FIC: DIY (LotRPS; SB/VM)
Title: DIY
Author: Galadriel (caras_galadhon)
Fandom: LotRPS
Pairing: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: NC-17
Archive: Lothlorien, sons_of_gondor and Rugbytackling.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: Absolutely did not happen. Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Summary: A moment of mischievousness opens up a world of possibilities for Viggo, even if he does prefer to watch.
Warning: Depiction is not endorsement.
Notes: A little something for mooms and govi20, just because. I'm completely unsurprised that this particular plot bunny bit me. (And hey, let's call this a belated celebration of Viggo's birthday, shall we? Since I haven't finished the fic I actually planned for it.)
DIY
By Galadriel
It was an accident, really, a moment of happenstance that opened Viggo's eyes to a whole world of fresh pleasures.
They'd been tussling, as they always seemed to do: a precursor to more intimate arts, a little rough and tumble before the main event. Viggo had lost the last round, and found himself pinned against the wall, fly open, pants sliding down his hips, a fully naked and tousled Bean pressed the length of him. Sean had laid an arm across his collarbone, keeping Viggo's struggles to a minimum, but definitely not stopping him from grabbing Sean's very fine ass.
Cupping the curve, Viggo kneaded at Sean's muscles, grinning in echo of Sean's own grin, shifting slightly to create a little more friction between his rapidly slipping jeans and Sean's equally fine (and very hard) cock. Pleased at the soft growl that rumbled up from Sean's chest and in the tight grip of mischief, Viggo drew back his hand and slapped Sean's ass, a sharp, quick, teasing blow that had Sean's hips jerking, his breath catching.
Surprised, but not one to let anything at all slide by, Viggo slapped the other cheek and was rewarded with another jerk forward, another shuddering sigh. Sean's whole attitude had changed in the space of a moment: his eyes were closed, his tonguetip slipping between his lips, swiping along them, his head tipping towards Viggo, body shivering lightly.
Well. This was new.
And as with all new discoveries, it would be criminal to ignore it.
Granted, it wasn't that this sort of thing particularly turned Viggo's crank. He'd only considered it in the most abstract of terms, and even then, as much as he understood adrenaline rushes and pleasure-pain barriers, it was all still firmly academic. He was much more interested in watching, after all. So many things to see, so many people to observe, so many big and small actions to catalogue and consider, to muse over, save and savour, to find sad or poignant or arousing. Watching was, after all, one of his favourite pasttimes, and one he'd indulged in with Sean more than once.
There were so many ways he enjoyed watching Sean; most of which, completely coincidentally, involved Sean being entirely starkers, spread out and shameless.
Still, he had to admit, as much as he preferred watching to doing, there was an excellent element of voyeurism in this new diversion, in having Sean spread out across the bed, across his lap, shuddering and twitching, ass in the air, as Viggo's hand came down again and again. There was the strong possibility of addiction, despite the sting in his palm, to the way Sean's breath caught in his chest, the tiny noises he tried to suppress, to swallow, to silence. To the way Sean ground against him, giving up an early stab of stoicism so quickly it was barely a token gesture. Viggo found himself entranced by the way Sean's muscles bunched and lengthened, the way his back bucked and curved as each new blow landed. It was heady, having so much power laid out for him, so much fire banked for him to stoke and spark as he liked. The curl of Sean's fingers in the quilt beneath them, the way he stretched out to his full height and stayed still but for the constant shivering that ran through his sinews, the small circles of his hips as he rubbed his cock, again and again, against Viggo's thighs was far more present than what he was used to, not hidden behind a camera lense or a canvas or a pair of sunglasses or even the simple space between his body and his subject's. It was strange, touching the very man he craved even as all his senses went into cataloguing his responses, but the longer it went on, the more he realized that every new slap brought Sean a bit more pleasure, the more Viggo found he didn't miss the distance.
The next time he had the opportunity, Viggo silently vowed, he'd have a little lube at the ready, something to slick up the fingers of one hand, to slip inside and tease and fuck Sean even as he coaxed his skin from white to pink to red.
There were so many new and interesting possibilities right here at his fingertips, and all of them because of the smallest mischievous slap.
Yes, Viggo could get used to this; there was definite merit in watching Sean come undone, and perhaps it wasn't so bad if it involved a little DIY.
END
(October 27, 2011)
Crossposted to sons_of_gondor, rugbytackle, fellow_shippers.
Author: Galadriel (caras_galadhon)
Fandom: LotRPS
Pairing: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: NC-17
Archive: Lothlorien, sons_of_gondor and Rugbytackling.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: Absolutely did not happen. Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Summary: A moment of mischievousness opens up a world of possibilities for Viggo, even if he does prefer to watch.
Warning: Depiction is not endorsement.
Notes: A little something for mooms and govi20, just because. I'm completely unsurprised that this particular plot bunny bit me. (And hey, let's call this a belated celebration of Viggo's birthday, shall we? Since I haven't finished the fic I actually planned for it.)
DIY
By Galadriel
It was an accident, really, a moment of happenstance that opened Viggo's eyes to a whole world of fresh pleasures.
They'd been tussling, as they always seemed to do: a precursor to more intimate arts, a little rough and tumble before the main event. Viggo had lost the last round, and found himself pinned against the wall, fly open, pants sliding down his hips, a fully naked and tousled Bean pressed the length of him. Sean had laid an arm across his collarbone, keeping Viggo's struggles to a minimum, but definitely not stopping him from grabbing Sean's very fine ass.
Cupping the curve, Viggo kneaded at Sean's muscles, grinning in echo of Sean's own grin, shifting slightly to create a little more friction between his rapidly slipping jeans and Sean's equally fine (and very hard) cock. Pleased at the soft growl that rumbled up from Sean's chest and in the tight grip of mischief, Viggo drew back his hand and slapped Sean's ass, a sharp, quick, teasing blow that had Sean's hips jerking, his breath catching.
Surprised, but not one to let anything at all slide by, Viggo slapped the other cheek and was rewarded with another jerk forward, another shuddering sigh. Sean's whole attitude had changed in the space of a moment: his eyes were closed, his tonguetip slipping between his lips, swiping along them, his head tipping towards Viggo, body shivering lightly.
Well. This was new.
And as with all new discoveries, it would be criminal to ignore it.
Granted, it wasn't that this sort of thing particularly turned Viggo's crank. He'd only considered it in the most abstract of terms, and even then, as much as he understood adrenaline rushes and pleasure-pain barriers, it was all still firmly academic. He was much more interested in watching, after all. So many things to see, so many people to observe, so many big and small actions to catalogue and consider, to muse over, save and savour, to find sad or poignant or arousing. Watching was, after all, one of his favourite pasttimes, and one he'd indulged in with Sean more than once.
There were so many ways he enjoyed watching Sean; most of which, completely coincidentally, involved Sean being entirely starkers, spread out and shameless.
Still, he had to admit, as much as he preferred watching to doing, there was an excellent element of voyeurism in this new diversion, in having Sean spread out across the bed, across his lap, shuddering and twitching, ass in the air, as Viggo's hand came down again and again. There was the strong possibility of addiction, despite the sting in his palm, to the way Sean's breath caught in his chest, the tiny noises he tried to suppress, to swallow, to silence. To the way Sean ground against him, giving up an early stab of stoicism so quickly it was barely a token gesture. Viggo found himself entranced by the way Sean's muscles bunched and lengthened, the way his back bucked and curved as each new blow landed. It was heady, having so much power laid out for him, so much fire banked for him to stoke and spark as he liked. The curl of Sean's fingers in the quilt beneath them, the way he stretched out to his full height and stayed still but for the constant shivering that ran through his sinews, the small circles of his hips as he rubbed his cock, again and again, against Viggo's thighs was far more present than what he was used to, not hidden behind a camera lense or a canvas or a pair of sunglasses or even the simple space between his body and his subject's. It was strange, touching the very man he craved even as all his senses went into cataloguing his responses, but the longer it went on, the more he realized that every new slap brought Sean a bit more pleasure, the more Viggo found he didn't miss the distance.
The next time he had the opportunity, Viggo silently vowed, he'd have a little lube at the ready, something to slick up the fingers of one hand, to slip inside and tease and fuck Sean even as he coaxed his skin from white to pink to red.
There were so many new and interesting possibilities right here at his fingertips, and all of them because of the smallest mischievous slap.
Yes, Viggo could get used to this; there was definite merit in watching Sean come undone, and perhaps it wasn't so bad if it involved a little DIY.
END
(October 27, 2011)
Crossposted to sons_of_gondor, rugbytackle, fellow_shippers.