Andra, moi ennepe, mousa, polutropon...
(Odyssey, 1.1.)*
One day our paths will lead us there.
He smiles now against Sean's skin, thinking of that line, thinking how their separate roads over the bent earth have brought them to this place. They were Kings once and wanderers, and now they are here, and Viggo travels still over Sean's body and charts it with his hands.
Sean is country he knows so well, and yet each time they find themselves together - here, after another premiere party, with time stolen in a hotel - Viggo discovers him anew. He knows all the places where pleasure hides, how to touch and lick and he knows even the expressions, the phrases to make Sean twist under his hands and mouth, under the influence of words, but each gasp is still new, the thighs locked about his flanks a revelation of power.
Viggo knows it is much the same for Sean; there is a distant wonder in his green eyes even as he touches Viggo with such familiarity. There are new calluses on his fingers, close to but not the same as he'd earned in Rings, and there are new, delicious sensations they wring from Viggo, marking the curve of his hip, tracing his abdomen, the place behind his ear that Sean knows is ticklish. His lips and tongue have memorized Viggo's mouth, the texture of his scar, the tastes of alcohol and tobacco and what they're like mixed with sex, and for Viggo it's addictive, knowing he's being explored again, Sean's tongue stroking, licking, until both of them are breathing into each other, needing air, needing the other as much as breath, not wanting to break apart.
Andando, andando, andando, he chants as his hands shape themselves to Sean's chest, smoothing over his nipples, up to the sharp relief of collarbones under blushing skin. Sean arches against his touch, and a growl reverberates through flesh, imperative - Now... now... fuck me, Vig, and no words are needed to say it.
He moves over and in and through Sean, fingers tangled in long blond hair (and oh, how Viggo'd teased him about that - gives me more to hold on to, he'd said, and Sean had laughed), and Sean is open to him, gloriously and perfectly open... and it's never been like this, but it has, this long, slow penetration, that's diving headfirst, trapped in freefall, he thinks hazily, filling Sean and being filled by Sean, filled to bursting with the sight and scent and feel of him.
Strong legs trap him deep inside even as he thrusts, arms braced on the mattress, and Sean is hot and vital beneath his body as the world dissolves into sensation. The color of Sean's hair is honey, his skin a texture that echoes in Viggo's body, smooth like oil across the surface but rough and hard, thunder almost, beneath and Viggo's half-shut eyes drink in the flesh offered up to him, although Sean has him in a merciless grip and even being fucked Sean doesn't surrender - never will, except in that last instant.
He is a string plucked, pitch-perfect, resonant against Sean's body, and Sean - oh, God, Sean... - is taking him in deeper, taking him past himself, past wandering and uncertainty, and he feels here again, driving into hard, living flesh, finding himself, finding Sean.
Again and again, he will think later, they will find each other.
When Sean comes, it is hot, silent, his come pouring across his belly, and the sight of it - soundless abandon, head tipped back, the strong muscles of throat and chest sweat-coated, eloquent, salt and power under Viggo's lips - is enough to finish him. Fingers twine in Viggo's hair, pulling him down for a kiss even as Sean's hips thrust up a last time, and Viggo spends the last of himself in Sean's body, collapses onto his forearms against the strong frame beneath him, feels himself held up by Sean's hands, the kiss on his mouth, words breathed over his lips.
It takes him a while, coming back, turning his face into the hand moving over his cheeks, through his hair, hearing the raspy Hey, mate... c'mon now... Where passion ebbs, gratitude, wonder, love flow in - but need is still there, laced through satisfaction, because Now is passing, slipping through hands otherwise considered clever.
They lie together, and Viggo's limbs are loosely twined about Sean, lazy, casual - but holding on, clinging to flesh and to the moment. So much waits: the wide world, sons and daughters, paintings, scripts, a garden that needs getting back to...
...walking, walking, walking. Journey, path of life. But not now.
Summary: They were Kings once and wanderers, and now they are here.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 781 Read: 908
Published: 06 Aug 2009 Updated: 06 Aug 2009