The music is loud, and in Viggo's opinion, not particularly good, either. Luckily, the hobbits make enough noise to drown it out, although their various shrieks, giggles, and fits of profanity aren't much of an improvement.
Filming has been going on long enough, however, for Viggo to be able to tune out their cacophony easily, and he instead focuses on Sean, who is sitting next to Orlando and watching Billy and Dom as they indulge in a spot of pool – albeit a slightly altered version to the usual, with their own rules. Viggo isn’t convinced that the pair make up their daft games on the spot, as they claim, but imagines that they have a vast warehouse full of lists and whiteboards, detailing just what schemes they intend to enact next – usually at the expense of Elijah and the other Sean, fortunately, although Viggo always makes sure to keep alert when the devious twosome were around.
Viggo’s Sean – he can’t remember when he started calling him that, but he’s not stopped and doesn’t intend to anytime soon – is, by Viggo’s count, on his fifth beer of the night, and that’s not including however many he had before Viggo arrived. It’s not that he thinks Sean can’t hold his drink – the Englishman has proved many times that he can handle more than his fair share – but something seems off with Sean tonight. To be fair, it could be jetlag. Sean only got back from England the previous night, and must only have had time for a couple of hours sleep before he was back on set. Viggo had only managed to see him for a few moments that morning in their trailer, and then they had been whisked off to different locations for the rest of the day.
But Sean seems to be in a strange place, which Viggo wouldn’t blame him for at all. His own divorce was, in comparison to a good deal of others, a relatively easy one, but he can still remember the pain and the feelings of failure and guilt it had brought out in him. The fact that this was Sean’s third divorce, and not a particularly amicable one, made what he must be feeling ten times worse. Viggo is worried.
“Staring is rude, y’know,” a voice sounds from his right. He whips his head round, and then lowers his gaze to look at Elijah directly. The youngest hobbit blinks back at him innocently. “Just saying.”
“Well, don’t,” Viggo says huffily, and Elijah grins at him. He’s far too clever for his age, not to mention his own good, Viggo thinks, and asks begrudgingly, “What’s your point?”
“My point is that you’ve been doing a lot of staring, and not a lot of anything else. Why don’t you go and ask Sean if he’s ok?”
“You don’t think he is?” Viggo asks, relieved it might not just be his imagination that Sean is acting weirdly.
“Well, duh. He’s just got back from finalising his third divorce. Of course he’s not ok, genius.” Viggo opens his mouth, affronted, but Elijah continues before he can speak. “But he was acting strangely today when we were filming. He was … I don’t know, kind of brittle.”
Brittle. What an odd word to use, yet somehow it fits. Viggo’s artistic mind takes over for a moment, and he envisions trees in winter, old paper, and aged, tired skin. Then he looks back up at Sean, and sees the tense line of his arm as he holds his drink, and the way his foot is tapping a quick – not quite frantic but nearly – rhythm-free beat against the floor.
“You know what I mean?” Elijah asks from beside him.
“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Viggo replies thoughtfully, and then yelps at a sharp nip to his bicep.
“Then go and ask if he’s ok, fuckwit!” Another quick nip, and then Elijah is gone, throwing himself back into the fray of hyperactive hobbits.
Viggo hesitates before deciding to follow his younger co-star’s advice, and drains the rest of his glass, putting it down only to look up and find that Sean has vacated his seat. A quick check of the room reveals no sign of the blond, but Viggo catches sight of the bathroom door swinging shut, and sees no reason not to follow.
Sean is in the middle of doing his business when Viggo enters, and he greets him with a smile and a casual “hey”.
“Hey, Sean,” Viggo says, keeping his tone as light as possible. As he unzips his fly he tries to plan what he’s going to say. He thinks that this might be one of those situations requiring subtlety and tact, which isn’t going to be easy. Viggo likes to be direct: he despises people who tiptoe around what they really want to say.
“I haven’t seen much of you tonight,” Sean comments as he shakes himself off. “You’ve been kind of quiet – everything all right?”
Viggo splutters slightly – that’s not the way this conversation is supposed to go. Sean throws him a mildly concerned glance as he heads to wash his hands. “Sean … yeah, Sean, I’m fine. Are you ok?”
“I’m fine, Vig. It’s good to be back.” Viggo finishes up and turns to wash his own hands, glancing up at Sean as he leans against the wall.
“Everything went ok back in London?”
“As ok as a divorce can go,” Sean says, his tone breezy, but Viggo notices the way Sean is twisting and twiddling his fingers.
“It must have been good, seeing the girls again,” he says, trying for a more noticeable reaction, but Sean is too good an actor for that.
“Yeah, it was. They were in school most of the time, but I got to see quite a bit of them. Caught a Blades match, too.”
“Did you win for once?” Viggo teases.
“’Course we bloody did!” Sean exclaims, mock offended. “Doesn’t seem like I missed much here. Same old, same old: hobbits causing mayhem, everyone else ducking to get out of the way.”
“That’s about the whole of it,” Viggo agrees, and Sean nods. An awkward silence follows; they seem to have reached an impasse in their conversation, and there are a few uncomfortable moments before Sean clears his throat.
“We’d best get back out there. Make sure the little buggers don’t poke some poor bastard’s eye out with those pool cues they’re waving about.”
Viggo nods feebly as Sean turns and exits, and follows him with a scowl on his face. He heads to get another drink, and then takes it back to his seat, perching on the bar stool where he has a good view of the pool table and of Sean, who is now chatting to the other Sean, seemingly unbothered by their odd discussion.
Viggo is left by himself to brood and ponder for the next hour or so, until Orlando slips onto the bar stool next to him.
“Your little chat didn’t go well, then?” he asks quietly.
“Elijah’s a perceptive little guy, but he’s got a loose mouth,” Viggo replies darkly, not looking up from his drink.
“Even if he hadn’t told me, I could have guessed,” Orlando says, with a smug smile. “You head into the bathroom after Sean, and when the two of you come out, you’ve got a face like thunder and he’s been drinking non-stop ever since.”
Viggo immediately tries to school his features into a more pleasant expression.
“Did he turn you down, or what?” Orlando asks, and he sounds amused, but when Viggo looks at him he finds only genuine concern in his eyes.
“It wasn’t like that. I just went to see if he was ok. I think it was my going that was the problem.”
“What do you mean? You and Beanie are, like, really great mates. What’s up?”
“Nothing. It’s just … you know how I always liked to go and tackle him, occasionally? At the end of the day, or whatever?”
“Yeah, I can vaguely recall you knocking him to the ground,” Orlando said, a corner of his mouth quirking.
“Well, the last time I did it, it went a bit wrong.” Viggo stops, and Orlando looks at him expectantly.
“Wrong, how?”
“Wrong as in something kinda … cropped up when it shouldn’t have,” Viggo says, and he’s suddenly incredibly grateful for the fact that he doesn’t blush easily, although the bar is starting to feel warmer than it did earlier.
The expression on Orlando’s face is priceless. His jaw has dropped open and his eyes have lit up, like a kid at Christmas. “You got a fucking stiffie while you were lying on top of Beanie?”
“Shut up,” Viggo hisses.
Orlando claps a hand over his mouth, and sniggers through his fingers delightedly. “Man, that is too fucking perfect,” he manages to say breathlessly.
Viggo waits impatiently, his scowl back in place, for Orlando to control his mirth. When the younger man has finally recovered himself, he looks at Viggo seriously. “So what did he do?”
“Nothing! I just got up, we brushed ourselves off, then I told him to have a good trip and didn’t see him again until this morning,” Viggo replies. “Obviously he’s still freaked out by it, otherwise he wouldn’t have such a problem with me asking if he’s all right. Which he obviously isn’t – I’ve lost count of how many drinks he’s had tonight.”
“So has he, I think,” Orlando says, nodding over at the subject of their conversation, who has just slipped drunkenly off his bar stool and who is now being held upright by an amused Sean Astin. The other hobbits are approaching, clearly set on teasing the hell out of the inebriated man.
“Fuck. I should take him home,” Viggo says. Orlando sniggers beside him as he stands up, and he glares at him sharply. “To protect him from you and those hobbits,” he snaps. “Hopefully I can sort out this mess I’ve made, too,” he adds quietly.
Orlando leans over him to put his glass down, and as he does so he whispers in Viggo’s ear. “You know, I’d take some hope from the fact that you got a boner while lying on top of Sean Bean, and you’re still alive to tell me about it.”
Viggo reels back from that and stares at Orlando incredulously, but he doesn’t have time to come up with some damning remark about the younger man’s leering grin before the hobbits gasp and then laugh as Sean weaves about on his feet. Viggo moves in to take hold of his elbow, as the hobbits are doing an appalling job of keeping him stable. Sean’s grin fades ever so slightly when he realises that Viggo is there, and he tries not to let that hurt.
“Come on. I’m taking you back to my place – you’re no good on your own like this,” he says.
“He’s pissed as a fart!” Dom intones, in a faux upper-class accent.
“Bladdered!” Billy joins in.
“Rat-arsed!”
“Hammered!”
“Wankered!” Elijah finishes off their noisy chorus with a flourish, and catches Viggo’s arm as he steers Sean through the laughing group. “Y’know, you weren’t the only one doing some staring,” he says quietly, and then flashes his teeth at him and pushes him on his way.
Viggo growls and leads Sean out to his car, propping him up against it while he digs in his back pocket for his keys. He’s had a couple of drinks, but isn’t anywhere near being over the limit, unlike Sean, whose staggeringly high tolerance for alcohol has apparently been passed tonight.
Viggo checks that his sword is still safe in the backseat of the car where he left it, and then bundles Sean into the passenger seat, trying not to make fastening the other man’s seatbelt around him into a big deal. That becomes more difficult as Sean helpfully holds his arms up so that Viggo has better access, hiking his shirt up in the process and revealing a couple of inches of golden skin.
Sean grins lazily at him when he shuts the door and crosses to the driver’s side, sinking into the seat. “You ok?” he asks his passenger.
“I am a-ok,” Sean reassures him with a slur, and Viggo pulls away. It’s a short trip to his house, and Sean gazes happily out of the window for most of it, although there are still lines of tension around his eyes and he’s doing that weird thing he does with his third and fourth fingers, flicking them back and forth jerkily.
“We’re here. Come on,” Viggo says when they get back. He hasn’t quite gotten up the nerve to approach Sean about their incident before he went back to England, and he’s not sure if he should just leave it till the morning anyway – he’ll be in a more lucid state of mind, and there’s no risk of him being able to sneak away in the early hours, with no car and no ability at present to set an alarm.
Sean gets out of the car surprisingly steadily, and follows Viggo into the house, where Viggo points him towards the couch and tells him to sit down – he’ll bring him some clothes to sleep in.
When Viggo comes back downstairs, Sean has taken off his shoes and socks, and is halfway out of his shirt. He pauses in the doorway involuntarily – Sean’s torso is long and lean and quite literally breath-taking, and he thinks himself lucky that Sean is too preoccupied with tugging the awkward garment over his shoulders to notice his lust.
“Here.” He tosses the t-shirt and boxers he’s located over to Sean when he’s finished, and Sean catches them clumsily.
“Thanks. You could have just taken me back to the hotel, you know,” Sean says. He seems to have sobered up somewhat, and Viggo takes the plunge.
“I wanted to talk to you. So can you just stay quiet for a few minutes while I say my piece?”
Sean nods, looking at Viggo with uncertain eyes.
“Ok. Listen, you’ve been acting strange since you got back, and I just want to know if you’re ok. I know that what happened the other week wasn’t comfortable for you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and it won’t again, so don’t worry. Our friendship is what’s important to me, so I just want you to know that if you ever want to talk about what’s going on with you, you can.” Viggo looks down at the floor as he finishes, biting the inside of his lip as he waits for Sean’s response.
The laugh that sounds through the room is not what he expected, and he looks up to find a rather relieved-looking Sean running a hand through his unruly hair. “Can I speak now?” he asks.
“Um, yeah,” Viggo agrees.
“Viggo, you’re a fuckin’ idiot. I’m not pissed off at you for getting a boner, you twat!”
“You’re not?”
“No – an’ I would’ve said so, if you hadn’t bolted off like you did. I was going to ask you if you were alright this morning, but there wasn’t enough time, and then tonight, you sat on your own and looked like you’d kick my head in if I came over to see you! If I was acting twitchy it was only because I thought you were going to deck me any minute, and I didn’t know why!” Sean explains.
“So you don’t care about me getting a hard-on for you?” Viggo asks, just to confirm that he isn’t suffering auditory hallucinations.
“Well, I wouldn’t say I don’t care,” Sean says, grinning wolfishly and moving to stand right in front of Viggo.
Viggo puts his hand to his forehead in confusion and mumbles, “But you’re so straight.”
Sean whips out a hand and grasps Viggo’s wrist, dropping the clothes he’s been holding, and says, “I’m not that straight.” His voice is low and rough, and it sends Viggo’s blood supply southwards.
“Sean, you’re still drunk … this isn’t a good idea. Tomorrow-“
“I’m not that drunk, either,” Sean says, and then Viggo finds himself pressed back against the wall, Sean’s lips on his and his bare torso pressing against his shirt. Sean kisses like the expert Viggo knows he is, exploring his mouth with his tongue and nibbling on his lower lip until Viggo is moaning in pleasure.
“Oh, God,” he breathes, when Sean pulls back, and one look into the glittering jade eyes reassures Viggo that Sean really means this; he’s not just drunk and in need of a fuck. “This isn’t because you’re upset about your divorce, is it?” he asks, just in case, and Sean growls.
“My divorce? I’m a fucking pro at those, mate, could handle one in my sleep. This is about you, you dickhead.” Then Sean is assaulting his mouth once more, and Viggo gives in completely, meeting Sean’s lips with a groan of desire.
Sean’s body is hot and hard against his, and the Englishman runs his hands below Viggo’s shirt, breaking their kiss for the briefest of moments as he pulls the offending garment off and tosses it aside. Viggo’s erection is pressing against his thigh and he grinds against it, never stopping his exploration of Viggo’s body with his hands.
Viggo moans helplessly under the onslaught of sensations, tipping his head back against the wall as Sean turns his attention to his neck, licking and sucking his way down his collar bone and then making Viggo cry out with a sharp bite at the top of his breastbone, which he immediately soothes with his tongue.
“Sean …” Viggo manages to say when he has recovered from the odd mix of pleasure and pain, and Sean looks up at him from where he has been teasing a nipple to firmness. “Bedroom. Now.”
Sean grins and follows Viggo up the stairs, the pair of them scrambling like overeager children. Viggo turns to face Sean when they reach the bed, and immediately finds himself thrown back as Sean pounces on him, resuming his ministrations. Viggo has never had a lover able to use his tongue so wickedly, and entwines his fingers in Sean’s hair encouragingly as the other man explores his torso.
Sean’s mouth moves lower, until he reaches the waistband of Viggo’s jeans. He looks up at Viggo hotly. “All of this,” he gestures with a hand, “needs to come off.”
“Fuck, yes,” Viggo replies, and then arches to help as Sean pulls at his jeans and boxers wildly. Once he is naked, Sean moves down to take his cock into his mouth. The blond man has been nothing but confident so far but now moves more timidly, reaching one hand out to cup Viggo’s balls and then using his tongue to lick a tender path up his shaft.
“Oh, God,” Viggo gasps, and can’t help but buck into Sean’s touch, craving more.
“Is that all right?” Sean asks, and Viggo looks down to see that Sean is gazing at him almost anxiously. Viggo realises a couple of things at that moment: one; Sean is probably nervous as hell because he’s never done this before, and two; Sean is still wearing his jeans.
“Fuck, Sean, that’s perfect,” Viggo breathes, and decides that he’s been lying back and letting Sean do all of the work for far too long. “But you’re not naked.”
In the blink of an eye, Viggo flips Sean over so that he is the one on his back, reversing their positions neatly and giving Sean no time to get used to the new position before he yanks at his jeans forcefully.
Sean is trembling with nerves by the time Viggo has freed his cock from the constraints of his briefs, but after Viggo takes him into his mouth and encloses his penis in moist heat, he’s trembling for an entirely different reason.
Viggo slides his mouth up and down, closing his fingers around Sean’s hips as he sets a rhythm. Sean’s own hands go down to grip his hair so tight that it’s almost painful. He smiles around the head of Sean’s cock when he hears Sean start to make a keening noise of satisfaction.
“Vig … shit, Vig … stop! Stop!” Viggo pulls back sharply at that desperate cry, terrified suddenly that Sean has had a change of heart.
“Sean?” he asks apprehensively. Sean’s golden chest is heaving and he licks his lips as he recovers his breath, causing Viggo to become even harder, not that he had thought that was possible.
“Was about to come,” Sean says after a moment, and Viggo breathes a sigh of relief and smirks.
“That was kinda the point, dumbass.” Viggo moves to resume his activity, but Sean’s sharp yelp of “no” stops him, and he springs back up. “What?” he asks, a touch of exasperation sneaking into his voice. But damn it, Sean is fucking gorgeous, just lying there, and Viggo wants to make him come – wants to make it really good for him.
“I just … I want to do it proper, you know?” Sean says, a flush spreading across his cheeks most attractively. Viggo tilts his head to the side, indicating that Sean should explain himself further. “Like … up the arse, all right?”
Viggo laughs out loud at Sean’s mumbled description of what he wants, and when the blond looks affronted, he climbs back up his chest and kisses him thoroughly. “How come you haven’t been shy since we started this, but putting it into words makes you embarrassed?”
“I’m not as good with words as you,” Sean says.
“I think you’re just fine,” Viggo tells him, and then kisses him again. “If you want to make love, and you’re sure about it, then we can do that.”
“I’m sure,” Sean says, desire undercutting his voice, and Viggo grins.
“Ok. You’d better turn over: there’s less chance of my hurting you that way. You get yourself comfortable while I go grab some oil … what?” Sean’s green eyes have grown impossibly huge, and after a second or two, Viggo realises the problem. “What, you thought you’d be fucking me?”
“Well, that was the idea, yes!” Sean replies indignantly.
“Sean, how many times have you done this before?”
“Well, none, but I’m not completely bloody ignorant. I know what goes where, thank you very much!”
Viggo sniggers again at the disgruntled expression on Sean’s face – he’s about half a step away from folding his arms across his chest and pouting. “Look, I know you’re not stupid, but this is your first time, right?” Sean nods reluctantly. “It’s not mine. I have a bit of experience when it comes to this. If I make love to you, I can promise you it’ll be good, ok?”
Sean looks ponderous, now, instead of rebellious, and Viggo takes some hope from that. “Look at it this way, would you want someone sticking their cock up your ass with no idea what he was supposed to be doing down there?”
“Suppose not,” Sean acquiesces with a chuckle. “But I’m not completely inexperienced, you know. Have you seen Caravaggio?”
“A bit of kissing doesn’t really count as experience, Sean,” Viggo says, sliding off Sean’s body and onto his feet, and then heading into the en-suite.
“So you have seen it!” Sean calls after him as he roots through the cabinet above his sink, locating a bottle of suntan lotion and a packet of condoms. “You dirty perv!”
“I watched it because I was interested in the art, not your half-naked body,” Viggo says primly as he walks back in, although his tone of voice is counteracted by his nakedness and impressive erection.
He stops in his tracks and takes a sharp breath when he sees Sean. The other man has not followed his advice, and has instead remained on his back, a pillow slipped under his hips, and is laying waiting for him with hooded eyes. The sight makes Viggo feel light-headed, and he approaches the bed and kneels around Sean’s thighs slowly, putting the bottle of lotion and the condom by his side. As he settles, their cocks brush together and Sean arches off the bed towards him with a cry of passion, which Viggo answers with a low groan, feeling sweat break out on his back.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks, giving Sean the option to back out of this – it doesn’t look like he’s having doubts, stretched out and keening underneath him, but it can’t hurt to check.
“Jesus, yes,” Sean says, but he suddenly looks endearingly shy again. “Are you sure you want to? I mean, I’m not a nice person, Vig – I’ve got three divorces under my belt to prove it.”
Sean looks incredibly vulnerable, despite the strong muscles rippling under the skin of his chest, and Viggo leans over so that their breath mingles in the warm room. “I’m really fucking sure, Sean.” Then he takes control, and presses his mouth to Sean’s in a crushing kiss, fumbling for the lotion at his side and quickly coating his fingers with it as their tongues collide and tangle heatedly.
He doesn’t break their kiss even as he slides his hand down Sean’s torso, over his hip and in between his thighs. He pushes up with his hand, stretching in order to do so, and finds the puckered entrance. Sean stiffens for a second, tongue stilling, and then he relaxes and lets Viggo in.
Viggo pulls back form the kiss in order to better perform his task, and Sean lifts himself up helpfully as he pushes past a ring of tight muscle, slowly and gently. Sean’s hands are catching at his hair and shoulders, sliding over his back and drifting down his thighs and over his rear as he works on stretching Sean as carefully as possible.
He takes his time, but it’s not too long before he’s able to slip a second finger in along with the first, and Sean writhes under him. “You ok?” Viggo asks.
“Yeah … feels weird …” Sean replies. Viggo grins at the expression of concentration on Sean’s face – he’s enjoying it, but he’s about to get a surprise.
A moment more of gentle teasing and then Viggo curls his fingers forward, looking for a particular spot – “Fuck!” Sean hollers, pressing down on Viggo’s fingers and digging his fingers into his buttocks.
“That,” Viggo says smugly, “was your prostate gland.”
“Do that again,” Sean demands greedily, and Viggo complies willingly, eliciting Sean’s loudest moan yet.
He continues to drive Sean wild for a few minutes, adding a third digit as Sean relaxes more and more, crying out every time Viggo hits that sweet spot in utter ecstasy. “Fuck, I’ve been missing out on this for years,” he manages to gasp in between cries of pleasure – Sean is noisy in bed; a perfect contrast to his usual quiet persona, and Viggo finds his yells and moans incredibly erotic.
The combination of Sean’s cries and the feeling of his own penis rubbing against Sean’s stomach means that Viggo finds himself very close to orgasm, and barely manages to hold himself back, removing his fingers as he regains control of himself shakily. Sean whimpers at the loss, and looks up at Viggo. “I’m really close, Sean-“
“Then fuck me,” Sean growls, his jade eyes dark with desire. “You’d better do it bloody soon, mate.”
Viggo smiles and shifts, taking hold of his cock and grabbing the condom from where it lies among folds of rumpled covers. To his surprise, Sean takes hold of his wrist. “Do you have to use that? I want to really feel this.”
“If it’s all right with you not to, it’s ok with me. I’m clean,” Viggo replies, his own voice deepening with lust at the thought of fucking Sean with no barrier between their flesh. Sean nods, and he tosses the condom aside, grabbing the lotion once more and generously lubricating his penis. Sean watches him with wide eyes.
“Will that fit?” he asks, a touch of the earlier nervousness returning.
“It’ll fit,” Viggo reassures him, recapping the bottle and placing it heedlessly aside. “That’s why I’ve been stretching you.” Sean still looks unconvinced, and he leans forward to cup Sean’s cheek. “I won’t hurt you, Sean, I promise. You tell me stop, and I will, ok?” He knows from experience that bottoming for the first time can be difficult – especially as Sean is obviously used to being the dominant partner in bed. If they do this again, he imagines that there will be a few power struggles between the two of them – Viggo likes to be dominant too.
A quick kiss and then Viggo pulls back and positions his cock at Sean’s entrance, pushing gently at the opening. “Relax,” he encourages Sean, whose fingers have returned to his hips and are gripping tightly. “Remember how good my fingers felt? This is going to be twice as good.”
The encouragement seems to work, and Viggo is able to work his way slowly in, until he is fully sheathed in Sean’s passage. Sean grunts slightly, and Viggo lets him shift around, getting used his presence. “All right?” he asks in a strained voice: he’s been hard a long time and it’s difficult to control the urge to slam in and out of Sean forcefully.
“Um,” Sean replies, and Viggo worries for a second that he’s going to tell him to pull back out, but then to his surprise Sean shifts, wrapping his legs around Viggo somewhere up by his shoulder blades and arching into him, muscles clamping tightly around his penis. Viggo lets out a guttural cry, and from the scream Sean emits, it’s clear that he’s managed to hit Sean’s prostate once more. “Fuck … now!” Sean orders, and Viggo jumps to.
Leaning his hands on Sean’s narrow hips, he pulls out nearly all the way, and then slides back in, and repeats the procedure over and over, gaining momentum as he and Sean settle into a rhythm, the blond man using his legs to move Viggo where he wants him and clawing his fingernails into the sweat-slick skin of Viggo’s back. He lets out wild screams every time Viggo hits his prostate that Viggo is sure are going to result in the neighbours calling the police, but at the moment he really couldn’t care less: all he’s focused on right now is the exquisite sensation of pumping into Sean, and the way Sean’s own penis is rubbing against his stomach as he pounds in and out, creating a delicious friction that is going to drive him insane if it continues too much longer.
An especially loud and animalistic scream, along with the feeling of warm fluid hitting his belly, alerts him to Sean’s orgasm, and the yell alone is enough to propel him to his own. He howls out his own release, and then sees stars as he rides out his pleasure. When he finally regains his senses, he has collapsed down onto Sean’s chest, his softening penis sliding out of Sean as they weakly attempt to pull apart. Sean’s legs loosen their grip, as do his hands, and Viggo vaguely registers the mild, pleasant pain of where they have pressed too deep. He’s going to bruise – it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a shirtless scene in any of the three films.
After a few moments of rearrangement, a half-hearted attempt to clean off, and some childish giggling, they are finally settled under the sheet, wrapped in a loose embrace; legs tangled together as they slump in exhaustion, waiting for their breathing to slow. By the time Viggo has regained some kind of normal respiratory rate, and he looks properly at the Englishman, Sean’s eyes are drifting shut, and he pokes him weakly in the ribs.
“Yeah, was good,” Sean mumbles, clearly sated, and Viggo chuckles.
“You ok? Not hurting anywhere?” Viggo asks insistently, reaching out to flick a stray section of fringe off Sean’s forehead.
Sean bats his hand weakly with his forehead and opens his eyes sleepily. “’M good. Thanks,” he slurs.
Viggo smiles at Sean’s drowsy reply, and watches affectionately as the green eyes close once more. Even as he begins to drift off to sleep himself, though, there’s a growing feeling of unease in the pit of his belly, and he rouses himself to try and put it to rest. “Tomorrow,” he begins hesitantly, but Sean is clearly not quite asleep yet and knees Viggo firmly on a part of his thigh he’s already bruised with his firm grip.
“Tomorrow, I get a go at the fuckin’,” he says, ending the conversation effectively.
Viggo smiles warmly at that as Sean’s breathing evens out and deepens, and it occurs to him as he drifts off that there really isn’t any reason for him to be worried anymore.
Summary: Typical first time piece. Viggo is worried. Cue strife, confusion, and ultimately, sex. Yay!
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 5705 Read: 917
Published: 06 Aug 2009 Updated: 06 Aug 2009