FIC: Lunch (them) (Lotrips, Viggo/Bean, NC-17)
Lunch (them)
Author: padawanhilary and telesilla
Fandom/Pairing: Lotrips, Viggo/Bean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count:
Disclaimer: Not RL; didn't happen. If you think this has anything to do with the real actors involved, then you need to put down the crack pipe.
Summary: Viggo, the journalist/writer, and Sean, the sculptor, split a few months ago. Now Sean wants to see Viggo again.
Notes: When Hilary heard Viggo's spoken piece "Lunch (him)", she said, "oh, we need to fix that." This is the result. The text of Viggo's piece is at the end of the story and I've uploaded it to sendspace here--I have no idea how long the file will stay up. Both "Lunch (him)" and "Lunch (her)" are performed on Viggo's now unavailable '97 CD One Less Thing To Worry About."
Viggo wasn't sure what to think. There had been something quiet and intangible in Sean's voice on the phone, and Viggo was torn between fear and excitement as he wondered what was to come.
He sat in a booth near the one they had months ago, which fucked with his sense of symmetry just a little. It should have been that booth, somehow, though he didn't know why.
He ordered coffee, two of them, and then sat back, rubbing his hands along the tops of his thighs as he waited. He had come early, a testament to how much even a chat with Sean over coffee meant to him.
Sean was running just a little late, for some reason he had felt it necessary to change his shirt three times. Where "some reason" is nervousness about seeing him again, he thought, refusing to allow himself to pretend anything else.
"Sorry," he said as he entered the cafe, enjoying the warmth of it in contrast to the brisk fall weather outside. "I...didn't mean to be late." He sat down, noticing that there was room in his coffee cup for the cream he always added. Not surprisingly, it made him feel like a heel.
"It's okay," Viggo murmured, "God knows you've had to put up with my lateness a thousand times." Immediately he wished he could take that back; Sean might not care for reminders of their previous intimacy right now, and it might imply more than Viggo meant, as though he'd been sitting here "putting up with" Sean's lateness. He fretted over his phrasing a minute, taking a sip of his coffee.
"You make it sound like waiting for you is a chore," Sean said, wincing as he put the creamer down and the cuff of his jacket brushed over the burn on his hand. "Fuck," he muttered, carefully taking his jacket off. "Burned myself the other day."
"I'm sorry," Viggo said automatically, and right away he was wishing it had come out sounding less rote. "Did you do something good, at least?" He watched Sean with interest, knowing how subjective "good" always was.
"Something angry," Sean said, dumping three packets of sugar in his coffee. Tired of beating around the bush, he looked up from his overly careful coffee preparations and met Viggo's eyes.
"We split."
Swallowing, Viggo nodded. "I'm sorry," he repeated, staring down at his own cup. His heart thudded as he waited for the other shoe to drop; saying things like Good, she was wrong for you and Thank God, I knew it wasn't going to work and things of that ilk weren't going to get him anywhere.
Sean waited and then sighed when Viggo, rarely at a loss for words, remained silent. "It was...Christ, Viggo. I don't know what came over me."
Sean did, though, and they both knew it. Viggo had seen this before: not with a woman but with projects and methods and research and minor spiritual fads and....
"It's...Sean," Viggo said softly, and then he just caved. "I want to tell you it's okay, but I won't know that until I'm sure you're coming back."
Sean let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "I wasn't sure if you'd be there to come back to." He looked down at his hands. "I didn't dare count on it."
"I'd always be here," Viggo murmured, eyes fixed adamantly on his cup.
"That's a non answer," Sean said, suddenly angry.
"It's the truth, Sean," Viggo said, voice soft as he struggled not to show his hurt--and his own sense of chagrin. He realized just as quickly, though, that they were here for this very purpose, so he admitted, "You're the one I'd end up waiting for, whether or not it's good for me."
"That's fucked," Sean said, and now his anger was aimed at himself on Viggo's behalf. "I'm not worth that kind of devotion."
"Neither am I," Viggo mumbled wryly, "but that wouldn't keep me from hoping someday I might have it." He reached out, resting the back of his wrist on the table, palm up, an offering. "Maybe I was just willing to wait for some sort of sign we'd talk. Just so I can sit with you. I miss that." Actually, Viggo missed the talking they did naked after sex (when one or both of them hadn't passed out immediately after), but that seemed too loaded a thing to bring up.
"I missed it too," Sean said, but he was still annoyed with himself. "I just...I hate that I'm thoughtless with you. I hate that I think of myself first. And yet...I don't know how else to be." He didn't say the rest of it, not sure that Viggo, for all that he did more than just write for the newspaper, would understand that Sean's art--both the massive metal sculptures he was known for and his more private paintings--came from sudden bursts of inspiration. This was hardly the first time Sean had feared that if he suddenly stopped following every new idea that came along he'd have no inspiration left.
Viggo had no response to that, and he withdrew his hand, at a loss. He, too, wished he understood more, or could be more for Sean, more of what he needed. It was a perfectly viable prediction that if Viggo stayed, this would happen again and again. The precedent had been set.
"I love you," Viggo said simply, watching Sean's hands, and that explained enough of it for now.
The words rocked Sean back in his seat and he stared at Viggo, his eyes wide. "Why?" He winced at the word and held up a hand. "Sorry, that's me saying the first thing that comes to mind."
Worse and worse, for fuck's sake. The first thing that should come to mind is telling him that you love him. Sure that it was too late, that the damage had been done, Sean nevertheless forged ahead.
"I've always loved you. That's why I get so angry at myself."
Sean's shock told Viggo a lot, but the confession told him more. "I don't want you to get angry with yourself," Viggo said. "There's no point in that. Just...I just want you to be with me. Just be here."
"Promise me something," Sean said, and he could feel his own words hitting him in the chest. He didn't want to say it, but he needed to be honest with Viggo, needed to know that Viggo would think of himself at least once in a while. "Promise me that if you find someone who will give you what you deserve, you'll leave me."
Christ. Viggo ran a hand over his face. There was no answer for that, not even a bad one. He struggled with it for what felt like a long time, staring down into his cup. "I won't find anyone," he said at last, "but if I did, then...yes."
"All I've ever wanted for you is for you to be happy," Sean said. "And fuck, I know it doesn't seem like that, but it's true. Christ, Viggo," and it was Sean's turn to put his hand on the table, his turn to be the supplicant. "Christ, I want to make you happy, but I don't know how."
Shaking his head, Viggo tucked his hand into Sean's, squeezing hard. "I don't think anyone knows those things, Sean. I've written their words down, you've sculpted them; we both know better. No one's figured it out yet. I just want to try."
"I want to learn," Sean said and now he had to look down at their joined hands. "And I hate to say it, but not just for you. I want to learn to balance things better, learn to let new ideas in but not get lost in them." He shrugged. "If that makes any sense."
"I don't know if I can teach you that." Viggo tightened his hands on Sean's nevertheless. "I'm willing to try."
"I think I need to teach me that," Sean said quietly. He looked up now, wanting to meet Viggo's eyes for this. "All I can ask of you is...if you can, I mean...that you're with me for it?"
"I am." Viggo nodded seriously. "I want to be with you for it."
"Thank you." Sean felt almost giddy with relief and he smiled broadly as he lifted Viggo's hand up to kiss it. "You know...suddenly, I'm not so hungry. For lunch."
"Let's go, then," Viggo agreed, suddenly wanting to smell Sean in his studio again and have him in that heavy sandalwood air, sex permeating everything.
Pulling out his wallet, Sean scattered a few bills on the table, not caring that he was seriously over-paying. How did I do without this, without him? Why would anyone want to even try? He kept Viggo's hand in his as they left, sure that it was painfully obvious that they were running off to have sex. Again, he couldn't bring himself to care.
Viggo had never cared about such things, but he'd always viewed his career as less important than Sean's anyway. This was perfect, Sean's fingers threaded through his, and Viggo didn't want anything less as they head to his place.
It took longer than he meant it to, but then they were there, Viggo tugging Sean in the instant Sean had the door open.
"Please," he moaned straightaway, unsure if he was wanting more than Sean could give and unsure he could help himself in any case.
"Whatever you want," Sean replied breathlessly as he all but dragged Viggo through the studio toward the stairs that led up to the loft. He paused at the bottom, unable to resist pushing Viggo against the wall. He didn't lean in for a kiss though; he wanted to just feel Viggo's body pressed against his own. "Whatever you want."
"You said that," Viggo reminded Sean breathlessly, and he arched up so he could grind against Sean shamelessly. "You're what I want. Let's go."
"Christ," Sean moaned, heading up the stairs two at a time. His bed was messy, the sheets clean but tangled at the foot where he'd flung them off that morning. Almost frantically, he dug through the drawer of the nightstand, flinging aside two sketch books, half a dozen pencils and a copy of Handjob magazine before he located the condoms and lube.
Viggo restrained a smile as he watched Sean's eagerness unfold. It felt so good being here again, maybe more than Viggo deserved but good nevertheless.
"I love you," he groaned, attaching himself to Sean as soon as they were both naked, needing this more than breath at the moment.
"Love you too. Need you...need whatever you want." He knew he was repeating himself, but right now, he was ready to give Viggo anything--everything--he could.
"Come on." Viggo tugged Sean toward the bed and then flopped over him, kissing him sloppily as he reached for lube and condoms. "Want you so much."
Spreading his legs eagerly, Sean returned the kiss. The idea of Viggo inside of him was utterly perfect and he reached for the condom, plucking it out of Viggo's hand and tearing it open. "All yours," he said.
All mine, Viggo thought, and while he knew--had always known, he supposed--that it might not always be so, he felt at least that the times when Sean might not be all his would be temporary. If they could survive this, they could survive anything.
He slicked his fingers hastily, resting one hand low on Sean's belly as he pushed one in, hissing in a breath at the idea that he'd be in Sean again in moments. The realization made him feel almost dizzy; it had seemed so long.
"Christ...oh fuck," Sean groaned, almost dropping the condom. Fumbling a little, he rolled it down over Viggo's cock and then looked up at Viggo. "Don't need more than that," he said.
On a more normal day, Viggo would tease, ask Sean if he's really sure about that, drag out the prep, but this had Viggo breathing quickly already and he just couldn't wait. He slicked extra lube on the outside of the condom and leaned forward, holding the base of his cock and giving Sean soft, glancing kisses as he lined up and pushed in.
How could anything be better than this? Sean wondered, his eyes going wide. He reached for the words, wanting Viggo to know how he felt, what this meant to him. "Better than anything," he said, gasping a little as Viggo finally slid all the way into him. "So much better...."
"Oh, God," Viggo moaned shakily, reaching up to clutch at Sean's shoulder, dragging himself up and in harder. "Yes." He pressed his cheek to Sean's and stayed there as he thrust, trembling slightly as he fought to keep things slow and easy. He knew it wouldn't last long, but he wanted to hold onto this as long as possible.
All morning, before going to the cafe, Sean had been remembering the past, remembering how good it always was with Viggo. Now, however, each long slow push of Viggo's cock into him felt as if it were anchoring him in the present, in a moment where Viggo was not merely the only thing in Sean's universe, he was the only thing Sean could imagine ever being in his universe.
And then, Viggo shifted slightly and hit just the right angle, and Sean lost an ability to manage such abstract thoughts. "Viggo," he groaned. "Oh God Viggo...needed you...so much...need this."
"Yes," Viggo agreed, resting one hand on Sean's hip and offering another broken kiss. "Need you, Sean." He felt the need growing, too, bringing an ache to his chest and a desire to just crawl into Sean and never come out.
Beyond words now, Sean could only cling to Viggo, doing his best to show Viggo how much this meant, how much he wanted Viggo right now in this moment. And all other moments...
"Always...you," he got out, his voice hitched and breathless. "Always...."
Viggo felt it. It seemed as though he could reach right into Sean's heart and experience it all, and later he would try to remember if, in all the good it was before, it had ever been like this. But now Viggo was lost to it, dropping his mouth to Sean's throat to kiss and lick, his thrusts speeding up without his permission.
Sean caught onto Viggo's urgency and let it drive his own. He wasn't able to do anything more than cling to Viggo and try to move a little, but he didn't really want to do more. This was enough....Christ it was more than enough.
Feeling the first humming tendrils of orgasm at the base of his cock, Viggo groaned and levered himself up just enough to wrap a hand around Sean's erection. "Want you with me," he hitched out roughly, meaning so much more than for the orgasm, but the words would have to do. He let his thrusts provide the motion for his hand, gasping in air as the pleasure jolted through him in hard, heavy bursts.
Viggo's hand was more than enough, and Sean had to hold back until he could see that Viggo was coming. Letting go was so easy with Viggo here; Sean's urge to control everything was gone, and as soon as Viggo came, Sean was right there with him, clinging to Viggo as the orgasm left him breathless and shaken.
For long moments, all Viggo could do was breathe, feeling his heartbeat racing and feeling Sean's right beside it. He couldn't bring himself to move, not yet; just being here was too damned good.
Sean was more than happy to have Viggo's weight on him, although he noticed for the first time that there was less of Viggo than he remembered. Sliding his hand along Viggo's ribs, he shook his head. "You've not been eating right."
"No," Viggo admitted readily enough; no point in denying it. "Not sleeping right, either." It was yet another testament to how much he'd missed Sean.
He slid off to one side, leaning over for a stray piece of laundry for Sean's stomach before dealing with the condom.
"I'm sorry," Sean said, reaching for Viggo once the tidying up was done. "I'm going to feed you, see if I don't."
Viggo pressed himself up close to Sean's body, sighing, relaxed at last after what seemed like forever. "I'll be fine, now," he promised softly, nuzzling into Sean's neck and inhaling deeply.
"Me too," Sean said, and the last of his tight muscles--ones he hadn't even noticed were tense--relaxed as he basked in Viggo's presence. "Won't be easy, but I promise to try this time."
"Thank you." Viggo cupped Sean's cheek in one hand, kissing him slowly. This was all he could want, right here.
Once the kiss was over, Sean captured Viggo's hand in his, turning his head to nuzzle at it. "All while we were apart," he said, "I couldn't stop thinking about your hands."
end-
---------------------------------------------------------
Lunch (him) -- Viggo Mortensen
He sat down across from me and said he was in love. That he just wanted to enjoy it for as long as it lasted, that he didn't want to judge the feeling compared to other times with other partners. All that did was rob you of time better spent in those new arms, he said.
There wasn't anything for me to say. I listened and imagined the memorable summer he was having, felt how easily his breathing came. He seemed stronger than I remembered. It was pleasant to be with him.
I was left staring out the plate glass at the lushness of a willow long after he'd hurried home to her. I forgot about my work, my family, the weather, everything. I almost forgot to pay the check.
Walking slowly across the park, in no hurry to get back to the office, I couldn't think of anything except his hands.
Author: padawanhilary and telesilla
Fandom/Pairing: Lotrips, Viggo/Bean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count:
Disclaimer: Not RL; didn't happen. If you think this has anything to do with the real actors involved, then you need to put down the crack pipe.
Summary: Viggo, the journalist/writer, and Sean, the sculptor, split a few months ago. Now Sean wants to see Viggo again.
Notes: When Hilary heard Viggo's spoken piece "Lunch (him)", she said, "oh, we need to fix that." This is the result. The text of Viggo's piece is at the end of the story and I've uploaded it to sendspace here--I have no idea how long the file will stay up. Both "Lunch (him)" and "Lunch (her)" are performed on Viggo's now unavailable '97 CD One Less Thing To Worry About."
Viggo wasn't sure what to think. There had been something quiet and intangible in Sean's voice on the phone, and Viggo was torn between fear and excitement as he wondered what was to come.
He sat in a booth near the one they had months ago, which fucked with his sense of symmetry just a little. It should have been that booth, somehow, though he didn't know why.
He ordered coffee, two of them, and then sat back, rubbing his hands along the tops of his thighs as he waited. He had come early, a testament to how much even a chat with Sean over coffee meant to him.
Sean was running just a little late, for some reason he had felt it necessary to change his shirt three times. Where "some reason" is nervousness about seeing him again, he thought, refusing to allow himself to pretend anything else.
"Sorry," he said as he entered the cafe, enjoying the warmth of it in contrast to the brisk fall weather outside. "I...didn't mean to be late." He sat down, noticing that there was room in his coffee cup for the cream he always added. Not surprisingly, it made him feel like a heel.
"It's okay," Viggo murmured, "God knows you've had to put up with my lateness a thousand times." Immediately he wished he could take that back; Sean might not care for reminders of their previous intimacy right now, and it might imply more than Viggo meant, as though he'd been sitting here "putting up with" Sean's lateness. He fretted over his phrasing a minute, taking a sip of his coffee.
"You make it sound like waiting for you is a chore," Sean said, wincing as he put the creamer down and the cuff of his jacket brushed over the burn on his hand. "Fuck," he muttered, carefully taking his jacket off. "Burned myself the other day."
"I'm sorry," Viggo said automatically, and right away he was wishing it had come out sounding less rote. "Did you do something good, at least?" He watched Sean with interest, knowing how subjective "good" always was.
"Something angry," Sean said, dumping three packets of sugar in his coffee. Tired of beating around the bush, he looked up from his overly careful coffee preparations and met Viggo's eyes.
"We split."
Swallowing, Viggo nodded. "I'm sorry," he repeated, staring down at his own cup. His heart thudded as he waited for the other shoe to drop; saying things like Good, she was wrong for you and Thank God, I knew it wasn't going to work and things of that ilk weren't going to get him anywhere.
Sean waited and then sighed when Viggo, rarely at a loss for words, remained silent. "It was...Christ, Viggo. I don't know what came over me."
Sean did, though, and they both knew it. Viggo had seen this before: not with a woman but with projects and methods and research and minor spiritual fads and....
"It's...Sean," Viggo said softly, and then he just caved. "I want to tell you it's okay, but I won't know that until I'm sure you're coming back."
Sean let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "I wasn't sure if you'd be there to come back to." He looked down at his hands. "I didn't dare count on it."
"I'd always be here," Viggo murmured, eyes fixed adamantly on his cup.
"That's a non answer," Sean said, suddenly angry.
"It's the truth, Sean," Viggo said, voice soft as he struggled not to show his hurt--and his own sense of chagrin. He realized just as quickly, though, that they were here for this very purpose, so he admitted, "You're the one I'd end up waiting for, whether or not it's good for me."
"That's fucked," Sean said, and now his anger was aimed at himself on Viggo's behalf. "I'm not worth that kind of devotion."
"Neither am I," Viggo mumbled wryly, "but that wouldn't keep me from hoping someday I might have it." He reached out, resting the back of his wrist on the table, palm up, an offering. "Maybe I was just willing to wait for some sort of sign we'd talk. Just so I can sit with you. I miss that." Actually, Viggo missed the talking they did naked after sex (when one or both of them hadn't passed out immediately after), but that seemed too loaded a thing to bring up.
"I missed it too," Sean said, but he was still annoyed with himself. "I just...I hate that I'm thoughtless with you. I hate that I think of myself first. And yet...I don't know how else to be." He didn't say the rest of it, not sure that Viggo, for all that he did more than just write for the newspaper, would understand that Sean's art--both the massive metal sculptures he was known for and his more private paintings--came from sudden bursts of inspiration. This was hardly the first time Sean had feared that if he suddenly stopped following every new idea that came along he'd have no inspiration left.
Viggo had no response to that, and he withdrew his hand, at a loss. He, too, wished he understood more, or could be more for Sean, more of what he needed. It was a perfectly viable prediction that if Viggo stayed, this would happen again and again. The precedent had been set.
"I love you," Viggo said simply, watching Sean's hands, and that explained enough of it for now.
The words rocked Sean back in his seat and he stared at Viggo, his eyes wide. "Why?" He winced at the word and held up a hand. "Sorry, that's me saying the first thing that comes to mind."
Worse and worse, for fuck's sake. The first thing that should come to mind is telling him that you love him. Sure that it was too late, that the damage had been done, Sean nevertheless forged ahead.
"I've always loved you. That's why I get so angry at myself."
Sean's shock told Viggo a lot, but the confession told him more. "I don't want you to get angry with yourself," Viggo said. "There's no point in that. Just...I just want you to be with me. Just be here."
"Promise me something," Sean said, and he could feel his own words hitting him in the chest. He didn't want to say it, but he needed to be honest with Viggo, needed to know that Viggo would think of himself at least once in a while. "Promise me that if you find someone who will give you what you deserve, you'll leave me."
Christ. Viggo ran a hand over his face. There was no answer for that, not even a bad one. He struggled with it for what felt like a long time, staring down into his cup. "I won't find anyone," he said at last, "but if I did, then...yes."
"All I've ever wanted for you is for you to be happy," Sean said. "And fuck, I know it doesn't seem like that, but it's true. Christ, Viggo," and it was Sean's turn to put his hand on the table, his turn to be the supplicant. "Christ, I want to make you happy, but I don't know how."
Shaking his head, Viggo tucked his hand into Sean's, squeezing hard. "I don't think anyone knows those things, Sean. I've written their words down, you've sculpted them; we both know better. No one's figured it out yet. I just want to try."
"I want to learn," Sean said and now he had to look down at their joined hands. "And I hate to say it, but not just for you. I want to learn to balance things better, learn to let new ideas in but not get lost in them." He shrugged. "If that makes any sense."
"I don't know if I can teach you that." Viggo tightened his hands on Sean's nevertheless. "I'm willing to try."
"I think I need to teach me that," Sean said quietly. He looked up now, wanting to meet Viggo's eyes for this. "All I can ask of you is...if you can, I mean...that you're with me for it?"
"I am." Viggo nodded seriously. "I want to be with you for it."
"Thank you." Sean felt almost giddy with relief and he smiled broadly as he lifted Viggo's hand up to kiss it. "You know...suddenly, I'm not so hungry. For lunch."
"Let's go, then," Viggo agreed, suddenly wanting to smell Sean in his studio again and have him in that heavy sandalwood air, sex permeating everything.
Pulling out his wallet, Sean scattered a few bills on the table, not caring that he was seriously over-paying. How did I do without this, without him? Why would anyone want to even try? He kept Viggo's hand in his as they left, sure that it was painfully obvious that they were running off to have sex. Again, he couldn't bring himself to care.
Viggo had never cared about such things, but he'd always viewed his career as less important than Sean's anyway. This was perfect, Sean's fingers threaded through his, and Viggo didn't want anything less as they head to his place.
It took longer than he meant it to, but then they were there, Viggo tugging Sean in the instant Sean had the door open.
"Please," he moaned straightaway, unsure if he was wanting more than Sean could give and unsure he could help himself in any case.
"Whatever you want," Sean replied breathlessly as he all but dragged Viggo through the studio toward the stairs that led up to the loft. He paused at the bottom, unable to resist pushing Viggo against the wall. He didn't lean in for a kiss though; he wanted to just feel Viggo's body pressed against his own. "Whatever you want."
"You said that," Viggo reminded Sean breathlessly, and he arched up so he could grind against Sean shamelessly. "You're what I want. Let's go."
"Christ," Sean moaned, heading up the stairs two at a time. His bed was messy, the sheets clean but tangled at the foot where he'd flung them off that morning. Almost frantically, he dug through the drawer of the nightstand, flinging aside two sketch books, half a dozen pencils and a copy of Handjob magazine before he located the condoms and lube.
Viggo restrained a smile as he watched Sean's eagerness unfold. It felt so good being here again, maybe more than Viggo deserved but good nevertheless.
"I love you," he groaned, attaching himself to Sean as soon as they were both naked, needing this more than breath at the moment.
"Love you too. Need you...need whatever you want." He knew he was repeating himself, but right now, he was ready to give Viggo anything--everything--he could.
"Come on." Viggo tugged Sean toward the bed and then flopped over him, kissing him sloppily as he reached for lube and condoms. "Want you so much."
Spreading his legs eagerly, Sean returned the kiss. The idea of Viggo inside of him was utterly perfect and he reached for the condom, plucking it out of Viggo's hand and tearing it open. "All yours," he said.
All mine, Viggo thought, and while he knew--had always known, he supposed--that it might not always be so, he felt at least that the times when Sean might not be all his would be temporary. If they could survive this, they could survive anything.
He slicked his fingers hastily, resting one hand low on Sean's belly as he pushed one in, hissing in a breath at the idea that he'd be in Sean again in moments. The realization made him feel almost dizzy; it had seemed so long.
"Christ...oh fuck," Sean groaned, almost dropping the condom. Fumbling a little, he rolled it down over Viggo's cock and then looked up at Viggo. "Don't need more than that," he said.
On a more normal day, Viggo would tease, ask Sean if he's really sure about that, drag out the prep, but this had Viggo breathing quickly already and he just couldn't wait. He slicked extra lube on the outside of the condom and leaned forward, holding the base of his cock and giving Sean soft, glancing kisses as he lined up and pushed in.
How could anything be better than this? Sean wondered, his eyes going wide. He reached for the words, wanting Viggo to know how he felt, what this meant to him. "Better than anything," he said, gasping a little as Viggo finally slid all the way into him. "So much better...."
"Oh, God," Viggo moaned shakily, reaching up to clutch at Sean's shoulder, dragging himself up and in harder. "Yes." He pressed his cheek to Sean's and stayed there as he thrust, trembling slightly as he fought to keep things slow and easy. He knew it wouldn't last long, but he wanted to hold onto this as long as possible.
All morning, before going to the cafe, Sean had been remembering the past, remembering how good it always was with Viggo. Now, however, each long slow push of Viggo's cock into him felt as if it were anchoring him in the present, in a moment where Viggo was not merely the only thing in Sean's universe, he was the only thing Sean could imagine ever being in his universe.
And then, Viggo shifted slightly and hit just the right angle, and Sean lost an ability to manage such abstract thoughts. "Viggo," he groaned. "Oh God Viggo...needed you...so much...need this."
"Yes," Viggo agreed, resting one hand on Sean's hip and offering another broken kiss. "Need you, Sean." He felt the need growing, too, bringing an ache to his chest and a desire to just crawl into Sean and never come out.
Beyond words now, Sean could only cling to Viggo, doing his best to show Viggo how much this meant, how much he wanted Viggo right now in this moment. And all other moments...
"Always...you," he got out, his voice hitched and breathless. "Always...."
Viggo felt it. It seemed as though he could reach right into Sean's heart and experience it all, and later he would try to remember if, in all the good it was before, it had ever been like this. But now Viggo was lost to it, dropping his mouth to Sean's throat to kiss and lick, his thrusts speeding up without his permission.
Sean caught onto Viggo's urgency and let it drive his own. He wasn't able to do anything more than cling to Viggo and try to move a little, but he didn't really want to do more. This was enough....Christ it was more than enough.
Feeling the first humming tendrils of orgasm at the base of his cock, Viggo groaned and levered himself up just enough to wrap a hand around Sean's erection. "Want you with me," he hitched out roughly, meaning so much more than for the orgasm, but the words would have to do. He let his thrusts provide the motion for his hand, gasping in air as the pleasure jolted through him in hard, heavy bursts.
Viggo's hand was more than enough, and Sean had to hold back until he could see that Viggo was coming. Letting go was so easy with Viggo here; Sean's urge to control everything was gone, and as soon as Viggo came, Sean was right there with him, clinging to Viggo as the orgasm left him breathless and shaken.
For long moments, all Viggo could do was breathe, feeling his heartbeat racing and feeling Sean's right beside it. He couldn't bring himself to move, not yet; just being here was too damned good.
Sean was more than happy to have Viggo's weight on him, although he noticed for the first time that there was less of Viggo than he remembered. Sliding his hand along Viggo's ribs, he shook his head. "You've not been eating right."
"No," Viggo admitted readily enough; no point in denying it. "Not sleeping right, either." It was yet another testament to how much he'd missed Sean.
He slid off to one side, leaning over for a stray piece of laundry for Sean's stomach before dealing with the condom.
"I'm sorry," Sean said, reaching for Viggo once the tidying up was done. "I'm going to feed you, see if I don't."
Viggo pressed himself up close to Sean's body, sighing, relaxed at last after what seemed like forever. "I'll be fine, now," he promised softly, nuzzling into Sean's neck and inhaling deeply.
"Me too," Sean said, and the last of his tight muscles--ones he hadn't even noticed were tense--relaxed as he basked in Viggo's presence. "Won't be easy, but I promise to try this time."
"Thank you." Viggo cupped Sean's cheek in one hand, kissing him slowly. This was all he could want, right here.
Once the kiss was over, Sean captured Viggo's hand in his, turning his head to nuzzle at it. "All while we were apart," he said, "I couldn't stop thinking about your hands."
end-
---------------------------------------------------------
Lunch (him) -- Viggo Mortensen
He sat down across from me and said he was in love. That he just wanted to enjoy it for as long as it lasted, that he didn't want to judge the feeling compared to other times with other partners. All that did was rob you of time better spent in those new arms, he said.
There wasn't anything for me to say. I listened and imagined the memorable summer he was having, felt how easily his breathing came. He seemed stronger than I remembered. It was pleasant to be with him.
I was left staring out the plate glass at the lushness of a willow long after he'd hurried home to her. I forgot about my work, my family, the weather, everything. I almost forgot to pay the check.
Walking slowly across the park, in no hurry to get back to the office, I couldn't think of anything except his hands.