Viggo's not sure if he can take another punch to the stomach without throwing up and he's damned if he wants to hurl in front of Brandon and Mark. Not every day two football stars beat the crap out of you, he thinks, dodging a blow. Maybe I should have dressed for the occasion.
There's a slow roll in Sean's stomach as he rounds the corner -- it sounds like -- fucking jocks. Rushing forward, he throws himself hard into one of the two blokes beating up a third, yelling, "What the fuck're you on about?" He shoves the guy over, sending him sprawling, and manages to land a punch to the jaw of the other one. Somehow -- though they outsize him, both of them -- his sudden charge has them rattled. They scramble off, yelling expletives over their shoulders.
Shaking out his hand -- he always forgets how much a jaw hurts to hit -- he grabs hold of the student the other two were pounding on. "Fuck. You alright?" he asks, tipping his head down to peer into his face.
The unexpected accent has Viggo blinking up at his rescuer for just a moment. "Oh yeah, fine," he mumbles once he recognizes the hot new Brit kid all the girls are all wild about. "Just great." As if to prove his words wrong, he finally does throw up, managing to bend over and do it in the bushes.
Yeah, the ground can pretty much swallow me up ANY time now.
Sean turns away, trying to give a sense of discretion and at least play at giving the bloke privacy; last thing he ever wants when he's heaving up his guts is for someone to do the hair-holding bit.
When it seems to have passed, Sean moves closer again and rests a hand on the bloke's shoulder. "That was shite. What were they on you about?"
"This week?" Viggo takes a shaky breath. "Could be anything, the art, the music, but it's probably the being queer thing. Me, not them, I mean." Sometimes I fucking hate being out.
Well, that's...startling. Sean catches himself staring and then has to make himself drop his eyes. "Oh," he says. "Well. I've got a car; d'you want to ditch last period and come to my place? No one's there till later."
"You sure you wanna be seen with me?" Viggo asks tiredly.
Sean leans closer. "I've already been," he points out, gesturing in the direction the two arses took off in. "I don't care much about appearances."
"OK then," Viggo says, looking around. "Thank fuck nothing happened to my back pack; I'd hate it if my stuff got thrashed." He grabs his pack, an old army rucksack that belonged to his uncle, and looks at Sean. "You've got a car; you can drive here?"
"Yeah." Sean doesn't feel like explaining the whole bit about Da being a big banker and traveling everywhere, pushing Sean to learn the customs of the localities. "What's your name?" he asks instead. "I'm Sean." He rolls his eyes a bit. "The Brit."
"Yeah I know," Viggo says. "I'm Viggo. You know... the Fag." He follows Sean to the parking lot, unable to help checking out Sean's ass. Not that there's a lot to check out in the baggy cargo pants, but still, Viggo's 16. It's not like he doesn't have a pretty good imagination when it comes to matters sexual.
As Sean walks ahead, he's reasonably sure that he's being checked out, and he's trying to find a way to broach the subject of his own queerness without making it come out like sheer stupidity. The Brit thing as an exchange student is enough; gay on top of it's just too much.
"No," he corrects, shooting Viggo a sly smile as they reach the car. He digs into a cargo pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Viggo. "That's a fag."
"You say tahmahto," Viggo says, accepting the cigarette. He pulls his lighter out of his jeans pocket and lights up. "Thanks. For back there too. I really appreciate it."
Sean unlocks the car, a tin can of a thing compared to what they generally have here in the US, neither new nor stylish but utterly his own. He shrugs, a little embarrassed. "Just hate to see it," he half-mumbles as he gets in.
"Yeah," Viggo says, getting into the car. "It's all political to be out and stuff, but if I'd known what it would be like I probably wouldn't have done it."
That gives Sean a twinge of guilt of his own; he's never had the bollocks to come out, not even to his parents. Most of his encounters are shady things, and for all his disregard for appearances, this is the one area that does not extend to. "Takes courage," he says simply, starting the little car up and putting it in gear.
"Or stupidity," Viggo says, slouching back against the seat and puffing at his cigarette. "Maybe they're the same things really."
Sean very nearly blurts out that he only wishes he had the nerve to do it, but this just doesn't seem the time. He sighs, shaking his head and watching the road. "Whatever you call it, it doesn't give arseholes the right to beat on you."
"On that, we are agreed," Viggo says. He looks out the window and whistles quietly before remembering that he got punched in the face and that whistling is not a good idea. "You live around here?" he asks, taking in the wide tree lined streets and big houses.
"Yeah," Sean says quietly. Da, naturally, made certain that Sean would go on living in the style to which he was accustomed, and Sean was hardly in a position to argue. No one wants to hear the poor-little-rich-boy routine, though, so he just stays quiet as he pulls into the circular drive and parks the car.
After stubbing his cigarette out in the car's ash tray, Viggo looks down at himself, taking in the faded jeans he's drawn all over and the Totoro shirt he pulled on that morning. "You're not going to get into any trouble coming home this early are you?" And in this kind of company?
"No," Sean says decisively, giving Viggo another grin. "I can talk my way out of most anything."
"Cool!" Viggo says. "I can too, but then that's what you get for having an ex-hippie for a mom." He looks around as Sean leads him into the kitchen through the back door. "Nice," he says. In reality it's a little sterile, but he likes the size and the open, airy feel of it.
"Here." Sean drops his keys on the counter and goes to rummage under the sink. "Your lip's bleeding a bit." He gestures toward a chair at the table as he unpacks the first aid kit and then goes for a glass of water.
"Yeah I can feel it," Viggo said, gulping gratefully at the water. "I've got some other bruises too, but it's not as bad as I've had." He shrugs. "Mom's going to let me test out at the end of this year."
"So you're a Junior?" Sean asks. "Me, too. This system's fucked, though. I can't quite get it right."
"How's that going to work for you later?" Viggo asks, carefully dabbing at his lip with a damp cloth Sean gave him. "Or do you plan on going to college here in the States?"
"It's an exchange program," Sean says, shaking his head. "I've no idea how it works. I'm not going to university at all if I can help it." He pulls out an ice pack, warm and deflated, so he can switch it out with the one in the freezer. "It's not for me."
"Really?" Viggo looks interested. "Me neither, really. I mean they don't teach you how to write or paint in college. Well they do, but I can take life drawing classes and creative writing classes at the JC. I don't need a degree to be an artist." He's aware that he sounds pretentious, but somehow he gets the feeling that Sean won't mind.
"Exactly," Sean says with a bit more enthusiasm than he's shown all along. "Why should they get to decide?" But he's going all political now, so instead of talking more he just digs into the first aid kit for more supplies.
The antiseptic that Sean uses stings the abrasion below Viggo's left eye and suddenly it all sinks in. "Jesus," he says with a shiver. "Oh fuck, that was close to my eye."
"Yeah," Sean offers sympathetically, and shakes his head as he presses the wet cloth, folded inside out, to the wound. "Fuckers. It takes two goddamned sports stars to beat up an artist, doesn't it? That's a way to prove manhood."
"Yeah," Viggo says, still finding it hard to breathe. "Thank you," he says again, and it's clear all the filters are off as he continues. "I was afraid. Really fucking scared."
"I don't blame you," Sean says honestly, and he reaches up to cup Viggo's head, just firmly enough to sink his fingers into Viggo's hair. It feels good, and it's been a while since Sean's done anything even this intimate.
His breath catching, Viggo tries to tell himself that Sean's just being...concerned or gentle or something. Maybe his brain believes it, but his cock isn't buying it at all. "I...uh...." he says and then runs out of words.
"Yeah," Sean smiles a little wryly. "Me, too." He leans in slowly, deciding that there's no good in telling someone you're as queer as he is when you can just show him.
"Oh," Viggo said, and it doesn't matter that his split lip hurts like fuck or that maybe doing this where someone parental could see them isn't a good idea. He leans in too and tilts his head a little, pressing his mouth against Sean's.
Sean kisses Viggo as gently as he can, mindful of the cut and unsure if Viggo wants to get too far into anything just now. Even so, it feels fantastic. It feels freeing.
"You..." Viggo says, pulling back a bit. "You sure?" and he really wants to kick his own ass for asking because he shouldn't turn down a chance to kiss a hot guy. But I like him and I want to be friends.
"Are you sure?" Sean replies, rubbing his thumb just below Viggo's bottom lip. "I am."
"I just," and Viggo had to say it. "I don't want to be an experiment. That...it doesn't work work out well," he adds, his voice bitter with experience.
Sean shakes his head. "I know it doesn't. I'm queer, Viggo. This isn't about experimentation for me."
"Sorry," Viggo said, afraid he'd ruined the mood. "You know how it is...you get cautious."
Smiling, Sean gives the back of Viggo's neck a gentle squeeze. "It's alright. The circumstances are a bit dicey." He looks around then and adds, "I s'pose we could go somewhere else..." While the idea of necking as much as Viggo's injuries will allow definitely has its appeal, Sean has to admit he'd rather it take place on a soft spot in the dark.
"Are your parents gonna be home soon?" Viggo asks. "Or could we go.. I dunno, to your room?"
"My room," Sean nods. "Throw your jacket on the sofa when we go, and we'll shut the door and turn the music on." That'll be enough to keep his parents from knocking, some assumption of homework and illicit junk food. Hell, Mum'll probably invite Viggo to dinner after.
"OK sure," Viggo says, and he's nervous as all fuck, wondering how much experience Sean's had and thinking about how much his own meager experience will stack up. He follows Sean into his room, wondering if Sean's got condoms and then mentally rolling his eyes at his thoughts.
Maybe he just wants to talk and make out.
"Here it is," Sean grins as he shuts the door behind them. "Mind the laundry. Or -- here." He shoves a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts off the bed and shakes the blanket more or less straight. "That's better." He sits on the bed, looking up at Viggo. Christ, Viggo's hot, even wrecked like this.
Sean's room looks a little like Viggo's, although it's got nicer furniture and carpeting on the floor instead of worn-out hardwood. It's a mess like Viggo's is though and there are posters on the wall; he wonders about the bands whose posters Sean's chosen to decorate his walls.
The bed's bigger than Viggo's, probably at least a full, but then the room's bigger too. "It's OK," he says, meaning the laundry. They're the same in that way. He sits down next to Sean and tries to breathe evenly.
"You alright?" Sean asks, watching Viggo. "We don't have to do anything, if you don't want to. I know you're hurting right now." Still, he drops his hand to Viggo's knee, trying to find a way to at least make sure it's clear that he would love to do just about anything.
"Yeah," Viggo says. "It's just...I...." And if there's one thing he really hates about being nervous, it's the way it strips the words out of his mouth. He leans in quickly and kisses Sean hard, never mind the split lip, full speed ahead.
Sean lets out a surprised noise and wraps one arm around Viggo, resting his hand on the small of Viggo's back. Viggo kisses like he means it, and Sean feels a strange but very happy sense of solidarity right now.
Relieved that Sean is into this, Viggo leans against him as they keep kissing. Maybe it's just that it's been months since he kissed, but as far as Viggo is concerned, this is the best kiss ever.
Sean's feeling the heat from the kiss settle into his cock, and he shifts a little, cupping a hand at the side of Viggo's neck. He pulls back just enough to look at Viggo, wondering if they should be doing this -- Viggo just got jumped by two football players, after all -- but that lasts about a second and a half before the lust takes over again and he presses Viggo down into the bed, settling over him as gently as he can.
"Okay?" he asks quietly.
God, he moves fast. It's weird, Viggo's used to being the one who knows what he's doing, but it's pretty obvious that Sean's at least as experienced as he is, if not more.
"Careful," he says, wincing a little. "How about on our sides?
"Sorry," Sean murmurs quickly, shifting off and helping settle Viggo next to him. "Better?" He wraps an arm around Viggo's waist, scooting a little closer. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I know," Viggo says. "And you're not; it's good." He slides his hand under Sean's shirt, stroking his back and leaning in for another kiss.
Just Viggo's hand on Sean's skin feels so fucking good. He returns the kiss eagerly, slipping his own hand up Viggo's back and then down again to boldly grab his ass, pulling him closer to grind against Sean a little.
Moaning into Sean's mouth, Viggo doesn't mind that, even in this position, his ribs hurt. He can feel Sean's hard on against his thigh and he presses his leg forward a little. This is so hot and so good that it's almost worth being beat up over.
"You feel good," Sean says, grinning a little. He brings his hand around to the front of Viggo's jeans and kisses him again, hesitating before giving him a full-on rub against his erection through his jeans.
"Wow," Viggo say and then winces for reasons that have nothing to do with his various aches and pains. "You move fast." But even as he says it, he's grinding hard against Sean's hand and finding it hard to breathe.
"Sorry," Sean grins again, though he doesn't sound too particularly contrite. "Just want this." He tips his head down, nuzzling under Viggo's jaw. "It's really something to find this, you know? Guess I'm in a bit of a hurry."
"Yeah I know," Viggo says, arching against Sean even more when Sean finds a sensitive spot on his neck. "And, God, I'm not complaining."
"Didn't think so." Sean bites lightly over that spot he's discovered, sucking lightly on Viggo's neck as he starts working the jeans open. Christ, Viggo even smells good.
"Oh fuck," Viggo moans, bucking up hard against Sean. It's all so good and so fast that he worries he's gonna come in his jeans if he doesn't do something soon. Sliding his hand down between them, he fumbles with Sean's fly.
It seems to take forever -- the angle is wrong, Sean's got to prop up on one arm and work with the other -- but then he has Viggo's jeans open and his shirt shoved up just enough that it might not get messy. He groans as Viggo's hand finds his cock, leaning in to mouth at Viggo's neck again in deference to that injured lip.
Viggo arches up into Sean's touch, doing his best not just grab at Sean's cock. It's nice though and it feels so good to have his hands on a cock that isn't his own. He does his best to ignore the way Sean's driving him crazy and tries to stroke Sean's cock in some kind of rhythm. "Yeah...oh God, yeah..."
Suddenly all Sean wants is to go down on Viggo, but that might be too much -- and it sounds like Viggo's already close. Moaning brokenly, Sean speeds his strokes, watching Viggo avidly and licking his lips.
Letting his hand fall away from Sean's cock, Viggo gives a strangled groan and pumps hard into Sean's hand. Another second and he's coming, his fingers gripping Sean's hip as his vision goes dark around the edges.
"God," he says shakily a moment later. "Fuck, that was...." He trails off, realizing that Sean hasn't come yet. Moving his hand, he grips Sean's cock again and starts jerking him off, using the slow steady rhythm Viggo himself likes.
"Fuck," Sean breathes, letting his eyes slide shut. He hooks one leg over Viggo's, replaying the image of Viggo and the rough sound of his voice as he came. He manages to flex his hips two, maybe three times before the rhythm and the perfect grip of Viggo's hand does him in. Mouth open, he lets out a broken gasp and comes hard, jerking and shuddering with it.
There are few things that feel as good as giving someone else an orgasm, and Viggo watches Sean eagerly, wondering if he'll ever be able to capture that kind of emotion in his art. "God," he murmurs. "You look so...God...."
"That's how I feel, too," Sean laughs quietly. He feels slack now, lazy, and that's sort of nice. Reaching back, he grabs a couple of tissues off the little table and hands them to Viggo before taking some for himself. "That were good," he mumbles as he cleans up.
"Yeah," Viggo says, cleaning up and then tossing the tissues in the trash. It's nice just to lean against Sean and he feels better than he has in a long time, bruises notwithstanding. "I liked you enough when you rescued me, but now...." He laughs.
Sean has to chuckle again at that. He finishes his cleanup and pitches the Kleenex in the trash, and then it's easy to lean close and tuck his face back into Viggo's neck. "You smell good."
"Mmmm," Viggo murmurs. "So do you." A tension he didn't even know he had drains out of him and he knows with some kind of bone deep certainty that this is the beginning of something good.
Summary: Exchange student Sean rescues Viggo from some gay-bashing fellow
Rated: R
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: AUChallenges:
Series: No Ordinary LifeChapters: 3 Completed: Yes
Word count: 8510 Read: 2452
Published: 08 Aug 2009 Updated: 08 Aug 2009