FIC: Serious (LotRPS; VM/SB)
Title: Serious
Author: Galadriel (caras_galadhon)
Fandom: LotRPS
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen/Sean Bean
Rating: R
Archive: Lothlorien, sons_of_gondor and Rugbytackling.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: Absolutely did not happen. Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Summary: If there's anything Viggo knows about what this thing is with Sean, it's that it's not serious.
Warning: Depiction is not endorsement.
Notes: A triple drabble, just because I really needed to write something.
Serious
By Galadriel
It's not serious.
This is sex, and nothing more. This is release with a coworker, downtime with a friend; no matter the endearments that drop from Sean's lips, the look in his eyes whenever he smiles at Viggo, this moment means nothing at all.
One, two, three times divorced, Viggo breathes, each counted-out thrust of fingers, each press and twist a reminder of why he's dressed and Sean's naked, why he's in control and Sean is weak.
Even with his cock insistent and stiff, pressed tight against darkening denim and brass teeth, with sweat prickling at the back of his neck as he sucks and sucks and sucks until Sean breaks, with Sean writhing and begging and whimpering, making promises he'll never even try to deliver, never mind keep, this is nothing. Nothing at all.
This is a dirty photograph, a picture in a frame, an image in a box that Viggo will take and stow and never look at again, waiting for the memories to fade, blotting out the creak of the mattress beneath him as he kneels, the roughness of Sean's voice as Viggo coaxes out one more scream, the smell of his skin as Viggo licks, bypassing a kiss.
This is nothing. It's a helping hand, a willing mouth, a favour for a favoured friend. It's nothing with a name, nothing that needs a name, because while Viggo isn't sure what it is, he knows what it's not.
He grits his teeth, fighting his hips' urge to jerk, ignoring the throb and rush of blood. Sean may gasp and tighten around his fingers, bite his lip as he bucks upward and comes, but Viggo is in control. Viggo won't risk it. Viggo knows he can't.
Because he knows it's not serious. He knows he's not that weak.
END
(April 27, 2012)
Crossposted to sons_of_gondor, rugbytackle, fellow_shippers.
Author: Galadriel (caras_galadhon)
Fandom: LotRPS
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen/Sean Bean
Rating: R
Archive: Lothlorien, sons_of_gondor and Rugbytackling.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: Absolutely did not happen. Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Summary: If there's anything Viggo knows about what this thing is with Sean, it's that it's not serious.
Warning: Depiction is not endorsement.
Notes: A triple drabble, just because I really needed to write something.
Serious
By Galadriel
It's not serious.
This is sex, and nothing more. This is release with a coworker, downtime with a friend; no matter the endearments that drop from Sean's lips, the look in his eyes whenever he smiles at Viggo, this moment means nothing at all.
One, two, three times divorced, Viggo breathes, each counted-out thrust of fingers, each press and twist a reminder of why he's dressed and Sean's naked, why he's in control and Sean is weak.
Even with his cock insistent and stiff, pressed tight against darkening denim and brass teeth, with sweat prickling at the back of his neck as he sucks and sucks and sucks until Sean breaks, with Sean writhing and begging and whimpering, making promises he'll never even try to deliver, never mind keep, this is nothing. Nothing at all.
This is a dirty photograph, a picture in a frame, an image in a box that Viggo will take and stow and never look at again, waiting for the memories to fade, blotting out the creak of the mattress beneath him as he kneels, the roughness of Sean's voice as Viggo coaxes out one more scream, the smell of his skin as Viggo licks, bypassing a kiss.
This is nothing. It's a helping hand, a willing mouth, a favour for a favoured friend. It's nothing with a name, nothing that needs a name, because while Viggo isn't sure what it is, he knows what it's not.
He grits his teeth, fighting his hips' urge to jerk, ignoring the throb and rush of blood. Sean may gasp and tighten around his fingers, bite his lip as he bucks upward and comes, but Viggo is in control. Viggo won't risk it. Viggo knows he can't.
Because he knows it's not serious. He knows he's not that weak.
END
(April 27, 2012)
Crossposted to sons_of_gondor, rugbytackle, fellow_shippers.