A Thousand Words (S/V)
Sep. 22nd, 2003 08:23 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rugbytackleTitle: A Thousand Words
Author: Bronwyn
Pairing: V/S
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A picture brings a rush of memories.
Disclaimer: Never happened. All lies.
General Natterings: Completely un-beta’ed. Just had to get this out of my system. Cross-posted to my LJ.
Dedication: For anyone who still gets cross-eyed over that picture of Sean in that short Troy costume. *g*
He opens the manila envelope before he gets to the truck because he recognizes the untidy handwriting on the label. The single sheet of paper is covered with Orlando’s distinctive scrawl and reveals a rambling monologue about Malta and the parties and the filming. Viggo grins at the enthusiasm that bleeds through the ink and paper. He can only imagine what stories he’ll hear in person when he and Orlando and Sean get together in Italy at the end of next month.
The second, smaller envelope that slides out has firmer, squarish shapes inside. Viggo unlocks the truck and sits with his legs hanging out. Sunlight warms his bare feet. He slits open the smaller envelope and spills photos into his palm. They’re mostly Polaroids, and judging by the not-quite-centered subjects, they were taken by Orlando. Landscapes, buildings, funny signs, extras, gorgeously tanned people in not very much clothing.
The last picture stops the breath in his body. Sean sits in costume on what looks like a low concrete wall or step. He’s tanned---or made up to look that way---and he wears boots with shin plates that come up over his knee and a thin cotton toga-like garment that bares his arms and thighs. He’s not posing or mugging for the camera (as Orlando is wont to do); he’s simply sitting and squinting a bit, the slightest of smiles curving his lips. A sweet-faced dog leans in the shelter of his arm. Viggo vaguely remembers a postcard from Orli about the animal rescue effort. Scrawled at the bottom of the picture is "Isn’t he a dish?" in Orli’s dreadful handwriting.
Viggo reaches up and wipes sweat off his forehead. It’s hot, and he really should get back to the house and turn the hose on the potted plants before they wilt. But he can’t bring himself to swing his legs into the truck, to put the picture down long enough to drive the four miles back to the house. He can’t stop looking at the long expanse of Sean’s thighs, slightly spread to brace his unseen feet on the ground. There’s an intriguing hint of darkness under the rucked-up hem of his costume, and Viggo knows it’s probably an ordinary pair of black briefs. The costume is too short for the type of boxers Sean likes to wear, soft knits that cling to the curve of his ass and thighs.
Viggo remembers the last time they were together, remembers how he mouthed Sean’s cock through gray knit boxers until a wet spot bloomed like a pewter-colored flower where the head of his cock pushed against the soft, clingy material. He held Sean down and opened the tiny buttons on the fly, parting the material just enough to gently tug Sean’s cock free. He remembers how he went down on Sean, lips sealing perfect heat and pressure around the thick warmth of his cock, sliding down down down until his nose was buried in the soft tangle of pubic hair and tiny buttons were pushing against the underside of his chin. He remembers Sean’s guttural cries and the way he tugged at Viggo’s hair and the way he spread his legs so Viggo could cup his balls through the soft fabric and warm them in his palm. He remembers Sean’s wild shouts of pleasure as he came in Viggo’s mouth.
Viggo closes his eyes and waits for his cock to stop throbbing. It’ll be a long wait because the picture brings it all back, brings back the taste of Sean’s skin and the remembered feel of that soft, tender spot where Sean’s inner thigh meets groin, that spot where the skin is so sensitive that kissing Sean there will make his toes curl, and he’ll yelp and growl and then beg Viggo to do it again.
Viggo waits and wants and remembers it all.
Author: Bronwyn
Pairing: V/S
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A picture brings a rush of memories.
Disclaimer: Never happened. All lies.
General Natterings: Completely un-beta’ed. Just had to get this out of my system. Cross-posted to my LJ.
Dedication: For anyone who still gets cross-eyed over that picture of Sean in that short Troy costume. *g*
He opens the manila envelope before he gets to the truck because he recognizes the untidy handwriting on the label. The single sheet of paper is covered with Orlando’s distinctive scrawl and reveals a rambling monologue about Malta and the parties and the filming. Viggo grins at the enthusiasm that bleeds through the ink and paper. He can only imagine what stories he’ll hear in person when he and Orlando and Sean get together in Italy at the end of next month.
The second, smaller envelope that slides out has firmer, squarish shapes inside. Viggo unlocks the truck and sits with his legs hanging out. Sunlight warms his bare feet. He slits open the smaller envelope and spills photos into his palm. They’re mostly Polaroids, and judging by the not-quite-centered subjects, they were taken by Orlando. Landscapes, buildings, funny signs, extras, gorgeously tanned people in not very much clothing.
The last picture stops the breath in his body. Sean sits in costume on what looks like a low concrete wall or step. He’s tanned---or made up to look that way---and he wears boots with shin plates that come up over his knee and a thin cotton toga-like garment that bares his arms and thighs. He’s not posing or mugging for the camera (as Orlando is wont to do); he’s simply sitting and squinting a bit, the slightest of smiles curving his lips. A sweet-faced dog leans in the shelter of his arm. Viggo vaguely remembers a postcard from Orli about the animal rescue effort. Scrawled at the bottom of the picture is "Isn’t he a dish?" in Orli’s dreadful handwriting.
Viggo reaches up and wipes sweat off his forehead. It’s hot, and he really should get back to the house and turn the hose on the potted plants before they wilt. But he can’t bring himself to swing his legs into the truck, to put the picture down long enough to drive the four miles back to the house. He can’t stop looking at the long expanse of Sean’s thighs, slightly spread to brace his unseen feet on the ground. There’s an intriguing hint of darkness under the rucked-up hem of his costume, and Viggo knows it’s probably an ordinary pair of black briefs. The costume is too short for the type of boxers Sean likes to wear, soft knits that cling to the curve of his ass and thighs.
Viggo remembers the last time they were together, remembers how he mouthed Sean’s cock through gray knit boxers until a wet spot bloomed like a pewter-colored flower where the head of his cock pushed against the soft, clingy material. He held Sean down and opened the tiny buttons on the fly, parting the material just enough to gently tug Sean’s cock free. He remembers how he went down on Sean, lips sealing perfect heat and pressure around the thick warmth of his cock, sliding down down down until his nose was buried in the soft tangle of pubic hair and tiny buttons were pushing against the underside of his chin. He remembers Sean’s guttural cries and the way he tugged at Viggo’s hair and the way he spread his legs so Viggo could cup his balls through the soft fabric and warm them in his palm. He remembers Sean’s wild shouts of pleasure as he came in Viggo’s mouth.
Viggo closes his eyes and waits for his cock to stop throbbing. It’ll be a long wait because the picture brings it all back, brings back the taste of Sean’s skin and the remembered feel of that soft, tender spot where Sean’s inner thigh meets groin, that spot where the skin is so sensitive that kissing Sean there will make his toes curl, and he’ll yelp and growl and then beg Viggo to do it again.
Viggo waits and wants and remembers it all.
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no subject
Date: 2003-09-23 12:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-23 12:50 am (UTC)Hope you're doing better! *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2003-09-23 01:57 am (UTC)Whoa...*waits for heart to calm down* Damn, what an image... so when do we get the reunion?
(We _will_ get the reunion, right?) *nudge* *nudge*
*grin*
~Kris
no subject
Date: 2003-09-27 10:59 pm (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2003-09-23 02:03 am (UTC)sequel, yes? *bats lashes*
no subject
Date: 2003-09-27 11:00 pm (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2003-09-23 02:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-27 11:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-27 11:11 pm (UTC)Love your icon... *drools*
no subject
Date: 2003-09-23 08:32 am (UTC)Ehm - yes -
*calms breathing*
Joining the chorus asking for a sequel. And wanting to tell you that the bit before the hotness is good too. I like your Orlando *S*
no subject
Date: 2003-09-27 11:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-23 10:56 am (UTC)Thanks for sharing,
Mim
no subject
Date: 2003-09-27 11:03 pm (UTC)I love that picture of Sean. *g* It was great inspiration.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 03:54 pm (UTC)I'd pay money to hear Viggo's explanation to the cop..."no, I haven't been drinking, not under the influence of drugs," hoping that being under the influence of Sean wasn't in violation of some arcane section of the California Vehicle Code...
I'll shut up now. I hope you can tell I loved your story.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-27 11:01 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading!