Fic: The Aphrodisiac Properties of Kilts (1/2)
Title: The Aphrodisiac Properties of Kilts (1/2)
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Pairing: BB/SB
Rating: R
Disclaimer: God how I only wish it were true.
Summary: ghostinthemist asked for "BillyBean kiltfic. There are none. Extra love if they have semi-public sex." I hope this qualifies. Part two coming shortly
After the Edinburgh Military Tattoo, an event whose exact purpose was ambiguous but at which lots of drinking certainly took place, the hobbits along with Orli and Viggo decided to crash Sean Bean’s house in Wellington, as he had declined the opportunity to attend, and therefore had not been involved in the renting of a kilt-a process which Billy, at least, considered an essential Fellowship bonding ritual.
Of course, there was the small matter that Viggo wasn’t wearing a kilt, and Sean Astin hadn’t come to the event either, and Billy was not so insistent that either John or Ian get involved in the kilt-donning, but such details didn’t really come to surface under the haze of plenty of good whisky. It made perfectly good sense to Billy, as they all tumbled out of the cab with Billy’s spare kilt (a predominantly red tartan) and ambled up the pavement to Sean’s doorstep, that Sean Bean needed to be wearing a kilt, and this needed to happen right now.
Fortunately, Sean wasn’t doing anything of any import at the moment, nor was he sleeping. In fact, the man happened to be enjoying a glass of whisky himself, and was well on the way to tipsy when he answered the door. He wore a pair of grey linen trousers and a black dress shirt-Italian silk, if Billy wasn’t mistaken-with the sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone, and Billy found himself quelling an unreasonable urge to lick Sean’s stubble.
“Um, hi… we, um…”
“Billy thinks you need to put on a kilt!” Dom supplied helpfully, barging past Sean to make a beeline to the man’s kitchen and any alcohol that might be on hand there. Elijah and Orlando followed, along with Viggo, shrugging apologetically, which left Sean standing bewildered in the doorway, facing a somewhat embarrassed Billy, holding a kilt on a dry cleaning hanger.
“Uh… hey.”
“Hi.” Sean smiled helpfully and gestured to the house behind him. “So, you’ve got a kilt for me to try on then?” Billy nodded dumbly and held it up, as if providing proof that he wasn’t simply insane. Sean nodded back, stepped aside to let Billy into the house, and led the way to the bathroom off the main hallway, ignoring the hobbits and their revelry in the kitchen.
“Um, well, here it is….” Billy stuttered, holding it up again and beginning to feel a bit like a saleslady in a dress shop.
“Come on in. I’ll need help, you know. I’ve never tried on a kilt before.” Sean smiled widely, and Billy felt like such a bastard as he stepped in behind him, locked the door, and thanked God for small favours, such as large sporrans.
“Well, um, it’s not that difficult, you just…”
“Billy.” Sean’s hands rested on Billy’s shoulders, and his eyes immediately flitted to the floor, getting a bit hung up on… floor. Floor. Floor’s safe. Pretty blue tiles… “You’re shaking.”
“I, um… maybe…”
Sean grinned, and Billy thought it was the most genuinely happy smile he had seen out of the man, though perhaps he was a bit too inebriated to be a truly competent judge. “I’ve been wanting to do this for ages,” Sean admitted, his voice steady. “Just so you know.”
Billy lost a few seconds of his life at that moment, for he could not for the life of him recall the exact moment that Sean’s lips made impact with his, the haze of nervousness and arousal too blurry to penetrate. What he was going to remember, for the rest of his life, at least, was the feeling of the countertop cutting across his lower back, the press of Sean’s erection nudging that blasted sporran against his own, the scratch of a just-trimmed beard on his skin and the artful dance that was Sean’s tongue, loosened by alcohol. He moaned, and it was not a very manly sound.
“Oh, Billy.” Then, that wasn’t a very manly sigh, either, so maybe the score was even. “Fuck, you don’t know for how long I’ve wanted to do that…”
“You keep saying that,” Billy mumbled, uselessly, against Sean’s lips. The other man frowned, and started to pull away, and Billy shook his head frantically, feeling rather helpless.
“No, no, I mean… me too, Sean, sorry, God…” Billy shrugged, smiling as if to say “don’t blame me; blame the whisky,” and Sean matched his smile and bent to kiss him again, this kiss no less enticing than the first, and a bit disturbingly addictive. Billy was beginning to wonder just how far this was going to go, a few metres from the guests now in the living room and very much within earshot, when Sean broke away to whisper, quite heatedly, in Billy’s ear.
“The kilt. You still want me to try it on?”
“Oh fuck yes,” Billy let out in one breath as Sean’s tongue darted out and licked around his earlobe, and his knees went a little weaker. He was vaguely impressed to find his fingers still clutched tightly around the hanger, which had dented an angry red line in his palm by now, and set about laying it out as he tried to calm his breathing.
“So I’m just going to lose these,” Sean announced with a wicked smile, and of course Billy’s eyes were drawn instantly to Sean’s buckle and those large, calloused, fucking brilliant hands popping it open, reaching for the fly…
“Let me,” Billy whispered, his eyes dark with arousal, and Sean nodded, dropping his hands and letting Billy’s much smaller ones unzip his fly with surprisingly nimble fingers for his current state of permanent tremble. Billy’s fingers brushed eagerly over Sean’s covered erection, and at the sharp sucking in of oxygen that accompanied the move, repeated it with a bit more pressure before kneeling to help Sean step out of his trousers. He chose not to rise as he slid down the boxer shorts, and sure enough there Sean was, hard as a rock, inches from his finger tips.
Sliding the fine silk of his shirt up and out of the way, Billy placed a reverent kiss on Sean’s left hip. His eyes flicked up to catch Sean’s hungry gaze, and then let his fingers curl around the erection presented to him, stroking once, twice.
“Beautiful,” Billy commented, his voice thick with emotion and arousal, before pressing a kiss to the tip of Sean’s cock and then reaching for the kilt.
“Oh, hell, this had better not take too long,” Sean grumbled as Billy wrapped the fabric around his almost comically saluting penis, fastening buckles and pin as Sean cursed under his breath.
“Shite, I forgot the sporran,” Billy realised when he was done. “I guess you can’t quite go out there like this,” he pointed out with a giggle, gesturing to the very obvious bulge under Sean’s kilt.
“Who said anything about going out?” Sean growled, and then Billy was yelping as Sean grabbed him by the hips and lifted him up on the counter with little effort expended.
“Sean? Bills? What the hell are you doing back there?” Elijah yelled, and Billy gulped as he realised that his inadvertent noise had drawn attention to them.
“We’re fine!” Sean yelled back in a steady voice that Billy had to give him a lot of credit for. “Billy’s just helping me suss out the kilt!”
The responding silence reassured Billy, and truly he wouldn’t have cared as Sean’s hands found his hips through pleated black cloth and his lips found Billy’s, their kiss erotic and desperate. One of Sean’s hands dropped to Billy’s leg, stroking up over curly ginger hairs in a way that made Billy shiver uncontrollably, and then slid inside the thigh to disappear under Billy’s own kilt.
“Fuck, Sean,” Billy gasped as Sean’s hand found his cock underneath the smooth black fabric, executing a brilliant twist-and-pull that was a bit different from Billy’s usual technique but was as thrilling as the new sensation of Sean’s lips devouring his.
“Gotta get rid of this fucking thing. It’s in my way,” Sean complained, unbuckling the belt that held the sporran in place and sliding it to the corner of the counter, out of their way. “Much better,” he mumbled before taking a hold of Billy’s ear between his teeth and changing the angle of his stroke in a way that made sparks shoot behind Billy’s eyes.
“Fuck, damnit, Sean, you have to slow down…”
Sean grinned and dropped his lips to Billy’s neck, mercifully removing his hand but stepping closer, sliding Billy’s hips closer to the edge of the counter with both hands on his arse. After a moment, Billy got the bright idea to slide one of his legs between Sean’s own, and they both gasped, one of Billy’s hands tugging accidentally where it had landed in Sean’s hair. They began grinding recklessly against each other, their kiss turning almost pornographic as tongues slid back and forth and lips disappeared between sets of teeth. And then…
“You guys! Hurry the fuck up!” The door rattled twice in its frame at Dom’s persistent knock, and Billy’s moan was thankfully swallowed in Sean’s throat.
“We’ll be out in just a tic!” Sean replied, and Billy was happy to note that his voice was a bit shakier as he ground hard against Billy’s leg. “Fuck, lad, more, finish me,” he whispered under his breath, directly into Billy’s ear, as one hand tightened in Sean’s hair and the other clutched at his arse.
“Well hurry the fuck up! I’ve got to pee!”
Billy bit his lip hard to stifle a groan as Sean sucked hard on his pulsepoint. “Bloody vampire,” he whispered before turning back to the door. “Two seconds, Dommeh!”
“Can’t you just let me in? It’s not like any of us haven’t seen Beanie in his underwear!”
“C’mon, Billy,” Sean whispered. “C’mon. Come apart for me, fucking do it. Right now, Bills, come for me,” he demanded, lifting both their kilts at the last minute in a half hearted attempt to avoid stains, biting down hard on Billy’s bottom lip as Dom continued to natter on the other side of the door.
Almost missing the rough scratch of wool on his bare skin, Billy had no time to further contemplate the loss as his dick rubbed against the lightly-furred surface of Sean’s strong upper thigh, muscle straining underneath his sensitive skin as he spattered it with come, a high-pitched whinge in his throat escaping from the seal of their lips as Sean came silently against his own leg.
“Bills? You sure you’re okay? Tell me you didn’t stab yourself with the kilt pin,” Dom groaned, and Billy just rolled his eyes as he collapsed back against the mirror, the fabric hiked up humorously above his softening organ.
“Yeah, yeah he did, bloody eejit,” Sean replied. “Almost done though, we’ll be out in a second.”
“About bloody time!” Dom agreed from the hallway as Sean quickly dabbed at each of their thighs with a spare flannel. Adjusting his own kilt, Billy gingerly slid down from the counter, eyeing himself in the mirror for any visible signs before Sean grabbed his shirt and yanked him into a brief but hot kiss. He winked at Billy before unlocking and opening the door.
“Hey, sorry about that,” Sean said with an apologetic shrug as Dom hurried to the toilet.
“Your finger okay, Bills?” Dom asked as he unzipped and did his business, not paying attention to Sean as he scooped up his trousers and boxers from the floor by the shower.
“What? Oh, yeah, it’s um, fine.”
“Let me see it,” Dom insisted.
“It’s fine.”
Dom gave Billy an odd look as he zipped up and went to wash his hands, and then his eyes fell between sink and toilet, to a hastily deposited dark green flannel with telltale white streaks marring it.
“Wait a minute…” Dom turned and looked at Sean, who was trying not to laugh, and then back to Billy, who was blushing heartily, snatching his sporran off the counter and trying to refasten the belt without drawing more attention to himself. “Oh, bugger! There are some things I just do not want to know!” And Dom left the bathroom in disgust to update the rest of the crew, while Sean and Billy promptly ignored him and scurried back to the bedroom to further investigate the aphrodisiac properties of kilts.
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Pairing: BB/SB
Rating: R
Disclaimer: God how I only wish it were true.
Summary: ghostinthemist asked for "BillyBean kiltfic. There are none. Extra love if they have semi-public sex." I hope this qualifies. Part two coming shortly
After the Edinburgh Military Tattoo, an event whose exact purpose was ambiguous but at which lots of drinking certainly took place, the hobbits along with Orli and Viggo decided to crash Sean Bean’s house in Wellington, as he had declined the opportunity to attend, and therefore had not been involved in the renting of a kilt-a process which Billy, at least, considered an essential Fellowship bonding ritual.
Of course, there was the small matter that Viggo wasn’t wearing a kilt, and Sean Astin hadn’t come to the event either, and Billy was not so insistent that either John or Ian get involved in the kilt-donning, but such details didn’t really come to surface under the haze of plenty of good whisky. It made perfectly good sense to Billy, as they all tumbled out of the cab with Billy’s spare kilt (a predominantly red tartan) and ambled up the pavement to Sean’s doorstep, that Sean Bean needed to be wearing a kilt, and this needed to happen right now.
Fortunately, Sean wasn’t doing anything of any import at the moment, nor was he sleeping. In fact, the man happened to be enjoying a glass of whisky himself, and was well on the way to tipsy when he answered the door. He wore a pair of grey linen trousers and a black dress shirt-Italian silk, if Billy wasn’t mistaken-with the sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone, and Billy found himself quelling an unreasonable urge to lick Sean’s stubble.
“Um, hi… we, um…”
“Billy thinks you need to put on a kilt!” Dom supplied helpfully, barging past Sean to make a beeline to the man’s kitchen and any alcohol that might be on hand there. Elijah and Orlando followed, along with Viggo, shrugging apologetically, which left Sean standing bewildered in the doorway, facing a somewhat embarrassed Billy, holding a kilt on a dry cleaning hanger.
“Uh… hey.”
“Hi.” Sean smiled helpfully and gestured to the house behind him. “So, you’ve got a kilt for me to try on then?” Billy nodded dumbly and held it up, as if providing proof that he wasn’t simply insane. Sean nodded back, stepped aside to let Billy into the house, and led the way to the bathroom off the main hallway, ignoring the hobbits and their revelry in the kitchen.
“Um, well, here it is….” Billy stuttered, holding it up again and beginning to feel a bit like a saleslady in a dress shop.
“Come on in. I’ll need help, you know. I’ve never tried on a kilt before.” Sean smiled widely, and Billy felt like such a bastard as he stepped in behind him, locked the door, and thanked God for small favours, such as large sporrans.
“Well, um, it’s not that difficult, you just…”
“Billy.” Sean’s hands rested on Billy’s shoulders, and his eyes immediately flitted to the floor, getting a bit hung up on… floor. Floor. Floor’s safe. Pretty blue tiles… “You’re shaking.”
“I, um… maybe…”
Sean grinned, and Billy thought it was the most genuinely happy smile he had seen out of the man, though perhaps he was a bit too inebriated to be a truly competent judge. “I’ve been wanting to do this for ages,” Sean admitted, his voice steady. “Just so you know.”
Billy lost a few seconds of his life at that moment, for he could not for the life of him recall the exact moment that Sean’s lips made impact with his, the haze of nervousness and arousal too blurry to penetrate. What he was going to remember, for the rest of his life, at least, was the feeling of the countertop cutting across his lower back, the press of Sean’s erection nudging that blasted sporran against his own, the scratch of a just-trimmed beard on his skin and the artful dance that was Sean’s tongue, loosened by alcohol. He moaned, and it was not a very manly sound.
“Oh, Billy.” Then, that wasn’t a very manly sigh, either, so maybe the score was even. “Fuck, you don’t know for how long I’ve wanted to do that…”
“You keep saying that,” Billy mumbled, uselessly, against Sean’s lips. The other man frowned, and started to pull away, and Billy shook his head frantically, feeling rather helpless.
“No, no, I mean… me too, Sean, sorry, God…” Billy shrugged, smiling as if to say “don’t blame me; blame the whisky,” and Sean matched his smile and bent to kiss him again, this kiss no less enticing than the first, and a bit disturbingly addictive. Billy was beginning to wonder just how far this was going to go, a few metres from the guests now in the living room and very much within earshot, when Sean broke away to whisper, quite heatedly, in Billy’s ear.
“The kilt. You still want me to try it on?”
“Oh fuck yes,” Billy let out in one breath as Sean’s tongue darted out and licked around his earlobe, and his knees went a little weaker. He was vaguely impressed to find his fingers still clutched tightly around the hanger, which had dented an angry red line in his palm by now, and set about laying it out as he tried to calm his breathing.
“So I’m just going to lose these,” Sean announced with a wicked smile, and of course Billy’s eyes were drawn instantly to Sean’s buckle and those large, calloused, fucking brilliant hands popping it open, reaching for the fly…
“Let me,” Billy whispered, his eyes dark with arousal, and Sean nodded, dropping his hands and letting Billy’s much smaller ones unzip his fly with surprisingly nimble fingers for his current state of permanent tremble. Billy’s fingers brushed eagerly over Sean’s covered erection, and at the sharp sucking in of oxygen that accompanied the move, repeated it with a bit more pressure before kneeling to help Sean step out of his trousers. He chose not to rise as he slid down the boxer shorts, and sure enough there Sean was, hard as a rock, inches from his finger tips.
Sliding the fine silk of his shirt up and out of the way, Billy placed a reverent kiss on Sean’s left hip. His eyes flicked up to catch Sean’s hungry gaze, and then let his fingers curl around the erection presented to him, stroking once, twice.
“Beautiful,” Billy commented, his voice thick with emotion and arousal, before pressing a kiss to the tip of Sean’s cock and then reaching for the kilt.
“Oh, hell, this had better not take too long,” Sean grumbled as Billy wrapped the fabric around his almost comically saluting penis, fastening buckles and pin as Sean cursed under his breath.
“Shite, I forgot the sporran,” Billy realised when he was done. “I guess you can’t quite go out there like this,” he pointed out with a giggle, gesturing to the very obvious bulge under Sean’s kilt.
“Who said anything about going out?” Sean growled, and then Billy was yelping as Sean grabbed him by the hips and lifted him up on the counter with little effort expended.
“Sean? Bills? What the hell are you doing back there?” Elijah yelled, and Billy gulped as he realised that his inadvertent noise had drawn attention to them.
“We’re fine!” Sean yelled back in a steady voice that Billy had to give him a lot of credit for. “Billy’s just helping me suss out the kilt!”
The responding silence reassured Billy, and truly he wouldn’t have cared as Sean’s hands found his hips through pleated black cloth and his lips found Billy’s, their kiss erotic and desperate. One of Sean’s hands dropped to Billy’s leg, stroking up over curly ginger hairs in a way that made Billy shiver uncontrollably, and then slid inside the thigh to disappear under Billy’s own kilt.
“Fuck, Sean,” Billy gasped as Sean’s hand found his cock underneath the smooth black fabric, executing a brilliant twist-and-pull that was a bit different from Billy’s usual technique but was as thrilling as the new sensation of Sean’s lips devouring his.
“Gotta get rid of this fucking thing. It’s in my way,” Sean complained, unbuckling the belt that held the sporran in place and sliding it to the corner of the counter, out of their way. “Much better,” he mumbled before taking a hold of Billy’s ear between his teeth and changing the angle of his stroke in a way that made sparks shoot behind Billy’s eyes.
“Fuck, damnit, Sean, you have to slow down…”
Sean grinned and dropped his lips to Billy’s neck, mercifully removing his hand but stepping closer, sliding Billy’s hips closer to the edge of the counter with both hands on his arse. After a moment, Billy got the bright idea to slide one of his legs between Sean’s own, and they both gasped, one of Billy’s hands tugging accidentally where it had landed in Sean’s hair. They began grinding recklessly against each other, their kiss turning almost pornographic as tongues slid back and forth and lips disappeared between sets of teeth. And then…
“You guys! Hurry the fuck up!” The door rattled twice in its frame at Dom’s persistent knock, and Billy’s moan was thankfully swallowed in Sean’s throat.
“We’ll be out in just a tic!” Sean replied, and Billy was happy to note that his voice was a bit shakier as he ground hard against Billy’s leg. “Fuck, lad, more, finish me,” he whispered under his breath, directly into Billy’s ear, as one hand tightened in Sean’s hair and the other clutched at his arse.
“Well hurry the fuck up! I’ve got to pee!”
Billy bit his lip hard to stifle a groan as Sean sucked hard on his pulsepoint. “Bloody vampire,” he whispered before turning back to the door. “Two seconds, Dommeh!”
“Can’t you just let me in? It’s not like any of us haven’t seen Beanie in his underwear!”
“C’mon, Billy,” Sean whispered. “C’mon. Come apart for me, fucking do it. Right now, Bills, come for me,” he demanded, lifting both their kilts at the last minute in a half hearted attempt to avoid stains, biting down hard on Billy’s bottom lip as Dom continued to natter on the other side of the door.
Almost missing the rough scratch of wool on his bare skin, Billy had no time to further contemplate the loss as his dick rubbed against the lightly-furred surface of Sean’s strong upper thigh, muscle straining underneath his sensitive skin as he spattered it with come, a high-pitched whinge in his throat escaping from the seal of their lips as Sean came silently against his own leg.
“Bills? You sure you’re okay? Tell me you didn’t stab yourself with the kilt pin,” Dom groaned, and Billy just rolled his eyes as he collapsed back against the mirror, the fabric hiked up humorously above his softening organ.
“Yeah, yeah he did, bloody eejit,” Sean replied. “Almost done though, we’ll be out in a second.”
“About bloody time!” Dom agreed from the hallway as Sean quickly dabbed at each of their thighs with a spare flannel. Adjusting his own kilt, Billy gingerly slid down from the counter, eyeing himself in the mirror for any visible signs before Sean grabbed his shirt and yanked him into a brief but hot kiss. He winked at Billy before unlocking and opening the door.
“Hey, sorry about that,” Sean said with an apologetic shrug as Dom hurried to the toilet.
“Your finger okay, Bills?” Dom asked as he unzipped and did his business, not paying attention to Sean as he scooped up his trousers and boxers from the floor by the shower.
“What? Oh, yeah, it’s um, fine.”
“Let me see it,” Dom insisted.
“It’s fine.”
Dom gave Billy an odd look as he zipped up and went to wash his hands, and then his eyes fell between sink and toilet, to a hastily deposited dark green flannel with telltale white streaks marring it.
“Wait a minute…” Dom turned and looked at Sean, who was trying not to laugh, and then back to Billy, who was blushing heartily, snatching his sporran off the counter and trying to refasten the belt without drawing more attention to himself. “Oh, bugger! There are some things I just do not want to know!” And Dom left the bathroom in disgust to update the rest of the crew, while Sean and Billy promptly ignored him and scurried back to the bedroom to further investigate the aphrodisiac properties of kilts.