Fic : Hunted
Jun. 20th, 2003 12:04 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rugbytackleTitle: Hunted
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rinsbane
Pairing: SB/VM
Rating: NC17
Summary: Sean visits Viggo, but Viggo isn’t there so he has to go find him out in the woods…hunting ensues.
Disclaimer: Don’t know them and I really don’t think they ever behaved like this, cavorting in the woods.
I was listening to the Last of the Mohicans soundtrack when this popped into my little head, esp. the part of the soundtrack that involves the characters hunting the deer…whoops! This is the result.
Hunted
Sean slowly drove up the drive hearing the crackle of loose gravel crunch under his tires. Trees, trees all around were all he could see through the hazy drizzle until he came to the last bend on the driveway and the wooden cabin sat in plain view. It was a snug little thing, perfect for one, maybe two people to relax in. The porch was screened in, and through the mesh Sean could see fishing poles resting against the wall. The windshield wipers flickered one last time as he turned the car off.
He got out and stretched. It wasn’t really raining, not even sprinkling. It was more like a soft, warm, tangible haze that surrounded everything, draping itself over you like a cat. The trees were tall and dark green in the embrace of high summer, and the woods chirped and whispered with lively noises. Trust Viggo to find this place 30 minutes away from anywhere and decide to live here for a while. It really was beautiful, but right now it was wet too, and Sean was ready to stop appreciating the scenery and step inside. The little chimney was smoking faintly, and Sean thought that Viggo had probably started a fire. Despite the warmth of the rain, a fire would be comfortable in the constant damp. And some tea. Sean was feeling the need for some tea.
He walked over to the house and opened the screen door. “Hey Viggo?” he called out. Silence welcomed his greeting. “Viggo, you here?” He walked onto the porch and tried the door. It was open so he walked in and looked around. Inside it was neat but Viggoless. There was a table with papers and some books spread haphazardly on it, a little kitchen to the left, a couch and fireplace directly in front of him, and some doors off to the right. Probably a bathroom and bedroom. The couch had an afghan over the back and was slightly worn. There was a covered easel in a corner. Yeah, this was Viggo’s place all right, but where was the crazy bastard? If he thought Sean was chasing out in the woods to find him, he had another thing coming. Nope, he was just gonna stay here nice and dry until Viggo showed up. Maybe fix himself some tea and settle onto the couch.
He sat down and waited. He didn’t want to pry into any of his friend’s stuff so he picked up the book that was lying on the couch and started reading. Njal’s saga. After a few pages, he began to think that there were some really dumb brutes in the story. Njal, now he seemed sort of crafty. Fifteen minutes later Sean began to think that maybe Viggo wasn’t wearing a watch again. And if Viggo wasn’t wearing a watch, he wouldn’t know when to come back to meet Sean. Bad Viggo, inviting him out here and then not sticking around to see him. Sean shook his head in exasperated affection. He didn’t really want to read Njal’s saga for several hours until Viggo realized that oops, Sean was probably waiting for him. Sighing, Sean decided that he probably was going to have to go find Viggo somewhere out there in the woods if he wanted to make the trip worthwhile. He tapped his fingers on the book once, twice, hard, and stood.
Walking onto the porch, he saw that it was still doing that wet drizzle thing. An occasional plop punctuated the soft murmur of the precipitation. When he stepped outside, the warm mist rose up to greet his face with a soft caress. Growling under his breath, he wondered what the hell Viggo was doing outside. But there were his tracks leading into the woods on the light path where there was a muddy patch, and as Sean followed them into the piney forest, he saw faint scuffle marks were fallen pine needles had been recently disturbed. He grinned as he saw the ironic humor in this: Viggo was supposed to be the ranger, not him, yet here he was tracking him through a forest like some sort of prey. Not an orc, Sean found himself hoping before he realized how dumb he was being. A spindly arm with prickers on it slid off his jeans and scratched across his hand, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Viggo?” he shouted, hoping his friend would be in hearing range. He waited a few seconds and called again. No such luck. Hiking steadily into the woods, he noticed the path was sloping gently upwards as it curved back and forth around dripping trees. Sweat was beading lightly on his brow, not so much from exertion as from the water’s lack of anywhere else to go. The heat of the moisture-laden air sat heavy in his skin, and the air was too saturated already for any sweat or water to evaporate so his sweat just stuck on his skin, mixing with water in his hair. After 15 minutes out in the drizzle, he was beginning to feel the wetness on his clothes. Maybe he should have stayed in the cabin after all, he thought, annoyed at himself and Viggo.
A flash of movement to the left caught the corner of his eye. A bird? A squirrel? Viggo? He called out again, and again received no answer. Suddenly a bird flew up from the undergrowth on his right side as if startled, and then were was silence, that silence that animals create when disturbed by an intruder. He broke off the path and walked in that direction, but by the time he got there the animals had calmed down and resumed their noises. Frustrated, he sat on a log and immediately sprang back up again as he felt the water from the wood begin to seep into the denim over his arse.
Author:
rinsbane Pairing: SB/VM
Rating: NC17
Summary: Sean visits Viggo, but Viggo isn’t there so he has to go find him out in the woods…hunting ensues.
Disclaimer: Don’t know them and I really don’t think they ever behaved like this, cavorting in the woods.
I was listening to the Last of the Mohicans soundtrack when this popped into my little head, esp. the part of the soundtrack that involves the characters hunting the deer…whoops! This is the result.
Hunted
Sean slowly drove up the drive hearing the crackle of loose gravel crunch under his tires. Trees, trees all around were all he could see through the hazy drizzle until he came to the last bend on the driveway and the wooden cabin sat in plain view. It was a snug little thing, perfect for one, maybe two people to relax in. The porch was screened in, and through the mesh Sean could see fishing poles resting against the wall. The windshield wipers flickered one last time as he turned the car off.
He got out and stretched. It wasn’t really raining, not even sprinkling. It was more like a soft, warm, tangible haze that surrounded everything, draping itself over you like a cat. The trees were tall and dark green in the embrace of high summer, and the woods chirped and whispered with lively noises. Trust Viggo to find this place 30 minutes away from anywhere and decide to live here for a while. It really was beautiful, but right now it was wet too, and Sean was ready to stop appreciating the scenery and step inside. The little chimney was smoking faintly, and Sean thought that Viggo had probably started a fire. Despite the warmth of the rain, a fire would be comfortable in the constant damp. And some tea. Sean was feeling the need for some tea.
He walked over to the house and opened the screen door. “Hey Viggo?” he called out. Silence welcomed his greeting. “Viggo, you here?” He walked onto the porch and tried the door. It was open so he walked in and looked around. Inside it was neat but Viggoless. There was a table with papers and some books spread haphazardly on it, a little kitchen to the left, a couch and fireplace directly in front of him, and some doors off to the right. Probably a bathroom and bedroom. The couch had an afghan over the back and was slightly worn. There was a covered easel in a corner. Yeah, this was Viggo’s place all right, but where was the crazy bastard? If he thought Sean was chasing out in the woods to find him, he had another thing coming. Nope, he was just gonna stay here nice and dry until Viggo showed up. Maybe fix himself some tea and settle onto the couch.
He sat down and waited. He didn’t want to pry into any of his friend’s stuff so he picked up the book that was lying on the couch and started reading. Njal’s saga. After a few pages, he began to think that there were some really dumb brutes in the story. Njal, now he seemed sort of crafty. Fifteen minutes later Sean began to think that maybe Viggo wasn’t wearing a watch again. And if Viggo wasn’t wearing a watch, he wouldn’t know when to come back to meet Sean. Bad Viggo, inviting him out here and then not sticking around to see him. Sean shook his head in exasperated affection. He didn’t really want to read Njal’s saga for several hours until Viggo realized that oops, Sean was probably waiting for him. Sighing, Sean decided that he probably was going to have to go find Viggo somewhere out there in the woods if he wanted to make the trip worthwhile. He tapped his fingers on the book once, twice, hard, and stood.
Walking onto the porch, he saw that it was still doing that wet drizzle thing. An occasional plop punctuated the soft murmur of the precipitation. When he stepped outside, the warm mist rose up to greet his face with a soft caress. Growling under his breath, he wondered what the hell Viggo was doing outside. But there were his tracks leading into the woods on the light path where there was a muddy patch, and as Sean followed them into the piney forest, he saw faint scuffle marks were fallen pine needles had been recently disturbed. He grinned as he saw the ironic humor in this: Viggo was supposed to be the ranger, not him, yet here he was tracking him through a forest like some sort of prey. Not an orc, Sean found himself hoping before he realized how dumb he was being. A spindly arm with prickers on it slid off his jeans and scratched across his hand, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Viggo?” he shouted, hoping his friend would be in hearing range. He waited a few seconds and called again. No such luck. Hiking steadily into the woods, he noticed the path was sloping gently upwards as it curved back and forth around dripping trees. Sweat was beading lightly on his brow, not so much from exertion as from the water’s lack of anywhere else to go. The heat of the moisture-laden air sat heavy in his skin, and the air was too saturated already for any sweat or water to evaporate so his sweat just stuck on his skin, mixing with water in his hair. After 15 minutes out in the drizzle, he was beginning to feel the wetness on his clothes. Maybe he should have stayed in the cabin after all, he thought, annoyed at himself and Viggo.
A flash of movement to the left caught the corner of his eye. A bird? A squirrel? Viggo? He called out again, and again received no answer. Suddenly a bird flew up from the undergrowth on his right side as if startled, and then were was silence, that silence that animals create when disturbed by an intruder. He broke off the path and walked in that direction, but by the time he got there the animals had calmed down and resumed their noises. Frustrated, he sat on a log and immediately sprang back up again as he felt the water from the wood begin to seep into the denim over his arse.
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<damn viggo!>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]
Title: Hunted
Author: <user site="livejournal.com" user="Rinsbane">
Pairing: SB/VM
Rating: NC17
Summary: Sean visits Viggo, but Viggo isn’t there so he has to go find him out in the woods…hunting ensues.
Disclaimer: Don’t know them and I really don’t think they ever behaved like this, cavorting in the woods.
I was listening to the Last of the Mohicans soundtrack when this popped into my little head, esp. the part of the soundtrack that involves the characters hunting the deer…whoops! This is the result.
<lj-cut text="Hunted">
Hunted
Sean slowly drove up the drive hearing the crackle of loose gravel crunch under his tires. Trees, trees all around were all he could see through the hazy drizzle until he came to the last bend on the driveway and the wooden cabin sat in plain view. It was a snug little thing, perfect for one, maybe two people to relax in. The porch was screened in, and through the mesh Sean could see fishing poles resting against the wall. The windshield wipers flickered one last time as he turned the car off.
He got out and stretched. It wasn’t really raining, not even sprinkling. It was more like a soft, warm, tangible haze that surrounded everything, draping itself over you like a cat. The trees were tall and dark green in the embrace of high summer, and the woods chirped and whispered with lively noises. Trust Viggo to find this place 30 minutes away from anywhere and decide to live here for a while. It really was beautiful, but right now it was wet too, and Sean was ready to stop appreciating the scenery and step inside. The little chimney was smoking faintly, and Sean thought that Viggo had probably started a fire. Despite the warmth of the rain, a fire would be comfortable in the constant damp. And some tea. Sean was feeling the need for some tea.
He walked over to the house and opened the screen door. “Hey Viggo?” he called out. Silence welcomed his greeting. “Viggo, you here?” He walked onto the porch and tried the door. It was open so he walked in and looked around. Inside it was neat but Viggoless. There was a table with papers and some books spread haphazardly on it, a little kitchen to the left, a couch and fireplace directly in front of him, and some doors off to the right. Probably a bathroom and bedroom. The couch had an afghan over the back and was slightly worn. There was a covered easel in a corner. Yeah, this was Viggo’s place all right, but where was the crazy bastard? If he thought Sean was chasing out in the woods to find him, he had another thing coming. Nope, he was just gonna stay here nice and dry until Viggo showed up. Maybe fix himself some tea and settle onto the couch.
He sat down and waited. He didn’t want to pry into any of his friend’s stuff so he picked up the book that was lying on the couch and started reading. Njal’s saga. After a few pages, he began to think that there were some really dumb brutes in the story. Njal, now he seemed sort of crafty. Fifteen minutes later Sean began to think that maybe Viggo wasn’t wearing a watch again. And if Viggo wasn’t wearing a watch, he wouldn’t know when to come back to meet Sean. Bad Viggo, inviting him out here and then not sticking around to see him. Sean shook his head in exasperated affection. He didn’t really want to read Njal’s saga for several hours until Viggo realized that oops, Sean was probably waiting for him. Sighing, Sean decided that he probably was going to have to go find Viggo somewhere out there in the woods if he wanted to make the trip worthwhile. He tapped his fingers on the book once, twice, hard, and stood.
Walking onto the porch, he saw that it was still doing that wet drizzle thing. An occasional plop punctuated the soft murmur of the precipitation. When he stepped outside, the warm mist rose up to greet his face with a soft caress. Growling under his breath, he wondered what the hell Viggo was doing outside. But there were his tracks leading into the woods on the light path where there was a muddy patch, and as Sean followed them into the piney forest, he saw faint scuffle marks were fallen pine needles had been recently disturbed. He grinned as he saw the ironic humor in this: Viggo was supposed to be the ranger, not him, yet here he was tracking him through a forest like some sort of prey. Not an orc, Sean found himself hoping before he realized how dumb he was being. A spindly arm with prickers on it slid off his jeans and scratched across his hand, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Viggo?” he shouted, hoping his friend would be in hearing range. He waited a few seconds and called again. No such luck. Hiking steadily into the woods, he noticed the path was sloping gently upwards as it curved back and forth around dripping trees. Sweat was beading lightly on his brow, not so much from exertion as from the water’s lack of anywhere else to go. The heat of the moisture-laden air sat heavy in his skin, and the air was too saturated already for any sweat or water to evaporate so his sweat just stuck on his skin, mixing with water in his hair. After 15 minutes out in the drizzle, he was beginning to feel the wetness on his clothes. Maybe he should have stayed in the cabin after all, he thought, annoyed at himself and Viggo.
A flash of movement to the left caught the corner of his eye. A bird? A squirrel? Viggo? He called out again, and again received no answer. Suddenly a bird flew up from the undergrowth on his right side as if startled, and then were was silence, that silence that animals create when disturbed by an intruder. He broke off the path and walked in that direction, but by the time he got there the animals had calmed down and resumed their noises. Frustrated, he sat on a log and immediately sprang back up again as he felt the water from the wood begin to seep into the denim over his arse. <Damn Viggo!> he thought. He could have sworn he was around here.
He slowly began to turn in a circle, scanning the woods as he did so, hoping to see movement again. If that had been Viggo, though, why hadn’t he answered his call? Maybe it had been some sort of animal after all. Sean wondered if he should go back to the path or keep moving in this direction. Faintly he could hear a stream splashing against rocks so he decided to continue off the path and find the stream. Viggo always seemed to be attracted to water; maybe he would be walking by the creek.
As he got nearer, he saw that it was just a little brook, one meter wide in some places, wider or narrower in others. His head jerked to the right as there came the distinct sound of a rock falling onto another rock. <Gotcha now bastard> he thought and began hopping over small stones and fallen mossy branches in an effort to move quickly. “Hey Vig!” he called out, knowing that there was no way his friend could fail to hear him. Viggo didn’t reply, but a brief patch of flannel showed against a dark tree for a second before slipping out of his sight.
Sean raised his eyebrows. <Well, if that’s the way you want to play it, I’ll just have to hunt you down> he said to himself with a grim laugh.
And the chase was on. Sean walked at a brisk trot, fast enough to find traces of Viggo and occasionally see flashes of his hair or hear the sometimes unavoidable crunch of boot against stone. On the whole, though, Viggo was as silent as a stag running smoothly and proudly from the hunter. Sean found himself softening his step, trying to slip unnoticed through the grey mist and deep green growth so that he could surprise his prey. Onward, onward, the chase went, Sean gaining on his prey and then losing him. The need to catch him swam in his veins, lending urgency to his pursuit.
A quick twist here, a silent scramble up a hill to peer over the edge, and he was rewarded with a brief sight of swiftly speeding jean covered legs. Sweat trickled down his back, pooled above his arse, and slipped as smoothly as Viggo’s calm movements through the forest into his crack. Everything was slippery now, and Sean’s skin tingled with rising blood and the thrill of the hunt. He wanted Viggo to feel that tenseness, the taut awareness of a beast at bay, nerves jangling with fright, need. Sean needed to break Viggo’s collected rhythm ahead of him in the woods, to make him run mindlessly as he fled his pursuer.
Breathing heavily as the fine drizzle coated the inside of his lungs with its stickiness, Sean picked up the pace. There, ahead, that was his quarry. Viggo had stopped and seemed almost to be sniffing the air, trying to find a place to run, a place to hide. Sean felt like crowing or howling in some primal expression of triumph. He knew there was no place for the hunted to rest until the hunter chose. In that instant, Viggo saw him and their eyes met. A feral grin played over Sean’s face, and Viggo’s eyes widened. He turned and ran heedlessly, no longer trying to cover his trail or silence his steps. Sean sprang forward on his path.
The prey was his now. Panting, sweating, running, he broke his way through thorns and wove his steps around old growth trees and saplings alike. The dull thud of the pursued pounded on the ground, in his head like pulsing blood, and caught by the reckless rhythm he loped though the shadowy woods like a great beast. Salty water stung his eyes; blindly he swiped them, unable to see anything other than his quarry. So close now, so close, and the salt touched his lips and tongue as he licked them dry.
He could hear Viggo’s frantic breathing; could see him run and stumble as his energy began to fail; could almost taste his sweat like it was his own; could smell the fear of the hunted as it blended with the rich decaying earth beneath his running feet; could touch the pulsating need between them like a fine rope, like the dense grey mist enveloping them and stroking them to heated awareness.
The prey made a final dash with one last spurt of energy, but the hunter was stronger, faster, and Sean was upon Viggo and Viggo was trapped, helpless with a broad tree at his back. Sean pinned him with his savage green gaze, his hands spanning Viggo’s shoulders. The prey panted and pushed himself against the bark of the tree, letting it bite into his back, letting the water from the wet wood soak into his sweat drenched flannel shirt. The hunter pressed his hand on his captured quarry’s chest, stroking downward with fingers, swiftly unbuttoning the cloth and baring damp, heaving skin. Fingers became claws that raked red streaks onto the firm chest, pale welts rising from already aroused skin and flushing pink in the mist. Viggo arched into the cruel touch, whimpering like the caught animal he had become.
<Mine> Sean thought mindlessly, soundlessly, but it wasn’t enough. They both had to know who belonged to whom. Wordless tension peaked in Viggo’s raging eyes as the hunter drew near his vulnerable face. Sean leaned forward, needing to taste Viggo’s salty skin, to know that he was the reason for the sweat running down Viggo’s face. He swiped his tongue in a wide streak over the side of Viggo’s face, and the bitter tang of need and desire and fear exploded in his mouth. At his first touch, Viggo shied away but Sean soothed him as he licked away the sweat and nipped his jaw.
Further and further down Sean tasted and gathered moisture into his dry mouth. And oh, when he reached Viggo’s taut neck and could see the veins thrumming barely below the surface, he just had to bite into that soft flesh, claim it. Hard, he bite hard, only barely not breaking the skin, and then he licked the swollen patch he had sunk his teeth into while Viggo’s skin jumped and the man groaned and grabbed Sean’s head to push him back or pull him closer. But before he could do either, Sean growled at him and shoved his hands back to their place on the tree, pinning them there, not caring that the harsh bark smarted the thin flesh on the back of Viggo’s hands.
Satisfied, Sean resumed his attentions to Viggo’s neck. Again he bit the same spot as before, suckling the flesh between his teeth, savoring the earthy taste on his tongue. With his free hand he sought and found a copper nipple on the chest so flat except for the welts he had drawn over it. Viggo heaved a guttural noise as his body jolted forward, seeking Sean’s hand, craving more. “Please…” The broken sigh slid over Sean’s skin with the moisture in the air, inflaming his senses. His body, already a mass of prickling nerves, responded to the plea in Viggo’s voice.
He released his grip on Viggo’s hands, trusting the man would leave them where they were, and continued twisting and pinching Viggo’s nipples with one hand while the other grabbed Viggo’s crotch in a sudden, uncaring manner. Viggo screamed and new sweat broke out on his face at Sean’s rough gesture, and his cock throbbed mercilessly within its tight confines. Helpless to do anything else, he thrust his hips into Sean’s hand and let him work him, now swift and hard, now soft and stroking.
Finally Sean unzipped him and pushed down his jeans to pool at his feet in the damp brown pine needles. He shoved his hand in Viggo’s boxers and pulled out the hard length, playing with the skin. Sean pulled back to admire his handiwork. Viggo’s head lolled against the side of the tree, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes mere slits. His hair, by now soaking wet, hung in clumps and stuck to his forehead in a streak. His neck was moist and showed proof of Sean’s attentions in splotchy red patches. The welts on his chest remained pale, proclaiming Sean’s possession of the body before him. Viggo’s cock sprang obscenely out of his boxers, the precome on it being joined by the ever-present drizzle. Sean’s body pulsed at the sight, and he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting forward and grinding his denim clad lower half into Viggo’s naked flesh. They both groaned. Viggo’s hand stuttered forward to grab his tormentor’s hips before he caught himself and dragged them back to the rough bark.
Against the wet tree his hands pressed, throbbing with the hurt of the snapping bark and the pounding of the blood beating through his body. He sank them further into the unforgiving wood, seeking to release some of his tension through pain. As his head swung loosely, drunkenly, against the tree, he looked up and saw the sharp boughs of the pine trees above him stabbing down. If only they could get close enough they would puncture him, penetrate him. Branches like spears, individual pine needles like pins, and they swirled above him higher and higher until the grey mist consumed them and sank to consume him, and oh god, he was trapped and couldn’t escape and could only wait and receive Sean’s harsh caress. Fat drops of water falling from the spears above like blood streaked down his temples. Saturation of sky and earth and bark and skin.
In approval of the prey before him, Sean sank to his knees. Possession boiled in his head like steam rising from the summer earth, and he nuzzled Viggo’s crotch. Coarse hair sprang around his nose, and the rich scent of salt and rain and need and Viggo filled his senses. He had to have more, be closer. Licking the base of Viggo’s cock and the sensitive skin around it, he marked his conquest with saliva. His own need grew stronger as Viggo thrashed over his head. Sean began adding the wetness of his mouth to the moisture leaking from Viggo’s cock and the water gathered on it out of the dripping air. Viggo bucked wildly into his mouth. The sounds of their passion joined the sounds of their surroundings, soft slurping in the deep wet forest. Sean’s hand unbuttoned his shirt haphazardly as he sucked on Viggo’s warm skin, taking more and more into his hungry mouth. He stopped suddenly, his mouth full, and slowly pulled back, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin. Lightly, softly, so gently, his teeth scraped over the swollen head, and Viggo yelled and tried to thrust in for more.
But now Sean held his hips and he was caught again. “In me…now,” Sean heard moaned above his head. Slowly he rose, keeping himself pressed against Viggo’s body so that Viggo’s cock remained trapped between them. It leaked a light trail of saliva and precome onto Sean’s chest as he moved up to claim Viggo’s mouth. Tongues thrust, and they clawed at each other, trying to taste and take more. Viggo may have been caught but he was far from being broken. They fought like animals; Sean yanked Viggo’s hair as his fingers tangled in it, seeking purchase. Viggo’s salty flavor passed between their mouths.
Gasping they broke apart and frantically pulled the rest of their clothes off. Sean was desperate to feel skin on skin, skin in skin. Sliding his finger over Viggo’s mouth, he pressed for entrance. It was eagerly given. Viggo suckled Sean’s finger and wrapped his hand around Sean’s so that he could bring another finger into his mouth. He pulled off a little and nipped the blunt end before sucking the fingers back into the warm cavern and laving wet attention on them.
His hips thrust uncontrollably with Sean’s. Sean had brought their cocks in line and was jerking them together. Fine tremors ran down his body like sweat and rain, and he felt his balls draw tight. Forcing himself to stop, he grunted, “Enough,” and pulled his fingers from Viggo’s mouth. He grabbed Viggo’s hips and traced a path down his back with wet finger, feeling bits of bark and asymmetrical indentations on Viggo’s back from the tree he was leaning against for support. His finger slipped down Viggo’s crack and pressed inward, looking for entrance to his body.
Once finger, then another, and Sean scissored them and stretched Viggo’s arse. He added a third. Viggo mindlessly tried to push back on those fingers, wanting, needing more. When Sean pulled them out, Viggo spun around and faced the tree, bracing himself against it, signaling his readiness. Sean groaned at the seductive sight before him, but was too aroused to appreciate it for very long. He had to get in him now. Grabbing Viggo’s cheeks he parted them and nudged his pulsing cock at Viggo’s hole.
“C’mon, Sean, just do it,” Viggo gasped, his face sinking against the wet tree. Sean pushed, and paused, feeling the tight muscle barrier tense, and suddenly it gave way and he could slide in. Hot friction burned his dick as he thrust and withdrew, finding a jerky rhythm. Faster and faster he pounded the willing body beneath his until neither could hold the rhythm any longer and they gave way to short jerks and long moans and Sean emptied himself into Viggo, adding more wetness to Viggo’s dripping body. Rain and sweat and his own come dripped over Viggo’s heaving chest, and when Sean slowly slipped out as he softened, Viggo turned around and stared at him, still panting.
Wide eyes met flickering ones, and Sean looked unsure for the first time in all this crazy game they had played. Then Viggo half smiled and wrapped his arms around his friend. Sean gratefully collapsed into them, into their reassuring weight and support. Together their bodies slowed down from the chase and the possession, and they returned to calmness.
Viggo’s low, gravelly laugh was heard and absorbed by the greedy rain. “I’m gonna have to get you to chase me more often,” he murmured in Sean’s ear. Sean sighed in response, drained and content. When Viggo released him, they picked up their clothes, not bothering to try to put back on the wet denim. Slowly they walked back to the little cabin in the middle of the woods side by side. They were silent until the cabin came into sight, and then Sean said, “Tea, I think I need some tea.” And it sounded perfectly inane and completely lovely to Viggo, so he slipped his hand in Sean’s and when he felt the clasp returned, he merely replied, “Of course, tea and the fireplace and the couch and a towel. Sounds good to me too.” </lj-cut>
Author: <user site="livejournal.com" user="Rinsbane">
Pairing: SB/VM
Rating: NC17
Summary: Sean visits Viggo, but Viggo isn’t there so he has to go find him out in the woods…hunting ensues.
Disclaimer: Don’t know them and I really don’t think they ever behaved like this, cavorting in the woods.
I was listening to the Last of the Mohicans soundtrack when this popped into my little head, esp. the part of the soundtrack that involves the characters hunting the deer…whoops! This is the result.
<lj-cut text="Hunted">
Hunted
Sean slowly drove up the drive hearing the crackle of loose gravel crunch under his tires. Trees, trees all around were all he could see through the hazy drizzle until he came to the last bend on the driveway and the wooden cabin sat in plain view. It was a snug little thing, perfect for one, maybe two people to relax in. The porch was screened in, and through the mesh Sean could see fishing poles resting against the wall. The windshield wipers flickered one last time as he turned the car off.
He got out and stretched. It wasn’t really raining, not even sprinkling. It was more like a soft, warm, tangible haze that surrounded everything, draping itself over you like a cat. The trees were tall and dark green in the embrace of high summer, and the woods chirped and whispered with lively noises. Trust Viggo to find this place 30 minutes away from anywhere and decide to live here for a while. It really was beautiful, but right now it was wet too, and Sean was ready to stop appreciating the scenery and step inside. The little chimney was smoking faintly, and Sean thought that Viggo had probably started a fire. Despite the warmth of the rain, a fire would be comfortable in the constant damp. And some tea. Sean was feeling the need for some tea.
He walked over to the house and opened the screen door. “Hey Viggo?” he called out. Silence welcomed his greeting. “Viggo, you here?” He walked onto the porch and tried the door. It was open so he walked in and looked around. Inside it was neat but Viggoless. There was a table with papers and some books spread haphazardly on it, a little kitchen to the left, a couch and fireplace directly in front of him, and some doors off to the right. Probably a bathroom and bedroom. The couch had an afghan over the back and was slightly worn. There was a covered easel in a corner. Yeah, this was Viggo’s place all right, but where was the crazy bastard? If he thought Sean was chasing out in the woods to find him, he had another thing coming. Nope, he was just gonna stay here nice and dry until Viggo showed up. Maybe fix himself some tea and settle onto the couch.
He sat down and waited. He didn’t want to pry into any of his friend’s stuff so he picked up the book that was lying on the couch and started reading. Njal’s saga. After a few pages, he began to think that there were some really dumb brutes in the story. Njal, now he seemed sort of crafty. Fifteen minutes later Sean began to think that maybe Viggo wasn’t wearing a watch again. And if Viggo wasn’t wearing a watch, he wouldn’t know when to come back to meet Sean. Bad Viggo, inviting him out here and then not sticking around to see him. Sean shook his head in exasperated affection. He didn’t really want to read Njal’s saga for several hours until Viggo realized that oops, Sean was probably waiting for him. Sighing, Sean decided that he probably was going to have to go find Viggo somewhere out there in the woods if he wanted to make the trip worthwhile. He tapped his fingers on the book once, twice, hard, and stood.
Walking onto the porch, he saw that it was still doing that wet drizzle thing. An occasional plop punctuated the soft murmur of the precipitation. When he stepped outside, the warm mist rose up to greet his face with a soft caress. Growling under his breath, he wondered what the hell Viggo was doing outside. But there were his tracks leading into the woods on the light path where there was a muddy patch, and as Sean followed them into the piney forest, he saw faint scuffle marks were fallen pine needles had been recently disturbed. He grinned as he saw the ironic humor in this: Viggo was supposed to be the ranger, not him, yet here he was tracking him through a forest like some sort of prey. Not an orc, Sean found himself hoping before he realized how dumb he was being. A spindly arm with prickers on it slid off his jeans and scratched across his hand, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Viggo?” he shouted, hoping his friend would be in hearing range. He waited a few seconds and called again. No such luck. Hiking steadily into the woods, he noticed the path was sloping gently upwards as it curved back and forth around dripping trees. Sweat was beading lightly on his brow, not so much from exertion as from the water’s lack of anywhere else to go. The heat of the moisture-laden air sat heavy in his skin, and the air was too saturated already for any sweat or water to evaporate so his sweat just stuck on his skin, mixing with water in his hair. After 15 minutes out in the drizzle, he was beginning to feel the wetness on his clothes. Maybe he should have stayed in the cabin after all, he thought, annoyed at himself and Viggo.
A flash of movement to the left caught the corner of his eye. A bird? A squirrel? Viggo? He called out again, and again received no answer. Suddenly a bird flew up from the undergrowth on his right side as if startled, and then were was silence, that silence that animals create when disturbed by an intruder. He broke off the path and walked in that direction, but by the time he got there the animals had calmed down and resumed their noises. Frustrated, he sat on a log and immediately sprang back up again as he felt the water from the wood begin to seep into the denim over his arse. <Damn Viggo!> he thought. He could have sworn he was around here.
He slowly began to turn in a circle, scanning the woods as he did so, hoping to see movement again. If that had been Viggo, though, why hadn’t he answered his call? Maybe it had been some sort of animal after all. Sean wondered if he should go back to the path or keep moving in this direction. Faintly he could hear a stream splashing against rocks so he decided to continue off the path and find the stream. Viggo always seemed to be attracted to water; maybe he would be walking by the creek.
As he got nearer, he saw that it was just a little brook, one meter wide in some places, wider or narrower in others. His head jerked to the right as there came the distinct sound of a rock falling onto another rock. <Gotcha now bastard> he thought and began hopping over small stones and fallen mossy branches in an effort to move quickly. “Hey Vig!” he called out, knowing that there was no way his friend could fail to hear him. Viggo didn’t reply, but a brief patch of flannel showed against a dark tree for a second before slipping out of his sight.
Sean raised his eyebrows. <Well, if that’s the way you want to play it, I’ll just have to hunt you down> he said to himself with a grim laugh.
And the chase was on. Sean walked at a brisk trot, fast enough to find traces of Viggo and occasionally see flashes of his hair or hear the sometimes unavoidable crunch of boot against stone. On the whole, though, Viggo was as silent as a stag running smoothly and proudly from the hunter. Sean found himself softening his step, trying to slip unnoticed through the grey mist and deep green growth so that he could surprise his prey. Onward, onward, the chase went, Sean gaining on his prey and then losing him. The need to catch him swam in his veins, lending urgency to his pursuit.
A quick twist here, a silent scramble up a hill to peer over the edge, and he was rewarded with a brief sight of swiftly speeding jean covered legs. Sweat trickled down his back, pooled above his arse, and slipped as smoothly as Viggo’s calm movements through the forest into his crack. Everything was slippery now, and Sean’s skin tingled with rising blood and the thrill of the hunt. He wanted Viggo to feel that tenseness, the taut awareness of a beast at bay, nerves jangling with fright, need. Sean needed to break Viggo’s collected rhythm ahead of him in the woods, to make him run mindlessly as he fled his pursuer.
Breathing heavily as the fine drizzle coated the inside of his lungs with its stickiness, Sean picked up the pace. There, ahead, that was his quarry. Viggo had stopped and seemed almost to be sniffing the air, trying to find a place to run, a place to hide. Sean felt like crowing or howling in some primal expression of triumph. He knew there was no place for the hunted to rest until the hunter chose. In that instant, Viggo saw him and their eyes met. A feral grin played over Sean’s face, and Viggo’s eyes widened. He turned and ran heedlessly, no longer trying to cover his trail or silence his steps. Sean sprang forward on his path.
The prey was his now. Panting, sweating, running, he broke his way through thorns and wove his steps around old growth trees and saplings alike. The dull thud of the pursued pounded on the ground, in his head like pulsing blood, and caught by the reckless rhythm he loped though the shadowy woods like a great beast. Salty water stung his eyes; blindly he swiped them, unable to see anything other than his quarry. So close now, so close, and the salt touched his lips and tongue as he licked them dry.
He could hear Viggo’s frantic breathing; could see him run and stumble as his energy began to fail; could almost taste his sweat like it was his own; could smell the fear of the hunted as it blended with the rich decaying earth beneath his running feet; could touch the pulsating need between them like a fine rope, like the dense grey mist enveloping them and stroking them to heated awareness.
The prey made a final dash with one last spurt of energy, but the hunter was stronger, faster, and Sean was upon Viggo and Viggo was trapped, helpless with a broad tree at his back. Sean pinned him with his savage green gaze, his hands spanning Viggo’s shoulders. The prey panted and pushed himself against the bark of the tree, letting it bite into his back, letting the water from the wet wood soak into his sweat drenched flannel shirt. The hunter pressed his hand on his captured quarry’s chest, stroking downward with fingers, swiftly unbuttoning the cloth and baring damp, heaving skin. Fingers became claws that raked red streaks onto the firm chest, pale welts rising from already aroused skin and flushing pink in the mist. Viggo arched into the cruel touch, whimpering like the caught animal he had become.
<Mine> Sean thought mindlessly, soundlessly, but it wasn’t enough. They both had to know who belonged to whom. Wordless tension peaked in Viggo’s raging eyes as the hunter drew near his vulnerable face. Sean leaned forward, needing to taste Viggo’s salty skin, to know that he was the reason for the sweat running down Viggo’s face. He swiped his tongue in a wide streak over the side of Viggo’s face, and the bitter tang of need and desire and fear exploded in his mouth. At his first touch, Viggo shied away but Sean soothed him as he licked away the sweat and nipped his jaw.
Further and further down Sean tasted and gathered moisture into his dry mouth. And oh, when he reached Viggo’s taut neck and could see the veins thrumming barely below the surface, he just had to bite into that soft flesh, claim it. Hard, he bite hard, only barely not breaking the skin, and then he licked the swollen patch he had sunk his teeth into while Viggo’s skin jumped and the man groaned and grabbed Sean’s head to push him back or pull him closer. But before he could do either, Sean growled at him and shoved his hands back to their place on the tree, pinning them there, not caring that the harsh bark smarted the thin flesh on the back of Viggo’s hands.
Satisfied, Sean resumed his attentions to Viggo’s neck. Again he bit the same spot as before, suckling the flesh between his teeth, savoring the earthy taste on his tongue. With his free hand he sought and found a copper nipple on the chest so flat except for the welts he had drawn over it. Viggo heaved a guttural noise as his body jolted forward, seeking Sean’s hand, craving more. “Please…” The broken sigh slid over Sean’s skin with the moisture in the air, inflaming his senses. His body, already a mass of prickling nerves, responded to the plea in Viggo’s voice.
He released his grip on Viggo’s hands, trusting the man would leave them where they were, and continued twisting and pinching Viggo’s nipples with one hand while the other grabbed Viggo’s crotch in a sudden, uncaring manner. Viggo screamed and new sweat broke out on his face at Sean’s rough gesture, and his cock throbbed mercilessly within its tight confines. Helpless to do anything else, he thrust his hips into Sean’s hand and let him work him, now swift and hard, now soft and stroking.
Finally Sean unzipped him and pushed down his jeans to pool at his feet in the damp brown pine needles. He shoved his hand in Viggo’s boxers and pulled out the hard length, playing with the skin. Sean pulled back to admire his handiwork. Viggo’s head lolled against the side of the tree, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes mere slits. His hair, by now soaking wet, hung in clumps and stuck to his forehead in a streak. His neck was moist and showed proof of Sean’s attentions in splotchy red patches. The welts on his chest remained pale, proclaiming Sean’s possession of the body before him. Viggo’s cock sprang obscenely out of his boxers, the precome on it being joined by the ever-present drizzle. Sean’s body pulsed at the sight, and he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting forward and grinding his denim clad lower half into Viggo’s naked flesh. They both groaned. Viggo’s hand stuttered forward to grab his tormentor’s hips before he caught himself and dragged them back to the rough bark.
Against the wet tree his hands pressed, throbbing with the hurt of the snapping bark and the pounding of the blood beating through his body. He sank them further into the unforgiving wood, seeking to release some of his tension through pain. As his head swung loosely, drunkenly, against the tree, he looked up and saw the sharp boughs of the pine trees above him stabbing down. If only they could get close enough they would puncture him, penetrate him. Branches like spears, individual pine needles like pins, and they swirled above him higher and higher until the grey mist consumed them and sank to consume him, and oh god, he was trapped and couldn’t escape and could only wait and receive Sean’s harsh caress. Fat drops of water falling from the spears above like blood streaked down his temples. Saturation of sky and earth and bark and skin.
In approval of the prey before him, Sean sank to his knees. Possession boiled in his head like steam rising from the summer earth, and he nuzzled Viggo’s crotch. Coarse hair sprang around his nose, and the rich scent of salt and rain and need and Viggo filled his senses. He had to have more, be closer. Licking the base of Viggo’s cock and the sensitive skin around it, he marked his conquest with saliva. His own need grew stronger as Viggo thrashed over his head. Sean began adding the wetness of his mouth to the moisture leaking from Viggo’s cock and the water gathered on it out of the dripping air. Viggo bucked wildly into his mouth. The sounds of their passion joined the sounds of their surroundings, soft slurping in the deep wet forest. Sean’s hand unbuttoned his shirt haphazardly as he sucked on Viggo’s warm skin, taking more and more into his hungry mouth. He stopped suddenly, his mouth full, and slowly pulled back, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin. Lightly, softly, so gently, his teeth scraped over the swollen head, and Viggo yelled and tried to thrust in for more.
But now Sean held his hips and he was caught again. “In me…now,” Sean heard moaned above his head. Slowly he rose, keeping himself pressed against Viggo’s body so that Viggo’s cock remained trapped between them. It leaked a light trail of saliva and precome onto Sean’s chest as he moved up to claim Viggo’s mouth. Tongues thrust, and they clawed at each other, trying to taste and take more. Viggo may have been caught but he was far from being broken. They fought like animals; Sean yanked Viggo’s hair as his fingers tangled in it, seeking purchase. Viggo’s salty flavor passed between their mouths.
Gasping they broke apart and frantically pulled the rest of their clothes off. Sean was desperate to feel skin on skin, skin in skin. Sliding his finger over Viggo’s mouth, he pressed for entrance. It was eagerly given. Viggo suckled Sean’s finger and wrapped his hand around Sean’s so that he could bring another finger into his mouth. He pulled off a little and nipped the blunt end before sucking the fingers back into the warm cavern and laving wet attention on them.
His hips thrust uncontrollably with Sean’s. Sean had brought their cocks in line and was jerking them together. Fine tremors ran down his body like sweat and rain, and he felt his balls draw tight. Forcing himself to stop, he grunted, “Enough,” and pulled his fingers from Viggo’s mouth. He grabbed Viggo’s hips and traced a path down his back with wet finger, feeling bits of bark and asymmetrical indentations on Viggo’s back from the tree he was leaning against for support. His finger slipped down Viggo’s crack and pressed inward, looking for entrance to his body.
Once finger, then another, and Sean scissored them and stretched Viggo’s arse. He added a third. Viggo mindlessly tried to push back on those fingers, wanting, needing more. When Sean pulled them out, Viggo spun around and faced the tree, bracing himself against it, signaling his readiness. Sean groaned at the seductive sight before him, but was too aroused to appreciate it for very long. He had to get in him now. Grabbing Viggo’s cheeks he parted them and nudged his pulsing cock at Viggo’s hole.
“C’mon, Sean, just do it,” Viggo gasped, his face sinking against the wet tree. Sean pushed, and paused, feeling the tight muscle barrier tense, and suddenly it gave way and he could slide in. Hot friction burned his dick as he thrust and withdrew, finding a jerky rhythm. Faster and faster he pounded the willing body beneath his until neither could hold the rhythm any longer and they gave way to short jerks and long moans and Sean emptied himself into Viggo, adding more wetness to Viggo’s dripping body. Rain and sweat and his own come dripped over Viggo’s heaving chest, and when Sean slowly slipped out as he softened, Viggo turned around and stared at him, still panting.
Wide eyes met flickering ones, and Sean looked unsure for the first time in all this crazy game they had played. Then Viggo half smiled and wrapped his arms around his friend. Sean gratefully collapsed into them, into their reassuring weight and support. Together their bodies slowed down from the chase and the possession, and they returned to calmness.
Viggo’s low, gravelly laugh was heard and absorbed by the greedy rain. “I’m gonna have to get you to chase me more often,” he murmured in Sean’s ear. Sean sighed in response, drained and content. When Viggo released him, they picked up their clothes, not bothering to try to put back on the wet denim. Slowly they walked back to the little cabin in the middle of the woods side by side. They were silent until the cabin came into sight, and then Sean said, “Tea, I think I need some tea.” And it sounded perfectly inane and completely lovely to Viggo, so he slipped his hand in Sean’s and when he felt the clasp returned, he merely replied, “Of course, tea and the fireplace and the couch and a towel. Sounds good to me too.” </lj-cut>
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Date: 2003-06-19 10:03 pm (UTC)insistent proddingsuggestion to post this here. :-)Already told you in email how much I love this fic. And, Sean and his tea... just adorable amidst all the hotness.
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Date: 2003-06-20 08:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-19 10:45 pm (UTC)The whole thing about hunter and prey, and the whole possession idea...just wonderfully done. And rough enough sex to fit the theme, but not too rough..hehe...
And the holding hands at the end, and talking about tea...just perrrrfect! Yum!
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Date: 2003-06-20 08:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-20 02:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-20 09:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-17 10:09 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-07-20 11:31 am (UTC)