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rugbytackleTITLE: The Orange Grove (32/32): Time Enough
AUTHOR: Cinzia and Gloria
Full headers here
Viggo couldn't stop looking at Sean, so... so alive, here in the orchard, as though the storm had revitalised him. Perhaps there was another reason for the energy that almost crackled from him, here under the trees -- under that tree, the tree that Viggo had sat under so long ago, when a dream of Boromir had driven him from his bed, and Sean had brought him back to the here and now. He wanted to tackle Sean to the wet grass, and make good on the promise he'd made.
And yes, after all, there was something else he wanted to give Sean.
Viggo's smile seemed to fade after he told Sean about their free morning; yet Sean saw it light up in Viggo's eyes, making them bright and dark at once: and fuck, but Viggo was gorgeous, standing in just Sean's cotton trousers and nothing else -- Sean felt himself grow hard, and a little hot, when his eyes drifted to the outline of Viggo's cock under the light cotton -- in the orchard, under the brilliant blue sky, his hair still sticking up at odd angles from bed, a faint flush on his cheekbones, his bottom lip still swollen, bruised... well-kissed.
Viggo looked away then, looked up; and then he had a foot on the trunk of the orange tree, and was using that to lever himself up among the lower branches. There was a rain of bright green leaves, and Viggo was back down, a round, red-golden fruit in his hand, and a leaf tangled in his hair.
"See if it's any good?" he said, happily, and tossed the orange at Sean.
Viggo already knew that it would be good, fresh and warm from the sunlit tree. The fruit had fallen into his hand, ripe, waiting for his touch, just as it had in the dream. He'd picked oranges and lemons from the tree in his garden in Los Angeles, but this... this was different.
This was Sean. And the orange grove... well, this place, this moment, would always be their own. Viggo shivered, looking at Sean, remembering how Sean had fallen down with him last night into the wet grass, in the warm rain. Skin to skin...
Sean caught the orange mid-air. Peeling it was easy -- it looked ripe enough, but was it? He let the peel fall down between them, his fingers soon sticky with juice, while the air filled with the sharp, sweet scent. When Sean lifted a segment in his fingers, Viggo stepped closer and took Sean's hand, guiding it to his lips. Viggo's eyes were still smiling when they closed, when he took the slice in his mouth, his lips closing around Sean's fingertips, his tongue licking them clean of juice.
This was perfect. Sean's hands tasted faintly of salt -- they probably tasted of Viggo himself, he thought, grinning -- under the sweet, tart juice. The orange was explosively ripe, and Viggo let Sean feed him another segment. He kissed Sean, letting him taste the orange too, the sweetest kiss.
When they kissed, sweet juice trickling down their chins, Sean could tell that the oranges were ripe, at last.
"Good," Viggo said, leaning in to follow the sticky drops down Sean's neck -- and there it was again, suddenly, the question underneath: Sean didn't want to ask what this was, not just yet. He kept quiet, letting Viggo hold him, letting it be enough.
Sean, Viggo was thinking, kissed him so sweetly, so passionately: utterly sincere. But they wouldn't be here -- here in the orchard, here on Crete, here together -- for ever. Not even for another month. Could anything lasting come out of this, so late, after so long?
Whatever he wants, whenever he wants it, thought Viggo, and hummed into Sean's kiss, not letting it get desperate, not holding on too tightly. There was space in his life for Sean: he had time to make this work -- if Sean wanted it.
And Viggo now was ready to believe that Sean might want this too. Sean looked ready. The happiness was still shining out of him, like sunlight, and Viggo wanted...
Viggo wanted. Wanted to keep that light lit. Wanted Sean to keep smiling at him, just as he was smiling now.
"It's really a bit like with oranges," Sean murmured. He drew Viggo closer, looked down into his eyes. There'd been no lightning strike, no all-consuming fire, all these years since they first met; only light, and warmth; and before Sean could notice, before he could think 'I'm falling', he'd found himself plucked from his everyday life, falling from it -- falling all the way through the Mediterranean sea -- right into Viggo's arms.
He could see that Viggo, at last, was ready to trust him; and his mouth was suddenly full of words, words about the taste of Viggo and oranges: words that suddenly he knew were there, and that he wanted -- like he wanted anything else, with Viggo -- to say; but it was still too new. They would have time, he thought, thinking of the question in Viggo's voice, making a promise out of it.
Maybe this wasn't what Sean had always thought it would be -- this falling, so different this time from any other time -- but it felt a damn sight better.
Even though it still confused him -- it felt better.
"Come," Viggo said, his voice so grave and gentle that for a second Sean thought he was seeing Aragorn looking out at him from those clear blue eyes. Viggo took Sean's hand in his own. "Let's get back in," he said, softly.
"Sun's getting to you, is it?" Sean said, lifting their entwined hands to lick at the juice that was sticking them together, his other hand still holding the last quarter of the peeled, dripping orange.
Just watching Sean lapping at the sticky juice on their joined hands was enough to make Viggo impossibly harder. The shade-dapple under the tree was making him dizzy, and the feeling of Sean, so near...
So easy to hook a leg behind his knee and fall down with him, under this orange tree. Exorcise the ghosts, the dreams, the memory of a rainy night. But there was Sean's bed upstairs, clean -- well, relatively clean, Viggo amended with a happy grin -- and dry, smelling of Sean... smelling of himself, too, now.
Viggo undulated against Sean, his hands coming to rest on the curve of Sean's backside, bringing him even closer, taking Sean's breath away. When he smiled, Sean saw that the smile was just Viggo, caring and crazy and happy and now possibly -- deliciously -- a tad evil. No Aragorn here, after all.
"I believe," Viggo whispered breathlessly, stepping closer and pressing Sean flush against him with an arm around Sean's waist, his head tilting back to look at Sean from under his lashes, "that I made you a promise."
Sean didn't know how Viggo did it; but he made Sean's breath rush out of him, his heart trying to follow, every time: and he could see them then, the words he couldn't yet say, could see them in Viggo's eyes, feel them in the warm press of Viggo's fingers on his own, Viggo's skin against his own -- in Viggo's hardness, just for him.
Some time -- soon. Soon enough, he was sure, they'd be ready to say the words. Sean wasn't a pretty young thing, and he wasn't anything like Orlando... and now was not then: New Zealand was in the past, Rings was the past; Aragorn and Boromir wouldn't be coming back.
Viggo and Sean were here, now, under the endless blue of the sky, in the gold and blue that stayed after the wild energy of spring had passed, and the heat of summer had faded. Ripe oranges on the trees and the sun warm on their skins, the island quiet and calm around them, the leaves newly bright after the storm... And this, too, would pass. But new seeds had taken root: the sweet, intense taste that was Viggo was on Sean's lips, and reached deep, down to Sean's heart.
And it wasn't just that he wanted Viggo. Never had been. Never could be, after so long. There was more to it than that, between them.
Viggo'd never wanted the easy answers: there isn't a right answer, a happy ending, he realised at last. Happy beginnings are what we should hope for. Hopeful beginnings.
Sean laughed, feeling right here, right at this moment, a perfect happiness. And Viggo laughed with him, and the hell with the bed, they fell down under the tree, kissing, touching, making words useless for now.
They'd been friends. Now they could go on from there.
The End
AUTHOR: Cinzia and Gloria
Full headers here
Viggo couldn't stop looking at Sean, so... so alive, here in the orchard, as though the storm had revitalised him. Perhaps there was another reason for the energy that almost crackled from him, here under the trees -- under that tree, the tree that Viggo had sat under so long ago, when a dream of Boromir had driven him from his bed, and Sean had brought him back to the here and now. He wanted to tackle Sean to the wet grass, and make good on the promise he'd made.
And yes, after all, there was something else he wanted to give Sean.
Viggo's smile seemed to fade after he told Sean about their free morning; yet Sean saw it light up in Viggo's eyes, making them bright and dark at once: and fuck, but Viggo was gorgeous, standing in just Sean's cotton trousers and nothing else -- Sean felt himself grow hard, and a little hot, when his eyes drifted to the outline of Viggo's cock under the light cotton -- in the orchard, under the brilliant blue sky, his hair still sticking up at odd angles from bed, a faint flush on his cheekbones, his bottom lip still swollen, bruised... well-kissed.
Viggo looked away then, looked up; and then he had a foot on the trunk of the orange tree, and was using that to lever himself up among the lower branches. There was a rain of bright green leaves, and Viggo was back down, a round, red-golden fruit in his hand, and a leaf tangled in his hair.
"See if it's any good?" he said, happily, and tossed the orange at Sean.
Viggo already knew that it would be good, fresh and warm from the sunlit tree. The fruit had fallen into his hand, ripe, waiting for his touch, just as it had in the dream. He'd picked oranges and lemons from the tree in his garden in Los Angeles, but this... this was different.
This was Sean. And the orange grove... well, this place, this moment, would always be their own. Viggo shivered, looking at Sean, remembering how Sean had fallen down with him last night into the wet grass, in the warm rain. Skin to skin...
Sean caught the orange mid-air. Peeling it was easy -- it looked ripe enough, but was it? He let the peel fall down between them, his fingers soon sticky with juice, while the air filled with the sharp, sweet scent. When Sean lifted a segment in his fingers, Viggo stepped closer and took Sean's hand, guiding it to his lips. Viggo's eyes were still smiling when they closed, when he took the slice in his mouth, his lips closing around Sean's fingertips, his tongue licking them clean of juice.
This was perfect. Sean's hands tasted faintly of salt -- they probably tasted of Viggo himself, he thought, grinning -- under the sweet, tart juice. The orange was explosively ripe, and Viggo let Sean feed him another segment. He kissed Sean, letting him taste the orange too, the sweetest kiss.
When they kissed, sweet juice trickling down their chins, Sean could tell that the oranges were ripe, at last.
"Good," Viggo said, leaning in to follow the sticky drops down Sean's neck -- and there it was again, suddenly, the question underneath: Sean didn't want to ask what this was, not just yet. He kept quiet, letting Viggo hold him, letting it be enough.
Sean, Viggo was thinking, kissed him so sweetly, so passionately: utterly sincere. But they wouldn't be here -- here in the orchard, here on Crete, here together -- for ever. Not even for another month. Could anything lasting come out of this, so late, after so long?
Whatever he wants, whenever he wants it, thought Viggo, and hummed into Sean's kiss, not letting it get desperate, not holding on too tightly. There was space in his life for Sean: he had time to make this work -- if Sean wanted it.
And Viggo now was ready to believe that Sean might want this too. Sean looked ready. The happiness was still shining out of him, like sunlight, and Viggo wanted...
Viggo wanted. Wanted to keep that light lit. Wanted Sean to keep smiling at him, just as he was smiling now.
"It's really a bit like with oranges," Sean murmured. He drew Viggo closer, looked down into his eyes. There'd been no lightning strike, no all-consuming fire, all these years since they first met; only light, and warmth; and before Sean could notice, before he could think 'I'm falling', he'd found himself plucked from his everyday life, falling from it -- falling all the way through the Mediterranean sea -- right into Viggo's arms.
He could see that Viggo, at last, was ready to trust him; and his mouth was suddenly full of words, words about the taste of Viggo and oranges: words that suddenly he knew were there, and that he wanted -- like he wanted anything else, with Viggo -- to say; but it was still too new. They would have time, he thought, thinking of the question in Viggo's voice, making a promise out of it.
Maybe this wasn't what Sean had always thought it would be -- this falling, so different this time from any other time -- but it felt a damn sight better.
Even though it still confused him -- it felt better.
"Come," Viggo said, his voice so grave and gentle that for a second Sean thought he was seeing Aragorn looking out at him from those clear blue eyes. Viggo took Sean's hand in his own. "Let's get back in," he said, softly.
"Sun's getting to you, is it?" Sean said, lifting their entwined hands to lick at the juice that was sticking them together, his other hand still holding the last quarter of the peeled, dripping orange.
Just watching Sean lapping at the sticky juice on their joined hands was enough to make Viggo impossibly harder. The shade-dapple under the tree was making him dizzy, and the feeling of Sean, so near...
So easy to hook a leg behind his knee and fall down with him, under this orange tree. Exorcise the ghosts, the dreams, the memory of a rainy night. But there was Sean's bed upstairs, clean -- well, relatively clean, Viggo amended with a happy grin -- and dry, smelling of Sean... smelling of himself, too, now.
Viggo undulated against Sean, his hands coming to rest on the curve of Sean's backside, bringing him even closer, taking Sean's breath away. When he smiled, Sean saw that the smile was just Viggo, caring and crazy and happy and now possibly -- deliciously -- a tad evil. No Aragorn here, after all.
"I believe," Viggo whispered breathlessly, stepping closer and pressing Sean flush against him with an arm around Sean's waist, his head tilting back to look at Sean from under his lashes, "that I made you a promise."
Sean didn't know how Viggo did it; but he made Sean's breath rush out of him, his heart trying to follow, every time: and he could see them then, the words he couldn't yet say, could see them in Viggo's eyes, feel them in the warm press of Viggo's fingers on his own, Viggo's skin against his own -- in Viggo's hardness, just for him.
Some time -- soon. Soon enough, he was sure, they'd be ready to say the words. Sean wasn't a pretty young thing, and he wasn't anything like Orlando... and now was not then: New Zealand was in the past, Rings was the past; Aragorn and Boromir wouldn't be coming back.
Viggo and Sean were here, now, under the endless blue of the sky, in the gold and blue that stayed after the wild energy of spring had passed, and the heat of summer had faded. Ripe oranges on the trees and the sun warm on their skins, the island quiet and calm around them, the leaves newly bright after the storm... And this, too, would pass. But new seeds had taken root: the sweet, intense taste that was Viggo was on Sean's lips, and reached deep, down to Sean's heart.
And it wasn't just that he wanted Viggo. Never had been. Never could be, after so long. There was more to it than that, between them.
Viggo'd never wanted the easy answers: there isn't a right answer, a happy ending, he realised at last. Happy beginnings are what we should hope for. Hopeful beginnings.
Sean laughed, feeling right here, right at this moment, a perfect happiness. And Viggo laughed with him, and the hell with the bed, they fell down under the tree, kissing, touching, making words useless for now.
They'd been friends. Now they could go on from there.
The End
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Date: 2003-11-28 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-01 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 01:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-01 02:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-02 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 02:06 pm (UTC)Utterly and completely perfect! I have nothing else to say, except that now I am going to the website to read them all over again.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-01 02:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 02:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-01 02:59 pm (UTC)And thank you for taking the time to drop a comment. It means a lot. :)
no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 02:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-01 03:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-01 03:01 pm (UTC)*licks your Sean icon* ;)
no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 03:28 pm (UTC)*throws glitter and confetti*
What a wonderful ending to a truly amazing and beautifully written story.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-01 03:05 pm (UTC)Thank you so much--for all your comments. We really appreciate it. *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 04:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 09:38 pm (UTC)*sobs*
but from happiness & delight, not sadness!
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Date: 2003-11-28 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 11:29 pm (UTC)So fitting and not too sweet this time around. I like the mature realistic tone. And the oranges. And the outline ;)
*loves*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-29 01:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-29 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-29 01:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-29 09:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-29 06:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-29 07:32 pm (UTC)And now I'm going to bookmark your site to read it again soon...
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Date: 2003-11-29 08:40 pm (UTC)*bows* Thank you!
mormegil.
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Date: 2003-11-29 09:17 pm (UTC)Lyds.
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Date: 2003-12-01 08:32 pm (UTC)Thank you both.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-02 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-02 03:26 am (UTC)And then this afternoon I read the whole thing, beginning to end, and was stunned by how lovely and *real* it all is... not to mention teary-eyed.
You two are amazing. I'd say more if I could figure out *what* to say... but nothing seems quite right. So I'll just say that I have a printed copy sitting on my couch right now, and this definitely goes into the "stories you read on paper" category.
*hugs* to you both.... and thank you for such a wonderful story!
~Kris
no subject
Date: 2004-03-17 03:54 am (UTC):::finally drags herself off to bed, muttering under her breath about stupid, evil, wonderfully gorgeous writers:::
no subject
Date: 2004-12-04 01:21 am (UTC)