FIC: Touching, Chapter 9 (SB/VM), R
Title: Touching, Chapter 9
Pairing: SB/VM
Author: shrinetolust
Rated: R
Story: More silliness. Sean reaches startling conclusions; Viggo helps. Sean's persistant denial reflex refuses to give up without a fight.
Disclaimer: Don't know these lovely men, don't know what they get up to in their free time. This is all part of my overactive imagination, done with love and respect, and no harm or offense is intended. It's FICTION!!
Feedback: Yes, please. I hope the boys are still entertaining. ~ Leave a note here or mail me at shrinetolust AT hotmail.com
Crossposted: Oh, everywhere. I am a feedback whore.
Archive: My own LJ. Green Opals, Rugbytackling. Others, please ask.
Notes: Heavily edited as always but un-beta-ed. Please point out any glaring errors so I'm not embarrassed for too long!
WARNINGS: None.
**BIG SQUISHY THANK YOUs to loyaldreamer for my icon...*mwah!*
**Touching: (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7) (Chapter 8)
You might want to skim Chapter 8 for a refresher, as this one directly picks up from there...
Touching: Chapter 9
Sean took a deep breath and blinked his eyes a few times, trying to adjust to wakefulness and get his bearings. His gaze fell on the dancing blue pattern of flowers on the wallpaper just opposite him, the sun pushing great big stripes of light across them and brightening all the colors. His side ached something terrible, and he got the distinct impression he'd lain in this same position all night.
Other parts of his body were aching as well, but that was typical morning routine. What wasn't typical was the fact that he wasn't alone. He could feel the weight of the other person in the bed behind him, and he could also feel the person's hand on him, rough fingers scratching delicate patterns across his back.
Viggo. The night's events washed over him with such force that his temples exploded with pain and he bit his lip to stifle a pathetic whine. He had something of a hangover, no doubt of that, but it wasn't so bad that he didn't remember nearly every moment of his late-night massage. His memory of why his friend was in bed with him was a little fuzzy, but he had this vague concept that it'd been his own idea.
The throbbing in his skull eased a little and he took another deep breath. The drink had previously made things a bit more acceptable, it seemed, but the morning light was filled with implications and he started to feel the familiar coil of panic deep in his belly.
He closed his eyes tightly again, which shut out just about everything but the gentle touch of Viggo's hand. It still felt fucking good--that hadn't changed. Being male and undeniably concerned with his own pleasure 90% of the time, he was finding it difficult to think this whole touching business was a bad thing. He had to admit that it had been a long time since anyone had paid this much attention to him. Sure, there'd been a shag here and there, but that had been a sort of grabbing, thrusting, thank-you-it's-been-nice-see-you-around sort of thing. Nothing like this detailed, careful caressing that made every inch of his skin vibrate with a tingling sort of sensual bliss.
He was about to evaluate why his thought pattern suddenly resembled a 16-year-old girl's diary, full of happiness and sensual bliss--for fuck's sake--when Viggo moved closer and smashed their bodies together. Sean felt Viggo's hand push at his arm and start rubbing at his chest, and he felt some other part of Viggo nudging his arse. He wasn't quite ready to think about that, or about the fact that his cock had just jumped in response to it.
Viggo huffed a bit and rubbed his face against the back of Sean's neck, his beard tickling Sean's skin, the tumble of Aragorn hair floating across Sean's shoulder and making his nipples hard. Of course, the nipple thing probably was helped by the fact that the bastard had started rubbing them, his hand passing over Sean's pecs again and again, thumb grazing the little hard nubs each time it passed by--and sometimes circling and pressing and oh God, why is he doing that?
Sean licked his lips and tried to catch his breath. He held himself still, just like he had the night before, and attempted to think of what to do, how to respond, how he should respond. Because it should stop, right? He had to decide quickly, because it was taking all his willpower not to react to the intense heat flooding his body.
He cracked his eyelids and glanced down slightly, and saw Viggo's long fingers trailing across his belly. He shivered, unable to comprehend how it could still feel so fucking good. But this wasn't like the back rub. This was more...well, it was just more. And he didn't think more was a good idea. Friendliness between blokes was one thing, and he thought he'd gotten a lot more open-minded on all that. But this was taking it too far. This wasn't just a friendly massage. This was--well, fuck, it was him getting fondled, that's what it was. And it really had to stop.
Viggo sighed heavily, then, and started grinding gently against him. Against his arse to be precise, and Sean tried to say something right away about that. But all that came out was a horribly embarrassing whimpering sound, which made Viggo groan in return and push harder. Sean was horrified even more when his own hips broke free of his control and shifted, causing his bum to rub against--
"Sean," Viggo murmured in a low and scratchy voice, his lips tickling Sean's neck. Then he started kissing his way down to Sean's shoulder, his tongue slipping out and licking the sweat from his skin while his fingers once again tormented one of Sean's nipples.
Sean was breathing hard through his mouth now, and he wondered how to make it stop. This was all happening too fast, and he couldn't think, and his body was responding to each touch now despite his efforts at restraint. His hips rolled again, and there was no denying that feeling, that feeling of Viggo's cock pushing between his cheeks. Oh God.
"Viggo--" he choked out, but nothing followed, for his brain was gone again. It had melted right along with the rest of him, apparently.
Viggo merely hummed in response and slid down a bit farther so he could kiss more of Sean's back. His hand moved with him, from Sean's chest down to his stomach. Then he forced one of his legs between Sean's, bending his knee and lifting his thigh until Sean felt it pushing against his balls.
"Oh fuck," Sean whimpered. Viggo kept moving his thigh, and Sean could feel the scratching of hair and the push of muscle through the thin fabric of his shorts. His sensitive flesh tightened and he could feel that he was leaking through the cotton stretched across his now painfully hard erection.
Viggo's hand made soft, gentle circles on his stomach, middle finger dipping into his navel and teasing until Sean's skin trembled beneath his touch. The circular pattern started small but then gradually grew larger, sweeping across his ribs and then swooping down to subtly slip just underneath the waistband of his shorts.
Too much. Sean didn't think he could take any more, as amazing as Viggo's hand felt, as hard as his cock was, he just wasn't ready for this. Not ever. Not now. He was completely out of control, panting like a fucking overworked horse and sweating from every pore. He'd lost his mind, and so had Viggo. This had to stop. Had to, had to-- "Stop!" he said hoarsely, finally, and his hand clamped onto Viggo's wrist just before those rough fingers touched what they shouldn't ever be touching.
Viggo stopped. His body ceased moving against Sean's, and his hand pulled back slightly and rested flat against Sean's belly. "Okay," he said, his lips brushing against Sean's back as he spoke. He tilted his head and Sean once more felt the soft brown hair swish against his shoulder.
Sean exhaled deeply and felt his muscles relax just a bit. If he knew anything, he knew Viggo wouldn't push him. He just needed time, needed a moment to collect a coherent thought, something that wasn't possible with all the blood in his body pooling in one area.
Slowly and silently, Viggo slipped away from him, which unexpectedly made Sean tense again. He felt Viggo roll over and then the bed dipped, and Sean's hand reflexively swung out behind him. His fingers curled around Viggo's side, and he could tell that his friend was sitting at the edge of the bed. "Where're you going?" he asked, startled at the urgency in his own voice.
There was a long pause, which Sean was used to when it came to Viggo, but the suspense nearly killed him this time. Finally Viggo replied very softly, "Nowhere," and he lay back down again.
Awkward as the position was, Sean kept his hand on Viggo, suddenly afraid his friend might escape if he didn't keep hold of him. Fuck. Obviously Viggo leaving was more upsetting than Viggo molesting him, and that said a lot. If he really was the resolutely macho heterosexual Sean Bean he'd always wanted to believe he was, he would have kicked Viggo out of the damn room, let alone the bed, without hesitation. Right?
Of course Viggo was his friend, and he'd like to think he'd never been a macho shit. Het or not, he probably wouldn't have kicked Viggo anywhere. Still, he had to acknowledge that Viggo had been right--Sean did have a minor case of homophobia. Especially the phobia part, because he was pretty fucking scared about examining something he'd been trying very hard not to look at for quite some time. He'd always been rather good at stubbornly avoiding the obvious, but now that he'd just ground his arse against his best mate's cock, it seemed a bit difficult to explain that one away as a misunderstanding.
So, it was a pretty fair bet that as much as he thought he should be, he wasn't all that repulsed by being tangled up on a bed in a more than friendly way with Viggo. In fact, it was pretty fucking obvious he was nowhere near repulsed, considering how hard his cock was at the moment. And while he was being so damn honest, he had to admit to himself that Viggo hadn't exactly surprised him. If he truly opened his eyes and faced what had been going on the last few months, there was no way he could deny the meaning behind all those little touches--on the couch, at the bar, in Orlando's little tin can of a rental car. No, he would be the biggest liar on the face of the planet if he didn't right now accept the fact that he never would have let Viggo stroke the back of his thigh if he hadn't wanted him to.
Oh God. Sean took a deep shuddering breath. So, that was it, then. He'd said it aloud, or in his head, anyway. He wanted Viggo to touch him, and there was nothing for it, really. He couldn't even blame Viggo, and use that old excuse about "being turned". Because as long as he was airing out all his own dirty laundry, he had to confess that waking up with that damn pretty Elf wrapped around him had been fucking arousing as well. Dammit.
Sean was startled out of his thoughts by a soft snore, Viggo's ribs suddenly vibrating under his hand. He almost laughed, but caught himself at the last minute. He rolled over as quietly and with as little jostling movement as he could, and lay there for a moment, looking at Viggo's back. His friend was sprawled out on his side, head smashed into the pillow, both arms flailed out in front of him. Sean leaned as close as he dared, peering at Viggo's face and grinning as he watched Viggo's lips flutter with each exhale. "Daft git," he murmured. Here he was, having a life-altering epiphany, and Viggo had decided to take a nap.
With a sigh he settled in next to Viggo, staring for several long moments at the long, silky brown hair stretched out on the pillow in front of him. Since he'd decided he was completely fucked anyway, he figured there was no harm in going further down the path to hell, and he reached up and delicately traced the length of a few soft strands.
Viggo didn't move, so he let his fingers comb through a few more times, before ever so lightly touching Viggo's skin. He followed the curve of one shoulder blade, then trailed all the way down the gently arced spine. Viggo shifted in his sleep, and Sean's gaze drifted towards the movement. The edge of Viggo's sweatpants were barely clinging to his hips, sagging down in the back and exposing half of his arse. Sean clamped his eyes shut.
The image was burned into his brain already, of course, from previous viewings. Nice and round, potentially contest-winning, and Sean found his eyes opening again to shamelessly stare at it. His breath was fanning hot across Viggo's shoulders as he gazed down at that little hollow of warm flesh, just above the cleft--that little hollow that his damn cock was pointing to right at the moment, head obscenely pushing at the front of his shorts.
Fuck. This really was too much. Earth-shattering revelations aside, he didn't know if he really was ready for this, and he started to think Viggo had the right idea with this nap business. Maybe if he went to sleep he'd wake up and find out he'd dreamt the whole thing. And then he and Viggo could go back to falling asleep drunk on the couch together, and being best mates.
As long as he was dreaming, then, he pushed forward across that last millimeter of space between them and moaned softly when his erection pressed against Viggo's arse. Viggo shifted slightly and Sean felt the firm curves push and slide along his cock. He realized suddenly that with a few more thrusts, he'd probably come all over Viggo's back, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from wailing at the thought. And he didn't even know if it would have been a wail of agony or ecstasy.
Best to not find out. He threw an arm around Viggo and hugged him tight, burying his face in the fan of hair against Viggo's neck. He regulated his breaths and forced himself to think unarousing thoughts, and eventually the strain of trying to mentally fight his own body wore him out and he fell into an uneasy sleep.
~~
Sean woke up alone. He was confused for a few moments, then he smelled the familiar aroma of coffee and his brain started to clear. Coffee always meant Viggo was still around, and he started to smile until he remembered--had it been a dream? There had been--touching, and rubbing, and oh god, grinding... He rolled over onto his back and became immediately aware of his cock, which was starting to show interest at every detail he remembered of this apparently arousing dream.
He heard Viggo singing, then, rather in-tune for a change, and he let the grin happen this time. Dream or no dream, it was time to climb out of bed and get some coffee. Once he was fully awake he'd be able to figure out what the hell had or hadn't happened, and most likely have a laugh about it with Vig.
Once he got to his feet, he realized his head was pounding slightly, but it was manageable. He padded barefoot over to the bathroom, and a few minutes later he emerged with an empty bladder and a stomach containing headache tablets waiting to be drowned with coffee. Typical morning, really.
Sean pulled on a pair of faded jeans, hoping the tighter fabric would hold him in if his cock decided to stand at attention again. Then he made his way through the French doors and over to the little kitchenette area, where he found Viggo at the counter, pouring coffee into a plain white mug.
The first thing Sean noticed was the sweatpants, still hanging low on Viggo's hips, revealing a nice slice of flesh between the waistband and the hem of his faded t-shirt. The second thing was Viggo's smile when he turned around, the smile that let Sean know he hadn't dreamt one damn minute of what had happened last night. And this morning. Fucking hell.
Viggo walked up to him and handed the coffee over, still smiling, but watching Sean carefully now. "Good morning," he said quietly, waiting until Sean's fingers actually closed around the handle before letting go of the mug.
"Morning," Sean choked out, then added stupidly, "How're you?" He could feel his cheeks turning red.
Viggo's smile deepened, then, and one eyebrow arched up. "I'm fine," he said. "How are you?"
Sean scrambled for something noncommittal to say but came up empty. He ended up shrugging instead.
Viggo laughed. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He moved over to the couch and picked up his own cup of coffee, and Sean could almost have imagined it was any other morning, when they'd woken up after a night of drinking and watching telly. But it wasn't any other morning, and they both knew it. The question was, what were they going to do about it?
Sean sat down on the couch next to Viggo, but at a respectable distance. He was still going for that noncommittal thing, since he had no idea what the hell to say or do or feel at this point. Viggo was better at this sort of thing anyway, so why not let him take the lead?
"It's a bit later than we'd planned," Viggo began, sipping at his drink before continuing, "but we could still make it to breakfast if you wanted."
"Erm, yeah," Sean murmured. "If you like."
"I do," Viggo said. "I was asking if you like."
"Like what?"
Viggo laughed again. "Are you still drunk?"
Sean growled irritably, before downing some of his own coffee. "You know how I am before me morning cuppa."
"Yes, and it's not this. Well, except for that snarling you just did at me. That's pretty typical."
He was grinning crookedly like some smartass teenager, and Sean couldn't help it and grinned back. "Just shut the fuck up and let me wake up in peace." He tipped his mug back again, hoping the caffeine might give him strength.
"Really?" Viggo went on. "I just woke up fifteen minutes ago with your arm crushing my ribcage and your cock digging into my ass. Why should I let you have any peace?"
Sean choked mid-swallow, nearly dropping his cup as he dribbled a stream of coffee down his chin and onto his bare chest.
"Sorry," Viggo snorted, reaching over to try to help.
Sean ducked his grasp and stood up. "Don't touch me," he rasped, then coughed. The coffee burned in his throat, halfway down the wrong pipe. He stumbled over to the sink and grabbed a towel, mopping the drool off his face and chest.
"Are you all right?" Viggo asked, getting up and moving to stand next to him.
"No," Sean snapped, but then he regretted it. Viggo looked hurt, and Sean hated when he looked like that. He rubbed a hand over his jaw and around to the back of his neck, trying to work out a kink that was forming there. "I'm fine," he said more calmly, throwing the towel onto the counter. "You just shouldn't say shit like that when I'm drinking."
"You're right, I'll pay more attention next time." Viggo moved closer and put a hand on Sean's arm. He watched Sean's face as he gently stroked up and down, from shoulder to elbow and back again.
Sean let him do it, and let himself look into Viggo's soft blue-gray eyes. He thought for a moment how Boromir changed his mind about Aragorn on their journey, from suspicion to trust and admiration. He expected his performance had a lot to do with Viggo's eyes, and the times he had lost himself in them on set without really realizing it. Those were the scenes everyone had thought the best, male-bonding with a glimmer of sensuality. He expected the women in the audience would really go for that, and the blokes would pretend they didn't see it. Pretend not to notice that Aragorn was lying between Boromir's legs at the end.
"Sean?" Viggo broke into his thoughts, letting his fingers slip down and curl around Sean's hand. "You in there?"
"Aye," Sean answered, blinking a few times to break the spell. He glanced down at their joined hands. "Guess we'd best get moving before it's lunchtime, eh?" When Viggo started to let go, Sean squeezed his fingers before he slipped away.
Viggo smiled at the gesture and headed for the door. "I'll go back to my room and get cleaned up. Meet me downstairs in ten?"
Sean followed him, unable to stop from chuckling at the bright orange rubber beach sandals Viggo was sliding his feet into. "Where on earth did you get those?" he asked.
"Where do you think?"
Sean snorted. "Got to be the Elfling."
"His feet are bigger than mine," Viggo observed, wiggling his toes to show the extra inch of length ahead of them. "But they're comfortable."
"Stepping in drunken vomit in the hall finally cured you of your barefoot ways, eh?"
"In hotel hallways, yes. And Dom's apartment."
Sean grinned. "Wise choice, that. Now off with you." He leaned over and undid the deadbolt.
As always, Viggo lingered. And Sean felt his heart suddenly hammering in his chest as he stared at him, unable to avoid the knowing look on Viggo's face, unable to avoid thinking about Viggo touching him.
Sean knew that this time Viggo was doing more than teasing. It was likely he really did expect a little something at the door, and considering how much Sean had let go on in bed, he couldn't really blame him. The coffee had slowly seeped in and wakened those parts of his brain responsible for his big epiphany that morning, and much as he'd like to, he just couldn't go back to the land of denial and pretend to be affronted by the idea.
But acknowledging an attraction didn't really mean one had to go through with it, did it? He was still his own man, could still make his own decisions. And just because he had perverted thoughts about the curve of Viggo's arse didn't mean he had to go all hearts and flowers over him and develop a limp wrist, did it?
Granted, Viggo never had any limp-wristed tendencies as far as he'd seen. And prissy as the Elf boy was, he didn't exactly sit around in a pink frock doing needlepoint all day. Not that he really knew which way the boy swung, anyway, but it was obvious not everyone fit the stereotypes he'd been afraid of all these years. He supposed there was no law saying your personality had to change just because you fancied a bloke occasionally.
Viggo was smiling again, eyes drifting from one part of Sean's face to another, sizing him up. "Usually," he said, his tone bemused, "I'm the one that checks out of the conversation periodically, but today it seems to be your turn."
Sean reached up and cradled Viggo's face with his hand, thumb sliding up and caressing the laugh lines at the corner of Viggo's eye. "Were we having a conversation?" he asked, and he really didn't remember if they had been.
"Damned if I know," Viggo replied, and he tilted his head into Sean's touch.
Sean thought that if Viggo were a woman, now would have been the time Sean would have gone in for the kiss. But Viggo wasn't a woman, and Sean hadn't ever kissed a man, and he had inane thoughts about the friction of beards creating a spark and causing a fire.
So they stood there for a little while, Sean's blood pounding in his ears and nearly making him dizzy, his fingertips gently ruffling Viggo's hair as they stared at one another. And then Viggo's eyes turned down a little at the corners, and his smile faded, and he bowed his head a moment before slipping away from Sean. "I'll see you downstairs," he murmured, and he went to open the door.
Startled, Sean followed him and reflexively put his arm up, slamming the door closed just as Viggo tried to pull it open. Viggo turned around and Sean pressed in close, putting both hands on Viggo's shoulders.
"What're you doing?" Viggo asked.
For once, Viggo looked like the one not in control, and Sean felt a tiny amount of satisfaction at that. Okay, maybe a large amount. "What am I doing?" Sean huffed. "Picking up where we left off, that's what." He brought a hand up and caressed Viggo's face again. "Every day I've got to wait five minutes for you to finish a fucking sentence, and you couldn't wait two bloody minutes for me to get up the nerve to kiss you?"
Viggo opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out at first. Sean silently gloated, loving that he'd finally turned the tables, at least for the moment.
"Well?" Sean persisted, leaning closer and pushing his hips harder against Viggo's.
"I didn't think you were going to," Viggo murmured, his eyes still locked with Sean's.
Sean sighed. "Neither did I, really. But I was thinking about it, and you didn't give me the chance to follow me thoughts all the way through."
"Okay," Viggo said, and a hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I'll wait."
"Yeah, yeah," Sean said, knowing just what that smile meant. "I know you're sick of waiting. I know you've the patience of a saint and all that. No need to rub it in."
"I didn't say a word."
"Bloody well didn't have to, did you?" He lifted his other hand and framed Viggo's face with his fingers. As long as Viggo was going to be all smug, he was going to take his time, then. He suddenly remembered that moment in the bar, when he'd stood this close to Viggo and felt so strange, seeing every detail of his friend's face. He stared again at the full bottom lip that had caught his attention before, and his cock pushed against the zip of his jeans. You're so fucking gone.
His right thumb traced the edge of those perfect lips and they parted slightly. Sean's blood warmed triumphantly and he looked up into Viggo's pale eyes, finding little sparkles of green amongst the blue, and wondering if it was just a reflection of his own color. There was a pale stripe of darkness just above one cheekbone, and Sean's left thumb moved to caress the smooth delicate skin.
Viggo spoke Sean's name aloud, as if he were concerned that Sean was drifting off again.
"You've still not healed up all the way," Sean murmured. "Bloody surfboard really left its mark."
"Maybe it's just 'cause you never kissed it and made it better," Viggo said, with all his usual dry amusement.
Sean snorted. "I did, but I suppose you're accusing me of not doing it proper-like."
"It's just a theory."
Sean growled a little and leaned in, and Viggo's eyes drifted closed. Sean pressed his lips gently against the bruised flesh, letting warm air puff out of his mouth and float across Viggo's cheek. His nostrils filled up with the scent of Viggo's warm skin, now familiar and comforting and arousing, and his tongue reflexively slipped out to taste.
Viggo slumped against the door, "Orlando..." tumbling sensually from his lips.
Startled, Sean pulled back and stared at him. "What?"
Eyes a bit glazed, Viggo gradually came back to earth and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry--that time back at the bar--Orlando bet five bucks that you'd use tongue. I was trying to say that Orlando should get his money now."
Sean used both hands to pull Viggo's face toward him again. "You mind sayin' my name, so I know I'm on the right track here?"
Viggo's smile turned wicked and he hooked his fingers through Sean's belt loops, yanking Sean forward until he fell against the wall, smashing Viggo's body hard in between. Their cocks rubbed together and Viggo moaned out Sean's name, a collection of sounds so fucking erotic that Sean nearly came right then and there. And he hadn't even kissed the bastard yet.
"Fuck fuck fuck," Sean groaned, panicked and aroused and in definite pain. But there was no turning back now, and he pushed their mouths together. Viggo moaned again, but this time the sound vibrated inside Sean's mouth and down his throat, and somehow pulsed all the way through his body. Sean wound his fingers tightly into Viggo's hair, holding him steady while he slid his tongue between Viggo's lips.
Viggo tasted like morning and stale beer and hot coffee and Sean thought maybe it wasn't the best combination, but the wet slap of Viggo's tongue against his own more than made up for it. Like everything else between them it became a sparring match, as they grappled with one another and competed to see who could get farther down the other's throat. Sean started cataloging injuries, as Viggo's head slammed against the door for the twelfth time and his own knees once again banged against the unforgiving steel in his efforts to straddle Viggo and dry hump him into oblivion.
It was official now, he was no longer the Sean Bean he'd thought he was. He was no longer sensible, or heterosexual, or dignified. No he was a raging homo-lunatic, licking and biting and doing his best to violate his best mate, who fortunately enough didn't mind the drastic personality change. At least he didn't seem to mind, considering the sounds he was making and the way he was grabbing Sean's arse.
Sean considered it encouragement, in fact, and he nibbled on Viggo's bottom lip and tugged harder on Viggo's hair. Viggo let loose a string of obscenities and grabbed the back of Sean's neck, while simultaneously kicking both legs up and wrapping them around Sean's waist.
Sean was caught off-guard and he lost his balance, knocking both their heads against the door before they slid down it and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor.
"Fuck!" Viggo shouted, and then he started laughing, ineffectually trying to untangle his limbs from Sean. "You're crushing me!"
"I think you broke my leg," Sean groaned, elbowing Viggo in the face as he attempted to extract himself. "Oh shit, did I get you?"
Viggo laughed harder. "Get off, get off, you fucking monster! Stop hurting me!"
"Well unwrap your legs you crazy git!" Sean shouted back, determined not to be amused.
"Oh sure, now you want me to spread my legs," Viggo complained, before sporfling and dissolving into crinkly-faced giggles.
And that was it, Sean was helpless to fight it, chuckles giving way to whimpering whines of gut-clenching glee. Viggo relaxed underneath him and Sean was able to roll away from the door, bringing Viggo with him.
They ended up next to the hall table, Sean knowing his face and shoulders were probably purple by now, tears of laughter streaming down his face as the absurdity of the entire situation played over and over again in his mind. The carpet wasn't so bad against his back, and Viggo sprawled on top of him wasn't so bad, either, if you ignored the crushing weight. All in all, life was tolerable, he supposed.
Viggo sputtered and drooled all his mirth onto Sean's chest, and finally, when they were both worn out and done in, Viggo looked up at him. "What the hell was I thinking?" He shook his head. "One kiss and I think you dislocated my shoulder. I'm going to have to take out extra medical insurance before you fuck me."
Sean glared at him. "I never said I'd fuck you!"
"You're damn well gonna do something with me," Viggo said. "I didn't spend all this time playing touchy feely with you just to swap morning-breath scented spit and say sayonara. There's got to be an orgasm involved somewhere, and I don't even care whose it is at this point."
"You say that now," Sean grumbled, trying not to think about it.
"You're right. I want the fucking orgasm. I deserve it."
"Can we talk about this later?" Sean asked. "A bloke can only queer up so much in one day, and laugh all you want, this was not exactly easy for me."
Viggo smiled, squeezing Sean's shoulder before leaning forward and kissing him gently on the mouth. "Nothing about this has been easy," he said, his eyes sparkling warmly. "I don't think you realize how much I understand you."
Sean stared up at him a moment, and felt a strange tightening in his chest. "I do realize, and it scares the piss out of me, quite frankly."
"Don't be scared," Viggo murmured, nuzzling his cheek. "I'm sure you'll queer up nicely, you big idiot." He cackled softly, and then smothered Sean's objections with a kiss.
~~
Pairing: SB/VM
Author: shrinetolust
Rated: R
Story: More silliness. Sean reaches startling conclusions; Viggo helps. Sean's persistant denial reflex refuses to give up without a fight.
Disclaimer: Don't know these lovely men, don't know what they get up to in their free time. This is all part of my overactive imagination, done with love and respect, and no harm or offense is intended. It's FICTION!!
Feedback: Yes, please. I hope the boys are still entertaining. ~ Leave a note here or mail me at shrinetolust AT hotmail.com
Crossposted: Oh, everywhere. I am a feedback whore.
Archive: My own LJ. Green Opals, Rugbytackling. Others, please ask.
Notes: Heavily edited as always but un-beta-ed. Please point out any glaring errors so I'm not embarrassed for too long!
WARNINGS: None.
**BIG SQUISHY THANK YOUs to loyaldreamer for my icon...*mwah!*
**Touching: (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7) (Chapter 8)
You might want to skim Chapter 8 for a refresher, as this one directly picks up from there...
Touching: Chapter 9
Sean took a deep breath and blinked his eyes a few times, trying to adjust to wakefulness and get his bearings. His gaze fell on the dancing blue pattern of flowers on the wallpaper just opposite him, the sun pushing great big stripes of light across them and brightening all the colors. His side ached something terrible, and he got the distinct impression he'd lain in this same position all night.
Other parts of his body were aching as well, but that was typical morning routine. What wasn't typical was the fact that he wasn't alone. He could feel the weight of the other person in the bed behind him, and he could also feel the person's hand on him, rough fingers scratching delicate patterns across his back.
Viggo. The night's events washed over him with such force that his temples exploded with pain and he bit his lip to stifle a pathetic whine. He had something of a hangover, no doubt of that, but it wasn't so bad that he didn't remember nearly every moment of his late-night massage. His memory of why his friend was in bed with him was a little fuzzy, but he had this vague concept that it'd been his own idea.
The throbbing in his skull eased a little and he took another deep breath. The drink had previously made things a bit more acceptable, it seemed, but the morning light was filled with implications and he started to feel the familiar coil of panic deep in his belly.
He closed his eyes tightly again, which shut out just about everything but the gentle touch of Viggo's hand. It still felt fucking good--that hadn't changed. Being male and undeniably concerned with his own pleasure 90% of the time, he was finding it difficult to think this whole touching business was a bad thing. He had to admit that it had been a long time since anyone had paid this much attention to him. Sure, there'd been a shag here and there, but that had been a sort of grabbing, thrusting, thank-you-it's-been-nice-see-you-around sort of thing. Nothing like this detailed, careful caressing that made every inch of his skin vibrate with a tingling sort of sensual bliss.
He was about to evaluate why his thought pattern suddenly resembled a 16-year-old girl's diary, full of happiness and sensual bliss--for fuck's sake--when Viggo moved closer and smashed their bodies together. Sean felt Viggo's hand push at his arm and start rubbing at his chest, and he felt some other part of Viggo nudging his arse. He wasn't quite ready to think about that, or about the fact that his cock had just jumped in response to it.
Viggo huffed a bit and rubbed his face against the back of Sean's neck, his beard tickling Sean's skin, the tumble of Aragorn hair floating across Sean's shoulder and making his nipples hard. Of course, the nipple thing probably was helped by the fact that the bastard had started rubbing them, his hand passing over Sean's pecs again and again, thumb grazing the little hard nubs each time it passed by--and sometimes circling and pressing and oh God, why is he doing that?
Sean licked his lips and tried to catch his breath. He held himself still, just like he had the night before, and attempted to think of what to do, how to respond, how he should respond. Because it should stop, right? He had to decide quickly, because it was taking all his willpower not to react to the intense heat flooding his body.
He cracked his eyelids and glanced down slightly, and saw Viggo's long fingers trailing across his belly. He shivered, unable to comprehend how it could still feel so fucking good. But this wasn't like the back rub. This was more...well, it was just more. And he didn't think more was a good idea. Friendliness between blokes was one thing, and he thought he'd gotten a lot more open-minded on all that. But this was taking it too far. This wasn't just a friendly massage. This was--well, fuck, it was him getting fondled, that's what it was. And it really had to stop.
Viggo sighed heavily, then, and started grinding gently against him. Against his arse to be precise, and Sean tried to say something right away about that. But all that came out was a horribly embarrassing whimpering sound, which made Viggo groan in return and push harder. Sean was horrified even more when his own hips broke free of his control and shifted, causing his bum to rub against--
"Sean," Viggo murmured in a low and scratchy voice, his lips tickling Sean's neck. Then he started kissing his way down to Sean's shoulder, his tongue slipping out and licking the sweat from his skin while his fingers once again tormented one of Sean's nipples.
Sean was breathing hard through his mouth now, and he wondered how to make it stop. This was all happening too fast, and he couldn't think, and his body was responding to each touch now despite his efforts at restraint. His hips rolled again, and there was no denying that feeling, that feeling of Viggo's cock pushing between his cheeks. Oh God.
"Viggo--" he choked out, but nothing followed, for his brain was gone again. It had melted right along with the rest of him, apparently.
Viggo merely hummed in response and slid down a bit farther so he could kiss more of Sean's back. His hand moved with him, from Sean's chest down to his stomach. Then he forced one of his legs between Sean's, bending his knee and lifting his thigh until Sean felt it pushing against his balls.
"Oh fuck," Sean whimpered. Viggo kept moving his thigh, and Sean could feel the scratching of hair and the push of muscle through the thin fabric of his shorts. His sensitive flesh tightened and he could feel that he was leaking through the cotton stretched across his now painfully hard erection.
Viggo's hand made soft, gentle circles on his stomach, middle finger dipping into his navel and teasing until Sean's skin trembled beneath his touch. The circular pattern started small but then gradually grew larger, sweeping across his ribs and then swooping down to subtly slip just underneath the waistband of his shorts.
Too much. Sean didn't think he could take any more, as amazing as Viggo's hand felt, as hard as his cock was, he just wasn't ready for this. Not ever. Not now. He was completely out of control, panting like a fucking overworked horse and sweating from every pore. He'd lost his mind, and so had Viggo. This had to stop. Had to, had to-- "Stop!" he said hoarsely, finally, and his hand clamped onto Viggo's wrist just before those rough fingers touched what they shouldn't ever be touching.
Viggo stopped. His body ceased moving against Sean's, and his hand pulled back slightly and rested flat against Sean's belly. "Okay," he said, his lips brushing against Sean's back as he spoke. He tilted his head and Sean once more felt the soft brown hair swish against his shoulder.
Sean exhaled deeply and felt his muscles relax just a bit. If he knew anything, he knew Viggo wouldn't push him. He just needed time, needed a moment to collect a coherent thought, something that wasn't possible with all the blood in his body pooling in one area.
Slowly and silently, Viggo slipped away from him, which unexpectedly made Sean tense again. He felt Viggo roll over and then the bed dipped, and Sean's hand reflexively swung out behind him. His fingers curled around Viggo's side, and he could tell that his friend was sitting at the edge of the bed. "Where're you going?" he asked, startled at the urgency in his own voice.
There was a long pause, which Sean was used to when it came to Viggo, but the suspense nearly killed him this time. Finally Viggo replied very softly, "Nowhere," and he lay back down again.
Awkward as the position was, Sean kept his hand on Viggo, suddenly afraid his friend might escape if he didn't keep hold of him. Fuck. Obviously Viggo leaving was more upsetting than Viggo molesting him, and that said a lot. If he really was the resolutely macho heterosexual Sean Bean he'd always wanted to believe he was, he would have kicked Viggo out of the damn room, let alone the bed, without hesitation. Right?
Of course Viggo was his friend, and he'd like to think he'd never been a macho shit. Het or not, he probably wouldn't have kicked Viggo anywhere. Still, he had to acknowledge that Viggo had been right--Sean did have a minor case of homophobia. Especially the phobia part, because he was pretty fucking scared about examining something he'd been trying very hard not to look at for quite some time. He'd always been rather good at stubbornly avoiding the obvious, but now that he'd just ground his arse against his best mate's cock, it seemed a bit difficult to explain that one away as a misunderstanding.
So, it was a pretty fair bet that as much as he thought he should be, he wasn't all that repulsed by being tangled up on a bed in a more than friendly way with Viggo. In fact, it was pretty fucking obvious he was nowhere near repulsed, considering how hard his cock was at the moment. And while he was being so damn honest, he had to admit to himself that Viggo hadn't exactly surprised him. If he truly opened his eyes and faced what had been going on the last few months, there was no way he could deny the meaning behind all those little touches--on the couch, at the bar, in Orlando's little tin can of a rental car. No, he would be the biggest liar on the face of the planet if he didn't right now accept the fact that he never would have let Viggo stroke the back of his thigh if he hadn't wanted him to.
Oh God. Sean took a deep shuddering breath. So, that was it, then. He'd said it aloud, or in his head, anyway. He wanted Viggo to touch him, and there was nothing for it, really. He couldn't even blame Viggo, and use that old excuse about "being turned". Because as long as he was airing out all his own dirty laundry, he had to confess that waking up with that damn pretty Elf wrapped around him had been fucking arousing as well. Dammit.
Sean was startled out of his thoughts by a soft snore, Viggo's ribs suddenly vibrating under his hand. He almost laughed, but caught himself at the last minute. He rolled over as quietly and with as little jostling movement as he could, and lay there for a moment, looking at Viggo's back. His friend was sprawled out on his side, head smashed into the pillow, both arms flailed out in front of him. Sean leaned as close as he dared, peering at Viggo's face and grinning as he watched Viggo's lips flutter with each exhale. "Daft git," he murmured. Here he was, having a life-altering epiphany, and Viggo had decided to take a nap.
With a sigh he settled in next to Viggo, staring for several long moments at the long, silky brown hair stretched out on the pillow in front of him. Since he'd decided he was completely fucked anyway, he figured there was no harm in going further down the path to hell, and he reached up and delicately traced the length of a few soft strands.
Viggo didn't move, so he let his fingers comb through a few more times, before ever so lightly touching Viggo's skin. He followed the curve of one shoulder blade, then trailed all the way down the gently arced spine. Viggo shifted in his sleep, and Sean's gaze drifted towards the movement. The edge of Viggo's sweatpants were barely clinging to his hips, sagging down in the back and exposing half of his arse. Sean clamped his eyes shut.
The image was burned into his brain already, of course, from previous viewings. Nice and round, potentially contest-winning, and Sean found his eyes opening again to shamelessly stare at it. His breath was fanning hot across Viggo's shoulders as he gazed down at that little hollow of warm flesh, just above the cleft--that little hollow that his damn cock was pointing to right at the moment, head obscenely pushing at the front of his shorts.
Fuck. This really was too much. Earth-shattering revelations aside, he didn't know if he really was ready for this, and he started to think Viggo had the right idea with this nap business. Maybe if he went to sleep he'd wake up and find out he'd dreamt the whole thing. And then he and Viggo could go back to falling asleep drunk on the couch together, and being best mates.
As long as he was dreaming, then, he pushed forward across that last millimeter of space between them and moaned softly when his erection pressed against Viggo's arse. Viggo shifted slightly and Sean felt the firm curves push and slide along his cock. He realized suddenly that with a few more thrusts, he'd probably come all over Viggo's back, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from wailing at the thought. And he didn't even know if it would have been a wail of agony or ecstasy.
Best to not find out. He threw an arm around Viggo and hugged him tight, burying his face in the fan of hair against Viggo's neck. He regulated his breaths and forced himself to think unarousing thoughts, and eventually the strain of trying to mentally fight his own body wore him out and he fell into an uneasy sleep.
~~
Sean woke up alone. He was confused for a few moments, then he smelled the familiar aroma of coffee and his brain started to clear. Coffee always meant Viggo was still around, and he started to smile until he remembered--had it been a dream? There had been--touching, and rubbing, and oh god, grinding... He rolled over onto his back and became immediately aware of his cock, which was starting to show interest at every detail he remembered of this apparently arousing dream.
He heard Viggo singing, then, rather in-tune for a change, and he let the grin happen this time. Dream or no dream, it was time to climb out of bed and get some coffee. Once he was fully awake he'd be able to figure out what the hell had or hadn't happened, and most likely have a laugh about it with Vig.
Once he got to his feet, he realized his head was pounding slightly, but it was manageable. He padded barefoot over to the bathroom, and a few minutes later he emerged with an empty bladder and a stomach containing headache tablets waiting to be drowned with coffee. Typical morning, really.
Sean pulled on a pair of faded jeans, hoping the tighter fabric would hold him in if his cock decided to stand at attention again. Then he made his way through the French doors and over to the little kitchenette area, where he found Viggo at the counter, pouring coffee into a plain white mug.
The first thing Sean noticed was the sweatpants, still hanging low on Viggo's hips, revealing a nice slice of flesh between the waistband and the hem of his faded t-shirt. The second thing was Viggo's smile when he turned around, the smile that let Sean know he hadn't dreamt one damn minute of what had happened last night. And this morning. Fucking hell.
Viggo walked up to him and handed the coffee over, still smiling, but watching Sean carefully now. "Good morning," he said quietly, waiting until Sean's fingers actually closed around the handle before letting go of the mug.
"Morning," Sean choked out, then added stupidly, "How're you?" He could feel his cheeks turning red.
Viggo's smile deepened, then, and one eyebrow arched up. "I'm fine," he said. "How are you?"
Sean scrambled for something noncommittal to say but came up empty. He ended up shrugging instead.
Viggo laughed. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He moved over to the couch and picked up his own cup of coffee, and Sean could almost have imagined it was any other morning, when they'd woken up after a night of drinking and watching telly. But it wasn't any other morning, and they both knew it. The question was, what were they going to do about it?
Sean sat down on the couch next to Viggo, but at a respectable distance. He was still going for that noncommittal thing, since he had no idea what the hell to say or do or feel at this point. Viggo was better at this sort of thing anyway, so why not let him take the lead?
"It's a bit later than we'd planned," Viggo began, sipping at his drink before continuing, "but we could still make it to breakfast if you wanted."
"Erm, yeah," Sean murmured. "If you like."
"I do," Viggo said. "I was asking if you like."
"Like what?"
Viggo laughed again. "Are you still drunk?"
Sean growled irritably, before downing some of his own coffee. "You know how I am before me morning cuppa."
"Yes, and it's not this. Well, except for that snarling you just did at me. That's pretty typical."
He was grinning crookedly like some smartass teenager, and Sean couldn't help it and grinned back. "Just shut the fuck up and let me wake up in peace." He tipped his mug back again, hoping the caffeine might give him strength.
"Really?" Viggo went on. "I just woke up fifteen minutes ago with your arm crushing my ribcage and your cock digging into my ass. Why should I let you have any peace?"
Sean choked mid-swallow, nearly dropping his cup as he dribbled a stream of coffee down his chin and onto his bare chest.
"Sorry," Viggo snorted, reaching over to try to help.
Sean ducked his grasp and stood up. "Don't touch me," he rasped, then coughed. The coffee burned in his throat, halfway down the wrong pipe. He stumbled over to the sink and grabbed a towel, mopping the drool off his face and chest.
"Are you all right?" Viggo asked, getting up and moving to stand next to him.
"No," Sean snapped, but then he regretted it. Viggo looked hurt, and Sean hated when he looked like that. He rubbed a hand over his jaw and around to the back of his neck, trying to work out a kink that was forming there. "I'm fine," he said more calmly, throwing the towel onto the counter. "You just shouldn't say shit like that when I'm drinking."
"You're right, I'll pay more attention next time." Viggo moved closer and put a hand on Sean's arm. He watched Sean's face as he gently stroked up and down, from shoulder to elbow and back again.
Sean let him do it, and let himself look into Viggo's soft blue-gray eyes. He thought for a moment how Boromir changed his mind about Aragorn on their journey, from suspicion to trust and admiration. He expected his performance had a lot to do with Viggo's eyes, and the times he had lost himself in them on set without really realizing it. Those were the scenes everyone had thought the best, male-bonding with a glimmer of sensuality. He expected the women in the audience would really go for that, and the blokes would pretend they didn't see it. Pretend not to notice that Aragorn was lying between Boromir's legs at the end.
"Sean?" Viggo broke into his thoughts, letting his fingers slip down and curl around Sean's hand. "You in there?"
"Aye," Sean answered, blinking a few times to break the spell. He glanced down at their joined hands. "Guess we'd best get moving before it's lunchtime, eh?" When Viggo started to let go, Sean squeezed his fingers before he slipped away.
Viggo smiled at the gesture and headed for the door. "I'll go back to my room and get cleaned up. Meet me downstairs in ten?"
Sean followed him, unable to stop from chuckling at the bright orange rubber beach sandals Viggo was sliding his feet into. "Where on earth did you get those?" he asked.
"Where do you think?"
Sean snorted. "Got to be the Elfling."
"His feet are bigger than mine," Viggo observed, wiggling his toes to show the extra inch of length ahead of them. "But they're comfortable."
"Stepping in drunken vomit in the hall finally cured you of your barefoot ways, eh?"
"In hotel hallways, yes. And Dom's apartment."
Sean grinned. "Wise choice, that. Now off with you." He leaned over and undid the deadbolt.
As always, Viggo lingered. And Sean felt his heart suddenly hammering in his chest as he stared at him, unable to avoid the knowing look on Viggo's face, unable to avoid thinking about Viggo touching him.
Sean knew that this time Viggo was doing more than teasing. It was likely he really did expect a little something at the door, and considering how much Sean had let go on in bed, he couldn't really blame him. The coffee had slowly seeped in and wakened those parts of his brain responsible for his big epiphany that morning, and much as he'd like to, he just couldn't go back to the land of denial and pretend to be affronted by the idea.
But acknowledging an attraction didn't really mean one had to go through with it, did it? He was still his own man, could still make his own decisions. And just because he had perverted thoughts about the curve of Viggo's arse didn't mean he had to go all hearts and flowers over him and develop a limp wrist, did it?
Granted, Viggo never had any limp-wristed tendencies as far as he'd seen. And prissy as the Elf boy was, he didn't exactly sit around in a pink frock doing needlepoint all day. Not that he really knew which way the boy swung, anyway, but it was obvious not everyone fit the stereotypes he'd been afraid of all these years. He supposed there was no law saying your personality had to change just because you fancied a bloke occasionally.
Viggo was smiling again, eyes drifting from one part of Sean's face to another, sizing him up. "Usually," he said, his tone bemused, "I'm the one that checks out of the conversation periodically, but today it seems to be your turn."
Sean reached up and cradled Viggo's face with his hand, thumb sliding up and caressing the laugh lines at the corner of Viggo's eye. "Were we having a conversation?" he asked, and he really didn't remember if they had been.
"Damned if I know," Viggo replied, and he tilted his head into Sean's touch.
Sean thought that if Viggo were a woman, now would have been the time Sean would have gone in for the kiss. But Viggo wasn't a woman, and Sean hadn't ever kissed a man, and he had inane thoughts about the friction of beards creating a spark and causing a fire.
So they stood there for a little while, Sean's blood pounding in his ears and nearly making him dizzy, his fingertips gently ruffling Viggo's hair as they stared at one another. And then Viggo's eyes turned down a little at the corners, and his smile faded, and he bowed his head a moment before slipping away from Sean. "I'll see you downstairs," he murmured, and he went to open the door.
Startled, Sean followed him and reflexively put his arm up, slamming the door closed just as Viggo tried to pull it open. Viggo turned around and Sean pressed in close, putting both hands on Viggo's shoulders.
"What're you doing?" Viggo asked.
For once, Viggo looked like the one not in control, and Sean felt a tiny amount of satisfaction at that. Okay, maybe a large amount. "What am I doing?" Sean huffed. "Picking up where we left off, that's what." He brought a hand up and caressed Viggo's face again. "Every day I've got to wait five minutes for you to finish a fucking sentence, and you couldn't wait two bloody minutes for me to get up the nerve to kiss you?"
Viggo opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out at first. Sean silently gloated, loving that he'd finally turned the tables, at least for the moment.
"Well?" Sean persisted, leaning closer and pushing his hips harder against Viggo's.
"I didn't think you were going to," Viggo murmured, his eyes still locked with Sean's.
Sean sighed. "Neither did I, really. But I was thinking about it, and you didn't give me the chance to follow me thoughts all the way through."
"Okay," Viggo said, and a hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I'll wait."
"Yeah, yeah," Sean said, knowing just what that smile meant. "I know you're sick of waiting. I know you've the patience of a saint and all that. No need to rub it in."
"I didn't say a word."
"Bloody well didn't have to, did you?" He lifted his other hand and framed Viggo's face with his fingers. As long as Viggo was going to be all smug, he was going to take his time, then. He suddenly remembered that moment in the bar, when he'd stood this close to Viggo and felt so strange, seeing every detail of his friend's face. He stared again at the full bottom lip that had caught his attention before, and his cock pushed against the zip of his jeans. You're so fucking gone.
His right thumb traced the edge of those perfect lips and they parted slightly. Sean's blood warmed triumphantly and he looked up into Viggo's pale eyes, finding little sparkles of green amongst the blue, and wondering if it was just a reflection of his own color. There was a pale stripe of darkness just above one cheekbone, and Sean's left thumb moved to caress the smooth delicate skin.
Viggo spoke Sean's name aloud, as if he were concerned that Sean was drifting off again.
"You've still not healed up all the way," Sean murmured. "Bloody surfboard really left its mark."
"Maybe it's just 'cause you never kissed it and made it better," Viggo said, with all his usual dry amusement.
Sean snorted. "I did, but I suppose you're accusing me of not doing it proper-like."
"It's just a theory."
Sean growled a little and leaned in, and Viggo's eyes drifted closed. Sean pressed his lips gently against the bruised flesh, letting warm air puff out of his mouth and float across Viggo's cheek. His nostrils filled up with the scent of Viggo's warm skin, now familiar and comforting and arousing, and his tongue reflexively slipped out to taste.
Viggo slumped against the door, "Orlando..." tumbling sensually from his lips.
Startled, Sean pulled back and stared at him. "What?"
Eyes a bit glazed, Viggo gradually came back to earth and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry--that time back at the bar--Orlando bet five bucks that you'd use tongue. I was trying to say that Orlando should get his money now."
Sean used both hands to pull Viggo's face toward him again. "You mind sayin' my name, so I know I'm on the right track here?"
Viggo's smile turned wicked and he hooked his fingers through Sean's belt loops, yanking Sean forward until he fell against the wall, smashing Viggo's body hard in between. Their cocks rubbed together and Viggo moaned out Sean's name, a collection of sounds so fucking erotic that Sean nearly came right then and there. And he hadn't even kissed the bastard yet.
"Fuck fuck fuck," Sean groaned, panicked and aroused and in definite pain. But there was no turning back now, and he pushed their mouths together. Viggo moaned again, but this time the sound vibrated inside Sean's mouth and down his throat, and somehow pulsed all the way through his body. Sean wound his fingers tightly into Viggo's hair, holding him steady while he slid his tongue between Viggo's lips.
Viggo tasted like morning and stale beer and hot coffee and Sean thought maybe it wasn't the best combination, but the wet slap of Viggo's tongue against his own more than made up for it. Like everything else between them it became a sparring match, as they grappled with one another and competed to see who could get farther down the other's throat. Sean started cataloging injuries, as Viggo's head slammed against the door for the twelfth time and his own knees once again banged against the unforgiving steel in his efforts to straddle Viggo and dry hump him into oblivion.
It was official now, he was no longer the Sean Bean he'd thought he was. He was no longer sensible, or heterosexual, or dignified. No he was a raging homo-lunatic, licking and biting and doing his best to violate his best mate, who fortunately enough didn't mind the drastic personality change. At least he didn't seem to mind, considering the sounds he was making and the way he was grabbing Sean's arse.
Sean considered it encouragement, in fact, and he nibbled on Viggo's bottom lip and tugged harder on Viggo's hair. Viggo let loose a string of obscenities and grabbed the back of Sean's neck, while simultaneously kicking both legs up and wrapping them around Sean's waist.
Sean was caught off-guard and he lost his balance, knocking both their heads against the door before they slid down it and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor.
"Fuck!" Viggo shouted, and then he started laughing, ineffectually trying to untangle his limbs from Sean. "You're crushing me!"
"I think you broke my leg," Sean groaned, elbowing Viggo in the face as he attempted to extract himself. "Oh shit, did I get you?"
Viggo laughed harder. "Get off, get off, you fucking monster! Stop hurting me!"
"Well unwrap your legs you crazy git!" Sean shouted back, determined not to be amused.
"Oh sure, now you want me to spread my legs," Viggo complained, before sporfling and dissolving into crinkly-faced giggles.
And that was it, Sean was helpless to fight it, chuckles giving way to whimpering whines of gut-clenching glee. Viggo relaxed underneath him and Sean was able to roll away from the door, bringing Viggo with him.
They ended up next to the hall table, Sean knowing his face and shoulders were probably purple by now, tears of laughter streaming down his face as the absurdity of the entire situation played over and over again in his mind. The carpet wasn't so bad against his back, and Viggo sprawled on top of him wasn't so bad, either, if you ignored the crushing weight. All in all, life was tolerable, he supposed.
Viggo sputtered and drooled all his mirth onto Sean's chest, and finally, when they were both worn out and done in, Viggo looked up at him. "What the hell was I thinking?" He shook his head. "One kiss and I think you dislocated my shoulder. I'm going to have to take out extra medical insurance before you fuck me."
Sean glared at him. "I never said I'd fuck you!"
"You're damn well gonna do something with me," Viggo said. "I didn't spend all this time playing touchy feely with you just to swap morning-breath scented spit and say sayonara. There's got to be an orgasm involved somewhere, and I don't even care whose it is at this point."
"You say that now," Sean grumbled, trying not to think about it.
"You're right. I want the fucking orgasm. I deserve it."
"Can we talk about this later?" Sean asked. "A bloke can only queer up so much in one day, and laugh all you want, this was not exactly easy for me."
Viggo smiled, squeezing Sean's shoulder before leaning forward and kissing him gently on the mouth. "Nothing about this has been easy," he said, his eyes sparkling warmly. "I don't think you realize how much I understand you."
Sean stared up at him a moment, and felt a strange tightening in his chest. "I do realize, and it scares the piss out of me, quite frankly."
"Don't be scared," Viggo murmured, nuzzling his cheek. "I'm sure you'll queer up nicely, you big idiot." He cackled softly, and then smothered Sean's objections with a kiss.
~~