Sean
I wake up almost reluctantly, the feeling of a sleep-warm body pressing against my back, making me want to linger in that dreamlike state you inhabit just before you are really awake. I gaze at the alarm clock I bought after I started spending more and more nights at Viggo’s place. I can afford to lie here a bit longer, before I have to get up for showering, breakfast and work.
Viggo’s loft is so much bigger than my modest flat, and we can both work on our paintings until late and then just crawl into bed. Of course my work is just for fun, but I greatly enjoy doing it. It feels liberating, like I can let go of a lot of stuff that used to bother me. It has made me dislike my daytime job a little, and I sometimes wish I had made more of myself when I was young.
Viggo has given me spare keys to the loft, and I have given him the ones for my flat, just in case. It does sometimes bother me that I can't offer him the things he offers me, but that's how it is for now.
Sometimes I am still amazed, when I realize I have known Viggo for only two months. I have always seen myself as perfectly straight, and never felt attracted to another man, and yet here I am, lying naked in a bed with another man curled around me, his morning wood poking my back.
I smile when I think of how we spent yesterday – Sunday – working on our paintings. I was wearing a pair of Vig’s old jeans, caked and splattered with paint, because I don’t like to get my clothes ruined. Viggo laughs and teases me about that, saying it’s my Northern upbringing, and he’s probably right. I didn’t bother to put on a shirt for the same reason: I don’t mind having paint over my body at all.
Viggo complained I was distracting him, groping me every time I got near him, until I gave in, and allowed him to peel the jeans off me. I ended up naked on my back on the floor and he knelt next to me fully dressed, his eyes dwelling on my body. When things all started between us, it made me uneasy and I felt embarrassed, when exposed to his eyes, but now I am used to him looking at me like that, enjoying it even.
His brush still in his hand he stroked my chest, leaving a trail of splatters, red as blood all across me. His eyes got that far away look I recognized by now and he jumped up to get his palette.
I closed my eyes while he painted me, the soft hairs of the brush tickling me, while sunlight streamed through the big window behind me.
“Keep your eyes closed,” he murmured and I did, only squirming a little when he painted my nipples and perhaps a little bit more when I felt the brush over my cock and balls. It struck me, just like that; the feeling of total happiness, like a long lost memory from your childhood can sometimes make you feel. I pulled him down blindly for a kiss, trying to share this feeling with him.
He kissed me back eagerly, but then pulled back to work on my legs. I just laid back, the knowledge of his total focus on me making me hard. Finally I heard him climb to his feet and walk away, but I kept my eyes closed and didn’t even open them when I heard his camera clicking.
“Open your eyes Sean, “he said, and I found him looming above me, the big mirror from his bedroom in his hands so I could see myself.
This was not his normal style, but beautiful. My body was covered in wild flowers in many vivid colours, their ranks curling down and rooting around my straining cock. I looked for a long time at myself, amazed and strangely touched by it. I just looked at him and smiled.
“That’s beautiful Vig,” I said and he smiled back. “You’re beautiful Sean,” and then he was undressing himself, lying on top of me, and we kissed, laughed, struggled and loved until he was covered in paint as much as I was. Later, much later, we showered and tried very hard to get rid of the paint. That’s when he said it.
“I want you to move in here Sean. I want you to live with me.”
Viggo
Regaining consciousness on a Monday morning, I keep my eyes closed for a moment and luxuriate in the scent and warmth of the man in my arms.
I am curled around Sean and both of us have our knees slightly bent, so that he is practically sitting in my lap.
He is relaxed and warm, smelling of soap, sleep and a faint whiff of the turps we had to use to get the paint off yesterday. My arms are wrapped protectively round him and my erect cock is nudging the cleft in his buttocks and nosing its bullet head up his spine.
Soon, he will have to get up and go to the warehouse, but for the moment we can lie here and I can continue to experience the fuzzy glow, which I now recognise as sheer happiness.
Insane, really, that after having been alone and independent for so long, that I should meet this man and fall so heavily in such a short time. It’s not as if either of us are teenagers any more and he’s been alone for so long, too.
We come from very different backgrounds and experiences, he and I and he’s never even been in a relationship with another man, which makes it even more astonishing. Sure, we are still in the early stages of this, but I know already that I want him here with me all the time.
He doesn’t actually live here yet, just spends most of his nights here, moving backwards and forwards between my loft and his small apartment. I sometimes stay there, too, but most often, he is here, so we can both paint together.
Sean inspires me and I have been working frantically since we hooked up together. Proud as I am of the works I am currently producing, which feel fresh, new, good and right, even while still in process, I am even prouder of the way I have helped Sean to find his creative side again.
He clearly does have artistic talent, but it has been suppressed since he left school and he fell into this chasm of conforming to what seemed to be expected from a Northern working-class lad, who wasn’t particularly interested in his schoolwork.
He went the route of factory job and marriage too early to his childhood sweetheart, ending unsurprisingly in divorce, but deep down, he really knew that there was more to life for him than that.
His journey to London after his divorce was an attempt to try and change his life, to make things happen, but they didn’t really and he got back into the rut of routine, days at the warehouse, evenings in the pub, or home with the TV and a take-away, the days stretching ahead like so many milestones on a long and boring road to nowhere.
Oh, Sean, you are worth so much more than that boring grind of mindless routine. Good thing for you that you met that slightly unhinged artist, who didn’t used to recognize routine if it came up and squirted turps in his ear.
It never used to matter to me what day of the week, or what time it was, but now I am conscious that Sean has to get up and go to work any minute.
I snigger, as I press a kiss to the back of his neck, just beneath his damp back-hair and note that we didn’t quite get all the paint off last night.
Last night, I turned Sean, who used to believe himself mundane and “just a typical Northern working man”, into an exotic and erotic canvas of blooms, showing him in the mirror, just how beautiful he is. He is still a little shy, when I show him himself, but he also looks at me with such a surprised gratitude, that it makes my toes curl with pleasure.
Euphoric, last night, I blurted out that I wanted him to move in here and live with me properly. I didn’t mean it to slip out like that, wanted to wait a little and discuss it properly.
He didn’t give me an answer, just kissed me and obviously wanted to sleep on it and I didn’t press him. I know that this is a much bigger deal in terms of life-changes for him than it is for me.
Even though I have been expecting it, Sean’s alarm starts bleeping, making me jump and my cock slap against his skin.
He chuckles softly and grinds his ass back at me.
“No time for that, mate ! Some of us have got to work for a living.”
Then, as the bleeps increase in volume and speed, we both leap from the bed and make the bladder-driven race for the bathroom, jostling and laughing and completely at ease together.
Sean
I didn’t give him an answer right away; I will have to think about it. By now, I am quite certain about this not being a fling, but it is still pretty fresh and new. A small voice in the back of my head keeps nagging me, saying things like: ‘what if he gets bored with you? What if he finds someone else with the same background ’And ‘are you really up to living with a guy ? Like telling your family and friends?’
I know that last part won’t be easy, but on the other hand I am not a kid and I am entitled to live a life of my own. The first part, the Viggo part is a bit more difficult.
I would love to live here to be honest; I love the light and the space of the loft. The artistic stuff we do feels great too and has really opened a door to another world for me. But most of all I want to be with Viggo. Every time I force myself to go to my own place – because I think Vig might want some time alone, or I need to clean up, or whatever – I go reluctantly. This place feels like home now.
But truth to be told: I know I could never afford to pay even half of the rent, not on my salary. The thought of that makes me uneasy. And we have known each other for such a short while, what if it doesn’t work out? Where will I go then?
I feel Viggo stirring behind me, moving in even closer and when he kisses the nape of my neck, I smile. We can talk about it tonight, I decide, laughing when the sound of the alarm clock startles him. We both make a run for the bathroom, and then Viggo jumps back into bed, while I follow the working day routine. After I have had breakfast and brought Vig a mug of that awful brew he drinks, I shower and get dressed.
I do have my own two shelves in the big dresser in his bedroom, and little by little they are filling with my stuff. Vig is still awake, his eyes darkening, while he looks at me getting dressed. I can’t resist putting on his bunny boxers, and grinning when he scowls at me.
Then it’s time to leave, I bend over and kiss him and I am out the door. It’s a bit chilly outside and I groan when I think of getting back upstairs, crawling under the duvet, and wrapping myself around him. And maybe, just maybe this time I’d dare to cross that last border and work myself into that sleep warm body. Make love to him, like he has done so often to me. I know he wants me to, know he wants us to be equals. I want it too, very much so, but it scares me too much to do it, and he doesn’t push me.
I arrive at work just in time, and have the first coffee of today. It tastes like shit again, but at least it’s warm.
“We are going to the pub tonight,” Big Pete tells me, his big hand slapping my back. “Coming with us?”
“I can’t, I am sorry,” I say, and open my locker to put my stuff inside.
“What is it Sean? His red face winks at the other guys. “You’ve got a girlfriend then? You used to come with us. She must be a hell of a shag!”
The other guys laugh, and redhead Andy who thinks he’s pretty funny, giggles when he turns to me. “Does she have a sister Sean? I wouldn’t mind a good shag myself,” and he grabs himself in the crotch, his hips bucking up in a wild movement.
I just shrug and leave the room, having heard this kind of shit a thousand times, and I am so bored with it. I chuckle when I think about telling them the truth and how they would react then. Of course I realize that sooner or later they will find out, and I can only hope it will be later, because that’s another thing I am not ready for yet.
I sigh, wishing it was evening already, but there’s a lot of work to be done, and I know the day will be over soon. Not nearly soon enough though.
Viggo
I win the race for the bathroom, empty my straining bladder and jump back into bed again.
Weekday mornings, Sean gets priority for the shower and nice though it would be to get in there with him, there’s no time for play, when he has to go to the warehouse. Shame he still has to go there, really ! Maybe that’s something we need to discuss.
I have him trained to bring me my maté, although he makes all sorts of uncalled for comments about the inherent nastiness of it, comparing it unfavourably to ‘proper English tea’. I tell him that it gives me energy and I note that he doesn’t complain about my excess of that !
Sipping my brew, I stretch and watch Sean put his clothes on. He has such natural grace that I enjoy watching him dress nearly as much as I enjoy watching him undress.
He is amused by my lustful gaze and pointedly gets out my bunny boxer shorts, turning his delectable ass to me and wiggling it as he draws them up, slowly and provocatively.
I scowl villainously, knowing that I am going to be left with a raging hard-on and no Sean, then he vaults onto the bed, gives me a fleeting kiss and is out the door, before I can make a grab. Bastard !
It’s a long time until I will see Sean this evening, so I get out of bed and into the shower to deal with my immediate problem, then I dress and wander down to my favourite café to get some breakfast and ponder on the question I asked him yesterday.
We may have known each other only a couple of months, but we’ve made our declarations of love and we know that we want to be together, right ? I know that Sean loves my loft and he already spends most of his nights there. Sometimes, I figure he only goes home to his own place, because he wants to give me space, but although it’s true that I do need space, I feel a kind of calm with him and his presence is never an intrusion. Maybe he doesn’t understand that.
I know I kind of sprung it on him about moving in and we really need to talk about it, which we’ll undoubtedly do tonight. What I need to do is think about any possible objections and get my arguments ready in advance.
Back in the loft, I light a cigarette, get out my notebook and start thinking. Soon I have covered several pages in notes and am feeling pretty pleased with myself. I think I have covered most points and have a pretty clinching final point.
I manage to work for a few hours, though I admit to being a little nervous and edgy today, anticipating tonight’s discussions.
Around five, my rumbling stomach reminds me I missed lunch and I need to organise our dinner. I think I need to make it one of Sean’s favourites, as I want him in a nice, mellow mood tonight. I just hope he will have had a good day at work today.
I take a rich beef casserole out of the freezer and thaw it out, while the oven heats up and I prepare potatoes baked in their jackets, rubbing the skins with oil and rock salt, so they crisp up, just how Sean likes them.
By the time he arrives home, I have the table set, the candles lit and the red wine open and I have showered and put on my blue shirt, still one of his favourites. I toyed with the idea of wearing the Blades shirt, but I don’t want to be too obvious here and anyway, Sean is a little depressed that his team was relegated at the end of the season and I want to keep this light and upbeat.
As soon as the door opens, I can see from the set of his shoulders and the hang of his head that it hasn’t been a good day, but his eyes light up, when he takes in the table and sniffs the air.
“Somethin’ smells good !”
“That would, of course, be me ! But there’s a casserole in the oven as well. Why don’t you wash up and join me ?”
He kisses me and heads for the bathroom to take a quick shower, while I get the dinner on the table and pour us two glasses of wine.
We face each other across the table, Sean’s hair still damp. He has put on clean jeans and a shirt, but hasn’t bothered to do up his buttons, so the smooth lines of his chest are distracting me.
He is glowing. He always looks great by candlelight. I take a deep breath and raise my glass to clink it with his,
“To us, Sean !”
Sean
I kind of struggle myself through the day, and my mood seems to provoke even more crappy jokes and ‘funny’ remarks. Normally I shrug their behaviour off, but today I feel very much irritated by it.
At lunchtime I sit on the pallets outside and try to figure out what’s really bothering me. I guess it’s the general feeling of ‘being out of place’ both here and at home. Perhaps I was never really happy before I met Viggo, but at least I was content with my life. Now I am kind of living on an emotional roundabout, and it feels great and scary at the same time.
I really dislike my job now that I have found out there are so many more things to life than working, eating, drinking and sleeping. It’s great and I love that life, but on the other hand I still need to make a living. Even if I move in with Viggo I still want to pay at least a part of the rent, I couldn’t live with anything else.
While Viggo’s loft has become ‘home’ for me pretty fast, my own apartment feels alien when I am there, and that bothers me too. I used to love my flat, the first place that was mine alone. Now I don’t even like going there.
When I am with Viggo I forget about these worries, but when I am alone I can’t help thinking about them. I am very much confused, and I think it will be pretty hard to explain it to Viggo, but I know I must. We will have to talk tonight.
I am very glad when the day is over, but the constant piss-taking is making me dread tomorrow already. Perhaps I should have gone to the pub with them and got pissed; perhaps they would leave me in peace then.
Viggo has set the table and the delicious smell from the kitchen makes me realize how hungry I am. After showering we sit at the table, and drink wine. My foul mood has dissipated, and I am really enjoying the food, the candles and the company. Life can be so good and so different just around the corner.
“To us, Sean,” he says and we clink glasses.
The food is wonderful, that’s another great thing about him; he’s a man of many talents. ´He's so beautiful too,´ I think, looking into those blue eyes.
After dinner we drink coffee and I know the time has come to have that talk. I take a deep breath, hoping I can make myself clear.
“We need to talk Vig…about what you said yesterday, about me moving in here. First of all, I want you to know I love it here, and I love you...” He opens his mouth, ready to speak. “No Vig let me finish. I don’t think I can, at least not yet. We’ve only know each other for a short while, and it will make me dependent on you. You know I can’t afford to pay even a quarter of this rent, let alone half. I think we should wait for a while. As much as I want to, it just doesn’t seem the right thing to do just now. `
I lean back, knowing very well he won’t just go along with me. He reaches over the table, and grabs my hand.
”Sean, who’s talking about money? You know I have plenty for both of us. And I am already paying for it now, so what’s the difference? I don’t want you to pay anything!”
I sigh, fully aware this won’t be easy.
”Viggo, don’t think for a minute I don’t appreciate it, because I do. But you’ve got to understand I can’t do that ! I can’t let you pay for me. What would that make me? I am no woman, mate. And what will happen if you lose interest in me? Let’s be reasonable, I am just some bloke working his arse off in a fucking warehouse, while you are an educated man. I wouldn’t blame you for getting bored with me. ”
His blue eyes are flaming now, and he grabs my other hand too.
”You’re perfect to me Sean. I love you just as you are. That will never happen! ”
Again I sigh, and I squeeze his hands.
”I love you too, but that’s not enough to make that decision right now. I am sorry Vig. .”
Summary: Sean is a fork-lift driver and Viggo an artist who have fallen in love. Some people are giving them a very hard time. This is a sequel to A Kiss from a Rose
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: AUChallenges:
Series: Bed of ThornsChapters: 5 Completed: Yes
Word count: 20020 Read: 4782
Published: 04 Aug 2009 Updated: 04 Aug 2009