"Mmmm. Come back to mine after shooting?"

"Love to, but I can't... I need to spend time with Brego. Third day in a row now he's been acting up. He's unpredictable all of a sudden."

"Maybe he's jealous."

"Very funny."

"Gotta use the spurs on him, I'm telling you."

"Don't like spurs," Viggo said, shaking his head. "I'll wear them, but I won't actually use them. Inflicting pain isn't necessary. There are better ways to teach a horse to respect you."

"Sometimes it's the only way to keep him in line. They need to know who's in charge."

"Sean, that's taking the easy way out. I don't want him to fear me, I want us to work as a team."

"Okay, but every team still needs a leader, right?"

"There's no true equality in your world, is there? Always has to be someone lording it over everyone else."

"Look, they're horses. They're bred for service." Sean sighed, fastening Boromir's cloak around his shoulders as they walked back to the set. "I love you, Vig, but sometimes you're just too bloody liberal."

-- * --

Finally, their first full evening off in ages. Sean certainly hadn't wasted any time stripping and throwing himself across the bed, although Viggo silently admitted he would've been just as quick if he hadn't been wearing his riding boots; he liked to think they deserved a bit more respect and care than Sean showed his own clothing.

"Can you work this knot out of my back, Vig? It's killing me."

"Sure. Just hold on a sec." Viggo slipped the boots off, feeling a scratch on his hand. Fuck -- the spurs. He'd forgotten all about them. He paused to unbuckle them from the boots before stripping quickly and joining Sean on the bed.

"Mmmm, yeah, that's good." Sean sighed happily, snuggling into the pillow as Viggo's fingers worked the tension out of tired muscles. "So... Brego's finally obeying you now?"

"Yes. We had a good, long talk today."

"Talk? That's it? You didn't put the fear of God into him?"

"What, with these?" Viggo asked innocently, grabbing a spur and walking the tiny silver wheel down Sean's back and into the crack of his ass. The metal dipped cold between Sean's cheeks and he hissed, his muscles clenching as miniature teeth scraped flesh.

"Better not cu -- owww, fuck, you're catching me hairs! -- better not cut me with that thing, I'm warning you."

"Don't worry." Viggo tossed the spur of harm's way. It landed on the floor with a clatter. He chuckled and slid his chest up Sean's back, easily pinning him to the bed with weight and sword-training muscle. "Like I said, I don't need that to rein you in." Quickly slicking lube onto his fingers, he shoved two of them into Sean's hole without so much as a warning.

"Christ! Easy there! ... and don't compare me to an animal."

"Bred for service, isn't that what you said the other day?" Viggo growled into Sean's ear, cock hardening as his fingers continued their slide into channeled heat. "Yeah. Tonight I'm gonna tame you. And I don't need to hurt you to do it, despite your primitive theories."

There was a slight flinch from Sean anyway. Not used to the pressure and stretch, right -- Viggo couldn't remember the last time he'd taken Sean, it had been that long ago. Sean was usually the one doing the fucking rather than the receiving. Well, not tonight.

He pressed on, adding a third finger, moving slowly but never pausing. Sean took it without a word, shifting only slightly on the bed, for once docile and uncomplaining, and Viggo knew that meant Sean was enjoying this a lot more than he was letting on. The anticipation made Viggo's swollen cock twitch.

Sweat glistened in the small of Sean's back and Viggo dipped his tongue into it, tasting the saltiness, exploring Sean's spine by a swirl of tongue around each bony vertebrae, teeth nipping at the side of Sean's throat and jaw when he finally got there, rasping his tongue over stubble that bristled against his own.

And Sean started begging wordlessly for more, his hips pressing back to suck Viggo's fingers farther in, aching to brush over just the right spot. A moan escaped Sean's throat but Viggo quickly silenced it, thrusting his tongue into Sean's mouth, kissing him deep and hungry.

He leaned back suddenly, reluctant to break away but wanting to fully take in the sight of Sean reduced to shaking and arching into his touch -- Sean, normally the one in complete control as Viggo squirmed shamelessly beneath him -- and it was such a rare victory, so utterly sublime, that his breath caught in his chest and he simply couldn't wait any longer.

Neither could Sean. "Viggo, fuck... please..."

Both of them cried out as Viggo dug an arm under Sean's chest, pulling him roughly onto his knees at the same time the shove of hard, hurriedly-lubed-up cock replaced fingers with barely a pause in between.

Viggo knew he should probably go slow, in deference to Sean... but being buried to the hilt in that hot center felt unbelievably delicious and he desperately wanted to race ahead, to give the walk and trot and canter a miss and charge straight into an exhilarating full-out fucking gallop.

And the second Sean finally arched his back in permission, Viggo did so. He slammed his hips mercilessly against Sean's ass, blood racing, eyes open but slipping into a world where Sean had inexplicably sprouted a long, silken blond mane; Viggo twisted his fingers through it, buried his face in it, sniffing and nuzzling and biting and yanking, feeling skin move under hair and muscles ripple under skin, all strength and graceful power.

Through the haze he heard whimpers of "please" and "yes" and "break me". Or perhaps he had just imagined that last one; was wishing too hard for it, maybe. Too fuzzy, too far away to know for sure, his only anchor to reality now the feel -- the sense -- of Sean writhing under him, hands clenched in the bedsheets, pushing frantically back against a thrust and then forward into Viggo's fist pumping his cock and back again. Viggo knew Sean was somewhere primal too -- hell, maybe even having strange bestial visions like his own, and then he suddenly didn't care whether the words were spoken aloud or not, because it didn't matter.

He laughed, thinking for a second of that eternal celluloid clicha33;, of him and Sean riding off into the sunset like in some bad 1960's spaghetti western. Felt his body coil up tight, like the heat surrounding his cock, wickedly clenched and yet somehow soft at the same time, and it was all too fucking much sensation to handle; and laughing turned into a choked shout as he gave a last brutal shove and pressed deep, held for a moment by his weird Technicolor fantasy, finally releasing into Sean with a shudder and a flood.

It only took a few seconds before Sean groaned and shuddered too, equally intense, his come spurting hot through Viggo's fingers. Viggo managed to slip his hand aside and his cock out just in the nick of time before collapsing heavily, squashing Sean into the mattress but too exhausted to spare any guilt for that.

"Mmmffff. Crushing me," Sean mumbled eventually into the pillow, the shrug of his shoulder forcing Viggo to move. An itch crackled on both their skins when Viggo shifted off Sean's back, stuck together with their own home-brewed glue of sweat and drying come. Movement really was overrated sometimes, Viggo thought.

Breaths slowly paced back to normal as they settled on their sides, arms and legs wrapped around each other, too lazy to go clean up. No hurry; they had all night, and things were likely to get messy again anyway. They usually did.

Viggo brushed a kiss over Sean's chest, smiling against cooling skin. "So, still think I'm too liberal in my methods?"

"Yeah," Sean sighed, sleepy and not very convincing. "But christ, that was amazing. Talk me into doing that more often, okay?"

Viggo pulled him close. "Oh, yes. After all, horses need to be challenged once in awhile. Works better than just giving 'em sugar."

"Vig?"

"Yeah?"

"Quit comparing me to a damn horse."