LOTR RPS: Smack the Dog 3
Chapter 3: The Jack Daniels Effect
*
It had taken a night before Sean could even consider what had happened. Tired beyond all belief, the only thing that came before bed was to eat a large quantity of food after his stomach had finally managed to let itself be known past the adrenaline rush that had occupied his attention for the past night and a bit. He had fallen asleep after his stomach had been appeased by the consumption of a large amount of jam sandwiches.
Unfortunately, once emergency actions had been taken and it was late afternoon, it left Sean nothing to do but think. Desperately, Sean considered other actions; he could go off with the "hobbits" surfing, but the idea of him in a wetsuit near Orlando worried him. The idea of Orlando in a tight wetsuit also was also nagging on his mind, but he slammed a mental fist on that idea. He wasn't gay. End of story.
Going to a pub was also out, as he didn't put it past Viggo to turn up halfway through. However, the alcohol was a tempting idea. Shoving on his shoes, Sean disappeared out the trailer in search of a decent bottle of anything even vaguely alcoholic. However, he did scan the surrounding areas in case of "stalkers".
Don't be daft, he told himself firmly. Viggo may be a lot of things, but a stalker he isn't. His mind showed him snapshots of what had happened that morning. Sean ignored himself, and continued on his way.
*************
Orlando was woken from his nap by the sound of something banging. Confused, he looked around the room, blinking sleepily. Viggo came through the door, grinning.
" I believe we have some company," he remarked, untying the leather lead that had attached the collar around Orlando's neck to the metal bedposts. Orlando gave a wide yawn and adjusted his position on the bed. Viggo glanced down at him, and slapped Orlando's naked thigh to get him to speed up.
" Get some trousers on," he ordered. Orlando nodded, and slid off the bed in search of a pair of jeans.
The banging hadn't abated in this time. Viggo wandered to the door, and opened it to find Sean, obviously drunk as a hatter, leaning against his doorpost.
" About bloody time," Sean snapped, taking a swig out of a Jack Daniels bottle. Viggo raised an eyebrow, and took a step back into the hall to allow Sean entrance. After another swig, Sean stumbled inside, glancing from side to side as if expecting something to turn up.
Viggo shut the door behind him, and attempted to steer Sean towards the living room. However, Sean jerked as soon as Viggo placed a hand on his shoulder, and started backing away down the corridor, waving the bottle in an aggressive manner.
" Oh no," he snapped, in the loud voice of someone pissed. " You're not in control this time," he waved the bottle at Viggo again, almost losing his balance in the process.
Orlando leaned out of a bedroom, eyes wide in shock as he took in the dishevelled figure in front of him. Sean noticed him, and changed the target of the bottle waving.
" Look, its the boy wonder," he sneered. " I wonder what you've been helping with,"
Viggo glanced behind him. " Go get some water, Orlando," he ordered. Orlando glanced at him, nodded, and disappeared to the kitchen. Viggo turned his attention back to the drunken figure in front of him.
" Let's go and sit down, Sean," he said gently. " You're about to fall over,"
He reached out to help Sean stabilise, but only served to make Sean attempt to dodge away again, taking a heavy fall as his balance finally failed him. Crashing to the ground, there was an agonised cry as his side hit the floor. The mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels managed to escape from his grasp, leaking alcohol everywhere. It rolled to a stop by Viggo's feet, who sighed, picked it up quickly and put it on a table out the way.
Viggo grabbed onto one of Sean's arms roughly, and pulled him to his feet. Sean stared at him, trying to remain upright. Viggo glared at him.
" Go and sit down," he ordered. Sean stared at him, angrily.
" You can't-"
" GO AND SIT DOWN!" roared Viggo. Sean immediately gained a very sulky expression, and staggered off down the hallway to get to the living room, Viggo following close on his heels. Every time Sean came to a halt, Viggo gave him an unceremonial shove in the small of his back to get him moving. Finally, Sean collapsed on the sofa, wincing as the movement jarred sensitive areas.
He focused to see Viggo standing over him, glaring. Orlando had returned with some water in an unbreakable glass, and was watching him worriedly from the doorway. Viggo retrieved the water, and passed it to Sean, who refused to take it.
" Take it," growled Viggo. Sean tried to glare at him, failed, and sulkily took the glass.
" When was the last time you ate?"
There was a mutter from Sean, which turned into a yelp as Viggo kicked his shin.
" When was it?" he demanded. He turned to Orlando, who was still hovering uncertainly by the doorway. " Go and get him a sandwich,"
Happy to be able to do something, Orlando disappeared off to the kitchen again. They could hear rustling, clanking and movement emerge from the kitchen. Viggo glared back at Sean, who was drinking the rest of the water slowly.
" Are you going to tell me what this is about?" he asked finally. Sean looked up at him with haunted blue-green eyes, but said nothing. Sighing, Viggo moved towards the window, and stood looking out. Orlando re-appeared carrying a plate with a very large ham sandwich balanced on it; it looked as though he had used half a loaf within it. He glanced at Viggo's back, then passed it over to Sean who accepted it in bad grace. With a worried look back at Viggo, Orlando escaped back to the bedroom.
Viggo did not talk until Sean had eaten a least half the sandwich in front of him. Finally, Sean plonked the still half-full plate on a side table.
" Eat it," said Viggo.
" Feel sick," muttered Sean.
Viggo glanced at him. " Good." he replied. " Now eat it. And you can tell me what got you into this state," Viggo shrugged and walked over to the chair where Sean was slumped. " Apart from alcohol anyway,"
" You know exactly what got me into this state!"
" Keep your voice down," snapped Viggo.
" Or what?" Sean gave a short laugh, which was cut short when Viggo suddenly reached down and seized hold of the front of Sean's t-shirt, pulling him close towards him. Sean looked in surprise and fear into the furious blue eyes just inches away from him.
" You will behave when you are in my house," he snarled in a low voice at him. Sean, whose moment of bravery had vanished, simply blinked at him. Giving a snort of disgust, Viggo released his hold on the t-shirt and stood up, staring back down at Sean coldly.
Sean dropped his eyes to the floor. " Sorry," he muttered. Viggo looked at him and sighed again, moving to sit beside Sean on the sofa. Viggo placed a hand on Sean's arm, and gave it a squeeze.
" Did you want to come back?" asked Viggo softly.
Sean hunched his shoulders, and kept his eyes fixed on the floor. Viggo gently stroked the golden hair with a parental kindness. Sean did not see the predatory smile that emerged when the younger man finally nodded, neither did he see the gleam in Viggo's eyes. All that he knew was the comforting presence of another person giving him affection and concern.
" Good," said Viggo, a little too wolfishly.
**********
It was morning. The sun was shining through the curtains, the birds were tweeting and chirping, the smell of bacon was wafting through the air, and Sean felt bloody awful. It took him three attempts to open his eyes, and, once open, he really felt he shouldn't have bothered. The sunlight, warm, bright and almost romantic, was agony on his eyes, the delightful smell of bacon was already kicking his stomach into huge waves of nausea, and the bird-song was drilling into his aching head with the efficiency of a power tool.
Sean tried to move to the window, and only succeeded in falling off the bed with a loud thump onto a sheepskin rug, a strange pulling sensation occurring on his neck as he did so. Groggily and slowly, as not to aggravate the Hangover God any further, he moved onto hands and knees and felt the strange contraption that was firmly attached round his neck.
It was hard, thick and had studs. Even in his diminished state, Sean had felt enough to be worried. He slowly opened his eyes again, and stared in comical surprise at the chain that was leading from the object. His aching eyes followed it's path over the bed, lifting himself to be able to clearly see the attachment to the metal headboard.
Dropping himself back onto all fours, which for some reason seemed the most comfortable of positions, Sean considered his options. After another look at the bed, it was clear that there was no way to get the chain off without undoing the lock. After an experimental tug on the collar, which only served to almost topple him, it was clear that it was going to be reluctant to remove itself from his presence as well.
Sighing, Sean flopped onto his back again and gazed upwards. The gaze sharpened. There were several mirrors on the ceiling.
The presence of the mirrors was worrying enough. The presence of the mirrors coupled with the leather collar and the chain was enough to make him actually consider shouting for help. The presence of the mirrors, coupled with the collar and chain and also, as clearly shown in the reflection, being completely naked (again) was leaning into Stephen King territory.
Oh.
My.
God.
Desperately, Sean raised himself into a sitting position and stared around the room. Apart from the extravagance of the sheepskin rug it was surprisingly minimal. Everything that was present was obviously very practical...
Sean looked from one wall, which had four iron rings attached to it in strategic positions and several whip like things proudly hanging from the wall, to another which again held some interesting implements and had more than its fair share of leather garments hanging neatly inside a fitted cupboard which someone had not fully closed (the fitted cupboard, of course, had mirrors fitted to the doors.)
There was a long yet narrow firm wooden table a couple of paces in front of the bed. It had some interesting leather holds at the top and bottom of the length. Sean quickly turned his focus away from it, not sure his stomach could fully cope with the implications.
Even the bed itself had a remarkable amount of metalwork and leather involved within it one way or another. It was a remarkably depressing sight.
Sean gave another helpless tug at the collar, and tried to avoid choking himself. What had happened to get him into this situation? AGAIN? The last thing that Sean could remember was getting a bit hammered and wandering around the town, arguing with a few people about something, then ...
Mystery. Like the persistent memory of a huge ham sandwich, leaking lettuce and mayonnaise from one side and nestled on a plate that was far too small for it. And a wet patch on the carpet, a wet patch that had formed and grew after a heavy clunk and chink of glass hitting the floor.
Hadn't someone yelled at him to sit down before he fell down? Sean frowned. There was a memory itching at the back of his mind about the tone of the voice, something harsh and strict and ... amused. Amused? The only person Sean could think of that managed to sound amused as well as angry was-
Sean jerked upright, inadvertently trying going past the "cut off point" of the chain length and almost strangling himself when the collar refused to continue on the path that Sean was. Gasping for breath, Sean flopped back down onto the rug, staring at the mirror above him in panic.
Viggo.
Bloody marvellous.
Sean tried to beat his aching and resentful mind into accessing his memory, and could only come up with disturbing images he knew couldn't have happened. At all. After all, they displayed him as a willing participant, and he knew damn well he was pretty useless after a couple of glasses (bottles, amended his mind) of spirits even if he was that way inclined.
Which he wasn't.
Sean tried to focus on anything that would take his mind off his problems, which was unsurprisingly difficult in a room full of bondage gear. His eyes fell on the table, and quickly moved on as he suddenly felt his memory tweak at the sight of it. No, not the table. The table can be agonised over at a later date, preferably with a large scotch nearby.
Sean shut his eyes, and tried to focus on the birds singing outside. However, his mind kept coming back to images he really didn't want to see. In the dark he could still see the small candles lit in the corner, the shine of the light bouncing off the shiny leather that was coming ever closer to him, and in his ears he could suddenly hear the soft yet menacing words, or frightening words that had been said with such indifference that it had chilled him. But yet it had reached a part of him that he had never known existed.
Sean yelped and opened his eyes again, finding himself face to face with his own pale, panicked reflection. A movement by the door drew his attention sharply. Viggo stood lounging by the door, his expression unreadable. He could be about to offer Sean a further taste of sexual perversion, or indeed he could simply be offering coffee. Sean suddenly realised what a bloody pain actors were to every day life.
" I left you on the bed," The voice was cold, unemotional, and totally unconcerned.
Sean tried to raise himself to a more suitable and comfortable position, which ended him on his knees. Not great for a big showdown, he thought. However, he was thankful for the excuse not to stand up; he could feel his muscles aching and trembling underneath him, and his legs felt suddenly, horridly unsteady.
Viggo watched his movements with the detachment of someone who was watching a television programme that really bored them. Finally, he moved into the room, shut the door (it shut incredibly silently, Sean noted, as if someone had been overzealous with the oil) and wandered towards the table, running his hands over it as if to test for splinters. Sean could now see that it only came up to Viggo's knees.
Finally, with a sigh that suggested martyrdom, Viggo stood in front of him. Sean wondered where to look; to try and stare Viggo out would be as difficult as a hobbit trying to out stare a giant, not to mention his neck reaching an uncomfortable position with a hangover. However, to fix his eyes to the rug would suggest more submission than he would have liked. He was already full of self-contempt in his own failing ability to stop this situation, and acting like a chastised schoolboy in front of the headmaster was not going to help.
Finally, Sean fixed his eyes on Viggo's knees. At least, he thought grimly, they were clothed.
" Do you remember what happened?" Sean felt a hand drop on his head and start to play with his hair, in an action that reminded him painfully of Orlando. Refusing to become the dog, Sean tried to dislodge the hand by moving his head sharply and hissed as the headache throbbed painfully. There was a snort of amusement for this little action of defiance, and the hand was withdrawn.
" No," growled Sean.
There was a silence. Sean realised that Viggo knew exactly why Sean wasn't bellowing questions and angry words. He was scared of the answers.
There was another snort of amusement, and the table was dragged over so that Viggo could sit down. Now the levels were reasonable, Sean risked a look at the figure in front of him. Viggo was glancing around the room.
" So what do you think?" his gaze fell back on the kneeling figure in front of him.
" I think it's sick,"
Viggo raised an eyebrow. " Really?" he drawled. Sean tried desperately not to drop his eyes. " Then obviously it must have been someone completely different who was here last night, the man who used the majority of the equipment here, or if not, used it on poor little Orlando; the man," Viggo's gaze met Sean's in disgust. " who enjoyed every moment of it without any persuasion whatsoever. In fact, he was begging for it,"
Sean tried to speak, but failed miserably. Any words he might have spoken he felt dry up in his throat, threatening to choke him as much as the collar around his neck. He couldn't keep eye contact either, and focused on Viggo's boots. Black, leather ones. Sean had a horrible feeling that he had licked them at some point during last night.
" Well?" prompted Viggo, unwilling to allow Sean time to wallow in humiliation. That could come later. Sean stared back up at him, green eyes guilty.
" Well what?" he said, struggling to keep his voice steady.
" Remembering anything yet?" Viggo smiled. It was not, as far as Sean was concerned, a very nice smile. And it was pointed at him.
Sean dropped his eyes again. Unfortunately, he could feel the memories desperately trying to come back to him. He couldn't say that he didn't come here for that, because he had. He couldn't say he hadn't wanted to get into that sort of thing, because he could suddenly remember the excitement and anticipation, a memory bitter in his mind now. He couldn't even say he hadn't enjoyed it, as he had. Oh god, he had.
" It was a mistake," he mumbled, almost to himself. Viggo leant forward, resting his arms on his knees.
" How was it a mistake, Sean? You enjoyed yourself. I enjoyed myself. I believe I can vouch for Orlando when I say he definitely enjoyed himself. No one was hurt - unintentionally, anyway - and you came away with something you were desperate for." Viggo leant back again. " How was that a mistake?"
" It shouldn't have happened!" snapped Sean, his self-disgust fuelling his rage.
Viggo smiled. " But it did. And, no doubt, when you feel lonely again you will try to return." Viggo's smile quickly vanished, the sun disappearing under dark black clouds. " We are not toys to be picked up and cast away whenever you feel like it, Sean. You want to be part of this, that's fine. We would welcome you. But we need some type of commitment rather than disgust from you. I will not hold you to the statement you made last night,"
Sean desperately tried to remember what he had said last night. His memory shrugged at him. Did he really want to know? wailed his mind, which was struggling to come to terms with what had happened last night as it was.
" Do you want to play, Sean?"
Sean was unable to speak. Viggo shrugged, and stood up. Sean looked up at him desperately.
" Wait, I-"
Viggo gave him a rueful smile. " I'll give you time to think, Sean. To remember. Orlando will be here if you need anything,"
He quickly exited the room, not waiting for any continuation from Sean. Sean gave a long and tired sigh, and flopped back onto the floor. He stared up at his reflection. You idiot, he thought. Make up your sodding mind. As well as stopping it throbbing.
The silent door opened again, and Orlando crept in. However, Sean was ready for him after the trick of the silent door before. Orlando bounced across the bed, and lay across it, head resting on his arms looking down at Sean sprawled on the floor.
" What are you doing down there?" Orlando enquired. Sean gave him a glare, then shut his eyes again.
" Suffering,"
" Ah." Orlando was silent for a few minutes. " So, did you-"
" No,"
Orlando pouted. Sean could hear it in his voice. " You don't know what I was about to say,"
" Most questions for me today seem to result in the answer of No."
" So you didn't enjoy yourself then?" Orlando continued, looking down at Sean cheerfully. Sean didn't answer. " Then you're a better actor than I gave you credit for! And the begging, good god, you almost had Viggo creaming his jeans for that,"
Sean winced with the graphic images that were going through his mind.
" What was I begging for?" Sean managed slowly. He really didn't want to know, but he desperately needed confirmation of what Viggo had told him apart from the sketchy and confused memories contained in his aching, throbbing head.
Orlando laughed, a young carefree type of sound that Sean felt didn't seem right in this type of room.
" You were begging him to fuck you, if I remember right," he said cheerfully, as if he was simply talking about a football team winning a top match. " Through the floor was the phrase you used."
" Oh," Sean said, although it came out more as a whimper. He could almost hear a thud echo in his head as the last of his dignity fell with a splat. Orlando gave him a fond look and shuffled further across so he could lean down and ruffle Sean's hair.
" Don't worry," he said, taking Sean's distress for disappointment. " I'm sure he had his reasons not to. He desperately wanted you, though, anyone could see that. But its best not to ask. Viggo always knows best."
These new pieces of information mingled uncomfortably inside Sean's head, which was already overloaded as it was. A feeling of unreality hovered within his head.
" Oh," Sean commented, unable to think of anything else to say.
Orlando adjusted his position, as he was almost about to fall off the bed, and shuffled backwards to his original position.
" Besides, " he said. " you helped me loads! Viggo hasn't shagged me like that for ages. And three times too. He's been treating me far too softly recently." Orlando was now chatting in the same casual innocent manner as he chatted to the hobbits about such things as surfing, the latest films and what happened the last time they got plastered.
" Oh?"
" I think he thinks I'm breakable," Orlando gave an amused snort.
" Oh,"
" Mind you, I could hardly walk this morning," he confided cheerfully. Orlando studied Sean, and gave a gasp of horror. " I forgot to give you the Alker-Seltzer!"
Orlando's head and shoulders disappeared from Sean's view to re-emerge a few seconds later with a glass of now clearish liquid. He passed it to Sean, who accepted it gratefully.
Orlando settled himself back down, watching Sean get into a position where he could comfortably drink the drink without it tipping down his chest accidentally.
" Sean?" he said lazily.
" Hmmm?" Sean, half way into drinking the liquid, gave him an indulgent look.
" You'll be rough when you fuck me, won't you?"
Alker-Selzer was sprayed half-way across the room. Orlando jerked upright in surprise as Sean desperately tried to control his coughing, and settled back down in his position.
" Hmmmm," he remarked. Sean shot him a look.
" And what does that mean?!" he retorted, feeling hot under the metaphorical and physical collar. Orli shrugged, which was a unsurprisingly graceful movement, despite the whole bed situation.
" Nothing, nothing," he said smoothly, and cocked his head to one side. " Did you want your clothes back then?"
Sean gave him a particular expression. Orlando nodded, and slipped cheerfully off the bed to return with the majority of Sean's clothing and an unfamiliar bright green t-shirt. Sean eyed the jeans, which seemed remarkably ... ironed. Orlando shrugged.
" We had to wash them to get the stuff off," he explained. " But I'm afraid your t-shirt had it,"
" What?" Sean was still examining the interesting situation of ironed socks he had discovered.
" Died a valiant death it did," remarked Orli cheerfully. " If t-shirts had honours, it would be up there with the best of them! Anyway, I'll let you get on-"
" Orlando," Sean gave the collar lead a little tug to indicate its presence. Orli glanced at it, surprised.
" Oh!" he said. " Right!"
He leant over the bed to twiddle with the lock, giving Sean an unintentional viewing of lean muscles beneath what was probably an equally valiant - if tight - t-shirt. Sean swallowed, and turned his attention back to the lock just as Orlando managed with a deft click to unlock it. Without a key.
" Hang on a minute!" said Sean. Orli looked at him, surprised.
" You want it back on?"
" No!! You mean it was .. unlockable at any time?!"
Orlando gave him a funny look. " Well, yes. We're not insane you know,"
" Oh,"
" Hmmm. Anyway, follow me if you want breakfast," Orli rolled his eyes and disappeared out the door. Sean, whose stomach was demanding something, decided it was probably safest to follow. But after he and his clothing were reunited.
*
It had taken a night before Sean could even consider what had happened. Tired beyond all belief, the only thing that came before bed was to eat a large quantity of food after his stomach had finally managed to let itself be known past the adrenaline rush that had occupied his attention for the past night and a bit. He had fallen asleep after his stomach had been appeased by the consumption of a large amount of jam sandwiches.
Unfortunately, once emergency actions had been taken and it was late afternoon, it left Sean nothing to do but think. Desperately, Sean considered other actions; he could go off with the "hobbits" surfing, but the idea of him in a wetsuit near Orlando worried him. The idea of Orlando in a tight wetsuit also was also nagging on his mind, but he slammed a mental fist on that idea. He wasn't gay. End of story.
Going to a pub was also out, as he didn't put it past Viggo to turn up halfway through. However, the alcohol was a tempting idea. Shoving on his shoes, Sean disappeared out the trailer in search of a decent bottle of anything even vaguely alcoholic. However, he did scan the surrounding areas in case of "stalkers".
Don't be daft, he told himself firmly. Viggo may be a lot of things, but a stalker he isn't. His mind showed him snapshots of what had happened that morning. Sean ignored himself, and continued on his way.
*************
Orlando was woken from his nap by the sound of something banging. Confused, he looked around the room, blinking sleepily. Viggo came through the door, grinning.
" I believe we have some company," he remarked, untying the leather lead that had attached the collar around Orlando's neck to the metal bedposts. Orlando gave a wide yawn and adjusted his position on the bed. Viggo glanced down at him, and slapped Orlando's naked thigh to get him to speed up.
" Get some trousers on," he ordered. Orlando nodded, and slid off the bed in search of a pair of jeans.
The banging hadn't abated in this time. Viggo wandered to the door, and opened it to find Sean, obviously drunk as a hatter, leaning against his doorpost.
" About bloody time," Sean snapped, taking a swig out of a Jack Daniels bottle. Viggo raised an eyebrow, and took a step back into the hall to allow Sean entrance. After another swig, Sean stumbled inside, glancing from side to side as if expecting something to turn up.
Viggo shut the door behind him, and attempted to steer Sean towards the living room. However, Sean jerked as soon as Viggo placed a hand on his shoulder, and started backing away down the corridor, waving the bottle in an aggressive manner.
" Oh no," he snapped, in the loud voice of someone pissed. " You're not in control this time," he waved the bottle at Viggo again, almost losing his balance in the process.
Orlando leaned out of a bedroom, eyes wide in shock as he took in the dishevelled figure in front of him. Sean noticed him, and changed the target of the bottle waving.
" Look, its the boy wonder," he sneered. " I wonder what you've been helping with,"
Viggo glanced behind him. " Go get some water, Orlando," he ordered. Orlando glanced at him, nodded, and disappeared to the kitchen. Viggo turned his attention back to the drunken figure in front of him.
" Let's go and sit down, Sean," he said gently. " You're about to fall over,"
He reached out to help Sean stabilise, but only served to make Sean attempt to dodge away again, taking a heavy fall as his balance finally failed him. Crashing to the ground, there was an agonised cry as his side hit the floor. The mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels managed to escape from his grasp, leaking alcohol everywhere. It rolled to a stop by Viggo's feet, who sighed, picked it up quickly and put it on a table out the way.
Viggo grabbed onto one of Sean's arms roughly, and pulled him to his feet. Sean stared at him, trying to remain upright. Viggo glared at him.
" Go and sit down," he ordered. Sean stared at him, angrily.
" You can't-"
" GO AND SIT DOWN!" roared Viggo. Sean immediately gained a very sulky expression, and staggered off down the hallway to get to the living room, Viggo following close on his heels. Every time Sean came to a halt, Viggo gave him an unceremonial shove in the small of his back to get him moving. Finally, Sean collapsed on the sofa, wincing as the movement jarred sensitive areas.
He focused to see Viggo standing over him, glaring. Orlando had returned with some water in an unbreakable glass, and was watching him worriedly from the doorway. Viggo retrieved the water, and passed it to Sean, who refused to take it.
" Take it," growled Viggo. Sean tried to glare at him, failed, and sulkily took the glass.
" When was the last time you ate?"
There was a mutter from Sean, which turned into a yelp as Viggo kicked his shin.
" When was it?" he demanded. He turned to Orlando, who was still hovering uncertainly by the doorway. " Go and get him a sandwich,"
Happy to be able to do something, Orlando disappeared off to the kitchen again. They could hear rustling, clanking and movement emerge from the kitchen. Viggo glared back at Sean, who was drinking the rest of the water slowly.
" Are you going to tell me what this is about?" he asked finally. Sean looked up at him with haunted blue-green eyes, but said nothing. Sighing, Viggo moved towards the window, and stood looking out. Orlando re-appeared carrying a plate with a very large ham sandwich balanced on it; it looked as though he had used half a loaf within it. He glanced at Viggo's back, then passed it over to Sean who accepted it in bad grace. With a worried look back at Viggo, Orlando escaped back to the bedroom.
Viggo did not talk until Sean had eaten a least half the sandwich in front of him. Finally, Sean plonked the still half-full plate on a side table.
" Eat it," said Viggo.
" Feel sick," muttered Sean.
Viggo glanced at him. " Good." he replied. " Now eat it. And you can tell me what got you into this state," Viggo shrugged and walked over to the chair where Sean was slumped. " Apart from alcohol anyway,"
" You know exactly what got me into this state!"
" Keep your voice down," snapped Viggo.
" Or what?" Sean gave a short laugh, which was cut short when Viggo suddenly reached down and seized hold of the front of Sean's t-shirt, pulling him close towards him. Sean looked in surprise and fear into the furious blue eyes just inches away from him.
" You will behave when you are in my house," he snarled in a low voice at him. Sean, whose moment of bravery had vanished, simply blinked at him. Giving a snort of disgust, Viggo released his hold on the t-shirt and stood up, staring back down at Sean coldly.
Sean dropped his eyes to the floor. " Sorry," he muttered. Viggo looked at him and sighed again, moving to sit beside Sean on the sofa. Viggo placed a hand on Sean's arm, and gave it a squeeze.
" Did you want to come back?" asked Viggo softly.
Sean hunched his shoulders, and kept his eyes fixed on the floor. Viggo gently stroked the golden hair with a parental kindness. Sean did not see the predatory smile that emerged when the younger man finally nodded, neither did he see the gleam in Viggo's eyes. All that he knew was the comforting presence of another person giving him affection and concern.
" Good," said Viggo, a little too wolfishly.
**********
It was morning. The sun was shining through the curtains, the birds were tweeting and chirping, the smell of bacon was wafting through the air, and Sean felt bloody awful. It took him three attempts to open his eyes, and, once open, he really felt he shouldn't have bothered. The sunlight, warm, bright and almost romantic, was agony on his eyes, the delightful smell of bacon was already kicking his stomach into huge waves of nausea, and the bird-song was drilling into his aching head with the efficiency of a power tool.
Sean tried to move to the window, and only succeeded in falling off the bed with a loud thump onto a sheepskin rug, a strange pulling sensation occurring on his neck as he did so. Groggily and slowly, as not to aggravate the Hangover God any further, he moved onto hands and knees and felt the strange contraption that was firmly attached round his neck.
It was hard, thick and had studs. Even in his diminished state, Sean had felt enough to be worried. He slowly opened his eyes again, and stared in comical surprise at the chain that was leading from the object. His aching eyes followed it's path over the bed, lifting himself to be able to clearly see the attachment to the metal headboard.
Dropping himself back onto all fours, which for some reason seemed the most comfortable of positions, Sean considered his options. After another look at the bed, it was clear that there was no way to get the chain off without undoing the lock. After an experimental tug on the collar, which only served to almost topple him, it was clear that it was going to be reluctant to remove itself from his presence as well.
Sighing, Sean flopped onto his back again and gazed upwards. The gaze sharpened. There were several mirrors on the ceiling.
The presence of the mirrors was worrying enough. The presence of the mirrors coupled with the leather collar and the chain was enough to make him actually consider shouting for help. The presence of the mirrors, coupled with the collar and chain and also, as clearly shown in the reflection, being completely naked (again) was leaning into Stephen King territory.
Oh.
My.
God.
Desperately, Sean raised himself into a sitting position and stared around the room. Apart from the extravagance of the sheepskin rug it was surprisingly minimal. Everything that was present was obviously very practical...
Sean looked from one wall, which had four iron rings attached to it in strategic positions and several whip like things proudly hanging from the wall, to another which again held some interesting implements and had more than its fair share of leather garments hanging neatly inside a fitted cupboard which someone had not fully closed (the fitted cupboard, of course, had mirrors fitted to the doors.)
There was a long yet narrow firm wooden table a couple of paces in front of the bed. It had some interesting leather holds at the top and bottom of the length. Sean quickly turned his focus away from it, not sure his stomach could fully cope with the implications.
Even the bed itself had a remarkable amount of metalwork and leather involved within it one way or another. It was a remarkably depressing sight.
Sean gave another helpless tug at the collar, and tried to avoid choking himself. What had happened to get him into this situation? AGAIN? The last thing that Sean could remember was getting a bit hammered and wandering around the town, arguing with a few people about something, then ...
Mystery. Like the persistent memory of a huge ham sandwich, leaking lettuce and mayonnaise from one side and nestled on a plate that was far too small for it. And a wet patch on the carpet, a wet patch that had formed and grew after a heavy clunk and chink of glass hitting the floor.
Hadn't someone yelled at him to sit down before he fell down? Sean frowned. There was a memory itching at the back of his mind about the tone of the voice, something harsh and strict and ... amused. Amused? The only person Sean could think of that managed to sound amused as well as angry was-
Sean jerked upright, inadvertently trying going past the "cut off point" of the chain length and almost strangling himself when the collar refused to continue on the path that Sean was. Gasping for breath, Sean flopped back down onto the rug, staring at the mirror above him in panic.
Viggo.
Bloody marvellous.
Sean tried to beat his aching and resentful mind into accessing his memory, and could only come up with disturbing images he knew couldn't have happened. At all. After all, they displayed him as a willing participant, and he knew damn well he was pretty useless after a couple of glasses (bottles, amended his mind) of spirits even if he was that way inclined.
Which he wasn't.
Sean tried to focus on anything that would take his mind off his problems, which was unsurprisingly difficult in a room full of bondage gear. His eyes fell on the table, and quickly moved on as he suddenly felt his memory tweak at the sight of it. No, not the table. The table can be agonised over at a later date, preferably with a large scotch nearby.
Sean shut his eyes, and tried to focus on the birds singing outside. However, his mind kept coming back to images he really didn't want to see. In the dark he could still see the small candles lit in the corner, the shine of the light bouncing off the shiny leather that was coming ever closer to him, and in his ears he could suddenly hear the soft yet menacing words, or frightening words that had been said with such indifference that it had chilled him. But yet it had reached a part of him that he had never known existed.
Sean yelped and opened his eyes again, finding himself face to face with his own pale, panicked reflection. A movement by the door drew his attention sharply. Viggo stood lounging by the door, his expression unreadable. He could be about to offer Sean a further taste of sexual perversion, or indeed he could simply be offering coffee. Sean suddenly realised what a bloody pain actors were to every day life.
" I left you on the bed," The voice was cold, unemotional, and totally unconcerned.
Sean tried to raise himself to a more suitable and comfortable position, which ended him on his knees. Not great for a big showdown, he thought. However, he was thankful for the excuse not to stand up; he could feel his muscles aching and trembling underneath him, and his legs felt suddenly, horridly unsteady.
Viggo watched his movements with the detachment of someone who was watching a television programme that really bored them. Finally, he moved into the room, shut the door (it shut incredibly silently, Sean noted, as if someone had been overzealous with the oil) and wandered towards the table, running his hands over it as if to test for splinters. Sean could now see that it only came up to Viggo's knees.
Finally, with a sigh that suggested martyrdom, Viggo stood in front of him. Sean wondered where to look; to try and stare Viggo out would be as difficult as a hobbit trying to out stare a giant, not to mention his neck reaching an uncomfortable position with a hangover. However, to fix his eyes to the rug would suggest more submission than he would have liked. He was already full of self-contempt in his own failing ability to stop this situation, and acting like a chastised schoolboy in front of the headmaster was not going to help.
Finally, Sean fixed his eyes on Viggo's knees. At least, he thought grimly, they were clothed.
" Do you remember what happened?" Sean felt a hand drop on his head and start to play with his hair, in an action that reminded him painfully of Orlando. Refusing to become the dog, Sean tried to dislodge the hand by moving his head sharply and hissed as the headache throbbed painfully. There was a snort of amusement for this little action of defiance, and the hand was withdrawn.
" No," growled Sean.
There was a silence. Sean realised that Viggo knew exactly why Sean wasn't bellowing questions and angry words. He was scared of the answers.
There was another snort of amusement, and the table was dragged over so that Viggo could sit down. Now the levels were reasonable, Sean risked a look at the figure in front of him. Viggo was glancing around the room.
" So what do you think?" his gaze fell back on the kneeling figure in front of him.
" I think it's sick,"
Viggo raised an eyebrow. " Really?" he drawled. Sean tried desperately not to drop his eyes. " Then obviously it must have been someone completely different who was here last night, the man who used the majority of the equipment here, or if not, used it on poor little Orlando; the man," Viggo's gaze met Sean's in disgust. " who enjoyed every moment of it without any persuasion whatsoever. In fact, he was begging for it,"
Sean tried to speak, but failed miserably. Any words he might have spoken he felt dry up in his throat, threatening to choke him as much as the collar around his neck. He couldn't keep eye contact either, and focused on Viggo's boots. Black, leather ones. Sean had a horrible feeling that he had licked them at some point during last night.
" Well?" prompted Viggo, unwilling to allow Sean time to wallow in humiliation. That could come later. Sean stared back up at him, green eyes guilty.
" Well what?" he said, struggling to keep his voice steady.
" Remembering anything yet?" Viggo smiled. It was not, as far as Sean was concerned, a very nice smile. And it was pointed at him.
Sean dropped his eyes again. Unfortunately, he could feel the memories desperately trying to come back to him. He couldn't say that he didn't come here for that, because he had. He couldn't say he hadn't wanted to get into that sort of thing, because he could suddenly remember the excitement and anticipation, a memory bitter in his mind now. He couldn't even say he hadn't enjoyed it, as he had. Oh god, he had.
" It was a mistake," he mumbled, almost to himself. Viggo leant forward, resting his arms on his knees.
" How was it a mistake, Sean? You enjoyed yourself. I enjoyed myself. I believe I can vouch for Orlando when I say he definitely enjoyed himself. No one was hurt - unintentionally, anyway - and you came away with something you were desperate for." Viggo leant back again. " How was that a mistake?"
" It shouldn't have happened!" snapped Sean, his self-disgust fuelling his rage.
Viggo smiled. " But it did. And, no doubt, when you feel lonely again you will try to return." Viggo's smile quickly vanished, the sun disappearing under dark black clouds. " We are not toys to be picked up and cast away whenever you feel like it, Sean. You want to be part of this, that's fine. We would welcome you. But we need some type of commitment rather than disgust from you. I will not hold you to the statement you made last night,"
Sean desperately tried to remember what he had said last night. His memory shrugged at him. Did he really want to know? wailed his mind, which was struggling to come to terms with what had happened last night as it was.
" Do you want to play, Sean?"
Sean was unable to speak. Viggo shrugged, and stood up. Sean looked up at him desperately.
" Wait, I-"
Viggo gave him a rueful smile. " I'll give you time to think, Sean. To remember. Orlando will be here if you need anything,"
He quickly exited the room, not waiting for any continuation from Sean. Sean gave a long and tired sigh, and flopped back onto the floor. He stared up at his reflection. You idiot, he thought. Make up your sodding mind. As well as stopping it throbbing.
The silent door opened again, and Orlando crept in. However, Sean was ready for him after the trick of the silent door before. Orlando bounced across the bed, and lay across it, head resting on his arms looking down at Sean sprawled on the floor.
" What are you doing down there?" Orlando enquired. Sean gave him a glare, then shut his eyes again.
" Suffering,"
" Ah." Orlando was silent for a few minutes. " So, did you-"
" No,"
Orlando pouted. Sean could hear it in his voice. " You don't know what I was about to say,"
" Most questions for me today seem to result in the answer of No."
" So you didn't enjoy yourself then?" Orlando continued, looking down at Sean cheerfully. Sean didn't answer. " Then you're a better actor than I gave you credit for! And the begging, good god, you almost had Viggo creaming his jeans for that,"
Sean winced with the graphic images that were going through his mind.
" What was I begging for?" Sean managed slowly. He really didn't want to know, but he desperately needed confirmation of what Viggo had told him apart from the sketchy and confused memories contained in his aching, throbbing head.
Orlando laughed, a young carefree type of sound that Sean felt didn't seem right in this type of room.
" You were begging him to fuck you, if I remember right," he said cheerfully, as if he was simply talking about a football team winning a top match. " Through the floor was the phrase you used."
" Oh," Sean said, although it came out more as a whimper. He could almost hear a thud echo in his head as the last of his dignity fell with a splat. Orlando gave him a fond look and shuffled further across so he could lean down and ruffle Sean's hair.
" Don't worry," he said, taking Sean's distress for disappointment. " I'm sure he had his reasons not to. He desperately wanted you, though, anyone could see that. But its best not to ask. Viggo always knows best."
These new pieces of information mingled uncomfortably inside Sean's head, which was already overloaded as it was. A feeling of unreality hovered within his head.
" Oh," Sean commented, unable to think of anything else to say.
Orlando adjusted his position, as he was almost about to fall off the bed, and shuffled backwards to his original position.
" Besides, " he said. " you helped me loads! Viggo hasn't shagged me like that for ages. And three times too. He's been treating me far too softly recently." Orlando was now chatting in the same casual innocent manner as he chatted to the hobbits about such things as surfing, the latest films and what happened the last time they got plastered.
" Oh?"
" I think he thinks I'm breakable," Orlando gave an amused snort.
" Oh,"
" Mind you, I could hardly walk this morning," he confided cheerfully. Orlando studied Sean, and gave a gasp of horror. " I forgot to give you the Alker-Seltzer!"
Orlando's head and shoulders disappeared from Sean's view to re-emerge a few seconds later with a glass of now clearish liquid. He passed it to Sean, who accepted it gratefully.
Orlando settled himself back down, watching Sean get into a position where he could comfortably drink the drink without it tipping down his chest accidentally.
" Sean?" he said lazily.
" Hmmm?" Sean, half way into drinking the liquid, gave him an indulgent look.
" You'll be rough when you fuck me, won't you?"
Alker-Selzer was sprayed half-way across the room. Orlando jerked upright in surprise as Sean desperately tried to control his coughing, and settled back down in his position.
" Hmmmm," he remarked. Sean shot him a look.
" And what does that mean?!" he retorted, feeling hot under the metaphorical and physical collar. Orli shrugged, which was a unsurprisingly graceful movement, despite the whole bed situation.
" Nothing, nothing," he said smoothly, and cocked his head to one side. " Did you want your clothes back then?"
Sean gave him a particular expression. Orlando nodded, and slipped cheerfully off the bed to return with the majority of Sean's clothing and an unfamiliar bright green t-shirt. Sean eyed the jeans, which seemed remarkably ... ironed. Orlando shrugged.
" We had to wash them to get the stuff off," he explained. " But I'm afraid your t-shirt had it,"
" What?" Sean was still examining the interesting situation of ironed socks he had discovered.
" Died a valiant death it did," remarked Orli cheerfully. " If t-shirts had honours, it would be up there with the best of them! Anyway, I'll let you get on-"
" Orlando," Sean gave the collar lead a little tug to indicate its presence. Orli glanced at it, surprised.
" Oh!" he said. " Right!"
He leant over the bed to twiddle with the lock, giving Sean an unintentional viewing of lean muscles beneath what was probably an equally valiant - if tight - t-shirt. Sean swallowed, and turned his attention back to the lock just as Orlando managed with a deft click to unlock it. Without a key.
" Hang on a minute!" said Sean. Orli looked at him, surprised.
" You want it back on?"
" No!! You mean it was .. unlockable at any time?!"
Orlando gave him a funny look. " Well, yes. We're not insane you know,"
" Oh,"
" Hmmm. Anyway, follow me if you want breakfast," Orli rolled his eyes and disappeared out the door. Sean, whose stomach was demanding something, decided it was probably safest to follow. But after he and his clothing were reunited.