"Running Lines." LOTR-RPS. R. SeanB/Viggo.
Title: "Running Lines"
Author: Barbara
Rating: R
Pairing: SeanB/Viggo
Disclaimer: A total fabrication. None of this ever happened.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Comments: An improv fic with the following guidelines: A fic which includes the following lines: "Want you." and S/he laughed airily. "Doesn't anyone say 'please' anymore?" and contains realistic direct speech. The time limit is 45 minutes.
He and Sean were supposed to be running lines, but Viggo kept falling out of character. As Sean sat next to him on the sofa, their thighs touching and occasionally rubbing when one of them shifted, Aragorn seemed as far away as Middle Earth itself. He was very aware of Sean's arm resting on sofa behind him, bumping his shoulders now and then. The skin on the back of Viggo's neck prickled with anticipation until Sean withdrew his arm to rub his eyes. Viggo twitched, as the arm slid back around him, fingers grazing the back of his neck.
"You OK, Vig?" Sean didn't look up from the script.
"Yeah. Fine. It's just this...." Viggo shook his own script slightly, then leaned forward, away from Sean's almost-embrace, away from his heat, over the coffee table. Grabbing a pen, he scrawled an illegible note in the margin. When Viggo straightened, he turned toward Sean. The green eyes that studied him were feral. Dangerous.
"Right." Sean stretched out the vowel in the word, and then his arm touched Viggo's shoulders a second before his hand tangled in Viggo's hair. His lips covered Viggo's, fingers tightening in Viggo's hair as his tongue demanded entrance.
Viggo's lips parted, even as his body tensed. If this were anyone else, Karl or Dave or Orlando, he would have relaxed into the kiss and taken what they offered, but Sean was different. Sean was his brother-in-arms. Not just a friendly, one-time fuck. Much as his body might want him to, Viggo couldn't pretend otherwise.
"Want you...." The rest of what Viggo intended to say was lost, as he gasped at the feeling of Sean's tongue sliding slickly down his neck, flicking back and forth over his increasingly erratic pulsebeat.
Sean laughed airily. "Doesn't anyone say 'please' anymore?"
"No." Viggo shook his head. "Want you...." This time the sentence ended in a groan, as Sean reached between them and pressed his palm against Viggo's erection.
"That's good." Sean said, as Viggo's legs parted slightly, his back arching to push himself into Sean's touch. "I want you too."
Taking hold of Sean's wrist and forcing it away from him was one of the hardest things Viggo had ever done. "I want you to change that one line. Let's...run through the scene again. We still don't have it quite right."
Sean blinked. "What? You don't...want this?"
Viggo shook his head. How did he explain to Sean that it wasn't that he didn't want the other man but that he wanted him too much.
"You watch me all the time." Sean grabbed his shoulders, shook him. "On the set. At the pub." Sean released him with a small shove. "I can almost feel it against my skin. I dream about it. About you." His fingers traced his lips. "Why won't you look at me now?"
"We need to work on the scene," Viggo said, moving over, putting distance between them.
"Bugger the scene." Sean knocked the script out of Viggo's hand. It sailed across the room, several pages tearing loose and scattering. "I don't want to work on the goddamn scene, Vig."
The outburst startled both of them, and Sean rose. "I...." He combed his fingers through his hair. "I should go."
Viggo stood, but Sean didn't leave. Instead, he bent to pick up the script, then retrieved the loose sheets in silence. Sean tried to make things right when he could. It was a talent Viggo had never entirely perfected. Lack of practice or patience.
Sean stretched out on the carpet, groping blindly for a paper that had drifted beneath the desk. His face was turned away from Viggo, but the hand Viggo could see was curled into a fist, nails biting deep into the flesh of his palm. And Viggo knew then that there wouldn't be another chance to make things right.
"Got it." The words followed a rustle of paper and shaky sigh of relief.
Viggo dropped to his knees beside Sean and wrapped his arms around his friend when he rose. Sean stiffened, started to pull away, but Viggo tightened his embrace.
"Want you, Sean." His lips brushed Sean's ear as he spoke, his breath teasing sensitive skin, and Sean shivered. "Please?"
Sean's eyes were full of doubt, so Viggo kissed him, hoping that his body would succeed where his words had failed. Hoping that Sean would understand.
When they finally pulled away for breath, Viggo was on his back beneath Sean, who chucked wickedly. "Courtesy," Sean said, as he unzipped Viggo's jeans, "is overrated."
Author: Barbara
Rating: R
Pairing: SeanB/Viggo
Disclaimer: A total fabrication. None of this ever happened.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Comments: An improv fic with the following guidelines: A fic which includes the following lines: "Want you." and S/he laughed airily. "Doesn't anyone say 'please' anymore?" and contains realistic direct speech. The time limit is 45 minutes.
He and Sean were supposed to be running lines, but Viggo kept falling out of character. As Sean sat next to him on the sofa, their thighs touching and occasionally rubbing when one of them shifted, Aragorn seemed as far away as Middle Earth itself. He was very aware of Sean's arm resting on sofa behind him, bumping his shoulders now and then. The skin on the back of Viggo's neck prickled with anticipation until Sean withdrew his arm to rub his eyes. Viggo twitched, as the arm slid back around him, fingers grazing the back of his neck.
"You OK, Vig?" Sean didn't look up from the script.
"Yeah. Fine. It's just this...." Viggo shook his own script slightly, then leaned forward, away from Sean's almost-embrace, away from his heat, over the coffee table. Grabbing a pen, he scrawled an illegible note in the margin. When Viggo straightened, he turned toward Sean. The green eyes that studied him were feral. Dangerous.
"Right." Sean stretched out the vowel in the word, and then his arm touched Viggo's shoulders a second before his hand tangled in Viggo's hair. His lips covered Viggo's, fingers tightening in Viggo's hair as his tongue demanded entrance.
Viggo's lips parted, even as his body tensed. If this were anyone else, Karl or Dave or Orlando, he would have relaxed into the kiss and taken what they offered, but Sean was different. Sean was his brother-in-arms. Not just a friendly, one-time fuck. Much as his body might want him to, Viggo couldn't pretend otherwise.
"Want you...." The rest of what Viggo intended to say was lost, as he gasped at the feeling of Sean's tongue sliding slickly down his neck, flicking back and forth over his increasingly erratic pulsebeat.
Sean laughed airily. "Doesn't anyone say 'please' anymore?"
"No." Viggo shook his head. "Want you...." This time the sentence ended in a groan, as Sean reached between them and pressed his palm against Viggo's erection.
"That's good." Sean said, as Viggo's legs parted slightly, his back arching to push himself into Sean's touch. "I want you too."
Taking hold of Sean's wrist and forcing it away from him was one of the hardest things Viggo had ever done. "I want you to change that one line. Let's...run through the scene again. We still don't have it quite right."
Sean blinked. "What? You don't...want this?"
Viggo shook his head. How did he explain to Sean that it wasn't that he didn't want the other man but that he wanted him too much.
"You watch me all the time." Sean grabbed his shoulders, shook him. "On the set. At the pub." Sean released him with a small shove. "I can almost feel it against my skin. I dream about it. About you." His fingers traced his lips. "Why won't you look at me now?"
"We need to work on the scene," Viggo said, moving over, putting distance between them.
"Bugger the scene." Sean knocked the script out of Viggo's hand. It sailed across the room, several pages tearing loose and scattering. "I don't want to work on the goddamn scene, Vig."
The outburst startled both of them, and Sean rose. "I...." He combed his fingers through his hair. "I should go."
Viggo stood, but Sean didn't leave. Instead, he bent to pick up the script, then retrieved the loose sheets in silence. Sean tried to make things right when he could. It was a talent Viggo had never entirely perfected. Lack of practice or patience.
Sean stretched out on the carpet, groping blindly for a paper that had drifted beneath the desk. His face was turned away from Viggo, but the hand Viggo could see was curled into a fist, nails biting deep into the flesh of his palm. And Viggo knew then that there wouldn't be another chance to make things right.
"Got it." The words followed a rustle of paper and shaky sigh of relief.
Viggo dropped to his knees beside Sean and wrapped his arms around his friend when he rose. Sean stiffened, started to pull away, but Viggo tightened his embrace.
"Want you, Sean." His lips brushed Sean's ear as he spoke, his breath teasing sensitive skin, and Sean shivered. "Please?"
Sean's eyes were full of doubt, so Viggo kissed him, hoping that his body would succeed where his words had failed. Hoping that Sean would understand.
When they finally pulled away for breath, Viggo was on his back beneath Sean, who chucked wickedly. "Courtesy," Sean said, as he unzipped Viggo's jeans, "is overrated."