captivation 3: request

[helens78]

3: request
Arc: Captivation
Authors: dragonkal and helens78
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen/Sean Bean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sean makes a request of his new owner.
Disclaimer: Fictional. Not real.

As usual, warnings for BDSM. Heavy D/s, very mild pain.



It's been three days since Sean came to Viggo's house, and things have been about the same as they were that first day here. No pressure. Not much conversation. Space, and lots of it. Viggo's been caring for Sean's welts, and at this point they're nearly healed. There are still leftover bruises, but the swelling is gone and the cuts are healed over. Sean is moving easily again.

He hasn't taken to sleeping in the bed just yet. Especially not after that first night. Sean stayed on the floor at the foot of the bed, hoping that there'd be more nights like that. Viggo hasn't disappointed; he's been in every night, and Sean has tried to learn what he likes. A good deal of attention paid to the head of his cock, a bit of teeth. And, apparently, leaving Sean hard and desperate and aching. The discomfort of the floor is a welcome distraction from the ache that holds him after Viggo leaves. Sean does wonder what it would be like having Viggo pushing him into the mattress, though; he's considering moving to the bed soon.

Sean hasn't had an orgasm since leaving Bale's home. It's starting to get distracting; he winds up walking around Viggo's house hard half the time, and the other half the time arousal is barely a breath away.

It's worse not knowing what to expect and constantly wondering whether Viggo will ever show overt interest during waking hours. Sean is determined to get something out of him, but he doesn't want to get Viggo's attention through misbehavior; somehow, pushing Viggo that way seems childish and unnecessary.

So now that his injuries are nearly healed, he's decided to wake up early, around five am, and head to the door of Viggo's bedroom. He goes to his forearms and knees, head on the floor, facing the door, naked, and simply waits.

Viggo rises near seven, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing at his face to let the sleep clear. He can feel things happening with Sean, bubbling just beneath the surface; it's good, amazingly so, to know that there is forward motion here.

Viggo decides to get the coffee started downstairs before showering and dressing; he opens the door and stops cold.

Finally.

Sean hears the door open; he doesn't move, doesn't say anything at first. It's still a waiting game; he's simply in a different position. He's been counting time; it's been almost two hours. And he's been patient; being with Viggo is definitely teaching him patience.

"Good morning, Sir," Sean says, very clearly, from the floor.

"Good morning," Viggo returns. "What brings you down to my floor like this?"

"The desire to serve you in a more active capacity, Sir, if you'll have me," Sean replies, flushing a bit.

"I will," Viggo agrees. "Kneel up."

Sean comes to his knees, taking the position he learned from Bale; his eyes stay lowered, and he keeps his back straight. He swallows back the urge to thank Viggo, already, for agreeing to anything.

"You won't get what you want by misbehaving," Viggo explains first. "Physical punishment isn't given as a correctional tool in this house. It's given as a reward."

Sean blinks several times, and there it is again: arousal curling up from the pit of his belly, warming him and making him ache. "Yes, Sir," Sean whispers.

"I'm less interested in having a slave who can care for me domestically than one who can serve me well in the bedroom, in the basement. I know you find yourself at loose ends now, and you still will when we're not in one or the other of those places. So the housekeeping is your responsibility now -- tending to the kitchen, some of the cooking, the laundry, that kind of thing."

A slight smile finds its way into the corners of Sean's mouth; he nods, eyes still lowered. "Yes, Sir," he murmurs. Direction. Promise. Yes.

"Every morning, I expect you to greet me just like you did today," Viggo decides, leaning against the doorframe. "As a reminder of your choice to serve."

Another nod, although Sean wonders briefly if Viggo knows how long Sean has been waiting outside his door. No matter. It's worth it. "Yes, Sir."

Viggo walks around Sean and crouches down at his back, gently taking Sean's wrists and leading them behind his back. "This is how I want you to kneel," he murmurs, his breath hot on the nape of Sean's neck.

Sean swallows again, hard, and grips his right wrist loosely with the fingers of his left hand, holding himself still. "Yes, Sir," he whispers; his entire body feels warm. He's nearly trembling. He takes a long, shallow breath to calm himself.

Viggo slides his hands from Sean's wrists over his hips, down his thighs, closing his eyes. Sean is solid muscle. God. Viggo lets out a soft breath, letting Sean hear the arousal in it.

Calm is nearly obliterated; Sean closes his teeth over a very soft moan. Viggo's hands, God, are warm and strong and very sure of themselves. There's no "nearly" about it; Sean is trembling.

And oh, Viggo likes that. He slides his hands up the insides of Sean's thighs, running them over Sean's cock and balls as if testing out his purchase, checking its worth.

Sean's teeth unlock, and he lets out a harsh, shaking breath. It takes all his effort not to arch into Viggo's touch; he remains still, as still as he can with his breath shuddering out of him in great, hissing gasps.

"Not bad," Viggo murmurs in Sean's ear. "Go kneel on the floor at the closest side of the bed."

"Yes--" Sean has to swallow before he can finish. "Sir." He considers taking to his feet, and decides not to; considers crawling in on hands and knees, and passes over that idea as well. He goes to forearms and knees, and slowly, almost painstakingly, crawls over to the nearest side of the bed, then kneels up with his hands behind his back again, facing the bed and trying to steady his breathing.

Viggo's breath leaves him at the sight; commitment. Great and unflinching commitment to submission in that motion, and he suspects it won't be the last time Sean surprises him by offering even more than he could imagine he wanted.

Viggo seats himself on the bed, directly in front of Sean, and pulls his cock free of his pajama pants, giving it a few strokes though it hardly needs them. "Do you want to have a taste of this when you're not flat on your back?" he asks. "When you can see what you're doing?"

"Yes, Sir," Sean answers immediately. He wets his lips, not making a show of it; it's a reflex, one born out of definite eagerness. Seeing it now, in daylight, is gift enough, really; that and the promise of eventually having more. Sean lets out a breath.

Viggo slides a hand through Sean's hair and tugs unforgivingly, keeping Sean's head held back, face turned upward, watching him.

Moments pass this way, and Sean doesn't move. Flinches a bit, but only out of necessity from the tug on his hair, and only in a pleasant way that leaves him more attuned to Viggo, more steady in his grip. He barely blinks, and waits. Another waiting game.

This one, Sean wants to lose. "Please, Sir, your boy begs permission to taste you," he says, clearly again, not mumbled, not murmured.

Viggo nods, and relaxes his grip just enough to allow it; he keeps his fingers in Sean's hair, an extra little sense of control.

Sean comes forward and places a near-reverent kiss on the tip of Viggo's cock; one kiss seems to lead to another, and he's just barely flicking his tongue over the surface of Viggo's cock, keeping a bit more literally to his word than he'd originally intended, tasting Viggo and enjoying the sensation.

"Suck it down," Viggo says quietly, his free hand sliding down to pinch at one of Sean's nipples.

The pinch makes Sean shudder, moan, arch into Viggo's touch; he opens his mouth and slides his mouth over Viggo's cock, taking him as far in as he can given the way Viggo is sitting and the way Sean is kneeling for him; it's deep enough to choke, nearly, and Sean sucks hard as he begins pulling back and pushing forward. This is better, so much better, than their nightly encounters; Sean is here, focused on what he's doing, awake and aware and ready to prove himself. Teeth, tongue and lips all come together, and Sean keeps sucking, keeps flicking the tip of his tongue over the underside of Viggo's cock, humming quietly as he goes.

Viggo gives a soft moan, guiding Sean's head lightly with the hand in his hair. "Can you deepthroat?" he asks, breath coming faster.

God, yes, Sean thinks, and he manages to shake his head "yes" just a little on Viggo's cock. He presses forward, arching his neck a bit, straightening the curve of his throat, working his throat around Viggo's cock and moving forward, inexorably.

Viggo hisses in a breath through his teeth, spreading his legs a little further, pulling Sean in. It's good -- Christ, Sean has a fantastic mouth, and Viggo's already thinking of ways to reward him for it.

The feeling of being pulled in, choking slightly, having his breath taken and held, is spectacular -- Sean focuses on pleasing Viggo, letting his arousal fall by the wayside in the wake of wanting to please his new Mas--

--owner. Sean is distracted, and his throat flexes; he pulls back just enough to take a breath, or he tries.

Startled by the motion, Viggo only lets Sean move back about half as far as he wants; somehow, in the rhythm of things, he didn't expect Sean to need to breathe right then. He can see on Sean's face that he lost whatever thread of thought he'd been following, and so Viggo considers this the first lesson: staying on task despite confusion.

Being caught and held helps; Sean is quickly back on track, losing himself to the desire for Viggo again, the urge to please, the determination to be damned good at this. Viggo tastes good -- warm, solid, slightly bitter -- and Sean is suddenly struck with the image of being able to watch Viggo's eyes as Viggo comes on his face.

God. It could be another distraction if he allowed it to be; he doesn't, this time, keeping to his task. It's good to focus; that image and one word from Viggo and he could end up coming hard, shooting all over the foot of Viggo's bed.

Viggo lets out a loud, panting moan of a breath, feeling himself slide all the way down Sean's throat. He stares down at Sean, breathing hard and fast, holding Sean in place, and God -- Viggo barks out a sharp cry as orgasm hits him, knowing he should have pulled back a little, knowing he's going to choke Sean in this deep, but it's too fucking brilliant to matter.

Sean does choke, and chokes hard, and his eyes close tight from it; he tightens his hands' grip on each other, twisting his fingers hard into themselves to keep from coming. He remembers Bale's hand on his throat, and all thought leaves him; his fingers grip tighter as he tries, and for once succeeds, in keeping himself from coming.

Viggo lets out an explosive little breath when it's done, face damp with the exertion of it, and pulls Sean off to breathe. "Christ," he breathes, giving his cock a careful, savoring squeeze.

"Thank you, Master," Sean says, words coming out gravelly in his throat. And he blinks at himself, catching the word, and wincing. "--Sir," he corrects quickly.

Viggo watches Sean, offering no visible reaction to the slip, and pulls a few tissues from a box on the nightstand to wipe himself off. "Forearms and knees," he orders softly, "ass in the air."

Sean doesn't trust his voice; he simply crawls back a few paces and goes to his forearms and knees, arching his back in his best attempt at an inviting manner.

Viggo kneels down behind Sean, spreading Sean's legs and pressing in to kneel between them. He reaches between Sean's thighs to cup Sean's cock, full and doubtlessly aching.

Sean moans aloud at that, not even bothering to try to stifle it; it's a desperate, long moan, and he's aching so badly that if Viggo so much as squeezes, he's going to come all over his hand. Sean bites down on his lower lip, trying to force himself to stay calm.

"Come," Viggo says simply, and strokes Sean's cock and gives a stinging slap to the lasting bruises on Sean's ass at the same time.

Breath comes out of Sean's throat in a rush; the pain, the heat of Viggo's hand, the all-consuming pleasure have him arching and coming hard, moaning his completion into the floor, jerking and gasping and pulsing in Viggo's hand. He is nearly dizzy when it's over, and pants for breath for several seconds before managing, "Thank you, Master." He doesn't bother to wince or correct himself this time; he's here, and it's true enough for now.

Viggo rests a hand on the small of Sean's back, gently squeezing Sean's cock. "You're welcome." He is filled with a sense of correctness; it's been proven now that he knows what it is Sean needs, and that is more satisfying even than spilling himself down Sean's throat.

"Is there..." Sean pauses for a moment to exhale and take in another much-needed breath. "...anything else I might do for you, Sir?" he asks.

"There is always something else you might do for me," Viggo points out, fetching more tissues and cleaning Sean off a little roughly.

"I'm grateful, Sir," Sean says, heartfelt, and he doesn't wince at that, either; it's been three days here, and he was beginning to wonder. He holds still while Viggo cleans him, and waits to see if more instruction is forthcoming.

Viggo slides his hand over Sean's ass, over the bruises still healing, teasing himself -- and Sean, too, to be sure -- before getting to his feet. "Why don't you head down and open the curtains, make some coffee? I'll be down in a little bit."

"Yes, Sir." Sean kneels up, and again, debates crawling; going downstairs on hands and knees seems like a fairly risky proposition, though, and he decides against it for once. He looks over his shoulder at Viggo, though, and turns, still kneeling, to lower his head to the ground at Viggo's feet. "Thank you for this morning, Sir," he murmurs, and nuzzles gently against an ankle.

Surprised by the overt show of appreciation, Viggo leans down to stroke Sean's hair. "You're welcome, boy," he murmurs; Sean's earned the title.

Sean sighs with satisfaction for a moment; then, backing up, he kneels again, comes to his feet, and heads down to the kitchen, glad to have tasks assigned at last.