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly.
“Bad news ?”
He throws onto the counter a very familiar looking invitation and I look at him, a little stunned.
“There’s more !”
He shows me the heavy, embossed envelope the invite came in, then slowly and deliberately he shakes out a number of black and white photographs.
Sean
I never was one of these people who wake up easily, but waking up because something – or someone – is licking your nipples sure helps a lot. I blink and my hand comes down, only to be captured by Viggo’s strong hand.
By the time he’s worked his way down to my cock I am pretty much awake, but also aching to relieve my full bladder, so I take a quick run to the bathroom. Now I am fully awake, and have no intention of just lying down and letting him please me, so we play around a bit until we both end up sated.
After showering we start preparing breakfast, and all the while I think about how my life has changed this last year. I was content with my life, but had given up on happiness and relationships, I had accepted by then that I could never make it work. And then that evening came. It’s almost a year ago and we still don’t know who invited us. Well, whoever he or she was, we’re both grateful.
It works, despite having long periods without being able to even meet and we have to live – and love – on phone calls. But we both know why, and when we finally are together again it’s always great. We’ve never even talked about it, didn’t feel the need for it I guess, but I’ve never wanted or had anyone else since then and I know it’s the same with Viggo.
The mail landing on the doormat disturbs my thoughts, and I go to pick it up, expecting a script my agent promised to sent me. There are a few letters and bills, and one luxurious looking, heavy envelope. I hold it in my hand and turn it around. No sender’s name on the back.
I tear the envelope open carefully and my heart misses a beat when I see a very familiar invitation inside, but I freeze even more when I see the small pile of black and white photographs.
There we are, Viggo and I. Even though it was pretty dark in that room in the club, we are both very clear to see. There’s a complete series, from Viggo stroking his cock through his pants, to me fucking him. And finally two close ups : Vig’s crescent moon tattoo and my Blades one. The tabloids will no doubt love it if they get their hands on this.
I groan when I think of what will happen, and I stick the pictures back in the envelope. There’s no letter, just the invitation, so I start reading it. Exactly a year after that evening, we are invited to the same club again.
Well the message is clear to me : we will have to go, whether we want to or not, or else. And I do want to go, because I want to fucking kill the blackmailing bastard.
So I go back to the kitchen to show the whole thing to Viggo.
Viggo
I must admit that I am shocked, both by the invitation and the pictures, but especially the pictures. We are clearly identifiable by the tattoos, to anyone in the know and considering the available light, the photographer in me is intrigued by the technicalities.
Sean is so angry that he is trembling with barely suppressed rage and he is muttering a string of imaginative and mostly biologically impossible expletives about what he would like to do to “the blackmailing fucker”.
I pull him into a hug and hold him tightly until the shaking subsides and he runs out of stream of consciousness and just hangs there in my arms, sighing deeply.
Needing to snap him out of this, I move back and hold him at arms length, fixing him with a piercing look, until he meets my eyes and we lock glances.
“Sean, first we eat, then we think, then we talk, then we deal with this. Ok ?”
Holding his upper arms, I pull him back towards me and kiss him fiercely until he responds and his arms slide up my back. We break apart to breathe and I remind him that breakfast is getting cold, releasing him and giving him a gentle shove toward the table.
“Not hungry. Feel sick !”
“Sean,” my voice has an edge to it and I harden it deliberately, “we are not going to let him beat us. Now eat !”
He glares at me, but sits and picks up his fork stabbing it savagely into a grilled tomato, as if it is the eyeball of our mystery host, which seems to make him feel a little better. He narrows his eyes, sets his jaw in a very Sharpe manner and begins to eat. I almost feel sorry for the enemy.
We chew in silence and hungry or not, we clear our plates, then take our second mugs of tea into the living room to talk.
“Ok, Sean, if this guy - I’m assuming it’s a guy – has had these pictures for nearly a year and wants to blackmail us, then how come he’s waited all this time ? He could have approached us at any point.”
“He mebbe wanted to lull us into a false sense of security. Toy with us, like. Now he’s going to come out with the threats. If we don’t pay up, he releases ‘em to the tabloids. Bastard !”
“But he’s not asked for any money, Sean. Just sent the invite and the pictures.”
“Not yet, Vig. Probably wants us to go there so he can gloat first. Ah get the idea this bloke likes power over people !” Sean is pacing the floor now, like a caged tiger, just as graceful and just as fierce.” Must have sent us the invites in the first place to lure us there with this in mind.”
“But think, Sean, how did he know we’d hook up together ? He couldn’t have guaranteed us getting these pictures. Maybe he’s just an opportunist and photographs everybody for his own purposes. Even if this is blackmail, how do you know it’s even about money ?”
Sean pauses in his pacing and stares at me, mouth open in shock.
Sean
Viggo stares at the pictures so long that I am beginning to think he’s admiring the artistic quality and I am staring to feel very much pissed off. I guess it shows and Vig tears his gaze away from those pics and hugs me, while I vocalize my feelings about the person doing this.
I can’t help thinking of the effect this all would have on my family and friends if it came out in the open. Of course Vig is right when he tells me we can’t let the fucker beat us, and life needs to go on, but I still feel bad.
I don’t feel much like eating, but in all fairness, I do feel better after attacking my breakfast. We move to the living room, still drinking tea. I hate feeling powerless like this, and I would love to kick someone’s arse, but the problem is we don’t know who he is.
We need to talk about our strategy though, Viggo is right about that. Even though I thought this was about money, I must admit it’s strange that he – we do assume it’s a he – has waited for a year to confront us with those pics. But then again, perhaps he’s one of those people who get off on the thought of a slow torture. Those people exist, and - unlike Viggo who’s still an idealist as long as George Bush and his administration aren’t concerned – it can really upset me.
But when Viggo asks me how that fucker knew we stayed together, how he even knew this envelope would reach us at the same address I am really starting to worry. Is this someone we know ? It’s just a small group of people who know about us being together, a group of people we both trust beyond any doubt and it’s a very unpleasant thought that we might have misjudged our friends.
We look at each other, trying to think of who could do a thing like this, but we don’t come up with an answer. I am still pretty angry, but calmer and I sit down next to Viggo on the couch, while we have a sort of war council. We may be what they call “queer” but we’re still no fairies. The thought of fighting back makes me feel much better, I don’t like to roll over and die, and nor does Vig.
We’re in this together, we will go to this “masked ball” pretend to be cooperative, and then find out who he is. If needed I will persuade that very tight-arsed butler to tell me who’s behind all this. Of course I don’t share that with Viggo, he might have other ideas, but I just keep it in mind as some sort of emergency exit.
We finally agree to go there, look as if we’re willing to play the game, we are actors and should be able to do that, but keep our eyes open to find out who’s the enemy.
”We’ll have a real good talk with him then,” says Vig. Yeah, I say, but I promise myself a real good thrashing when I find out, whoever he is.
“Feel better now Sean ?, “ Viggo asks “
“Sure”, I say looking him in the eye innocently, I am an actor after all. I will feel so much better when I get my hands on that fucker.
Viggo
Well we have talked and I tried to get Sean to think this through and approach it strategically.
He is real mad and at times like that, he doesn’t always think too clearly.
Not that I blame him. It is horrible to think that someone we know well and have thought of as a friend set us up and took these pictures. I am pretty mad too, but I don’t think the answer is to charge in with fists flying.
Seems to me that the mystery guy is clever and manipulative. I have a gut feeling that this isn’t in any way about money. Sure it’s blackmail and leaves a nasty taste in the mouth, but I think this guy has a different agenda.
Maybe he’s some kind of voyeur and wants to watch us together. Those pictures are technically very good and kind of linger lovingly on the positions. Actually, I think they are pretty aesthetic, not to mention hot, but I don’t think Sean is ready to hear that right now.
Alternatively, he may want in on the action but I only hinted that to Sean, as he is mad enough already and I don’t want him to blow completely.
He thinks he has me fooled with that innocent look, but although he may be a good actor on screen, I know him too well. He is pretending to go along with my soft approach, but he is planning on ripping out someone’s entrails and hanging them from the chandelier.
That snooty butler is in grave danger of finding ‘having a broom up his ass’ is not just a figure of speech !
Tempting as it is to let Sean loose on him, I want to do some talking first. I want to find out exactly what is going on and who is behind this……Then we’ll kick his ass !
We have another look at the invitation. This time, it refers to a Masked Ball. Once again, it says that masks will be obligatory, with an added line “costumes provided”.
What the fuck does that mean ? Is this some sick version of a costume ball ?
Sean snorts, when I point it out.
“If one of us has to dress as a woman, mate, it’s gonna be you ! My handsome and rugged features are just wrong!”
“When did you ever see a woman with a jaw like this, Sean ? You looked cute in the leather mini skirt. You have better legs than me ! And my chest is too furry ! Catches in the lace !”
Than he threatens to shave me all over and we start wrestling and laughing again. One thing leads to another and we end up naked on the floor, having distracted ourselves successfully from our current worries for the time being.
A slightly pissed off Sean is always gratifyingly rampant and he is seriously pissed off right now. Might as well take advantage of the opportunities presented.
Once passion is spent, though, we are both quiet and thoughtful, still preoccupied with what will happen at the Masked Ball.
Summary: An unexpected invitation forces Viggo and Sean to revisit a certain place
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: Masquerade 3, Masked BallChapters: 3 Completed: Yes
Word count: 9657 Read: 2297
Published: 04 Aug 2009 Updated: 04 Aug 2009