For shegollum: Oubliette
Title: Oubliette
Recipient: shegollum
Author: dancingbarefoot
Pairing: Viggo/Sean
Rating: PG-14?
Summary: Just a steam of consciousness, the boys giving little silent snippets of thoughts about the other man.
Pre-reveal Notes: None that I can think of, I hope you have a merry Christmas and that you enjoy my present *runs and hides*
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
You're like a slow sultry jazz number, reminding me of smoky clubs and the need to press together to hear the other speak over the music. Faint smiles and whisky against the skin as you tug me closer into a darkened corner to talk.
And oh how you can talk, reminding me of something like a jack of all trades, knowledge pouring from you like rain against a glass pane, making me want to pull you closer, open you like a book and soak up what you're trying to say and hope to god it's what I want to say to you.
You remind me of a piano, oh how my fingers itch to score across you, along your spine and over your shoulders, just to hear you would sound as I played you in bed.
Viggo, you have no idea how badly I want when I watch you make your way across the world.
- - - -
You're the best of inspirations, I see you in pretty much everything I do and yet it's not enough. When I play a man at the end of the world, I can imagine being in your arms at the end of days and find when they yell cut at me, when I can put that part of me aside and resume wishing for you, it's then that I really hate your choice in spouses.
When I play Cowboys and Indians as you so annoyingly put it on the phone one day, to rile me up and stop me from nattering about everything and anything, I imagine riding somewhere free with you, no real world around us, just two people who keep bloody dancing around each other as if one was a moth and the other the flame.
Did I ever tell you when I broke up with Orlando?
No actually I don't think I did nor will I, not that I would want to keep secrets from you. But because the elf was right about one important thing. The king needs his steward and I wanted you more than I did the elfling.
He could see traces of you in my paintings, in my poems and in my scraps of consciousness that I would jot everywhere and anywhere I could, so I could remember you.
He's a very smart boy, that Orlando.
- - - -
I've had enough of elfs telling me to go to the states after laughing and telling me that he told me so.
So much so that lo and behold Vig, I'm in a seat on a plane and facing a fear that is almost as big enough as the fear of telling you that I want you. I should have told you in Malta, I should have told you in Toronto, I've should have for so long that I've forgotten the how to have.
I hope you can show me how to, please?
- - - -
You've played me like a piano, a duet that stopped and started and began again and now I can only imagine what other instruments will play in this song we've created. Quite the original composition we're facing or will once you've woken up and we take each other again.
That jazz station you turned me on to is playing Christmas carols jazz style on the stereo in the living room and it adds to this feeling of belonging here with you and all I can think of is I'm bloody lucky to have this second chance and if I was to be honest and had to admit this to you under the twinkling Christmas lights, you're rather lucky to have me too.
***
Recipient: shegollum
Author: dancingbarefoot
Pairing: Viggo/Sean
Rating: PG-14?
Summary: Just a steam of consciousness, the boys giving little silent snippets of thoughts about the other man.
Pre-reveal Notes: None that I can think of, I hope you have a merry Christmas and that you enjoy my present *runs and hides*
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
You're like a slow sultry jazz number, reminding me of smoky clubs and the need to press together to hear the other speak over the music. Faint smiles and whisky against the skin as you tug me closer into a darkened corner to talk.
And oh how you can talk, reminding me of something like a jack of all trades, knowledge pouring from you like rain against a glass pane, making me want to pull you closer, open you like a book and soak up what you're trying to say and hope to god it's what I want to say to you.
You remind me of a piano, oh how my fingers itch to score across you, along your spine and over your shoulders, just to hear you would sound as I played you in bed.
Viggo, you have no idea how badly I want when I watch you make your way across the world.
- - - -
You're the best of inspirations, I see you in pretty much everything I do and yet it's not enough. When I play a man at the end of the world, I can imagine being in your arms at the end of days and find when they yell cut at me, when I can put that part of me aside and resume wishing for you, it's then that I really hate your choice in spouses.
When I play Cowboys and Indians as you so annoyingly put it on the phone one day, to rile me up and stop me from nattering about everything and anything, I imagine riding somewhere free with you, no real world around us, just two people who keep bloody dancing around each other as if one was a moth and the other the flame.
Did I ever tell you when I broke up with Orlando?
No actually I don't think I did nor will I, not that I would want to keep secrets from you. But because the elf was right about one important thing. The king needs his steward and I wanted you more than I did the elfling.
He could see traces of you in my paintings, in my poems and in my scraps of consciousness that I would jot everywhere and anywhere I could, so I could remember you.
He's a very smart boy, that Orlando.
- - - -
I've had enough of elfs telling me to go to the states after laughing and telling me that he told me so.
So much so that lo and behold Vig, I'm in a seat on a plane and facing a fear that is almost as big enough as the fear of telling you that I want you. I should have told you in Malta, I should have told you in Toronto, I've should have for so long that I've forgotten the how to have.
I hope you can show me how to, please?
- - - -
You've played me like a piano, a duet that stopped and started and began again and now I can only imagine what other instruments will play in this song we've created. Quite the original composition we're facing or will once you've woken up and we take each other again.
That jazz station you turned me on to is playing Christmas carols jazz style on the stereo in the living room and it adds to this feeling of belonging here with you and all I can think of is I'm bloody lucky to have this second chance and if I was to be honest and had to admit this to you under the twinkling Christmas lights, you're rather lucky to have me too.
***