(no subject)
Title: Mastering Passions (Tomorrow But Not Today)
Author: soleta
Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Summary: In which Viggo pushes, Sean pushes back - and Viggo snaps.
Rating: PG (swearing)
Disclaimer: These are not the actors you're looking for.
AN: Follows Mastering Passions (But Not Forever and Not Well) and Mastering Passions (In Anything But Reality). This doesn't really make sense if you haven't read the other two parts; part one features violent sex with elements of non-con, and part two features angst and arguments. Be Warned.
Would he even be there if he hadn't promised Pete?
Probably not.
Hands in pockets - Sean didn't trust himself with a drink tonight; it only made things worse - he wandered the crowded theater lobby, nodding to people he knew. Nobody who knew the expression on his face and the set tension in his shoulders tried to stop him; a brooding glare convinced the rest that he really didn't have anything to say. Polite faffle. Last thing on his list.
Dominic and Billy and Sean the Younger were still occupied by the screaming crowd of fans outside; Elijah and Peter had been hijacked by reporters. Andy and Miranda were at the bar, living large, with some of the other, less-exposed cast members. Nearly everyone had arrived except the person he least wanted to see.
Admittedly, it would be nice to get it over with.
And he'd been missing the sight of him. There was something about the way he moved - something that just suited him. It made him a pleasure to watch.
Apparently Sean was into self-torture tonight.
It had to have been magic, Sean thought when Viggo strolled in; like Chrestomanci, call him, and he's there.
Sean growled at the people inhabiting the corner of the room he'd picked out as his; they ran like rabbits and he allowed himself a sharp, wry grin. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he'd start snarling. And wouldn't that be a scene, at Peter's grand moment?
-
It was brilliant. Of course. Peter had bloody well done it again, and if he wasn't given the nod this year Sean was willing to do something stupid and violent. Even better, now that the movie was over, Sean had an excuse to leave - quietly. It was time for a pit stop - an awful expression he'd somehow picked up in America, and regretted ever since. Sean headed for the toilet.
Before he got there, Viggo bodyslammed him up against the wall leading to the loo in a twisted version of the event that had led them there so many months ago, hands twisted in Sean's shirt, the rumble of voices fading into the background. "You've been avoiding me, Sean."
"Do you really think so?" Sean carefully didn't struggle, didn't move at all, and made his voice as mocking as he dared. "It took you long enough to notice."
Viggo backed off just a little, letting Sean balance on his feet while still pressing him against the wall. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't mock me. You know I noticed."
Sean trained his eyes on Viggo's collar; it was almost like looking into his eyes. "But then you could never take a hint, you stupid twat." He could feel Viggo begin to weaken, to lean into him, and he wished, just for a second, that he could lean back and feel and everything would be all right again. "We didn't work!" He gentled his voice, not without effort. "You have to let go."
Sean wasn't just talking about his shirt, and Viggo knew it.
And the hell of it was, Viggo thought, that Sean was right - at least about the shirt. Viggo wasn't ready to let go of the rest just yet.
"It's been almost a year." Sean's face changed, just a little bit. Eleven months, two weeks, and three days, Sean thought. Not that I've turned into a sodding girl or nothing, no, that's all down to you, mate. "And I still don't know why."
"I told you why!" Sean heaved against Viggo, furious. "For an entire year I told you why, and if you're too sodding stupid to listen then you're not worth repeating it for!" He finally, finally got enough leverage to buck Viggo off, and he turned to move, to get out of the trap this had become for him, but Viggo grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around against his own momentum. Sean almost softened in that moment; his eyes went to Viggo's face before he could stop them, and the confusion there was so familiar -
But then it hardened into resolve, and Sean stepped back, reflexively. He swore in his mind when his back hit the wall again, and his head twinged painfully, but before the words could travel to his mouth Viggo was on him again.
Back where we started, aren't we?
The barriers flew up behind Viggo's eyes; suddenly, Sean was shut out. He wasn't afraid of Viggo, and never had been; but now, more than ever, he had no idea what was about to happen.
Suffice it to say, he was nervous.
"So this," and Viggo ground his groin against Sean's. "That was you trying to get my attention?" Viggo grabbed his wrists and slammed them against the wall, over Sean's head. He leaned in close - kissing distance, Sean's brain babbled - and ground out "I'm listening."
Naturally, when guarunteed a rapt audience, Sean was all out of things to say.
Viggo's nostrils flared in exasperation...
And a reporter turned down the narrow hall and stopped cold.
Author: soleta
Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Summary: In which Viggo pushes, Sean pushes back - and Viggo snaps.
Rating: PG (swearing)
Disclaimer: These are not the actors you're looking for.
AN: Follows Mastering Passions (But Not Forever and Not Well) and Mastering Passions (In Anything But Reality). This doesn't really make sense if you haven't read the other two parts; part one features violent sex with elements of non-con, and part two features angst and arguments. Be Warned.
Would he even be there if he hadn't promised Pete?
Probably not.
Hands in pockets - Sean didn't trust himself with a drink tonight; it only made things worse - he wandered the crowded theater lobby, nodding to people he knew. Nobody who knew the expression on his face and the set tension in his shoulders tried to stop him; a brooding glare convinced the rest that he really didn't have anything to say. Polite faffle. Last thing on his list.
Dominic and Billy and Sean the Younger were still occupied by the screaming crowd of fans outside; Elijah and Peter had been hijacked by reporters. Andy and Miranda were at the bar, living large, with some of the other, less-exposed cast members. Nearly everyone had arrived except the person he least wanted to see.
Admittedly, it would be nice to get it over with.
And he'd been missing the sight of him. There was something about the way he moved - something that just suited him. It made him a pleasure to watch.
Apparently Sean was into self-torture tonight.
It had to have been magic, Sean thought when Viggo strolled in; like Chrestomanci, call him, and he's there.
Sean growled at the people inhabiting the corner of the room he'd picked out as his; they ran like rabbits and he allowed himself a sharp, wry grin. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he'd start snarling. And wouldn't that be a scene, at Peter's grand moment?
-
It was brilliant. Of course. Peter had bloody well done it again, and if he wasn't given the nod this year Sean was willing to do something stupid and violent. Even better, now that the movie was over, Sean had an excuse to leave - quietly. It was time for a pit stop - an awful expression he'd somehow picked up in America, and regretted ever since. Sean headed for the toilet.
Before he got there, Viggo bodyslammed him up against the wall leading to the loo in a twisted version of the event that had led them there so many months ago, hands twisted in Sean's shirt, the rumble of voices fading into the background. "You've been avoiding me, Sean."
"Do you really think so?" Sean carefully didn't struggle, didn't move at all, and made his voice as mocking as he dared. "It took you long enough to notice."
Viggo backed off just a little, letting Sean balance on his feet while still pressing him against the wall. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't mock me. You know I noticed."
Sean trained his eyes on Viggo's collar; it was almost like looking into his eyes. "But then you could never take a hint, you stupid twat." He could feel Viggo begin to weaken, to lean into him, and he wished, just for a second, that he could lean back and feel and everything would be all right again. "We didn't work!" He gentled his voice, not without effort. "You have to let go."
Sean wasn't just talking about his shirt, and Viggo knew it.
And the hell of it was, Viggo thought, that Sean was right - at least about the shirt. Viggo wasn't ready to let go of the rest just yet.
"It's been almost a year." Sean's face changed, just a little bit. Eleven months, two weeks, and three days, Sean thought. Not that I've turned into a sodding girl or nothing, no, that's all down to you, mate. "And I still don't know why."
"I told you why!" Sean heaved against Viggo, furious. "For an entire year I told you why, and if you're too sodding stupid to listen then you're not worth repeating it for!" He finally, finally got enough leverage to buck Viggo off, and he turned to move, to get out of the trap this had become for him, but Viggo grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around against his own momentum. Sean almost softened in that moment; his eyes went to Viggo's face before he could stop them, and the confusion there was so familiar -
But then it hardened into resolve, and Sean stepped back, reflexively. He swore in his mind when his back hit the wall again, and his head twinged painfully, but before the words could travel to his mouth Viggo was on him again.
Back where we started, aren't we?
The barriers flew up behind Viggo's eyes; suddenly, Sean was shut out. He wasn't afraid of Viggo, and never had been; but now, more than ever, he had no idea what was about to happen.
Suffice it to say, he was nervous.
"So this," and Viggo ground his groin against Sean's. "That was you trying to get my attention?" Viggo grabbed his wrists and slammed them against the wall, over Sean's head. He leaned in close - kissing distance, Sean's brain babbled - and ground out "I'm listening."
Naturally, when guarunteed a rapt audience, Sean was all out of things to say.
Viggo's nostrils flared in exasperation...
And a reporter turned down the narrow hall and stopped cold.