LOTR RPS: Revelation, Inception
Title: Revelation, Inception
Author: foxrafer
Fandom/Characters: LOTR RPS: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: PG-13 to possibly an R; there's some language that implies sexual activities but nothing too explicit
Warnings: None really
Disclaimer: All make-believe
Author's Note: Written for the two_of_us_fic Challenge 2007.
Lyrics
I never give you my pillow
I only send you my invitations
And in the middle of the celebrations, I break down
from Carry That Weight (Abbey Road)
This wasn't about affection or warmth, no sharing of memories or gentle touches. This game was impersonal, not between strangers but just as distant. Viggo had laid down the rules of this "relationship" at the very beginning, had enforced them with a callous and impassive hand until acceptance had been achieved, whether grudging or not. If Sean wanted him it was going to be on his terms and love was never going to enter the picture.
Throughout their time together Viggo thought he was the one in control. From time to time he'd ask Sean to come to his house, to join him on a closed soundstage or behind his trailer. Or he'd invite himself into Sean's hotel room or car, pull him into an alley or the men's room, push him to his knees in the middle of the forest. He'd press Sean's face against the nearest wall or shove it down onto the ground. He'd bend him roughly over the back of a sofa or across an available table; no preamble, minimum prep. Just sex, plain and simple; a release of energy, no exchange of emotion.
Sean may have let himself be physically dominated but he never submitted. Viggo knew this, deep down he'd never have expected anything less. As long as Sean didn't question the arrangement, never demanded anything more, everything was as it should be. But while Sean allowed himself to be manhandled, as much as he let Viggo spill his seed down his throat and use him with no consideration for his own pleasure, Sean knew Viggo needed him more than he would ever admit.
From the moment they met there was an almost primal attraction, but some time along the way it became an undeniable craving. Lust transformed into a visceral desire, a thirst that Viggo could never quench. As each encounter became more frantic and forceful, even brutal, Sean saw a desperate hunger in Viggo, a furious need for a deeper connection that warred against the purely carnal passion. That's when Sean knew he held all the cards; and though Viggo may dispute it Sean only had to call his bluff and the layers of dispassion Viggo had built around himself would crack and dissolve.
So while he decided if he wanted to splinter the pretense of Viggo's apathy, Sean inserted himself into every fiber of his co-star's consciousness, revealed himself layer by layer until Viggo wanted more than just what his body had to give. And each day Viggo mastered the art of ignoring uninvited feelings, locking them tightly behind detachment and nonchalance. Yes it felt like a day wasn't truly complete until he had at least talked to Sean, but that wasn't troubling. They had a lot in common; that was the only explanation he would entertain.
# # #
Viggo had managed to not be alone with him all evening. Tomorrow Sean would be on a plane heading back to London for the last time and for some really annoying reason this was setting Viggo on edge. Why the fuck should he care if Sean were around or not? There was always another Sean, always someone else he could focus on, could use without any worry of commitment. Most of the cast and crew would have given anything for just one night; Sean didn't matter. So why was the thought of finding another fuck buddy so unappealing? Why was the idea of his leaving New Zealand turning into an actual physical pain?
Sean watched Viggo avoiding him all night, but as the hours crept on he realized Viggo was never going to break down and confess, was never going to tell him how important he had become. Sean began to wonder if he had gotten it wrong. Maybe all those signals had been deliberately sent, a shrewd and well-executed plan to keep Sean coming back, to make him believe there could be more if he was patient. Anger and disappointment began to tumble together in his gut. Sean knew he had to get out of the room, had to leave while he could still recall the positive memories of his time with Viggo. But he'd be damned if he'd give Viggo the satisfaction of skulking out with his tail between his legs. He would play this game to the bitter end.
It was remarkably easy to get Viggo alone. As soon as he began walking over, it seemed the others in the room instinctively moved in the other direction. And before long he had effectively cornered Viggo in the far side of the room, leaving him with only two options: speak to Sean or run away.
Viggo tried to force himself to make eye contact with Sean but it felt safer, more comfortable, to avoid it. He knew he would see challenge, an arrogant humor and stubbornness; all from this man he may have forced to bend or fall to his knees but who never yielded. And if Viggo were being honest with himself, he worried that some of his doubts, his sense that losing Sean meant more to him than he wanted to admit, would be evident in his face. So he kept the conversation light, stayed on the familiar ground of children and upcoming projects, until he ran out of words.
The silence slowly began to scream in his ears and cause sweat to prickle along his brow. He quickly lost interest with the edge of his fraying shirt and the unappetizing food on his plate. The quiet that settled around them was unnatural and oppressive. Viggo's irritation grew, at himself and Sean. No one, especially Sean, was going to see him shaken, see him unnerved. So he set his jaw and turned his head, ready to counter every unspoken word with an unwavering glare of his own. But what he found caused more bile to bubble up his throat, threatening to leap from his mouth in a stream of burning pleas that by now would fall on deaf ears. Viggo choked at Sean's unreadable eyes, completely closed and devoid of emotion.
Before Viggo could gather his self-control, Sean leaned in and kissed him, just barely. Almost as if Viggo could have missed it if the slight sensation against his lips hadn't sent jolts of painful desire through his system and simultaneously disassembled the vacuum inside his chest. Sean was speaking, his lips were moving but Viggo couldn't hear a thing through the deafening cries of lost opportunities and last chances. Then he was gone, and Viggo felt helpless as he watched Sean make the rounds of the room for his final farewells then walk out the door. Viggo's breathing became labored; it was harder and harder to draw in a full breath, and he momentarily thought he might begin to hyperventilate. His hands began to shake and the pain in his head became more pronounced, radiating outward like shards of glass shredding his equilibrium and sending him reeling.
He tried to regain some composure, at the very least find a seat before he fell to the ground. But he wasn't fast enough, or the panic spread too quickly, and he was down on all fours trying very hard not to retch. Bernard was by his side, then Elijah, and soon most of the room was surrounding him as he struggled to breathe, to stop the tremors. In a moment of clarity he gave in to the overwhelming panic and suddenly his mind cleared. Sean was leaving. Sean was leaving and despite his arguments to the contrary, he had grown attached to him. He was going to miss him, desperately needed to see him right now, needed to talk to him. The final secret kicked his knees out from under him and he went limply to his side as tears began to fall silently from tightly clenched eyes. He could feel hands shaking, trying to soothe, voices raised in alarm and whispered to comfort. But he could no longer hide from the reality that Sean had insinuated himself inside his heart and now it was breaking, the shock both surprising and angering him.
Anger. Viggo latched on to his temper and let it help even out his breathing and get him to his feet. He could be pissed off and in control, he could find Sean and yell to his heart's content, vent his frustration and fury at suddenly finding himself heartbroken. He shook off the hands trying to keep him still and make sure he was ok. Mumbling a few words to placate and assure his friends, Viggo headed outside and didn't stop to think as he jumped in his car and drove to confront Sean.
# # #
Once at Sean’s hotel, Viggo realized his anger had dissipated and been replaced with an almost urgent fear as he finally looked inside to the core of what Sean meant to him. Questions and doubts flooded his mind as he sat in the car, flexing his hands on the steering wheel. Sean was leaving; he wouldn't want any last minute declarations from the man who had used him for a year. By now he probably hated him, was definitely smart enough to not have kept alive any hopes for something more meaningful than a quick fuck.
But now that the truth was open and breathing before him, Viggo refused to let fear guide him anymore. He turned off the car and walked inside, stopping on his way to the elevators and let instinct direct him to the bar instead. He found Sean at the far side, staring into a glass of scotch. Viggo sat down one stool away and waved off the bartender. When he felt Sean's attention focused on him he looked up and met guarded eyes deliberately taking his measure.
They sat in silence, Viggo making every effort to finally drop the facade and let his true feelings be clear in his eyes, his posture. He wished he had practiced what he wanted to say; instead found himself at a loss for the words he hoped would convince Sean to give him a chance, give them a chance. So he laid himself bare before Sean's piercing gaze and waited. He felt he could actually feel time crawling across his skin, trickling down his back. It dug its nails into his neck and pushed its thumbs against his windpipe. He could hear every watch, every clock, could feel the steady hum of seconds ticking away, slowly turning the ground beneath his feet. And just when he thought he might actually be losing his mind, the green eyes that dominated his vision shed their caution and spread warmth through Viggo's body.
Sean's smile was tired but real and reassuring, filling the room with light and air. Another beat and a shaky breath and Sean's strong hand was squeezing his shoulder, pulling him to his feet and leading him upstairs to Sean's suite. Once inside, Viggo finally found his voice, but Sean silenced him with a gentle touch against his lips. Taking his hand, Sean led the way into the room, deliberately lying on the bed and inviting Viggo to join him. For the first time they laid together on a soft mattress, pillows cushioning their heads, and only then did Sean allow Viggo's words to flow. They faced each other and talked as the dim bulb from the bedside lamp was slowly replaced by the growing light from the windows. Confessions, recriminations, apologies, promises: it was surprisingly easy to share everything, all the affection and remorse, the rage and joy, they had effectively denied themselves for months.
And later that morning, after making love for the first time, Sean drove to the airport leaving Viggo to curl himself once more in the rumpled sheets, to finish absorbing the passion and devotion they had finally allowed themselves to express. They had unburdened their souls and spilled their secrets, and Viggo could still hear the words, wanted to etch them forever into his heart. He clung to their pledge of creating new memories, of starting anew, and was infused with wonder and delight. He missed Sean terribly, cried for not having the man he loved still in his arms, but they were honest tears, born from fully accepted tenderness and deeply held adoration, tempered by the knowledge that Sean loved him too.