"You are sweating in your sleep
On our rented bed
Like a lost summer cloud
Pierced by a jet
Heard only when it's gone.
The birds above the waterfall
Drink mist from giant leaves
Then fly over the edge."
(Viggo Mortensen, untitled)
"The best thing was just travelling through from the North Island to the South Island. We did it a second time, Viggo and I, and that time we got through. It was just wonderful having the opportunity to drive through this ancient forest land and mountains, to see shorelines, to stop in little villages and to spend the night there and carry on the next day. It was a really magical time for me."
(Sean on Viggo Mortensen, from the collection of quotations of "Greenopals" - thanks to Alexa Bond!)
They stepped into a small pretty room, a huge picture window that opened like a stargate into another world. Though intimidated by the awesome sight of nature's mastery, Viggo felt it was the best place they could have found.
The house was built on the rocks near the waterfall, boldly exposed to the dizzying heights above the mighty freefall of thousands of tons of raging water. The cosy little room sheltered them, a soothing contrast to the breathtaking, vertiginous, frightening image the "big-screen" window provided.
Fresh steam and damp whirled up from the frothing waterfall into the deep blue sky, a veil-dance of fragile cloth woven with air.
Slightly trembling, full dark green trees bent over the rolling and splashing stream at both sides, a million little drops glittering in kaleidoscope-rainbow-colours on the leaves.
Viggo approached the window, stepping cautiously as if in danger of falling, in respect of the heights - the room hovering above the waterfall like a bird's nest, swinging up and down with the wind but solidly tied to the branches. It seemed to shift beneath his feet while he stared down in the dangerously gurgling current, irritating his organ of equilibrium. He opened the window and slightly twitched at the sudden noise of the waterfall roaring out loud. Dusty mist moistened his skin.
The sun was still white-hot blinding, searing a hole in the velvety even royal-blue of the sky.
He could see the edge of the waterfall, masses of black-white-marbled water gathering, hesitating and spinning around for a moment before hurling into an abyss that was invisible from his point of view and became even more gigantic and devouring in his imagination.
He turned round to find Sean right behind him, sharing his view…sharing his emotions.
Locking eyes, Viggo was drawn into the depth of Sean's gaze, spiralling down in slow circles into infinite green, even more confused and loosing balance than while watching the torrential chasm.
Their trip had been a unique experience. They hadn't said much these days, feeling so close that talking didn't seem necessary.
No discussion when to eat, to sleep, to stop, to relax… where to go, what to do… it all came naturally to them.
More than once, identical words came from their mouths at the same time, like on cue-word in theatre, and they laughed, amazed and stunned by the similarity of their reactions. Later, it was enough to just turn to each other and see that the other man was about to say the same, knowing the same thought crossed his mind, to make them laugh.
Their friendship had reached the state where they relied on each other and understood each other without words, enjoying the silence as a communion of their minds.
Yet… while their friendship reached completion, their love hadn't even begun…
Everything rested in such peaceful balance that Viggo had put off the talk he knew they needed until their last day…
… today.
He was not afraid to tell Sean he loved him. That was not because he felt certain that Sean loved him back, he just trusted him enough to tell him everything. No, he was not anxious to tell Sean that it was more than friendship he felt for him, that he wanted him…
He simply was in no hurry. As long as he was with Sean he was happy, no matter what they did. His desire was growing with every hour in the presence of the beautiful, elegant blonde man beside him, but somehow he enjoyed waiting up to the "breaking point", until the longing for Sean would force him…
Viggo intended to talk with Sean…
…but…
…in retrospect he never was able to say who moved first.
They just fell into each others arms, robbed of solid ground and tumbling down, without a word, sighing simultaneously, sinking into the embrace, into the kiss.
Hugging, stroking, touching, sucking… silently, only interrupted by occasional moans and heavy breathing, hardly audible with beneath the roar of the waterfall… too hungry to speak a word, too desperate to waste a single moment for anything else than raging lust and lovemaking.
Maybe they really had waited too long…
They crushed against each other's hard bodies on the bed, never breaking the embrace nor the lingering kiss, entangled, intertwined, interlocked.
They wouldn't let go even though there was too little space left for the movements necessary to undress, and they fumbled clumsily like teenagers, their hands and limbs always in the way, too many fingers trying to unbutton and unzip.
Though both of them were pressed up against each other with all power they possessed, kissing with enough verve and greed to mark each other all over, it could not be called a fight for dominance.
Neither of the men cared who fucked whom, as long as it happened at once, immediately and with all power of their unrestrained lust.
Only incidentally Viggo found himself kneeling between Sean's legs, licking the soft skin of his balls…Sean's cock swelled and tightened even more, filling his mouth completely. Sean tenderly lifted his face with both hands, to look in his eyes while slowly driving down his throat. Viggo opened wide, blinking, and Sean fucked his mouth, groaning hoarsely.
Viggo was oblivious to anything else than Sean's cock fucking his mouth, and it took him a few seconds to notice Sean had stopped and dragged Viggo on top of him, instantly grabbing hold of his hips and trying to push him inside him, spreading his legs.
Viggo thought of the lube in his bag - he brought it along "just in case", feeling ashamed in advance when thinking of the moment he would have to explain the presence of this little piece of equipment to Sean - and he started to withdraw.
"Sean…" but his words were cut off, Sean not willing to let him go, clinging to him stubbornly like a child, tearing him down, kissing him mercilessly and shoving him to his opening again, against all reason.
Viggo fought for control as his cock was pressed against Sean's tight hole, his hips instinctively thrusting forward, with sweat and pre-come as the only lubrication, sliding just a tiny little inch inside Sean.
He wanted to stop, gasping long enough to breathe in order to talk some sense into Sean, but Sean already impaled himself on Viggo's cock in one long shuddering slide, defying the pain with heroic determination.
Even as he cried out, pain clearly showing in his face, his features contorted with agony, his hands were still clinging to Viggo's hips, pulling him further inside, wanting the burning, the stinging, aching, claiming the pain as if it was the ultimate intensification of pleasure.
Viggo withdrew a little - it was almost difficult, his cock stuck in a vacuum, Sean's tight muscles clenching tense - the last shreds of willpower and self-control slipped away and Viggo thrust forward with full force, nearly fainting with lust as the friction and pressure stimulated him into ecstasy… the rhythm of his thrusts hurrying on with furious crescendo, deeper, harder… Sean's sobs, moans and cries joining the fast beat of his thrusts to a primal melody of passion.
Sean's cock oozed pre-come, leaking milky drops of sticky glue, but even though it throbbed hard, hot-red burning and pulsating, Sean didn't even try to touch himself, holding on to Viggo's shoulders with trembling hands… pulling him down to kiss him, until Viggo arched back, pulsing with the force of his own powerful surges.
Viggo's hand closed firmly around Sean's cock, rubbing… his body weight resting on Sean's inner thighs, Sean bent and folded beyond his flexibility, his legs spread wide, his ass stretched up as the highest point, offered to Viggo's violent fucking.
"Viggo!" Sean gasped out his name and squirted hot white little founts of come all over his hand.
Sean seized Viggo's hand and licked the come from his fingers, lapping out with his tongue until the sharp spice of come faded and he only tasted Viggo's skin, kissing Viggo's hand with absolute devotion.
Viggo looked down at him, Sean's beautiful long lashes cast down, blonde strands curled in his sweaty forehead, his lips pressed to Viggo's hand with hot and passionate kisses… Viggo howled out with lust and triumph as he shot his own release deep into Sean's body.
They rested in a close hug, Viggo holding Sean firmly in his arms, enjoying the after-lust shivers vibrating through Sean's body, until he sensed a slight, nearly imperceptible shaking of another kind.
Concerned, he shrank back a little, trying to catch a look in Sean's eyes, but Sean immediately buried his face in Viggo's shoulder.
Viggo gently seized hold of his neck, wanting to make Sean face him. Sean resisted, pushing his head even closer, nearly creeping into the little gap between Viggo's arm and chest. Viggo ran his fingers through Sean's hair, fondling him, wrapping strands around his fingers, then finally used a little more force to lift Sean's head and felt the strain in Sean's neck relax in resignation.
Silvery traces curving over his cheeks, tear by tear running down the same little wavy path, following the prominent contours of Sean's face.
"Sean," Viggo whispered in guilty shock. "…Did I hurt you?" The question seemed sheepish thinking of the way he fucked him… "God, I'm sorry…"
A sad little laugh chortled off Sean's breast. "No, Vig… believe me… there was no pain. To be honest, the last few minutes were the only time since… I don't know since when… the only time there was no pain at all…"
"You must be sore," Viggo worried, still struck with self-reproach.
"Oh yes, I am… I will feel this for days…" Sean sounded proud of it like a sword fighter is proud of each wound sustained in combat. Even the silent procession of tears came to a halt. "I didn't notice that while you were inside me…" Sean smiled.
"Then what is it?"
Sean shook his head, pressing his lips to a line; slowly the next little salty drop formed in the corner of his eye.
"I love you, Sean. You know I do, don't you?"
Sean's eyes closed, the lashes wiping off the tears. Again his head sank to Viggo's chest and he began to cry in earnest, sobbing silently.
Helplessly Viggo caressed him, knowing Sean was neither willing nor able to talk now, and as Sean's breathing grew slower, sobs subsiding in a last shuddering sigh, he knew Sean had fallen asleep.
Viggo didn't know how long he lay there, motionless, with Sean in his arms, a petrified monument of comforting.
Cautiously he wrested himself from Sean's powerless arms and out of the bed.
Sitting down near the window, he watched the sleeping man.
Sean was beautiful. So beautiful it hurt. A thin sheen of perspiration like varnish on his smooth golden skin and his muscles, emphasizing the masculinity of his built. Viggo felt the pressure build up behind his eyes.
To distract himself from the loneliness he felt, he took out his notebook and pen.
He wrote:
"You are sweating in your sleep
On our rented bed
Like a lost summer cloud
Pierced by a jet
Heard only when it's gone."
One sentence. Everything was in it.
The violence of the penetration… Sean said he had only felt afterwards. Though it might border on arrogance to compare his own cock with a jet.
Sean's unwillingness to answer, muteness in his sorrow…resisting to take on a tangible form… vanishing into the distance of sleep, delving through wavering dreams, formless, fading to a vague scheme in Viggo's thoughts… dispersing like a lost summer cloud…
The rented bed… only a temporary home, a drive-through-station of their lives…
The sweat… after-effect of all the contradictory feelings….lust…fear…strain…
Everything that had happened he had banned in this poem.
But…
How should the poem end…?
His gaze lost its grip on the letters and slid sideways, unconsciously searching… for a hint, a signal.
A little movement outside suddenly caught his attention… a fluttering, flittering about…a shiny, tiny little bird…
Flapping with its wings, fighting against the winds, whirls and currents in the air… flung to the side, jerked down…
Viggo watched as the bird tried to come near the water…suddenly realizing it was thirsty. Thirsty and unable to drink without the possiblity of drowning.
Not even safe anywhere near the waterfall, tossed about by the wayward gusts.
Then he saw other birds, riding the circulating air, obviously trained and experienced…snatching for a drop on a leaf while flying through. Just one little drop, sometimes perhaps not even a drop, just the hazy shade of a drop… a beak full of mist, nothing more.
The little bird still struggled, its wings tousled, loosing their swing. Viggo caught his breath. The bird was helplessly thrown around with the turbulence and he wondered how much it was still flying or just being flipped through the air, whether it still wanted to reach the water or flee from it, and whether it finally was spat out of the dangerous whirl by random … or made it out with its own strength and will.
The valiant little bird returned to the flock of its companions, and passing by a leaf it sucked in a drop. Viggo saw the little beak push forward, snapping.
And then it disappeared, over the edge, and Viggo irrationally stretched his neck, though it was clear he couldn't follow it with his eyes anymore.
His gaze fell back to the paper.
He wrote:
"The birds above the waterfall
Drink mist from giant leaves
Then fly over the edge."
Sean sighed in his sleep and he looked up. Tenderly stroking Sean with his glances, yearning to touch him…
Suddenly he didn't like what he wrote. He saw no connection between the first sentence and the second.
He saw no sense in it but in spite of its absurdity, it made him sad.
He tried, but couldn't think of another line, the words insisting they stay as they were, claiming to be right.
Summary: An interpretation of Viggo's poem "sweating" as a story.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: SweatingChapters: 4 Completed: Yes
Word count: 9426 Read: 3852
Published: 06 Aug 2009 Updated: 06 Aug 2009