~Viggo~
I wake reluctantly, squinting against the watery grey light of a London dawn, which is insinuating itself sneakily through the window and feel that something is not quite right. My arm stretches out to curve around my lover and I notice that there is a cold space beside me, where there should be a warm, no, hot, goddammit , Sean !
Stretching, and smiling reminiscently at how I got this morning’s aches and pains, I pad to the bathroom, hoping to catch him unawares, but he is not there and as I empty my bladder, I realise that there are no cosy kitchen sounds ot tea-making, or “mashing” as he would call it.
This is puzzling, as we have no work commitments for two glorious weeks and I was looking forward to some long lie-ins, in fact I had been banking on very few get-out-of beds. It’s not like Sean to rise at dawn, well rise, sure, but not actually get out of bed, when he has time off and he is congenitally incapable of any activity, which is not conducted horizontally, before his morning tea.
In any case, I was banking on a re-run of last-night’s reunion sex, when we had dispensed with dinner, after Sean picked me up from the airport and brought me home, dispensed with conversation, even dispensed with a drink, in favour of ripping each others clothes off and falling into bed within seconds of entering the house.
Naked and disappointed, I pad down to the kitchen and put the kettle on, then explore the rest of the house, but it is empty. This is weird !
Things get even weirder as I open the fridge and suddenly get the feeling that I am in the wrong house. Where the fuck is all the beer ? Since when did Sean have yoghurt, wheat grass and tofu in his fridge ? This fridge is full of what he would scathingly describe as “healthy shite”. Stunned, I close it again and then I notice for the first time that there is a post-it note attached, bearing only two words.
“Gone jogging”.
Fuck ! I need to sit down ! My Sean has clearly been abducted by aliens !
~Sean~
The first thing I think about when I wake up is the need to smoke. Then I feel Viggo’s warm body wrapped around me and I am ashamed of myself. I am so happy he’s here, and I should be just focussing on the coming weeks and not on that filthy habit.
I must have stopped smoking a hundred times in my life, but I never made it. Promised myself, my wives, my children this was really the last one. But this time I am going to see it through. Not only that, but I’ll start a whole new lifestyle.
I turn carefully to look at Viggo’s face, sure, his temples are greying, but his face looks young and relaxed. Sometimes when I have a night out with my mates, I can hardly recognise myself in the mirror the next morning. I am an actor, of course I am vain, though not too much, but my first aim is to please my lover.
So I quit smoking three days ago, and I hated every minute of it. I remember one of my girls nearly begging me to start smoking again, because “she didn’t like me all grumpy.” I threw away the beer, the crisps and almost all others things that make life worth living and instead bought some of that shite that seems to be healthy for you. Though I still find that hard to believe when I got the first taste of that fucking yoghurt.
On top of it all I picked up jogging again. Though I am usually too lazy to do it, it’s not so bad. My body is still quite athletic and it won’t take me too long to get fit I know. Fit for Viggo. I smile when I write the post-it note and attach it to the fridge door, knowing exactly where Vig will go first if he can’t find me. I would love to see his face when he reads it.
I step outside the door, trying to enjoy the healthy air in my lungs, but who am I fooling? I need a fucking fag!
~Viggo~
Just as I finish making my maté and brewing him a big pot of tea, I hear him at the door and turn to greet him and my heart skips several beats.
He is panting, his hair is damp and his grey tee shirt is showing wet patches and sticking to him a little. Little rivulets of sweat have trickled from his brow and are working their way down his face. I have the uncontrollable urge to grab him and lick them off. Sean is pretty irresistible at the best of times, but all sweaty like this…….
At the same time, he looks at me, standing naked in the kitchen and I see a wicked flash in his green eyes and that tell-tale flicker of his tongue.
Either one of us, or both of us, must have moved, because before we know it, we are tangled in a tight embrace and I am tasting his salty skin, while he is sucking at that sensitive spot on my neck. Both of us are hard and rubbing our cocks against each other.
Next, we are wrestling for dominance around the kitchen and pumped up as he is from his run, he manages to get the upper hand, pushing me face down on the kitchen table. Somehow, his shorts are round his ankles and he is fucking me senseless, not that I am complaining.
Fortunately, we stopped using condoms a long time ago, when we agreed to be exclusive and Sean has improvised with lube, always the considerate lover, even in the wildest moments of passion.
When we return to earth, with me still face down on the kitchen table and him slumped on my back, I notice that the lubricant he was using, which I naturally assumed to be our normal kitchen standby, was actually Benecol olive-oil, cholesterol-lowering spread.
What is going on here ? This is the man, who spreads his toast two inches thick with the best butter ! Sniggering, I can’t resist teasing him,
“Sean, I can’t believe it’s not butter ! I thought I was worth more than that to you !”
~Sean~
I come home sweaty, but must admit I feel good. I would probably feel even better if I could light up a smoke and promise myself a cold beer for later on, but I manage to get that thought out of my head. Viggo stands in the kitchen, stark naked, the only person in the world brewing tea in the buff I guess.
He’s tanned and looks gorgeous. I know I am sweaty and sticky, but he doesn’t seem to mind, because he’s on me just as quick as I am on him. I suck hard on that special spot on his neck, the “V-spot” as I call it, and he moans. He’s just as hard as I am, and eager to fuck me, but I think I earned to fuck him this morning, so we’re struggling a little, making the friction even better.
The endorphins must be still in my blood, because I manage to get him under quite easily and I push him, belly down, on the breakfast table. Then I remember about my favourite kitchen lube: fuck, when I decided to live healthier I’d thrown away the butter too! Luckily my eye falls on the olive oil spread, “clinically proven to lower cholesterol” and “ with a thousand uses”, as the girl in the shop told me. I bet she didn’t think of this use.
I prepare him quickly, we are both too worked up already to wait too long. Viggo’s short nails are scrabbling on the wood, trying to hold on, while I thrust in him forcefully, savouring the taking. Before we know it we both come and I slump down on him. My body is really beginning to feel very tired now, the rush must have died out. Vig lifts his head and looks at the Benecol olive oil spread. I hear the laughter in his voice when he asks about the butter and I know I’ve got some explaining to do.
~Viggo~
When I laugh at him, Sean invites me to take a shower, well, I say invites, but actually he grabs my dick and pulls me to the bathroom, so we can get rid of his sweat and the stickiness on my stomach.
Once under the hot water, lust rears its purple, domed head again and now it’s my turn to fuck him. He is too tired to put up much of a fight, so it’s only token resistance and pretty soon, we are sitting in the kitchen, finally sipping our teas and he is telling me all about his new health and fitness regime.
Apparently, Sean has experienced some sort of epiphany and decided that at his age, it is time to break the bad habits of a lifetime. He has started getting up at dawn to go jogging, before there is any danger of getting papped and making the newspapers again. He has even joined the local gym and health club, which makes me smile as I ponder the arousing thoughts of steam and sauna. So far, I must admit that I am impressed.
Then he tells me that he has given up both cigarettes and alcohol at the same time and I start to become a little alarmed. Every time he has tried to even cut down on either, he has become distinctly grouchy and a tetchy Sean can be a dangerous Sean. Attempting to give up both together seems downright foolhardy.
But I have to snigger again, when he starts to tell me about the food. This is a guy , who had Fray Bentos alleged meat pies shipped out to India, when he was on location and whose favourite breakfast is the traditional cholesterol- loaded fry-up. This guy has been known to extol the virtues of the chip butty and even sing songs about it !
The idea of Sean living on rabbit-food and yoghurt is just too funny and now I am laughing so much that it hurts, but Sean manages to wipe the smirk off my face, when he fixes me with his best villainous glare and says in his most evil voice,
“’Course Vig, as ah’m doin’ this fer you, fer us, ter keep meself fit and hopefully extend me life expectancy, ah think the very least yer can do is ter join me ! Show solidarity, like !”
“Shit !”
~Sean~
Afterwards I pull him unceremoniously with me to the shower, to clean up a little. The sight of my naked lover under the gushing water is enough to get me hard again and before too long we’re at it again. I let Viggo fuck me, without making a fuss. I am just too tired. Fuck, I really need this healthier lifestyle if we’re going to continue like this.
When we sit in the kitchen drinking tea later, I tell him about my changed lifestyle. He keeps serious during the health club thing and I can almost see his dirty brain at work, thinking over the possibilities. He doesn’t seem too happy about the non smoking and drinking thing though, and at the moment I am not either to be honest. I would tongue kiss Gimli for a fag right now.
The food thing makes him laugh, the bugger. I know how he feels about my English breakfast and stuff. Well, we can’t all like the same. But he’s here now for the coming weeks so he can suffer with me. I am putting him on lettuce and yoghurt too. And no Bourbon. And of course there’s no smoking allowed in this house. That sure stops him laughing.
I look at my watch and realize it’s only ten. Fuck! I’ve been jogging, had sex twice, drank tea, only breakfast left: what am I going to do the rest of the day? I normally never jog, but all the other stuff was always followed by a nice smoke. I mean, no better cigarette than after sex. Or after breakfast. Or after tea.
And I can’t go to the pub either to sniff up the smoke there either this afternoon, because I’ll have to order juice or something. I’d be the laughing stock. Fuck. I look at Viggo and decide it’s really all his fault somehow.
~Viggo~
Now what ?
I am just trying to process the prospect of two miserable weeks, when Sean starts glaring at me, like I have done something to him.
This seems real unfair ! While I can only admire his motivations, this whole thing is his idea and it looks like once again, I am going to be dragged along by the dick.
So, no pancakes and syrup for me and no fry-up for him. We share a joyless and silent ”healthy breakfast”, although we are allowed fruit, which cheers me up a little. Could really do with a smoke, though and Sean has gone through my bags and pockets and ruthlessly destroyed my supplies. He is always very thorough, the bastard.
During the rest of the day, we keep busy and avoid each other, him in the garden, me in the room I use as a studio.
We meet up again for dinner, which is raw vegetables and water, basically. Christ, I need a drink, but Sean has locked the wine cellar and hidden the key to the liquor cabinet.
II get a kind of bitter satisfaction from the fact that his mood is getting worse. After all this is around his fourth tobacco and alcohol-free day. The only thing is that he is bound to blow soon, and not in a good way. I am the poor bastard likely to be caught in the way, when he does.
We are allowed out to the gym after dinner, where he proceeds to work out grimly, while I swim in the pool. No saucy fun in the sauna, as Sean is clearly not in the mood and my stomach is growling with hunger on the silent drive home.
Right now, I would kill for a pizza with extra cheese and a nice robust red wine. I am wondering how I can manage to achieve this, when Sean turns and glares at me again.
“Don’t even think it, Mortensen ! We are in this together ! If I am suffering for your sake, then you are too !”
Since when did Sean become a mind-reader ? I have a sneaking suspicion that I may not be the only one having thoughts of cheating ! This is going to turn into an epic power struggle and I will not be the first to break !
~Sean~
I don’t trust him, so I go upstairs and get rid of his cigarettes and the stuff he uses to roll his own. He’s not happy, but what can he say? The thought goes through my head that this isn’t completely fair, but then I think about him laughing at me again. And it’s only his first day without nicotine, it’s my fourth.
Breakfast is pretty miserable: I miss my eggs and bacon, and I get mad again when I see Viggo eating fruit cheerfully. I decide to work in the garden today and Viggo seems to enjoy himself in the house. Now and then I do throw a glimpse through the window to be sure he hasn’t found my secret stock for emergencies and is smoking now. But he isn’t. Nor is he eating the chocolate I hid on the book shelf.
Dinner is even worse than breakfast and I can’t help the feeling that even though he’s not looking too happy himself, somewhere inside he’s still laughing at me. Then we leave to the gym and I start to work out. Viggo’s swimming in the pool, annoying the hell out of me again, looking like a slick wet otter, moving effortlessly.
I know I am in a real bad mood now and it won’t take much for me to explode. Life used to be so good when I had Viggo, fags and beer. I think of how I could get just a little smoke when Vig’s asleep. When I look at him, I can see he must be thinking something similar. Before I know it I snarl at him and he’s startled, proving me right.
Well: I am suffering, it’s only fair he is too!
~Viggo~
I wake at 2am with hunger pangs and can’t get back to sleep again. My resolve is wavering. Sean is sleeping on the far edge of the bed, as he seems to be holding me responsible for his bad mood.
There were not exactly tears before bed-time, but certainly harsh words and as a result, no sex and no cuddle, just a rigid back and a yank on the duvet, ensuring that he gets the lion’s share and I am freezing my ass off.
I decide to get a book and try and read myself back to sleep, so I slide out of bed, pull on a teeshirt and tiptoe down to the living room. No point in waking Sean and adding to his grouchiness.
As I run my fingers along the bookshelf, I notice that two or three books are out of line. Is it coincidence that they happen to be Sheffield United :Head to Head, England’s Football legends and Premiership Records ? These would be that last three books Sean would expect me to read. Curious, I pull them out ! Aha ! What’s this ? My virtuous health freak has a stash of chocolate hidden here. Devious bastard !
I wonder what other little treasures he has hidden and I try to think myself into his twisted brain and figure where he thinks I am least likely to look. The house plants are his domain and sure enough, I find the key to the liquor cabinet in a pot under a rubber plant. He knows that I have no fondness for housework, while he finds it therapeutic and I track down a pack of cigarettes in the cupboard, where he keeps the cleaning things.
Chuckling to myself, I creep into the kitchen clutching my spoils. I have helped myself to a bottle of Jamesons to go with the chocolate and I sigh with pleasure as I take my first drag at a cigarette is several hours.
What Sean doesn’t know won’t incur his wrath or count in our little competition, so I figure I had better open the kitchen window to waft the smoky evidence out.
As I lean over the counter and stretch for the catch, my tee shirt riding up, I get a tremendous whack on my
bare ass and yelp in guilty surprise !
~Sean~
I wake up and I just feel that I am alone. Patting the bed makes me sure. I roll on my back and think about the past day, the way I’ve treated Vig and I feel a pang of guilt. Perhaps he’s sitting somewhere writing a poem to get over his hurt feelings, the poor bloke. I get up from the bed, determined to make it up to him.
While I walk to the bathroom to have a look there first – it would be typically Viggo, writing a poem in a bath tub in the middle of the night – I proudly think how my first thought waking up was for Vig, and not for a fag. I decide to tell him that, it’ll cheer him up. He’s not in the bathroom and not in the guestrooms either.
I walk downstairs, just hoping he hasn’t gone outside to take a walk: it’s raining and I don’t fancy roaming the streets looking for him. Then I hear a sound coming from the kitchen and I smile. He was probably hungry and has gone down to take another bit of that yoghurt shite perhaps. I can’t believe my eyes when I step in and look straight onto Vig’s bare arse.
The bastard has found my chocolate, the key to the cabinet and he’s smoking, opening up the window to let the smoke go out. I smack his naked arse with full force and he yelps loudly.
“Goddamit Vig! Couldn’t you be supportive to me for even one day?”
”How come you hid all this stuff Sean? Were you planning to throw a party on your own when you had your chance? You’re a cheat!”
“That was for emergencies, for when I had visitors or something. Or something really awful would happen and we absolutely needed it. Don’t turn the tables on me Vig! Come on, give me that stuff, I’ll find a better place even if I have to sleep on it. We’re going back to bed and we’ll talk about this in the morning.”
He walks up the stairs in silence and I follow closely, admiring the view despite myself, in the meanwhile, thinking where to put the contraband, so I can pick it up easily when Vig’s asleep.
~Viggo~
Shit, caught in the act, but honestly, I still think I hold the high moral ground, because after all, I was only breaking into his stash. He can’t fool me with his talk of emergencies.
Anyway, it seems that he is quite taken with his view of my ass going up the stairs, bearing his handprint, so it’s not a total loss, as I do get a satisfyingly hard fuck out of it. It is really surprising how much energy he has on raw vegetables and yoghurt.
Afterwards, no coldness any more, but I get the feeling that he is waiting for me to go to sleep and my mind starts whirring again, wondering why that would be. He strokes me and croons to me gently, practically rocking me like a baby.
Tempting though it is to drop off, I stay determinedly awake, while cunningly feigning sleep. Eventually, he seems convinced and slyly slips out of bed again. Squinting, I see him pulling on track pants and a tee shirt, but it’s not yet dawn and too early for jogging. I give a loud snore for added verisimilitude and he doesn’t suspect a thing.
Silently, I count to 100, then I slip out of bed as well and sneak downstairs.
Aha ! Just as I suspected, he is out on the deck, smoking a crafty cigarette, with a tumbler of something amber in his hand and a smug grin on his face !
I tiptoe across the moonlit kitchen, fired up by righteous indignation and notice that he has left the hosepipe coiled within easy reach and attached to the outside faucet. He has his back to me and I silently turn it on, directing an icy cold jet right up his ass.
Now it is his turn to jump and yelp in shock.
“So, Bean,” I shout accusingly, ”this is your idea of a healthy regime. Where’s the emergency or these imaginary visitors ? You are so full of shit. How about a healthy cold shower? “
Sean stalks towards me, soaking wet, with a very dangerous gleam in his eye and it crosses my mind that maybe this wasn’t a very diplomatic idea and my moral superiority may be short lived, as might I !
~Sean~
Back in bed, I am glad that we’re on speaking terms again, and pretty soon even on fucking terms. Now I want him to sleep soundly, so I can sneak down and have my little treat. I think I deserve that. So I wrap myself around him and fondle him, just the way he likes it. I lower my voice and whisper nice things in his ear in the hope that he will sleep. And finally he does.
When I slip on my pants, he gives a loud snore and I grin. I pick up my prizes and descend stealthily, barefooted. I can’t help but smile when I am on my deck, the cigarette tastes heavenly and so does the booze. Now that’s life, I tell myself and stretch my body in the deck chair. This healthy shite is overrated. Then I get an unexpected and unwelcome ice-cold high-colonic.
When I turn around, I see Viggo – naked again – standing there like an avenging fireman from a porn flick. My first urge is to kill him, but looking at him, naked with tousled hair, the anger clearly on his face, still holding the hose like a machinegun I start to laugh and pretty soon he joins in.
He turns off the hose and we go back into the kitchen, where he grabs a towel and starts to dry me off.
“I guess we are a matching pair, then, Sean,” he says. “ It looks as if neither of us is motivated to get fit.”
“Vig, mate,” I say, as both our cocks begin to get interested again, “Ah’ve always thought yer were ‘fit’ !”
Summary: Sean is on a fitness mission.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 4312 Read: 1053
Published: 05 Aug 2009 Updated: 05 Aug 2009