Sean jumped at the voice -- and so did PacMan, who whipped to the left and straight into the path of an oncoming ghost. The pub was so dimly lit and smoky, and his concentration so focused on the addictive but oh-so-frustrating game, that he hadn't even noticed Viggo approach.

Then again, Viggo enjoyed sneaking up on people. He always claimed it was for the good of the role, perfecting Aragorn's ranger skills and all, but Sean knew that Viggo secretly got a thrill out of catching people off guard. Always curious to catch a glimpse of someone's true colours, if only for a second. Collecting fodder for poetry or paintings, no doubt.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like th... ahhh, bloody hell!" Sean swore in frustration as two ghosts cornered PacMan and swallowed him up.

"Waah-waah-waah," sang the machine, somewhat snarkily. "Game over."

Glaring at Viggo, Sean swatted the dashboard. "Thanks a lot."

"Having trouble handling the joystick?" Viggo smirked.

"Fuck you."

"You're rushing it," said Viggo, still grinning. "Got to move the stick smoother. PacMan's all about timing."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "That so? And what would you know about it?"

"My son's an expert at this. He got me hooked on it last year," said Viggo, feeding coins into the machine. The screen cleared and a new game loaded up. "Okay, watch and learn."

And Sean watched, dumbfounded, as Viggo deftly cleared the maze of dots in record time, even doubling back at one point to swipe the 100-point-bonus cherry with two ghosts hot in pursuit and a third heading straight towards him. He couldn't fail to notice how calm Viggo was, confidently maneuvering the stick that controlled PacMan's direction and not seeming to show any tension whatsoever. Hmmmm. He began to wonder whether those strong fingers could curl the same way arou...

"...and that's the trick to it, see?" Viggo's raspy voice, louder than usual to carry over the general pub noises and the tinny music coming from the machine, snapped Sean back from his zone-out. "Here, you do the second level. I'll help you through it." Viggo moved aside, gesturing.

Sean quickly stepped forward and grabbed the stick, slamming it sideways, thinking he should try to calculate some sort of strategy. The red ghost was already on his tail -- christ, how'd that happen so fast?

"First off, don't grip so hard. Just relax," said Viggo, his body suddenly close, curving his hand gently around Sean's over the stick. Sean tensed, grateful for the dim lighting as he felt his face flush hot. He wondered if this was just Viggo being helpful, or... well, might as well enjoy it, whatever it was. Saved him from having to make the first move himself, if things ended up going that way.

The game was in an out-of-the-way corner, and with most of the other revelers either drunk or busy playing pool, he doubted anyone could see them, much less care. Perfect. He exhaled the breath he'd been holding and relaxed his fingers into Viggo's, letting himself be led.

"The key is to start moving the stick a split second before you get into the corner," Viggo said, resting his free hand in the small of Sean's back. Yes, definitely more than helpful, Sean thought. He caught himself starting to zone out again.

"... another danger zone here. Go through it fast, careful you don't get cornered."

Maybe it was just the level of smoke in the pub, but Sean felt sort of disembodied, watching things happening rather than feeling them. For instance, it was only now that he realized his arm fastened to the joystick was sore, and his other hand was clutching the side of the dashboard like the machine was about to take off without him.

He also hadn't noticed Viggo's hand snaking across his body, but here he was, pulled close against Viggo's chest and not remembering how he'd gotten there. Strange, because he thought he would've remembered that, considering how many times similar scenes had featured in the start of his fantasies.

Warm fingertips suddenly swooped around the hem of his shirt, and Sean's breath hitched. He'd worn loose jeans tonight, but they were starting to get tight at the crotch. Really tight. And worst of all, Viggo was still playing the damn game. Sean had to hand it to him -- regardless of intention, the guy certainly had superior coordination. The mere thought of it would have made him slide back into daydream-world again, were Viggo's hand not quietly sliding down to cup his hip, fingers pressing around it like a sculptor kneading clay.

Okay, no mistaking the meaning of that. Or the resulting stirring of his cock. But it probably wouldn't do to seem too eager; he had a reputation to uphold, after all.

A fruit suddenly appeared in the middle of the screen, and Sean focused on that. "Ehhh, what about, thing, over there..." he mumbled, trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

"Patience." Damn, Viggo's raspy whisper had never sounded so good. Between the choking levels of smoke and noise in the pub and the ache in his groin, Sean's head was seriously beginning to swim. "The timing isn't right, you'll get more points clearing this row of dots here first. There'll be another -- sorry, what fruit is that again?"

"Uhhh... errr, strawberry?"

"Yes, strawberry." Viggo exhaled sharply, digging his fingers into the creases of Sean's thigh and seeming to lose restraint for a second. Even PacMan faltered, stopping briefly to consider where he should go, since the person controlling him had obviously taken some sort of mental time-out.

Sean nodded, not quite sure what the hell that moment had been all about but not really caring, so long as Viggo didn't stop those fingers from dancing. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the stability of Viggo's chest, trying to clear the dizziness in his head.

But Viggo's break in concentration had only been momentary, apparently, because the game continued -- unbelievably, without a fatality thus far -- and his free hand resumed pressing along Sean's hip, okay, maybe a bit lower than that now, and Sean was going nuts with the sheer coordination and control of it all.

"Now, don't eat the big power dots until you've lured the ghosts towards you. Then you won't have so far to grab them for the extra points." PacMan swallowed a flash of red, turned direction and quickly gave chase. His eyes still closed, however, Sean didn't notice. The little bit of brainpower he had left was being used to try and control the swelling in his groin and clear the fog in his head.

"Sean." Sounded like a command, that. His eyes snapped open. "Look, there's the fruit again. Why don't we go get the... what's it called again?"

Viggo's hand slid sideways, fingertips splaying out over Sean's stiff cock, tracing its outline through denim, and a weird half-gurgle, half-gasp came out of Sean's throat before he could stop it. "Urghhh! -- strawberry."

"Mmmm. Good. Very good." His earlobe was nipped between strong teeth, interspersed with whispers, and each nibble punctuated by a squeeze of his cock. Yes, good, very good, Sean echoed silently. Just don't stop. Please.

Then he wondered if he'd actually said that out loud, because the warmth suddenly disappeared. He managed to bite back a protest, but he didn't have to wait long for Viggo's fingers to resume their slide, this time going under the waistband of Sean's jeans and boxers; and fuck restraint, Sean thought, thrusting his hips shamelessly against Viggo's hand the second it touched his flesh, desperate for the slightest contact with the other's skin.

PacMan was starting to run fast now, gobbling dots as two ghosts inevitably pursued. (Like there was any other purpose to their existence?)

"Use the tunnel." Strong fingers closed around Sean's cock, fisting it and sliding upwards in a single achingly slow stroke that made Sean see stars.

"Huh? What?" Rational speech was the last thing on his mind now. Sean couldn't even remember where he was, much less be inclined to waste any brain cells thinking about outdated game strategy or logistics. Whatever Viggo was trying to prove with this coordination bit, he'd already won Sean over long ago.

"The tunnel connects the sides of the board." The patient explanation was drowned out as Sean moaned from the intense workout his cock was getting, every stroke faster and more insistent, more purposeful, than the last. He was definitely gripping the dashboard for dear life at this point; he'd have a nice dent in his palm to show for it later, no question.

"Use it to outrun the ghosts... just make sure there isn't one waiting for you on the other side." The monotone droned on, and normally Sean would have found it incredibly annoying, but then again he wasn't usually rocking brazenly and openly against Viggo's hand like he was now. Dimly, he realized he was probably crushing Viggo's hand against the machine; normally he'd have cared about that too, but none of this seemed real anyway. It was like being stuck in a time warp. And they might as well be, since not many pubs sported a classic 1981 PacMan upright arcade box anymore, especially not in New Zealand in the middle of a marathon film shoot about a totally-imaginary world...

His spine started to prickle, and his cock stiffened just a tiny bit more. If that were even possible --

"That's it, Sean. We're almost at the next level..."

-- and fuck if that wasn't the cheesiest thing he'd ever heard, and his burst of laughter traveled all the way down to tickle his balls as everything contracted and reverberated and he came shuddering, wonderfully crazed, into Viggo's hand.

Apparently a bit had splashed onto the front panel of the machine as well, because it started to complain.

"Waa-waa-waa. Game over," it warbled. "Game over."

Viggo laughed too, but softly, affectionately, both his arms finally focused on holding Sean up. "Hey, you. Good game. Should I make the obligatory joystick joke, or just ask if we should go back to my place?"

Still trying to catch his breath, Sean leaned against Viggo's chest, thankful for its solid strength and that he wasn't being asked to justify his conduct. "Your place. Yes." He looked down at the slight smear of come on the painted metal, and smiled. Take that, you smarmy tosser! "Think we dirtied the machine a bit, eh?"

Viggo smiled too, conspiratorily. "More than you know. Don't tell anyone, but I used the coin-return slot to clean my hand."