rugbytackle | FIC: Home Depot (SB/VM) {NC-17} [2/2]

helens78 posting in

rugbytackle

Title: Home Depot (2/2)
Authors:

atanvarne_lj and

helens78
Pairing: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bohemian!Viggo meets Neatnik!Sean.
Disclaimer: This never happened. All fiction.

What happens when you take Viggo to Home Depot? The mind boggles. atanvarne_lj, thanks so much for writing this with me! *squee*

The beep of the paint matching computer announces it has finished analysing the carpet swatch colour. As it displays the formula on the monitor, Viggo moves so he can see the data. As he suspected, the computer overcompensated for the refractory index of the carpeting and the colour is more intense than he wanted.

"Can you pull the formula for Glidden's Lemon Ice?" he asks Ben politely. "I'd like to compare them before you start mixing anything."

Ben sighs and does as Viggo asks. Sure enough, there is far too much ochre in the formula and not enough of #824, raw umber if Viggo remembers the pigment code properly. Viggo asks for a pen and paper and does some calculations.

"Can you enter these values and preview the colour for me?" Viggo requests, and sure enough, Viggo's formula is much closer to the carpet swatch colour than anything the computer or Ben would have come up with.

"You've got a job here anytime you want one," Ben crows as he starts the equipment that will add the pigments to the base paint. "We'll have these colours mixed for you in about 15 minutes." Viggo just smiles.

Sean is at the cash registers now, looking furtively over his shoulder in hopes that Viggo won't catch him at this. He chose the lane furthest from the paint department, but even so, all Viggo would need to do in order to spot him would be to get bored and wander forward a bit. Why is the paint section up at the front of the store? Sean grouses. At this rate, it's going to be nearly impossible for him to get the pond supplies out into the truck, stashed under the crumpled tarp on the passenger side of the bed, and make his way back into the store before Viggo notices he's gone. But it's still worth the effort. Sean is not much given to surprises, but this one seems too charming to resist.

While Viggo waits for the two and a half gallons of paint to be mixed, he inventories the cart. Trays, rollers, brushes, blue tape, everything seems to be there except the corner roller. He tells Ben that he'll be right back and checks the painting supplies aisle for the last few items he'll need.

As he heads toward the front of the department he notices Sean, at least he thinks it's Sean--the back of his head looks very familiar--in line at the cash register. What the fuck? Viggo thinks, then remembers he told Sean to get something he wants. While the idea of asking Sean what he's buying has its merits, he knows he'll have his hands full once Sean notices the quart of Giant Sequoia in the cart, and he has no idea how he's going to sneak the book about backyard waterscapes past Sean.

Grabbing the few remaining items he needs to ensure the kitchen will be perfect, he returns to Ben and the paint mixing project. He promised Sean he'd be in the paint department, and in the paint department is where he is determined to remain.

Sean is relieved not to run into Viggo while he's waiting in line; this whole plan might just come off without a hitch after all. He pays for the cartload of pond items and hustles them out to the truck, carefully tucking everything under the tarp, and then comes back into the store to find Viggo.

A glance to his watch tells him they're not going to make it all the way home by his deadline; they have seventeen minutes to go. But at least they'll be in the checkout lanes. Sean grins over at Viggo as he catches back up to him at the paint department. "Got everything mixed properly?" he asks.

"Just about," Viggo replies, struggling to contain his delight at having Sean at hand. "Ben's almost finished mixing the green." He leans close to Sean and mutters in a stage whisper "He's offered me a job in the paint department," and winks at Ben.

"I was serious," Ben proclaims. "You've got a real eye for colour, and that's hard to find." A minute later he hands Viggo the last gallon of paint he needs.

"It's been a real pleasure, Ben, but I think I'm going to have to decline that job offer. The commute would be murder." Paint and supplies gathered, the pair head for the check-out line.

"Although the employee discount could be helpful," Sean teases. "So what did you manage to find?" He sees far more paint in the cart than he thinks is necessary, but he's going to hold off judgment until Viggo explains what it's all for.

"I thought I'd better pick up some extra green. It's a pretty dark colour and it will probably need more than one coat to cover the wall," Viggo explains. "And I picked up a corner roller," he continues, holding up something that looks like a pizza cutter made of sponge. "It will create a nice solid line between the yellow and the green." Viggo looks directly into Sean's eyes, a dangerous undertaking at the best of times, and wishes once again that Home Depot had fewer shoppers or more secluded venues. The effect of Sean's gaze is immediate and instantaneous, and centered in Viggo's cock.

Paint is forgotten, given the way Viggo is returning Sean's gaze; Sean is starting to wonder whether they could find a place between here and home that would give them enough privacy for a quickie in the front seat of the truck. "That sounds brilliant," Sean says, not quite growling it. "Let's get home, shall we?"

Viggo nods, his ability to speak is highly questionable at the moment. All he can do is swallow convulsively and steer the cart to the check-out stand. He finds the shortest line within a few registers of the paint department and tries to remain patient while the clerk assists the customers in front of them. He wonders if Sean would mind driving home. Two hours of not wandering through Home Depot coupled with the inevitable effect of Sean's nearness has seriously undermined his powers of concentration, and he's not certain he can guarantee he'll get them home in one piece.

Sean wraps an arm around Viggo's waist from behind and gives him what looks to be an innocent, affectionate hug. It has the added side effect of grinding Sean's cock against Viggo's arse, and when Sean asks "All right there, love?", there's a definite tease in his voice.

Not all right, definitely not all right, Viggo thinks, pressing back against Sean. Invitation accepted. He reaches into the front right pocket of his jeans, extracts the keys to the truck and wordlessly dangles them over his right shoulder, hoping Sean will get the message without his having to ask.

Sean takes the keys and kisses Viggo's shoulder, nipping lightly through the worn fabric of his shirt as he draws back a step. The cashier is finishing up the last person's purchases, and Sean turns to the cart to begin hauling paint up within range of the bar code scanner.

Viggo starts to pull items out of the cart as well, hoping against hope that Sean will fail to notice both the book and the quart of Giant Sequoia. He buries the book beneath the drop cloths Sean put into the cart early on, but he winces inwardly as he sees Sean's hand grasp the quart of paint.

Giant Sequoia does not sound like a yellow or green color to Sean. He holds it back from the cashier and lifts an eyebrow at Viggo. "I thought we agreed on this..."

"It's not for the west wall... well, it is for the west wall, but not all of it," Viggo stammers. Fuck. "Look, if you don't like it when it's finished, I'll repaint it any colour you like, even white, but I know you'll like it if you'll trust me enough to let me do this for you." The words spill out as they usually do when Viggo is on the verge of begging for something. 'At least he hasn't seen the book,' Viggo thinks.

"Viggo," Sean says softly, drawing his arm back around Viggo's waist, "relax." As if Sean could say no when Viggo is stammering this way. And the idea of a white kitchen doesn't seem at all appealing anymore; while it would suit Sean perfectly, it lacks a certain Viggoness. Sean holds Viggo close for another moment and then puts the paint can firmly on the counter. "Show me what you can do with your Giant Sequoia when we get home," he says, and then snickers uncontrollably into Viggo's shoulder.

The cashier is trying to ignore the interplay between the two men as much as possible, and she gets all the paint, supplies, and Viggo's book -- slipping just under Sean's radar -- put in bags in record time. She hits the total button on the register and clears her throat, hoping to get their attention without resorting to the use of a fire hose.

Viggo nips lightly at the join of Sean's neck and shoulder, a favourite nuzzling spot. "My Giant Sequoia is at your disposal," he whispers back, "and there are lots of things I can do with it that will have you screaming for more."

Viggo turns at a sudden cough from the cashier, suddenly pulled back into the here and now by the sound. He looks at her in confusion for a moment, then realises she'd like them to pay and leave, and from the expression on her face, it appears sooner rather than later would be appreciated. He extracts his wallet from his back pocket, difficult with the way Sean is pressed against him, again, and hands over his credit card.

Sean loads bags and buckets into the cart again as the transaction is approved and Viggo signs the credit slip. He takes over the handling of the cart as they make their way out to the truck, carefully making certain not to drop anything heavy on the hidden pond supplies.

"Can you manage getting the cart to the return?" Sean asks. He'd like to give one more quick check to everything in the truck bed; he doesn't want anything sliding out from under the tarp before they get home.

"Sure," Viggo replies. He has decided he is just going to let Sean find the book, then start talking about the yard when he's asked about it. He returns the cart to the section of the parking lot marked for such things and starts back to the truck, noticing as he does so that Sean seems concerned about the tarp in the back. Maybe he needs help moving it, Viggo muses, and heads toward Sean instead of the cab of the truck.

Sean finishes tucking the tarp securely around his bags and looks up at Viggo with a grin -- one that's bright enough, he hopes, to get Viggo's attention off the back of the truck and the tarp. "Ready to head home?" he asks.

"Absolutely," Viggo says, the tarp forgotten as he gets into the passenger seat of the truck. "How'd we do on time?" Viggo asks as Sean slides behind the steering wheel. "Are we going to be painting all night or is there going to be time to spend among the trees?"

"I've a confession to make," Sean says, starting up the truck and stretching his arm out behind the back of Viggo's seat as he backs out of the parking space. "I don't think we're going to get much painting done today."

"Why not?" Viggo asks. "Have we run out of time? There's still plenty of daylight left, and you're the one who wanted to be on his knees with a paint roller in his hands within two hours." He cocks his head. "Or did you just want to skip the paint roller part and go straight to your knees?" Viggo has dropped the pitch of his voice to a near growl and he hopes the sound has the desired effect.

"Straight to my knees is sounding better and better," Sean mutters, taking one hand off the steering wheel to make an adjustment to the fit of his pants, which have become uncomfortably tight in the crotch. He slides his hand across the seat to Viggo, running his hand up Viggo's inner thigh and settling it there. "On my knees, between your legs, with you flat on your back and trying to remember how to breathe."

Too late. Viggo's already forgotten about breathing, about thinking, about painting. The only thing he is conscious of is Sean's hand on his leg and his sudden need to shift his position. He leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes. Stifling a moan he picks up Sean's hand and moves it to where he wants it, cupping his already eager cock.

"Tell me we're not going to get pulled over for lewd behavior," Sean moans, but he doesn't try to take his hand away. He presses his palm against Viggo's cock and rubs, none too gently, wanting the sensation to carry through denim. "And if you get come on the dashboard again, I swear..." He leaves the threat unspoken. Sean is terrible at devising threats he can live with; they're never very frightening.

"As long as you can drive in a straight line, we shouldn't get pulled over for anything," Viggo informs him, though getting the words out is a struggle. "No promises about the dashboard, but I will try to avoid the windows," Viggo murmurs as he unfastens the buttons of his jeans. The hell with feeling Sean's hand through denim. He wants the feel of Sean's hand on his cock and he wants it now.

Sean lets Viggo get his jeans unbuttoned and slides his hand inside as soon as there's room for it. He lets out a soft groan at the feel of his lover's cock against his palm. The warmth of his skin, the soft, almost silk-smooth texture -- the only thing that would be better than this is if it were his mouth where his hand is, or Viggo leaning over him, eyes half-closed while he sinks into Sean. "I want you," Sean breathes, "so much," and it's a damn good thing he can drive while this distracted, because they still need to get home, and now more than ever Sean's thinking they need to be there as soon as possible.

"Turn left at the next signal, then take the second left, then first possible right," Viggo instructs. There are certain advantages to knowing the city like the back of his hand, and this is one of them. He wants Sean's mouth on him, now, and there is no way in hell he is willing to wait the twenty some-odd minutes it will take them to get home.

While Viggo's directions have often gotten the two of them lost -- or at least into unexplored territory -- this is no time to question his lover. Sean pulls his hand away from Viggo's cock, not without regret, in order to make the necessary turns. This is definitely area he's never visited, but as he makes the second turn, he realizes the traffic is thinning out and they're getting into a deserted block of town.

The first possible right puts them in a parking lot behind an abandoned warehouse. The lot has shrubbery around it, all mussed and overgrown, with branches sticking up haphazardly in every direction. It's perfect. Sean slams the car into park, sets the parking brake, and untangles himself from his seatbelt, launching himself at Viggo. One hand goes to Viggo's cock while the other cups the back of Viggo's neck and draws him close for a hard, half-desperate kiss.

Viggo tries to pull Sean closer but he's still tangled in the seatbelt. Between Sean, the waistband of his jeans somewhere around mid-thigh, and the passive passenger restraint system, he's effectively pinned to the front seat of the truck. "Your mouth. My cock. Now," Viggo growls, trying to shift his hips so he can reach the seatbelt latch, but it's digging into his left hip and he can't get his hand in the right position.

"Yes," Sean breathes, "yes, yes -- fuck -- yes," and he shoves back, growling as elbows and shoulders hit the console, the cushions of the seat. This sort of assignation always lends itself to bruises in odd locations, but at the moment Sean is focused on somehow bending his body around to get his mouth lowered over Viggo's cock. He grips the base of Viggo's cock in his hand and sucks him down, mouth fitting just over the head, moaning and swirling his tongue over Viggo's skin, tasting him.

"Hmmm," Viggo moans, nearly matching pitch with the low thrum of nearby traffic. He cups the back of Sean's head with his right hand--his left hand is pinned under him--and grabs a fistful of Sean's hair, keeping Sean's head in place. "So good," he murmurs and he'd thrust into Sean's mouth if he could.

Sean would smile if his mouth were free to make the motion; he wriggles in his seat, trying to find more room to move, and gains a spare inch with which to suck Viggo down further. He moans around Viggo's cock, sucking harder, one hand coming free to cup his own cock through his jeans.

Sean's mouth feels, oh, so fucking good on Viggo's cock and Viggo feels the tension that signals release start to build. He'd stave it off for a bit if he could, but his right foot is stuck behind his left knee, his left leg is numb from the hip down and the seatbelt buckle digging into his hip is killing him. He comes with a shudder, slamming his head into the passenger side window as his body tries to arch against the seatbelt.

The sound of Viggo's head knocking against glass gets Sean's attention, but he rides out the orgasm before trying to investigate. He swallows and comes up, leaving one last teasing lick over the head as he goes, concern and amusement written all over his face. "Vig?" he pants. "You all right?" Vig looks adorably tangled, and it's taking all Sean has not to laugh. He shoves himself upright, twisting around and slamming his upper arm into the steering wheel as he tries to get himself sorted out. "Fuck," Sean grunts, and then snickers.

"Sean, help me get out of this goddamn seatbelt," Viggo snarls. Right now, getting out of the cab of the truck and straightening his legs is foremost on his mind. He thinks Sean is stepping on his ankle, though he does realise he could be doing that to himself. "Fucking seatbelt. Fucking shoulder harness," he mutters, though it's the buckle that's causing the most problems right now. If the damned thing is stuck he'll chew through the webbing with his teeth.

Sean grins and fits both hands to the task of getting the buckle unlatched. It comes undone with a faint zip, and Sean catches the nylon of the belt before it can ratchet itself back and risk catching Viggo even more uncomfortably. "Put your arm through there," Sean directs, unwinding the seatbelt and shaking his head a bit, only laughing a little.

Viggo does as Sean directs, relieved to be out of the strait-jacket cleverly disguised as mandatory safety equipment, opens the door and tries to stand, pulling up his jeans as he starts to step forward. Pins and needles are shooting down his left leg and he walks in a circle with a pronounced limp until he decides he'd be better off just sitting on the ground for a moment. Just so long as his limbs are all pointing in (relatively) the same direction, he should be fine in a moment or two.

Until the moment his ass hits the ground he forgets about the deep bruise in his left hip. "Fuck!" he exclaims and winces.

Sean climbs out of the car, glad to stretch his own limbs, and he grins down at Viggo. "There are reasons most humans choose to do this in beds," he points out -- not that that's stopped them from picking up the occasional bruise or having the odd mishap (falling out of bed during sex is something that should best be left to movies), but at least the chances of being nearly strangled by a seatbelt are lower there.

Viggo looks around. "Well, the parking lot seems to be woefully short of beds," he points out. "But, since I'm down here, is there anything I can do for you? Or would you rather I haul my very sorry ass back into the truck so we can resume this activity in a place that has a bed?" Viggo smiles up at Sean through lowered lashes, trying to calculate the odds that they'll both carry some interesting bruises by day's end.

"Unlike some of us, I have a shred of patience." Sean leans down and brushes his lips across Viggo's. "I think we need a bed," he murmurs. "Or at the very least, a door. A wall. A countertop. My knees are too old for gravel and broken asphalt."

"Doors, countertops and walls are good," Viggo agrees. "Beds are better. Help me up?" he asks, extending a hand and resenting each and every one of his 45 years. It was so much easier to be 20.

Sean takes Viggo's hand and helps his lover off the ground. He grins, then, taking the few steps needed to close the distance between them and pin Viggo to the side of the truck. "Love you," he murmurs. If someone had asked him five years ago whether he was likely to fall for someone capable of making him drive off the road in search of a deserted parking lot for a quick blowjob, he'd have laughed. He's never been so happy.

Viggo drapes his arms around Sean's neck and pulls him in for a hard, hungry kiss. "Love you back," he whispers back, "forever and a day." Life is so much better since Sean entered it and he thinks this amount of happiness must be illegal in several states. "Let's go home," he says simply, running his fingers through Sean's hair, then lightly over his ribs as Sean steps back.

Sean nuzzles against Viggo's neck for another moment before nodding and walking back to his side of the truck. He climbs in and gives a look and a grin to Viggo's seatbelt. He's never going to look at Viggo in seatbelts in quite the same way.

Viggo sits gingerly in the passenger seat and as he grabs the seatbelt that caused him so much trouble, he lets loose with a long string of expletives that denounces everything from the National Highway and Transportation Safety Administration to food that is packaged in cans and nearly every technological marvel in between.

Sean stays quiet, wondering whether they'll make it all the way home while Viggo lets out his cursing. When Viggo takes a breath between invectives, Sean reaches over and grabs for his hand, drawing it over onto his thigh and settling it there before putting both his hands back on the steering wheel.

The gesture shuts Viggo up. "Had enough, hunh?" Viggo says, rubbing his hand along Sean's thigh, not to seduce but to comfort. "I guess I do tend to get wound up. Or at the very least, tangled up," he continues with a self-deprecating laugh. He glances at the road and figures Sean can handle a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you," he says softly.

"I like the way you tangle up," Sean murmurs. "But we probably ought to leave bondage-with-seatbelts for the professionals in the future." Not much further to home, now, and Sean drops his hand back to Viggo's and squeezes it, inching it a bit further up his thigh.

Viggo laughs out loud at that. No, the next time he decides foreplay in the front seat of the truck is a good idea, he'll slip the bonds off first. He takes note of their surroundings and figures it's unlikely that Sean will get them killed within two miles of the house, so he begins to knead Sean's cock through the material of his pants, resolution apparently as quickly forgotten as it was made.

"God," Sean breathes, "don't stop." If it were up to him, Viggo wouldn't take his hand off Sean's cock until they're inside and Sean's about to fuck him through the mattress. He shifts under Viggo's hand and is, not for the first time, grateful Americans all seem to drive automatic transmissions. He'd be in trouble if he had to change gears while Viggo's hand is on his cock.

"Someday you're going to have to explain your penchant for wearing jeans with buttons," Viggo mutters. "And as long as you continue to remember we drive on the right side of the road, I won't stop. Promise," Viggo declares, wishing Sean were as in favor of disregarding the speed limit as he is, though he really ought to be grateful one of the two of them is capable of behaving in a responsible fashion.

"Buttons are just as fast as zippers under normal circumstances, and far less dangerous," Sean growls back. "Didn't we just swear off foreplay in the front seats of automobiles?" But they're down to their last few turns before they get home; not much longer until Sean can unfold himself and let Viggo pop those buttons open, one at a time. Preferably quickly.

"It wasn't the normal circumstances that concern me," Viggo declares. "But since you reminded me..." Viggo's voice tapers off and he withdraws his hand, setting both primly in his lap like a middle-aged spinster. Sean's going to have to grovel if he wants Viggo's hand back before the car is stopped, parking brake on and seatbelts unfastened.

Sean's eyes flash over to Viggo, and he lets out a soft sniff. "Well... it's easier to drive this way," he says, trying hard to sound like he's not pouting. "Not that I was having trouble," he adds. When that fails to move Viggo back to action, he grumbles softly and reaches between his legs to adjust himself, groaning. Almost home.

Viggo breathes an audible sigh when Sean finally backs the truck into the garage. There is nothing in the bed of the truck that needs refrigeration, hence there is nothing preventing them from heading straight to their bedroom. "First one to the bedroom bottoms," Viggo teases, then leaps out of the truck and dashes into the house.

First one -- Sean grins and lets Viggo take the lead, ambling his way through the kitchen and the hallway toward the bedroom.

Viggo knew when he issued the challenge that Sean would take his own sweet time getting to the bedroom. So much the better. He sheds his shirt just inside the door from the garage, kicks off his shoes during his trek up the hall and manages to shed his jeans and cross to the bed without tripping on a pant leg. He gathers all the pillows into a pile in front of him and kneels in the center of the bed.

As soon as Sean appears in the doorway Viggo lets loose with a barrage of pillows, one after the other, crowing like he's single-handedly defeated Napoleon at Waterloo. He managed just over two hours in Home Depot without a serious reprimand, sneaked his book past Sean's hawk-like attention on their purchases, and got his quart of Giant Sequoia paint. He's delirious--no, giddy--with joy.

"Wanker," Sean blurts out, stripping out of his t-shirt and dodging pillows as he makes his way toward the bed. "Hold still--" Sean ends up hopping on one foot to get his shoes and socks off, then strips his jeans off, keeping a wary eye on Viggo and his pillows as he goes. At the edge of the bed, he crosses his arms over his chest and tries to affect a stern expression, but his hard cock bobbing slightly in midair takes most of the edge off the look on Sean's face. "Whatever am I going to do with you?" Sean asks, attempting to put a world-weary tone in his voice.

"Tickle me 'til I cry for mercy? Fuck me 'til I scream?" Viggo suggests as he lobs another pillow at Sean's head. He has a maniacal grin on his face and his eyes are dancing with mischief.

"Those'll do for a start," Sean grins, and he launches himself at Viggo, knocking him flat on the bed, his fingers reaching for the sensitive spots along Viggo's ribs.

Viggo starts giggling, actual giggles as Sean's fingers hit the spots that make him squeal, and he is torn between fending off Sean's attack or starting one of his own. He tries to roll out from under Sean and finds a ticklish spot on Sean's left side.

"Agh, stop--" Sean pins Viggo's hand down and crawls up the bed so he can put a knee down on Viggo's wrist, keeping him in place. That accomplished, he can pin down Viggo's other hand with his own, and use his free hand to go for the jugular, so to speak -- Viggo's neck, just under his jawline.

He can't move, but he's laughing so hard there's not much he can accomplish anyway. Sean's got him well and truly pinned. He tries to get his knee into Sean's stomach, but it's hopeless. "I win!" he announces through his laughter.

"You win, do you? What's the prize?" Sean leans down and nuzzles at Viggo's neck. "Why do I think the answer's going to be 'Getting fucked'?" he teases, voice dropping lower as he rubs his cheek, just beginning to see a hint of stubble at this time of day, against the top of Viggo's shoulder.

"The prize is you," Viggo murmurs into Sean's ear, "but if I can't have that, I'll take getting fucked as a consolation prize," and nips lightly at Sean. "Love you. Need you. Want you always, and I wish to hell there were a single word that wrapped it all up." Viggo's blue eyes blaze as he speaks.

"You can have me," Sean whispers. "You can always have me." He lowers his face to Viggo's chest and simply inhales, willing to put all his thoughts about past and future aside and simply exist here, in the moment. After a few seconds, he looks back up at Viggo, eyes shining. "Need you always, too," he says. Sean lowers his mouth to Viggo's again, moaning softly as he slides his tongue along Viggo's and offers him sentiment beyond words, beyond the capability of language to express.

Tongues dance and lips caress while Viggo's fingers explore the planes of Sean's back, his shoulders, his neck. Viggo's universe is Sean, infinite in its capacity to move him beyond measure. One hand cards through Sean's hair while the other explores the small of Sean's back. He wraps his ankles around Sean's calves and tries to pull Sean closer as though proximity alone could meld them together.

"Viggo," Sean breathes, between kisses. Both his arms rest on the bed, to either side of Viggo's head; his fingers twist into Viggo's hair as he tries to pull back long enough to look at Viggo's expression. The look on his face during moments like this is so beautiful Sean doesn't know how he can stand it. All he wants now is to be closer, as close to being a part of Viggo as he can manage. Need for the basic supplies required for lovemaking wars with the need to stay right here, in Viggo's arms, with Viggo's body curled around him.

At hearing his name whispered so softly Viggo simply melts. He relaxes his pull on Sean and untangles his legs, content to feel Sean pressed against him, to catch the scent of him, to hear Sean's ragged breathing in his ear. "Want you, Sean. Now." Viggo mutters, raw need making his voice sound low in his throat. "Please," he groans.

Sean pulls away slowly, taking one more kiss -- two -- three, before he goes. He heads to the nightstand and tugs out lubricant, then comes right back to Viggo and kneels between his legs. "Want you now," Sean replies, grinning; he warms the clear gel of the lube between his fingers for a few seconds before sliding his fingers into Viggo, twisting and rubbing up against that spot, watching Viggo's eyes as he goes.

The room coalesces into a myriad of colours as Viggo's eyes lose their focus. A low, soft moan escapes as he presses his hips against Sean's hand in a wordless plea for more. His eyelids slowly drift closed and he takes a deep breath, letting it out in a protracted sigh. Pleasure is just beginning to build and he hasn't reached the point yet where want becomes need.

"I love you," Sean whispers. He can see Viggo starting to lose himself in desire, and leans forward to nip and lick his way up Viggo's chest while his fingers keep moving. He draws the flat of his tongue in a circle around Viggo's nipple and then captures it with his mouth, sucking and very lightly scraping his teeth across it.

"Love...aaaah," and it's all Viggo can manage. His back arches and he starts to writhe under Sean, grinding his cock against Sean. Viggo threads his fingers through Sean's hair and clenches his hands into fists and there is a new urgency in his movements. His legs part wider and his knees come up of their own accord. "Sean..." and the word is a sigh.

There, that's exactly what Sean wanted to hear. He crawls back, sliding his fingers out of Viggo and gliding another palmful of lube over his cock. And then he settles himself between Viggo's legs, braced above him, looking down into his lover's eyes as he sinks into him. His eyes narrow -- it's always a struggle not to close them at the moment he slides inside Viggo and feels the way they're connected -- but he keeps them open, gasping out sounds that are almost, but not quite words.

Viggo's eyes struggle to open as he feels Sean move inside him, but he treasures the light in Sean's eyes when they love, warm as a stray beam of sunlight filtered through the windows on a cloudless summer day. It is here, in moments like these, that Viggo loves Sean best.

Viggo thrusts his hips in time with the pace Sean sets and grunts softly as each lightning bolt of sensation zig-zags up his spine to spark against the back of his eyes. His hands dig into Sean's hips as Sean slams into him over and over again.

Sean's breath comes in soft, near-desperate pants as his pace quickens. "Viggo," he whispers, and then the joy and beauty of the day strikes him, and he grins, heart so full he can't help but laugh with delight. His head sinks down onto Viggo's shoulder, and he tugs him close. He's close now, and he slows down, wanting to make this feeling last as long as he can.

"Oh. Fuck. Love. Christ. Sean. Yes!" If Viggo could settle on one word it would be a mantra. But he's all nerve endings and short circuits and he is close, oh so close! and it's all Viggo and Sean and they're in the place where time and space exist on the same plane and "Ahhhhh!" and it's nearly a scream as Viggo comes, hot fountains of fluid splashing them both and it's perfect.

Hearing Viggo's voice in his ear as he comes sends Sean over the edge; he shuts his eyes tightly and gives Viggo his last handful of hard, deep, pounding thrusts, groaning out loud as he comes, trembling all over with the intensity of it.

Viggo pulls Sean close, waiting for the shakiness to subside. He brushes the hair away from Sean's forehead, out of his eyes, smiles, and begins planting light kisses on Sean wherever he can reach. He can feel his heart pounding and he wonders whether it's beating in syncopation with the heart of the man he calls lover and friend. "I love you," he murmurs softly and right now that's enough.

"Sean?" Viggo says between kisses, idly playing with several locks of Sean's blonde hair. "Can we have a pond in the backyard?"

Sean props himself up on one elbow and looks at the earnest expression on Viggo's face. He doesn't know what brought such an idea to Viggo's mind, but knowing he guessed right brings an added bonus to an already very good day.

"Viggo, my love, you can have anything your heart desires. I'll even build it myself," he whispers back.

Viggo's smile tells Sean everything he needs to hear. Viggo starts talking softly, "We can put it in the back corner, over by the wall where..." Sean just lets the stream of Viggo's speech wash over him. It's moments like these..., Sean thinks as he snuggles into Viggo and drifts away on the current of Viggo's words.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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yueni

*purr* Both of you have made me a very very happy woman.

Mmmmmm.

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FIC: Home Depot (SB/VM) {NC-17} [2/2]

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