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rugbytackleTITLE: The Orange Grove (24/32): Twilight
AUTHOR: Cinzia and Gloria
Full headers here
When Viggo finally got back home, Sean was sitting on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, going over revisions of a couple of scenes in his script. He looked up when he heard Viggo enter the living room: they hadn't seen each other since the afternoon, and Sean had tried very, very hard not to think of when he'd last seen him.
But he'd been looking at the same page for half an hour now, and he couldn't have said what it was about.
Viggo wasn't mad at him. Viggo hadn't pulled away from him. Viggo had hugged him back, and looking into his eyes, so close, Sean had thought he could see... Just a flicker, guarded and tentative; but he'd thought he could see...
A connection, like a pull, like a switch being turned on, current sparkling warm and strong between them. Like he'd heard something go 'click' somewhere inside -- softly, like a door closing.
Or opening.
It had felt so good, having Viggo in his arms; even better when a minute passed, then two, and Viggo still hadn't let go. So Sean hadn't, either.
The relief at having Viggo back like before; the strange, fearful elation at thinking: Maybe not like before.
"Hey," Viggo called, softly, sitting down on the couch behind Sean -- not too close, but close enough that Sean had only to turn his head, lean back a little, and he would've felt Viggo's knee against his arm. And if he were to turn his head a little more...
"You should switch on the lights. It's getting dark," Viggo said.
Sean nodded, somewhat distracted. "In a minute," he said. "I was about to make dinner, anyway."
Viggo let out a pleased sigh at that. Sean turned his head after all, looked up with a little smile. "Tired?"
Viggo shook his head, and didn't speak. He was looking down at Sean, a faint, contented smile on his lips. Viggo's eyes, Sean noticed, suddenly looked very blue. And there it was again, just like that afternoon. The connection, clicking into place. Sean looked back, feeling the beginning of a blush steal across his face, but he didn't look away. He wanted to stay like this, to look at Viggo like this -- to be looked at by Viggo like this -- for a while longer yet.
"You okay?" Viggo asked at last, voice soft, eyes soft, still looking at him.
Sean breathed, nodded. Kept looking back. "Yeah," he said, and his voice, too, felt very soft. "I am."
Viggo's smile changed then, grew brighter, happier...
And just like that, Sean remembered.
"I should make dinner," he said. His voice felt suddenly sharper, all the softness gone. He was thinking vaguely that the carpet he was sitting on needed hoovering: it looked a bit grey, up close. Frayed in a few places.
"Sean?" Viggo sounded tentative, uncertain. Ah, fuck.
"Unless," Sean added, taking a little breath, "you have to go out. Then I can just have a sandwich. Or I can..." His voice trailed off. Not much else to say, anyway.
"Sean." Firmer, this time. But Sean didn't look up and didn't answer, so it was a couple of moments more before Viggo's voice fluttered back down to him, to where he sat on the greying, fraying Persian rug, so still at Viggo's feet, telling himself that it didn't matter. It didn't have to matter. It never had -- before.
"I'm not seeing him any more," Viggo said, quietly.
Sean still didn't look up; didn't even turn his head. He guessed some part of him wanted to ask, Because of me?, but the rest of him... the rest of him just wasn't so keen to know.
He didn't turn, didn't look; but he let himself unfold, go almost slack, relaxing back against the couch, as if a burden had been taken away from him. His cheek touched Viggo's jean-clad knee -- and this, too, was frayed: a sliver of golden skin blinked out from beneath the light blue threads -- and the rug lost focus before his eyes. He turned his head at last, just the tiniest, gliding movement. Friction, burn, heat; Viggo. Flesh and bone and heat and scent. Viggo.
And they were still again, and quiet.
The sky outside grew darker, the golden light pouring through the French doors into the living room receded, leaving them in a dim, violet twilight.
It wasn't a place for words, this.
There were no words that could say how good Viggo's fingers felt in Sean's hair.
A seagull cried outside, a shrill, piercing cry that didn't disturb the shadows gathering inside. Sean got to his knees, moving so slowly he felt like he was underwater; so slowly that when he turned, Viggo's hand in his hair didn't fall away, but glided down, a slow, long caress over Sean's temple, Sean's cheek, Sean's neck; and in the dying light, Viggo's eyes were deep and blue, looking back into Sean's when Sean climbed onto the couch, sitting so close that it was easy to feel Viggo's long, shallow breaths tickling his face.
Very easy, putting his arms around Viggo -- just like earlier that afternoon -- and leaning back, lying down, feeling Viggo's arms close around him, too. They shifted a little, adjusting themselves on the couch; and then they were there, lying together, Sean's face in the curve between Viggo's neck and shoulder, Viggo's breath sweet against Sean's ear.
I liked kissing you, Sean thought, breathing Viggo in.
And then he thought, I want to do it again.
But there were no words in the twilight, so he kept his peace. Viggo felt right, lying there with him. Connected.
Everything felt right again, and then better than right, when Viggo turned his head a little more and their cheeks brushed together -- and then again -- and again.
Sean could tell the moment when Viggo's smile came back, because he could feel it brush, sweet and soft, over his lips for a moment, before dying away again in a low, contented murmur. And it was all right -- more than right -- because Sean could feel Viggo's lips warm and soft against his cheek, his ear, his neck; he could smell Viggo in the curve of his shoulder and taste Viggo against his lips, Viggo's heart beating strong and just a little faster when he ended up resting his head against Viggo's chest, listening close, nuzzling a little.
Just a little; and for now, it felt like it was enough.
AUTHOR: Cinzia and Gloria
Full headers here
When Viggo finally got back home, Sean was sitting on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, going over revisions of a couple of scenes in his script. He looked up when he heard Viggo enter the living room: they hadn't seen each other since the afternoon, and Sean had tried very, very hard not to think of when he'd last seen him.
But he'd been looking at the same page for half an hour now, and he couldn't have said what it was about.
Viggo wasn't mad at him. Viggo hadn't pulled away from him. Viggo had hugged him back, and looking into his eyes, so close, Sean had thought he could see... Just a flicker, guarded and tentative; but he'd thought he could see...
A connection, like a pull, like a switch being turned on, current sparkling warm and strong between them. Like he'd heard something go 'click' somewhere inside -- softly, like a door closing.
Or opening.
It had felt so good, having Viggo in his arms; even better when a minute passed, then two, and Viggo still hadn't let go. So Sean hadn't, either.
The relief at having Viggo back like before; the strange, fearful elation at thinking: Maybe not like before.
"Hey," Viggo called, softly, sitting down on the couch behind Sean -- not too close, but close enough that Sean had only to turn his head, lean back a little, and he would've felt Viggo's knee against his arm. And if he were to turn his head a little more...
"You should switch on the lights. It's getting dark," Viggo said.
Sean nodded, somewhat distracted. "In a minute," he said. "I was about to make dinner, anyway."
Viggo let out a pleased sigh at that. Sean turned his head after all, looked up with a little smile. "Tired?"
Viggo shook his head, and didn't speak. He was looking down at Sean, a faint, contented smile on his lips. Viggo's eyes, Sean noticed, suddenly looked very blue. And there it was again, just like that afternoon. The connection, clicking into place. Sean looked back, feeling the beginning of a blush steal across his face, but he didn't look away. He wanted to stay like this, to look at Viggo like this -- to be looked at by Viggo like this -- for a while longer yet.
"You okay?" Viggo asked at last, voice soft, eyes soft, still looking at him.
Sean breathed, nodded. Kept looking back. "Yeah," he said, and his voice, too, felt very soft. "I am."
Viggo's smile changed then, grew brighter, happier...
And just like that, Sean remembered.
"I should make dinner," he said. His voice felt suddenly sharper, all the softness gone. He was thinking vaguely that the carpet he was sitting on needed hoovering: it looked a bit grey, up close. Frayed in a few places.
"Sean?" Viggo sounded tentative, uncertain. Ah, fuck.
"Unless," Sean added, taking a little breath, "you have to go out. Then I can just have a sandwich. Or I can..." His voice trailed off. Not much else to say, anyway.
"Sean." Firmer, this time. But Sean didn't look up and didn't answer, so it was a couple of moments more before Viggo's voice fluttered back down to him, to where he sat on the greying, fraying Persian rug, so still at Viggo's feet, telling himself that it didn't matter. It didn't have to matter. It never had -- before.
"I'm not seeing him any more," Viggo said, quietly.
Sean still didn't look up; didn't even turn his head. He guessed some part of him wanted to ask, Because of me?, but the rest of him... the rest of him just wasn't so keen to know.
He didn't turn, didn't look; but he let himself unfold, go almost slack, relaxing back against the couch, as if a burden had been taken away from him. His cheek touched Viggo's jean-clad knee -- and this, too, was frayed: a sliver of golden skin blinked out from beneath the light blue threads -- and the rug lost focus before his eyes. He turned his head at last, just the tiniest, gliding movement. Friction, burn, heat; Viggo. Flesh and bone and heat and scent. Viggo.
And they were still again, and quiet.
The sky outside grew darker, the golden light pouring through the French doors into the living room receded, leaving them in a dim, violet twilight.
It wasn't a place for words, this.
There were no words that could say how good Viggo's fingers felt in Sean's hair.
A seagull cried outside, a shrill, piercing cry that didn't disturb the shadows gathering inside. Sean got to his knees, moving so slowly he felt like he was underwater; so slowly that when he turned, Viggo's hand in his hair didn't fall away, but glided down, a slow, long caress over Sean's temple, Sean's cheek, Sean's neck; and in the dying light, Viggo's eyes were deep and blue, looking back into Sean's when Sean climbed onto the couch, sitting so close that it was easy to feel Viggo's long, shallow breaths tickling his face.
Very easy, putting his arms around Viggo -- just like earlier that afternoon -- and leaning back, lying down, feeling Viggo's arms close around him, too. They shifted a little, adjusting themselves on the couch; and then they were there, lying together, Sean's face in the curve between Viggo's neck and shoulder, Viggo's breath sweet against Sean's ear.
I liked kissing you, Sean thought, breathing Viggo in.
And then he thought, I want to do it again.
But there were no words in the twilight, so he kept his peace. Viggo felt right, lying there with him. Connected.
Everything felt right again, and then better than right, when Viggo turned his head a little more and their cheeks brushed together -- and then again -- and again.
Sean could tell the moment when Viggo's smile came back, because he could feel it brush, sweet and soft, over his lips for a moment, before dying away again in a low, contented murmur. And it was all right -- more than right -- because Sean could feel Viggo's lips warm and soft against his cheek, his ear, his neck; he could smell Viggo in the curve of his shoulder and taste Viggo against his lips, Viggo's heart beating strong and just a little faster when he ended up resting his head against Viggo's chest, listening close, nuzzling a little.
Just a little; and for now, it felt like it was enough.
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no subject
Date: 2003-11-10 01:33 pm (UTC)*sigh*
It's wonderful because it's so slow, unfurling gently, not rushing anything.
*loves*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-10 01:46 pm (UTC)Thank you, thank you, thank you. What a wonderful chapter, so many lovely images and a silence between them that is so eloquent. *sighs*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-10 04:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:03 pm (UTC)*blush*
Thank you! :)
Wonderful
Date: 2003-11-10 04:17 pm (UTC)Re: Wonderful
Date: 2003-11-11 12:04 pm (UTC)Thanks again for reading, and commenting! :)
no subject
Date: 2003-11-10 06:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:07 pm (UTC)It's so good to know that you're enjoying the new developments (poor Petros, though... ahem. Just kidding. ;)
Thank you for commenting! *hugs more*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-10 07:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-10 09:19 pm (UTC)You girls are trying to kill me *snogs you*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:14 pm (UTC)It's good to know that people are reading, though: thank you for popping in to leave this comment. It's very appreciated! :)
*huggles*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-10 11:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:17 pm (UTC)*cough* Never mind. ;)
*hugs!*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:10 am (UTC)This...
Like he'd heard something go 'click' somewhere inside -- softly, like a door closing.
Or opening.
And this...
He was thinking vaguely that the carpet he was sitting on needed hoovering: it looked a bit grey, up close. Frayed in a few places.
very effective imagery/storytelling.
Breathtaking :) it's getting better and better.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:20 pm (UTC)Funny that you should say that! Because...
...damn. Sorry, can't say. *veg*
Thank you for the great feedback! So glad that you're enjoying the story! :D
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 02:29 pm (UTC)It doesn't really translate well in English, does it? (I know my chicken)
I am *very much* looking forward to the storm ~g~
thanks to the wonderful lovely authors :D
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 02:39 pm (UTC)evilinnocent grin*O:)
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 03:10 am (UTC)the strange, fearful elation at thinking: Maybe not like before.
You have absolutely perfectly captured that first flush of knowledge when you know you're falling in love and that the love is returned. Beautiful.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 04:24 am (UTC)[blinks happily for the boys]
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 04:27 am (UTC)This is absolutely my favorite chapter and I like so much of it that I don't even know where to start. I like the lack of dialog and Sean's distraction with the carpet and his body language and the slow, sort of dreamy feel to the whole scene and . . . and . . . just everything.
*hugs you tight*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-12 02:15 am (UTC)And I forgot to say last night, because I was so blown away, that I found this scene much sexier than a lot of scenes where actual sex is involved.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 07:56 am (UTC)The comfortable silences, looking into one another's eyes...the way you captured that, the way it unfolded, so exquisitely...I was in awe. Total awe.
I love these two so much. And I love how their friendship pervades everything--that even when they make a misstep it's not too grave--they have understanding and forgiveness.
*loves loves loves* Beautiful.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 12:30 pm (UTC)And I love how their friendship pervades everything--that even when they make a misstep it's not too grave--they have understanding and forgiveness.
Ooh, yes. That's it--that's what this pairing is about, I think... or anyway, that's the way I like to think of them. So happy it came through right! :)
Thank you again, we really appreciate your thoughtful feedback! :D
chapter 24
Date: 2003-11-12 01:16 am (UTC)Cinzia I've always admired the tight and complete presentation of your stories, and Gloria's influence and talent complement and challenges incredibly.
Truly a beautiful read-This chapter is so poetic and encapsulating I can't break free of it (not that I wish too). I wish I could bring this artistry to my Assassins series.
I can only imagine that a gentle kiss is on the horizon.
And on a whimsical note: Nuzzling is one of my FAVORITE activities and I melted reading it here.
Breathless and in trouble for telling my spouse to "leave me alone for a minute" when I was being talked to while reading this,
Dea
:::melts::: :::dies:::
Date: 2004-03-17 02:58 am (UTC)This is my favorite chapter yet, my favorite by far. And I agreed with whoever it was that said this is a great deal sexier than a lot of actual sex scenes I've read/seen before. This was just... It was perfect. I love the way that you didn't use much dialogue; all the actions spoke for themselves, and as a fellow writer I know just how hard that is to manage. I've only pulled it off a time or two myself, and this scene... Well. :::bows down and worships both of you:::
I must finish reading... I didn't mean to comment 'til I was done with the story, as I have to be up again in, what... 5 hours from now?!? Eh heh... But, yeah. Wonderful wonderful. And I'd better be able to get this story done in time to get at least 4 hours of sleep. Even if not... It's sooo been worth it.