He lay on his back in the darkened room, naked -- even wearing clothes was uncomfortable. An arm was placed precisely over his eyes to shield them, as even the tiniest rays of late-afternoon light shining through the blinds hurt. Thanks to the hyper-sensitivity of his nerves his other senses prickled easily too, and he couldn't help but aurally trace the path Sean's footsteps took throughout the house, down the hallway, and into the room.

"Brought your herbal goo. Sure you don't want an aspirin?"

Even though Sean spoke softly, his voice echoed in the stillness and it grated terribly on Viggo's nerves, worse than fingernails on a blackboard. He mumbled and shook his head, flinching from the pain.

Sean must have taken pity. "Here, I'll put some on for you."

There was a sea-sickening roll of the mattress as Sean lay down and curled up beside him. Viggo's arm was jogged slightly, and pain flashed behind his eyes at the sudden brightness even though the blinds were still shut and there really wasn't much light left anyway. Reminded him of the time Sean had blindfolded him and an hour later made the mistake of whipping it off in a brightly-lit room, too inexperienced to know it was de rigeur to gradually acclimatize the eyes instead. Would have been vaguely amusing, had it not been such a shock to the senses.

His reminiscing was chased away as Sean stroked the mentholated balm onto his temples. It felt cool and soothing, but unfortunately it really didn't do much for the pain. Sean stopped his ministrations to ask if it was helping. Viggo mumbled what he hoped sounded like a "no".

A sudden breeze crinkled his skin -- Sean, blowing gently over the area he'd just slathered. Oooh. Viggo shivered, and even that slight movement hurt, but the delicious chill was worth every flash of lightning. He could feel a vein pulsing above his temple, just a bit higher than the area Sean was focusing on, and was about to mumble something about that too when the breeze turned into a wetness that was equally cold, equally delicious. Sean's tongue.

Viggo sighed, his first coherent sound in hours, and from force of habit his hand moved to cup the back of Sean's head, urging him on. The vein gradually slowed its throbbing, smoothed into cool submission by Sean's liquid licks, and Viggo sighed again, a slightly more contented one this time. Still a long way to go, though -- only a single jackhammer was gone from what felt like a very large collection stuck in his brain.

The licks trailed down his jaw and to his mouth, and it was just as good. Traces of the menthol balm had clung to Sean's tongue and were transferred to Viggo's as they kissed, shallow at first, then deeper as they traded off on leading and following. It was also kind of fun whistling air into each other's mouths to whip up the chill, and for a brief moment Viggo forgot the dull ache in his brain and felt a different kind of throbbing, that of Sean's erection pressing hotly into his thigh. His own blood seemed to be migrating southwards, too.

But as soon as Sean broke the kiss and pulled away, Viggo's blood reversed direction and rushed back up, pooling painfully at the base of his skull. And it stayed there. He flinched again.

"Think I know what might get your circulation going, Vig." It was pretty obvious from the tone of voice what that might be, and Viggo didn't need to open his eyes to see that familiar grin slowly spreading across Sean's face.

"Nhhhn. Still hurts to move."

"So don't move, then." Hands gently lifted his hips to slide a pillow beneath them. "Let me do all the work."

Oh, Viggo had the perfect reply to that -- Sean wasn't generally the most active of lovers -- but this was just not the time nor place. Would be best to just grab whatever crumbs of in-control Sean he could get, anyway, or else he'd just kick himself later for missing the chance. And the thought of it was seriously turning him on, despite the headache.

"Okay. Go easy, eh?"

"Of course."

More cool, delicious kisses as Sean slowly prepared him with one, two, three lubed fingers like he had all the time in the world to spare. Which, Viggo supposed, he did. All of Boromir's scenes were already done. But Aragorn's were not, and the actor playing him was going to need sleep sometime today. First things first, though, such as his stiffening cock and the increasing desire to have Sean inside him...

"Mmmm... enough already."

"In a hurry, are we?" Sean chuckled softly, withdrawing his fingers and quickly stripping. "Thought you had a headache and all."

"I do. Want you though, c'mon."

"Very well, then."

Sean entered him excruciatingly slowly, giving Viggo time to stretch and adjust, and before long Viggo was wrapping his legs around Sean's waist, urging him wordlessly to just get on with it.

The snail's-pace continued: glides that were a little bit out, a little bit in. Then a stroke that was a lot out, and a lot back in. Felt good, but Viggo was getting impatient. He opened his eyes, and squinted painfully against the glare of light bouncing off skin.

Sean pulled out once more, all the way to the merest fraction of an inch left inside. Viggo tensed without really thinking about it, wishing Sean would pick up the pace but not expecting him to -- and he certainly didn't expect that Sean would shove in fast and so hard, a merciless slam right to the hilt. Viggo shouted as flashbulbs exploded behind his eyes, pain from below rushing up to meet its cousin above and clashing somewhere along the way.

"FUCK!"

The only lucid thought he could manage -- besides that a Battle of Pain was being waged inside his chest -- was that for someone who constantly scoffed at natural medicine, Sean sure seemed to know a lot about endorphins. And how to kickstart them.

Sean held himself still and silent, absorbing Viggo's energy (and some muttered curses) and gently manipulating pressure points on Viggo's skull. They stayed like that, locked together, for what felt to Viggo like forever, and suddenly his body just sighed against Sean's.

The vise was loosening. He felt warmer now, the chill of earlier gone, and his blood started to rush hot. It surged, unblocked, as if he were a piece of paper slowly being licked and consumed by flame, and he mumbled something vague and literary about statues being given life by a lion's breath. Typical Viggo. Sean smiled and started to move his hips, gliding smoothly in and out, pausing only briefly to add more lube.

It was easy for Viggo to sink into the strokes; they were sweet and rhythmic and paced to the quickening of their combined breathing. But he noticed that Sean was still holding back, restrained and respectful. Which was Sean's nature, really. Normally, by this point Viggo would be searching for ways to break that restraint, but today he was thankful he didn't want to. Or need to. Didn't have enough brain cells left anyway, not after the pain of the last hour...

"Quit thinking. Let it go," Sean crooned in that seductive voice, pressing his chin to Viggo's brow as if he could help the words penetrate. Day-old stubble scratched along Viggo's forehead in lines straight and true -- made him think of the Nazca lines, thank goodness Sean wasn't tracing the hummingbird or the spider instead -- and the lingering knots of pain started to unravel, coaxed aside by Sean's chin in much the same way the tip of his nose was nudging locks of hair out of the way. In much the same way Sean slid a hand between them to stroke Viggo's hardness.

Sean shifted, changing the angle of his thrusts so the tip of his cock whispered sweet nothings against Viggo's prostate, and the last few shards of steel in Viggo's brain instantly dissolved. Then his body held nothing but softness, bonelessness, and Sean.

Plus a wellspring of come, which spurted out hot and forceful as Viggo suddenly bucked into Sean's hand, convulsing with a strangled cry. Fast, too fucking fast. He hadn't even felt it bubble up inside him first. No fair. But then again, the killer headache was gone, so maybe it was a small price to pay. And he could always make up for it next time.

He figured Sean had been generous enough today -- time to give something back. Viggo clenched tight and imagined his body milking Sean's cock, coaxing cream out of it the same way Sean had silently talked Viggo's pain into taking a hike.

Maybe those thoughts had morphed into brainwaves and Sean's antennae were picking them up, because in a matter of seconds Sean came too, shouting something hoarse and unintelligible as his fingers dug into the pillow (rather than into Viggo's shoulders or hips as they usually did). Respectful to the end... Viggo felt wrapped in that thought, like the embrace of a fleece blanket on a grey winter's evening, and he pulled a sweaty, panting Sean close to him to share it.

They dozed for awhile. When they woke, all the daylight had gone, and Viggo's head was clear.

"Hey." Viggo poked between Sean's ribs, waking him up. "Thanks. That worked better than aspirin."

"Mmmm... good. Take two and call me in the morning," quipped Sean, softly laughing against Viggo's ear.

"Oh, so you still owe me a second one? When I can collect?"

Sean drew out a groan. "Gimme some time, yeah? I'm not in my 20's anymore."

"Sorry, time's running out." He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "Only another hour left. Another night of Helm's Deep awaits."

"Okay, guess we'd better get started, then." Sean smiled lazily into Viggo's chest, and once more their fingers began to move.