FIC: [Untitled Teaser] (LotRPS, Viggo/Bean) --
Happy Birthday, Mr. Bean!
We were attempting to finish this story and post it in time for Sean's birthday, but it is not yet polished enough to see the light of day, so in honour of the birthday gent, we're offering up a snippet. Theoretically speaking, the full story should be up by Monday. (We're hoping, anyway.) soon.
So, here's to the "opening" of kings_own, where we will be posting collaborations between the two of us, here's to Sean's birthday, and here's hoping the whole enterprise results in something pleasing!
~cinzia & caras_galadhon
There isn't a lot to foreground about this fic just yet, other than a quick little note that it's still a bit rough, and it'll be presented in a slightly different format once it's done.
Anyway, on with the snippet...
Sean bites down on his lower lip, pulling it into his mouth. Something that might be the precursor to a word, something between a sigh and the softest of moans, slides out on a breath. His breathing is erratic, ruled less by lungs and oxygen and more by the feel of Viggo's fingers over his skin; he inhales shallowly, sharply when Viggo almost lingers, exhales slowly when the hand on his stomach travels on. The hand on his towel loosens, the fabric sliding downward, clinging to his hip. It's as it should be; he is, after all, bound to Viggo, perhaps more than the other man knows. It is so easy to simply let go, let Viggo do as he wishes, without fear. The towel slips fractionally at this realization, Sean's head coming forward, chin dipping to chest.
***
Sean's bottom lip is a deep red where his teeth have bitten it, right in the centre--it's a good colour, and Viggo already sees it spread elsewhere on Sean's skin, shades of red and golden, dark and rich like an ancient painting, yet the paint is still fresh: the canvas is being covered just now for the first time. He takes a breath, vaguely surprised at the absence of oil and turpentine in the air; he breathes in soap and aftershave, and it's just as good, just like Sean's head resting in his hand, easy, when he tips Sean's chin up.
***
He doesn't look up right away as Viggo's hand cups his chin, tilts his head upwards. Once he feels the hand steady, feels the small motion slow, stop, only then does he look up, gaze clearly into Viggo's eyes. He licks his lips nervously, just the tip of his tongue darting out and back in again as he takes a deep breath, wills his heartbeat to slow.
***
Viggo's eyes widen a bit, then darken. Is Sean playing him? ...No, it's not that. The look in Sean's eyes... "Is this for me?" Viggo asks, and doesn't realise he's asked until he sees Sean blink, tense a fraction under his touch. He wishes he could have his camera back.
He's not sure what he means by "this," either. But he knows he likes the dark green colour the word puts into Sean's eyes.
We were attempting to finish this story and post it in time for Sean's birthday, but it is not yet polished enough to see the light of day, so in honour of the birthday gent, we're offering up a snippet. Theoretically speaking, the full story should be up by Monday. (We're hoping, anyway.) soon.
So, here's to the "opening" of kings_own, where we will be posting collaborations between the two of us, here's to Sean's birthday, and here's hoping the whole enterprise results in something pleasing!
~cinzia & caras_galadhon
There isn't a lot to foreground about this fic just yet, other than a quick little note that it's still a bit rough, and it'll be presented in a slightly different format once it's done.
Anyway, on with the snippet...
Sean bites down on his lower lip, pulling it into his mouth. Something that might be the precursor to a word, something between a sigh and the softest of moans, slides out on a breath. His breathing is erratic, ruled less by lungs and oxygen and more by the feel of Viggo's fingers over his skin; he inhales shallowly, sharply when Viggo almost lingers, exhales slowly when the hand on his stomach travels on. The hand on his towel loosens, the fabric sliding downward, clinging to his hip. It's as it should be; he is, after all, bound to Viggo, perhaps more than the other man knows. It is so easy to simply let go, let Viggo do as he wishes, without fear. The towel slips fractionally at this realization, Sean's head coming forward, chin dipping to chest.
***
Sean's bottom lip is a deep red where his teeth have bitten it, right in the centre--it's a good colour, and Viggo already sees it spread elsewhere on Sean's skin, shades of red and golden, dark and rich like an ancient painting, yet the paint is still fresh: the canvas is being covered just now for the first time. He takes a breath, vaguely surprised at the absence of oil and turpentine in the air; he breathes in soap and aftershave, and it's just as good, just like Sean's head resting in his hand, easy, when he tips Sean's chin up.
***
He doesn't look up right away as Viggo's hand cups his chin, tilts his head upwards. Once he feels the hand steady, feels the small motion slow, stop, only then does he look up, gaze clearly into Viggo's eyes. He licks his lips nervously, just the tip of his tongue darting out and back in again as he takes a deep breath, wills his heartbeat to slow.
***
Viggo's eyes widen a bit, then darken. Is Sean playing him? ...No, it's not that. The look in Sean's eyes... "Is this for me?" Viggo asks, and doesn't realise he's asked until he sees Sean blink, tense a fraction under his touch. He wishes he could have his camera back.
He's not sure what he means by "this," either. But he knows he likes the dark green colour the word puts into Sean's eyes.