captivation 9: amends

[helens78]

9: amends
Arc: Captivation
Authors: dragonkal and helens78
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen/Sean Bean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Making up for the previous night's mistake.
Disclaimer: Put down the crack pipe. This is fictional. No one's even pretending it's real.



Viggo goes about his morning routine as usual, the acts ingrained enough that his preoccupation doesn't alter them. Sean. Christ. He's never seen a boy who wanted to be good so much and yet continue to suffer under the delusion that he doesn't really want to be here.

He showers, dresses, and at last curiosity propels him down the stairs, wondering what he will find.

Sean took up his usual morning position of kneeling, head and forearms on the ground, at five a.m., crawling out of the blanket to do it. He's beside the stairs, out of the way, and his muscles ache from the poor night's rest and holding this position for the past few hours. He tried ticking off seconds, and failed entirely, eventually simply sinking into the same miserable depression that took him last night when he realized he'd failed his Master. He's felt tears leaking out of his eyes all morning, and hasn't moved out of position to brush them away. He's exhausted.

All the same, hearing Viggo come down the stairs makes him straighten his posture; the odd, intermittent tears finally come to an end. Please -- let me get it right today, he thinks, letting out a breath.

Viggo comes all the way down the steps, standing directly in front of Sean, looking down at him. For long moments, he says nothing.

"Come kneel in the kitchen," he says finally.

Sean nods, crawling on his forearms and knees to the kitchen. At least he's speaking to me, he thinks.

Viggo starts the coffee perking, then begins work on a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and hash browns, glancing at Sean occasionally.

Still too shell-shocked from the previous night to have any real reaction, Sean simply remains on the floor, head resting on his arms.

"Tell me whatever it is that you've prepared for your first opportunity to speak," Viggo suggests, eyes on the pans.

"Your slave is sorry, Master, for failing you," Sean says, voice clear. The rest of it he keeps to himself; he can only justify so much desperation.

"As my slave should be," Viggo agrees quietly.

"Yes, Master," Sean says. "Your slave begs forgiveness, Master, and would like to do whatever it takes to earn it."

"Good." Viggo dishes up the breakfast, setting Sean's on the floor. "Eat first."

It's a fairly messy breakfast, but Sean manages to eat it without using his hands, putting them behind his back to get them out of the way. His mind blanks as he does; focusing on his task is a welcome distraction from the night and the morning so far.

Viggo eats slowly, watching Sean. It's so obvious that Sean wants this badly, enough to do nearly anything.

Almost there.

Hell with it. When Sean's finished eating, he licks the plate clean, broad slow licks across the surface of the plate, until it's nearly polished.

"Good boy," Viggo murmurs, taking Sean's plate along with his own to the sink. "How do you expect to make this up to me?"

"Master, if it pleases you, your slave would be grateful to see to your needs, without regard for his own, for as long as is required to prove your slave's dedication and sincerity." Sean realizes, after he says it, that that's really his purpose here in general; as such, it's not much of a suggestion. He closes his eyes and rests his head on his forearms again.

"I want you to kneel up and stroke yourself until you're close," Viggo decides, sitting down at the table to watch.

Sean pushes himself off the ground and brushes his hair out of his face; he reaches to his cock, wraps his hand around it, and starts making steady, firm strokes. His eyes stay lowered. He falls into the motion easily; it's the same slightly-exhibitionist movement he learned through his early years as a slave, designed to show off for his Master. It takes longer for him to get close this way than it would if he were merely making quick, rough strokes, but eventually, he's broken out in a light sweat from it.

"Master... close," Sean whispers, voice slightly strained.

"Stop," Viggo instructs. "Go back down on your forearms."

Nodding, almost relieved, Sean goes back to his forearms. It takes a while for his breath to steady; the cold tiles of the floor help.

"Give me five reasons why you shouldn't come without permission."

"Because..." Sean blinks several times. "Because my pleasure is at my Master's command. Because I need to earn the privilege of orgasm. Because it's my Master's rule. Because it teaches me control. Because being denied orgasm was one of the things I told my Master I liked, when he first asked about my preferences."

"Good. Kneel up and stroke again."

Again, pushing himself up off the ground, Sean settles back on his heels and then begins stroking, this time slower; he was still hard from the last time, and it doesn't take long at all before he's panting, "Master, please... close," and wincing as he keeps himself held back.

"Back on your forearms."

This time Sean presses his forehead to the cold tile, too, gasping, trying to think of something that will get his mind off his arousal. This fails; he ends up thinking about the way he begged Viggo to fuck him last night, before it all fell apart. Hurt me, break me, fuck me, love me...

Jesus Christ, did I really say that?

"Name five ways you'd like to offer pleasure to me."

Distracted, badly this time, Sean licks his lips and pushes his head off the ground so his voice will be more audible. "Your slave would like to offer you his mouth, Master -- to kiss you or suck you off or rim you or please you in any way you require. Your slave would offer you his pain, in any way you seek to provide it. Your slave would offer you his skin, to bruise or--" he swallows, "cut, Master. Your slave would offer you his hands, Master, to stroke you or massage you or care for you in any way you might need. Your slave would offer you his arse, to fuck with fingers, fist, cock, or, oh God--" Sean breaks off, has to swallow again. "Or anything you please, Master."

"Good." Viggo mulls those choices over for a while, considering. "Come over here and present your ass," he suggests, pointing to a spot on the kitchen floor beside his chair.

Sean crawls over, where indicated, and raises his arse up, presenting it to the best of his ability, keeping his head on his forearms.

Viggo strokes his hand over Sean's ass, still bruised, squeezing it lightly. "I've felt how tight you are. I'd split you wide open," he says speculatively, drawing the words out.

Sean lets out a hoarse, involuntary moan. "Yes, Master," he whispers. "Your slave would be grateful, Master."

"Damn right you would," Viggo agrees mildly, teasing fingers across Sean's opening.

Another hoarse moan; Sean leans back into Viggo's touch, feeling himself clenching at the prospect of being used for Viggo's pleasure. "Please, Master, whatever you want, your slave begs the privilege of providing it."

"Stay just like that," Viggo decides, pulling his cock free of his pants.

Sean swallows; he can't imagine moving.

Viggo rubs his cock lightly over Sean's buttocks, over the swells of muscle and the tender little valleys where they join his thighs, up the cleft to tease directly at the puckered little entrance.

Panting, clenching his fists hard, Sean tries to relax, tries not to move back into Viggo. "Please," he whispers. It's not his smartest statement ever; he's dry, raw, bare. And even so, he'd take this. He's offering. He exhales slowly and relaxes, letting the tension roll out of his body.

Viggo rests his cock in the cleft of Sean's ass, covering it with his palm, rubbing lightly. He says nothing to Sean; there's no point in speaking to him.

"Oh, God," Sean whispers. His voice is shaking. He remembers nearly coming from this sort of sensation when it was Bale, at breakfast, and he forces himself to stay relaxed now, even though this is, impossibly, much, much better. "God, Master, please -- yes."

"Quiet," Viggo orders, his arousal making the word sharp.

Sean swallows the rest of his pleas; with effort, he manages to keep his breathing silent, too.

Viggo shudders; this gets to him something fierce, a quiet boy made to be silent and offer motionless pleasure. Viggo sucks in a breath, at once close.

Viggo's responses have Sean wanting to claw at the tiles; he stays relaxed, knowing better than to move.

"Ohhhh..." A long, shuddering sigh escapes Viggo as he comes, hot, jerking jets covering Sean's lower back.

Sean holds his breath, not trusting himself to move. He's close enough he can taste his own release on the back of his tongue, sharp and electric. This time he holds back, if only barely.

"Mmm." Viggo massages his come into Sean's back, sighing heavily.

Sean would thank Viggo for allowing his slave to give him pleasure, for the splash of come on his back, for the touching afterward, if he were allowed to speak. His skin feels warm, so sensitive it's nearly stinging.

"That was good," Viggo announces unnecessarily, giving Sean's ass a smart slap.

The shuddered breath comes out of him without warning; Sean does clench his fingers now, hanging on to his own pleasure and gritting his teeth against it.

"You get a choice now," Viggo explains, carefully righting his clothes.

"Yes, Master?" Sean whispers.

"You can go spend the rest of the day however you want, as long as it's not with me. Or you can stay here and tell me why you had to break the rule."

It's an easy choice. Sean answers immediately. "Your slave would prefer to stay here, Master. Please."

Viggo inclines his head. "Have at it, then."

"I..." Free rein to talk inevitably results in Sean growing tongue-tied and losing formal voice; he sighs and barrels on as best he can. "I was deeply affected by the feel of my Master coming. And surprised; I had no idea my Master was so close." Sean shudders a bit; perhaps agreeing to relive that experience was a bit foolish, given how close he still is. "...and I enjoyed the begging a great deal, Master," Sean whispers, cringing at that last. He remembers how he was begging, and that is excruciating to recall, but at the time he didn't even have to think about it; it felt right.

Viggo smiles slightly at that, almost coyly. "Yes," he agrees, "you seemed to, and I wasn't surprised."

"Master, surprise is why I lost control," Sean says quietly. "A number of things were surprising, one on top of another. It's not the first time surprise has etched away at my resolve, either; your slave is sorry for his failings, Master."

"So this is something you've known you need to work on?" Viggo asks quietly, leaning forward, elbows on knees.

"Not as such, Master." Sean sighs. "It's easy to pinpoint the place where one has made mistakes when one has had cause to reflect on them very recently. Not so easy when one has made mistakes and then had other, more immediate concerns."

Viggo nods; the answer's a good one, and shows Sean has been thinking. "Good. What's your plan to fix this?"

"I don't suppose you're going to stop surprising me?" Sean asks, smiling very slightly.

Viggo smiles back at that, a big, genuine smile. "No."

"Practice, then, I suppose, Master. Learning to hold myself back even when things shock me. Perhaps taking advantage of your generosity in allowing me to touch myself so long as I don't come from it, as a way to grow used to holding myself near the edge."

Viggo nods encouragingly. "That's a good idea. I like that idea."

That amused tone is back in Sean's voice. "Your slave is glad his Master approves," he says.

"I approve so much I think I'd like to watch that sometime," Viggo continues, still grinning lightly.

"Your slave would be glad to perform for his Master at any time of his Master's choosing," Sean grins back. His head is still on his forearms, but he doesn't miss being able to look Viggo in the eyes now; Viggo is there with him, which is the important part.

"I choose now," Viggo murmurs, tone still relatively light, and leans back in his chair.

Sean turns and kneels up so Viggo can see him; he wraps his hand around his cock, his erection only slightly dimmed by the conversation, and begins stroking. It feels good; he can feel the drag of his palm's calluses against his skin, calluses he still hasn't quite lost from training and swordfighting. He sighs into the motions; his hips thrust up into the strokes of his hand.

Too soon, he's close; he bites his lower lip and lets out a soft, panted moan. His eyes close, and he eases off, gripping his cock loosely, not breaking contact.

"That's very arousing to watch," Viggo murmurs.

"Your slave... thanks his Master... for the compliment and the opportunity," Sean pants softly. "Shall I continue, Master?"

"If you think you can," Viggo agrees.

"I can if my Master wishes it." Sean's eyes come open, green focusing on the blue of Viggo's eyes, and he begins stroking himself again, the tip of his tongue rubbing lightly along the top of his lower lip. He moans, and the strokes grow slower, more relentless. He gives himself a sharp little twist at the head of his cock, not letting himself off easy; this is very, very arousing, and he wants to hold himself back from the sharpest, narrowest edge possible.

Close again. "Master," Sean whispers, "Master, close," and he stops again, letting his cock rest in the palm of his hand.

"This," Viggo says quietly, returning to his well-cooled cup of coffee and sipping from it without concern, "is a way for you to prove yourself to me." He lets his gaze drop to Sean's cock, vivid pink and pulsing against Sean's palm. "As men, we are hardwired to want to come, and to hell with the rest. Being a slave means submission above all else. It means that you are a slave first, and a man second."

Sean's eyes close again, and he lets his breath ease out from between his teeth. "Yes, Master," he whispers, almost reverently -- it's something he wants, has wanted for a long while, but until now, he's been certain no one was willing to take him this far. "Your slave first," he emphasizes, "and all else second."

That makes Viggo smile again. "Good boy."

Finally. Sean's eyes close again, and stay closed this time as he assimilates the praise. "Thank you, Master," he says.

Viggo tilts his head, assessing Sean carefully. "You have a hard time with this part, don't you? The philosophy of it. You'd rather just get beaten within an inch of your life and sent to bed."

Sean's eyes snap open at that, and fix on Viggo's. "Until you, Master, yes, that would have suited me far better."

Viggo's brows furrow a little in thought. "Until me?"

Sean wants to glance away, but doesn't; his jaw clenches and unclenches a little in sudden weary frustration. "I want more with you. More than just beating and fucking and humiliation. I don't know how else to put it."

"You want a whole experience."

"I want you," Sean whispers, the words twisting his chest into knots, making him wince a bit. "Whatever the experience is, I want that, too, if you're part of it." Christ, he's letting a lot out; he feels exposed beyond recognition.

"So it's personal," Viggo asks, "instead of situational?"

Oh, God. It is, and when stated like that, that simply, Sean has to bite down on an urge to run. "Yes," he manages, and even that one word is difficult.

"Good." Viggo finishes his coffee, sits back in his chair. "My interest in you was not entirely situational."

Sean's breath catches, and he tries to take a deep breath and swallow at the same time, ending up choking. He struggles to get the next single word out, feeling as if it's the most important one he's said to Viggo yet. "No?"

"No." Viggo's gaze is light, and his lips quirk upward very slightly. "It takes a hell of a lot of balls to up and walk out on a Master who's striped you so hard you can barely move. I wanted to play with that spunk."

Sean's mouth quirks, too. "Christian said something similar once, regarding why he wanted me." He sets his shoulders. "I have wanted you since meeting you. My first master tore the skin from my back for wanting you. I hope I'm not disappointing you."

Viggo raises his eyebrows; it's the only outward sign of surprise he'll allow himself. "Is that so?"

"Which part, Master?"

"You wanted me when we first met, and your Master beat you for it?"

"Yes, Master."

"Interesting."

Sean's jaw clenches; he meant this, and it's going to be used as ammunition against him later. His posture straightens even further, and he forces his jaw to loosen a bit, enough to speak. "Yes, Master," he says, voice gone cool.

"It must feel very strange to belong to me now, then," Viggo decides. "Very strange."

"If you say so, Master."

"You don't find it strange?"

"Your slave cedes to your opinion, Master."

"But what's yours?"

Sean gives Viggo a very authentic puzzled look. "I'm sure I don't understand the question, Master. Belonging to you is what it is. I'm here. That's all."

Viggo decides to let that one go; he's not sure whether Sean's sidestepping the question or genuinely trying to find the right answer. "Alright. Enough about that."

"Yes, Master," Sean says, relaxing somewhat.

"Go back to your practice," Viggo suggests, nodding toward Sean's neglected cock.

Starting all over is easier; Sean isn't close at all yet. It takes several minutes of long, slow, almost elegant strokes before his cock is swollen and leaping in his hand again; he gives himself several steady strokes when he thinks he's at the edge and then murmurs, "Close again, Master." He eases off, resting, feeling himself trembling a bit.

"Do you think this is helping?" Viggo asks, eyes fixed on Sean's cock. Christ, it looks good this way, teased to the brink so many times.

"Quite possibly, Master," Sean answers, breath coming in pleasant, panted gasps.

"Do you think it'll translate well when I'm fucking you without benefit of proper preparation and I'm pinning you to the bed?"

Sean's entire body flushes; the shock at hearing those words has his cock leaping eagerly into his hand. He remains still; he lets out a long breath. "I think so, Master," he murmurs.

"They'd better," Viggo agrees, just the slightest edge to his words. "Start again."

It's nearly unbearable now, with the image of Viggo pinning him to the bed fresh in his mind, the idea of Viggo fucking him hard with little-to-no-preparation. He grips himself lightly, teasing himself, stroking himself with lazy, irrythmic, jerking motions. It draws several sharp moans out of him; he tenses with each of them, and if he'd been ordered, any one of them could have taken him over the edge. He pushes himself for one more stroke -- another -- and -- "God, close, Master," he pants, letting his cock go altogether.

"Nice," Viggo murmurs, appreciative of the way Sean's cock bobs upward strongly.

Sean's eyes close. He takes several unsteady breaths before he can inhale and exhale evenly again. He wraps his hand around his cock again, and his breathing immediately goes out of rhythm. One tug, then another, and he's gasping again. "Close," he grunts, and stops.

"Better. Stay right on the edge like that," Viggo orders, sliding his hand down to cup his cock through his pants. He's nowhere near ready to come again, but it feels good all the same.

The necessary rhythm to stay on the edge without going over is a broken, almost unpredictable brush of Sean's fingertips on the sensitive skin just below the head of his cock. He shudders with every touch, eyes closing, then opening, then closing again; he gasps, skin flushing, moaning softly. Another touch at any given time would send him over; he refuses to go. This time, not until he's told.

"Good," Viggo praises. "Go on and come."

One more light, teasing brush of fingertips, and then Sean wraps his hand around his cock and draws it up the length of his shaft, hard, steady, pressing in hard against that sensitive spot. His back arches as he comes, streaks of come falling over his fingers, one after another, until Sean is lightheaded from it, crying out brokenly with his hand still working his cock, working himself until it hurts. He leans slightly forward afterward, panting.

"Good boy," Viggo praises. "Lick it up." Somehow, in this exchange, Viggo is reminded of just how large a man Sean is, mostly muscle, and how surprising and incredibly arousing it is to know that he's put a man like Sean on his knees, and made the experience good enough to come from.

Eager, exhausted, greedy, dizzy, Sean begins to lick the come from his fingers, tasting himself, wishing he could smear the come on his face and spend the rest of the day smelling his own arousal. He settles for smearing some of it over his lips and licking it up, and then finishing with his hand, biting down hard on the pad of flesh at the base of his thumb.

Viggo watches, thoughtful. "You like doing that, don't you?"

"Yes, Master," Sean whispers, winded.

"I can think of a good reward for you, then. I think you'll like it, next time there's something worth rewarding."

Sean raises an eyebrow, not sure whether he should respond to that or not.

"Easy," Viggo grins. "It's not a test. Just something for you to think about. You missed a spot." He points to a small dot of come on the kitchen floor, just in front of Sean's knee.

Sean crawls back far enough that he can lean forward, going to forearms and knees again, and lick the come off the kitchen tile, lapping pleasantly at it for several moments after the dot of come is gone.

"Good boy. Go put a jar of your sun tea out on the porch and do the laundry. Maybe we'll drink the tea after that, when it's a little cooler out there."

"Yes, Master." Sean's smile is quiet, but present again; he comes to his feet gracefully and heads to the pantry to collect the teabags.

Viggo watches Sean as he prepares the jar, quietly pleased at the entire morning. He would rather have a boy who takes punishment a little too well than a boy for whom it means nothing; a little fine-tuning of Sean's reactions will have him neither headstrong nor overwhelmingly self-deprecating. And his tenacity...

Commitment, Viggo realizes, and smiles.

Comments

[thalassatx.livejournal.com]

Your slave Thalassa thanks you for allowing her to read this.

Your slave hopes that you will find her pleasing enough to write more soon.

Your slave worships at your feet and would gladly lick your boots and hope it would result in a reward of more like this one.

Your slave is a dripping puddle of goo over this.

[helens78]

Oh God. HAHAHAHAHA! *grin!* Thank you and thank you and thank you again. ;)

Is it too much of a tease to say that we're finished with parts 10 and 11 already, and will probably work on part 12 tonight? I post them one at a time to avoid spamming LJ (mostly, and partially because I like the serial nature of the writing), and I never post the last thing we have written, because I'm superstitious and worry that it would turn it into a work-in-progress instead of a serial fic. Serial fics get finished. Works-in-progress almost never do (at least when I'm writing them).

But with any luck, part 10 on Thursday, part 11 on Friday. We've been working on this so steadily we haven't needed to take any breaks just yet, but that probably won't keep up. Still, the series is going very, very well. You ain't seen nothing yet. ;)

[thalassatx.livejournal.com]

Your slave feels very fortunate to have two incredibly talented mistresses, and she knows she doesn't deserve such wonderful reading material. Thank you, Mistress.

*forearms and knees*

[helens78]

*still grinning but stupefied*

You're welcome. :)

[vickyalicia.livejournal.com]

Is it too much of a tease to say that we're finished with parts 10 and 11 already, and will probably work on part 12 tonight?

Oh ho, yes. Yes, it is.

I looove this fic. ;D You guys are so talented, that I'm just going to stop trying to write how talented you are right now. So good.

[helens78]

Thank you. So much. :)

[enyalie.livejournal.com]

I just wanted to say how much I'm enjoying this :-)

I haven't read much of this kind of fanfic, but out of curiosity checked out the links that you posted to The Establishment fics and was hooked.

[helens78]

Thank you! :) Glad you're enjoying it!