Viggo communing with nature, thought Sean, smiling indulgently to himself as he turned away and went for a refill. Back to the window he blinked perplexed: he'd been away just for a few seconds but Viggo had disappeared from view.
Sean frowned... the meadow stretched too wide for Viggo to have covered the distance in those few moments and have already moved from Sean's field of vision.

Could Viggo have stumbled and fallen into one of the holes the tall, thick grass often concelead? Sean fretted... He set his mug down and went out to look for Viggo.

***

Sean trod carefully among the high grass, the sound made by his steps undistinguishable from the one the grass made moving in the wind. He reached the area where he had last seen Viggo and stopped, rooted to the ground.

Viggo was indeed there, lying flat on his back among the grass, naked, his eyes closed, his lips moving silently as if he was reciting something to himself. A mantra, a poem, a prayer...

Relieved - and embarrassed - Sean turned on his heels to go back. Then stilled, turned again and stared. Long and hard, drinking in the sight, his eyes gliding over every inch of that flesh his fingers itched to touch. He closed his eyes for a moment, locking the image in his soul, then turned and walked away, feeling as if with his staring he was betraying Viggo's innocence and trust.

***

Viggo opened his eyes and looked wistfully at Sean's retreating back. He sighed. He had been pretty sure that Sean, whose outline he'd spotted behind the kitchen window, would have come out to look for him, to check he was ok. Sweet Sean who was always such a worrier... And he'd been praying that, once he'd managed to lure him out there, Sean would have found the nerve to talk, to touch, to take, that nerve Viggo himself was currently lacking, ready as he was to offer himself up as a naked bait eager to be swallowed but unable to take the matter into his hands.

It was pleasurable to lie in the undulating grass like that, hearing the wind whisper through it, feeling it brush his skin, but he wanted more than that and even the grass seemed to whisper Sean's name, mocking Viggo.

He would have to try again, to keep baiting Sean until he managed to get through his reticence, which, Viggo guessed, amounted to nothing more than a reluctance to act and expose himself by making the first move. A reluctance very like Viggo's own. Or so he hoped...

***

Sean was tormented. His night had been restless. Awake, he kept remembering how Viggo's body had looked. Asleep, he kept dreaming of meandering endlessly through the high grass, desperately searching for something or someone he couldn't find.

Rambling aimlessly around the house, his steps kept taking him every few minutes to the kitchen window, to look out, to check...
He didn't know if he wanted Viggo to be out there or if he'd rather not see him walking through the meadow again like the day before, but the wondering was taken out of his hands when Viggo did appear again, wading through the grass and then disappearing.

And this time Sean knew what was happening. He closed his eyes, but the images still scrolled behind his closed eyelids... Viggo taking his shirt and jeans off... Viggo lying down in the grass... Viggo all golden and shining under the morning sun...

And Sean felt the pull. A line reeling him in to Viggo. And could not resist going again. And looking again. And running away ashamed. Again.

***

As soon as he was sure Sean was out of hearing, Viggo let out a stream of curses.

Nothing. Again.

He knew he was not wrong in his conviction that Sean wanted him. This second trip in the grass had at least proved that beyond any doubt.

But he was tired of rolling in the grass by himself, he wanted to roll with Sean.

Enough with waiting.

It was time for the bait to attack the prey.

***

Sean rested his brow on the cool glass of the windowpane and shut his eyes.

He did not need to look, he knew Viggo would be there walking through the grass and he knew he would walk after him again, like a hooked fish being reeled in.

Some part of him felt guilty, the betrayer of a friend's trust and privacy. Some part of him insinuated that if you mind people looking you shouldn't lie naked in the grass. And some part of him, deep down, acknowledged that he wanted to do much more than just looking.

He went to the door and walked out, into the meadow.

***

Viggo laid in the grass, not relaxed this time but coiled, like a wolf ready to pounce on a long-stalked prey.

Through half-closed eyes he followed Sean's approach. Once Sean was near enough and stood watching him, Viggo's foot shot out, hooked Sean's ankle and pulled hard, tumbling him to the ground by Viggo's side.

Viggo rolled close to Sean - much too close for Sean's comfort - and raised himself on his elbow.

"Hi there," Viggo said conversationally, smiling at Sean.

"Hi yourself," Sean replied automatically, still too surprised to make sense. "Shit, that's not what I meant... Viggo, what the hell is this all about?"

Viggo's smile widened into a full big-bad-wolf grin. "You don't know?" He tsk-tsk-ed. "And here I was, believing you to be such a wordly man ... This is a pass, Sean. It means that I'm tired of you watching me and doing nothing. Or at least nothing that involves my active participation. It means that I'm tired of indulging in solitary activities and I'd rather move on from that. With you. Would you join me for this trip?"

The playful tone set Sean at ease, he could now reply using the same light banter, bringing truths out in the open masked under a veneer of teasing.

"Jesus, was that a pass? I'd never have said... Felt like a kick in the shin to me," Sean retorted.

"That's my style, I enjoy sweeping gorgeous blondes off their feet,' Viggo winked. "But don't leave me hanging, what would Mr. Sean Sex-God Bean do then if he wanted to make a pass on someone? Let's say on me for the sake of convenience, since I happen to be here." Viggo's tone had changed almost imperceptibly, it was now a bit less playful, almost challenging.

Sean felt the change, and his mood changed too.

"This, for starters," growled Sean, as he rolled flush over Viggo's body, his knees going to encompass Viggo's legs pinning him into the grass and setting his mouth to Viggo's smirking one. Teasing. His tongue retreating every time Viggo's tried to join it. Until Sean decided they were done with playing and lifted his hands to hold Viggo's jaws open and still, locking Viggo's mouth under his own, exploring and conquering.

They were both panting for breath when he withdrew. Reluctanly.

"Sean, much as I enjoyed that, you can't call that a pass. A kiss like that usually qualifies as foreplay," Viggo commented, his voice low and husky, one more whisper among the whispering grass.

"Foreplay? Nah," Sean replied scornfully. "Not that. Not for me. Now this is what I call foreplay.."

His mouth began trailing down Viggo's chest, morning stubble heating each inch of flesh, leaving his mark, as he had been wanting to do ever since the first time he'd gazed at Viggo lying naked in the grass.
His tongue traced the contours of the leather thong resting on Viggo's chest and of the hammer pendant hanging from it obsessively, until Viggo felt as if a trench was being plowed into his flesh and begged Sean to move on. Something he regretted when Sean's mouth went to explore his armpits and then slid back to introduce itself to Viggo's nipples.

Sean lifted his mouth from Viggo's chest and slid up again, nose to nose, eye to eye, as they both tried to catch their breath.

"Foreplay eh? That was foreplay.. So, what comes now in your agenda?" Viggo asked, his fingers sinking like hooks in Sean's shoulders.

"Us."