rugbytackle | Reunion, Part 2 of ? (VM/SB)

Author: Bronwyn
Rating: NC-17
Archive: Rugbytackle
Summary: Continuation of Reunion, Part 1, & sequel to A Thousand Words
Disclaimer: I made it all up. I'm a bad, bad girl.

For Karelian, just because, and for ShrineToLust, because I owe her chocolate-covered Viggos. *g* (Would you settle for a horny Viggo, Shriney?)

He wakes to the sensation of warm lips and soft beard skimming across his cheek. Sean is leaning across the console and watching him, green eyes steady and warm. The sedan is still running, but they’re parked in what looks like a stretch of woods. Trees arch and throw lacy shade across the windshield. Air conditioning blows cool air across his sleep-warm face. “I must have narcolepsy. Where are we?” Viggo asks.

“About an hour from the house. I had to stop because you look so damn cute when you’re asleep.”

Viggo snorts. “I was drooling, wasn’t I?”

“Not yet.” Sean reaches across Viggo and unsnaps his seat belt. He glances up and meets Viggo’s gaze. White teeth flash in a conspiratorial grin. “Don’t look so alarmed. I’m not going to jump you.”

“I’m disappointed.”

Sean climbs over the console and into Viggo’s lap. Viggo laughs and grips his arms to steady him. “What the hell---“

“Oof.” Sean ducks his head after smartly rapping it on the roof. “Move your seat back, Viggo.”

“I can’t reach the lever.”

Sean makes a tsking noise and adjusts the seat. “Deep breath, mate,” he warns Viggo, and all Viggo can do is open his mouth to ask why before Sean’s lips close over his. His tongue flicks against Viggo’s, and Viggo feels heat spreading from his lap to his chest to his mouth. Sean’s hands cup his head. His thumbs are warm against the crest of Viggo’s cheeks. He is surrounded, enfolded, happily drowning in Sean’s warmth and scent and taste.

“Oh,” Viggo breathes when Sean raises his head and presses soft kisses against his eyelids. “I’ve missed you, Sean.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Sean’s voice has dropped to that soft rumble, that bedroom voice that never fails to make Viggo hard. “I don’t think I can wait until we get to the house, Vig.”

Viggo groans. “We’re too damn old to fuck in the back of a car. Besides, this is nice upholstery. I'd hate to ruin it.”

“It can be cleaned.” Sean is nipping at his earlobe, tiny bites that make his skin prickle with anticipatory shivers. Sean likes to bite and then lick and then bite again, and Viggo’s skin remembers and waits for the blunt penetration and soft wet heat. “I want----“ Sean starts to mutter, but the rest of his sentence dissolves into a husky groan as Viggo slides his hand up the inside of his thigh. Sean’s skin burns through the fine linen. He fumbles one hand down, guides Viggo’s palm to the hard bulge between his legs. The sound he makes in his throat---half-whimper, half-growl---makes Viggo squirm against the leather seat.

Warm air floods into the car, and Viggo realizes that Sean has opened his door. The Brit crawls out, tugs Viggo with him. Sean is flushed, his expression tight, and Viggo knows that look. When Sean is aroused like this, he’s impossible to resist. He starts to tell Sean he has lube and condoms in his suitcase, but Sean is already going to his knees, one hand busy with Viggo’s fly, the other gripping Viggo’s hip.

“Sean---“ Viggo manages to choke out. He intends to tell Sean to get up, not to dirty his fine pale trousers, but he forgets how to form words as Sean gulps him down effortlessly. Viggo grabs the car door frame for balance. Sean is ravenous, insistent, wet mouth and wetter tongue, his hands clamped on Viggo’s buttocks. He’s making sounds in his throat, a continuous, hungry “Mmmmm” of pleasure. Viggo can’t move, can barely breathe, his muscles locking in the rictus of orgasm. His eyes water from the force of it, and he reaches down and clenches thin linen in his hands as he spurts down Sean’s throat. His vision swims briefly, but he never loses sight of Sean on his knees, green eyes steady on his.

It takes him a few minutes to stop shaking, to gently pull his softening cock from the warm circle of Sean’s lips. Sean growls and rubs his bearded cheek against Viggo’s groin, and Viggo can’t help but giggle helplessly when a stray dribble of semen squeezes out onto Sean’s cheek. “Ooops,” he apologizes, reaches to dab it away.

“Leave it,” Sean rumbles. He licks at the vein that pulses in Viggo’s groin. “Christ, I don’t think I can stand up without coming in my trousers.”

“Don’t come until I get my mouth on you,” Viggo replies.

“I’m not going to last long,” Sean warns him as he gets to his feet.

“Long enough,” Viggo replies, and he slips to his knees in the sun-warmed dirt and reaches for the object of his worship. Sean’s long, elegant fingers lock onto Viggo’s shirt. Viggo doesn’t tease---he unbuckles and unzips and cradles and licks. Tilts his head back so he can see Sean’s rapturous stare, watch the flush paint the fair face pink. Sean’s musky scent is sweetly familiar, just as the heft of his cock on Viggo’s tongue is familiar. He groans Viggo’s name in a guttural chant whose rhythm matches the short hitching movements of his hips. Viggo skates his nails against the flat belly above him, dips one fingertip into the cup of Sean’s navel. Liquid floods his mouth, thick and warm, and Sean’s howls of pleasure make his spent cock twitch.

(tbc)