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rugbytackleTitle: Sleeping Beauty. (Endearment.)
Chapter: 6/6
Author: Arden Elear
E-mail: thedarkvoice@hotmail.com
Rated: PG to NC-17
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen x Sean Bean, Orlando Bloom
Disclaimer: They're real. This is not.
Warning: RPS; Real person slash. Don't read it / do read it. Make an adult decision.
Feedback: Nice, but not required.
Archive: No.
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/arden_elear/
Summary: It takes some people a long time to wake up. Especially to themselves.
He could never have expected to be this content, not in a month of Sunday’s.
Actually, it had been a month of Sundays, of lazy afternoons, just like this one.
Days and days of warm, melting kisses, of touching and being touched, of learning to be together like always, yet different.
What amazed Sean the most though, was how Viggo had let him lead the way through to this point in time. They’d not discussed it at all, it just seemed that Viggo knew how much Sean wanted to take this slowly and be sure. To do it right.
And maybe Vig needed this unhurried, leisurely build too. After all, he was the one avoiding relationships, connections of any kind, while Sean was the one who always rushed it; let passion get the better of him, only to regret it when it was far too late.
I have been a chaste and virtuous man for four fucking weeks now, he thought, and I couldn’t feel better if I tried. It was building, it was coming, that was for sure, but when it came? Well, it would happen when it was meant to.
He and Viggo were spending the afternoon in Sean’s yard, clearing, cleaning it up, a general maintenance sort of a thing.
At least, Sean had been cleaning, Viggo kept wandering off, but Sean didn’t mind. Gardens were not Viggo’s thing.
Orlando had promised to help as well, but there was no sign of him so far. Probably been waylaid by hobbits. Off to the beach or down at the pub; both fairly regular occurrences.
Thinking of Orlando reminded him. He owed that faithless sprat a good going over.
Trouble was he didn’t know whether he wanted to hug him, or kick his arse from here to Christmas. Maybe that’s why Orlando hadn’t shown.
He still hung around with Sean and Viggo, but not nearly as much as he used to. Sean assumed that he was waiting for the axe to fall, knowing it would happen, just nervous about the when part.
Payback was such a bitch, he thought, a lazy smile suffusing his face.
He heard a noise and cracked an eyelid.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He sat up, rest period was over obviously, and looked over at Viggo who appeared to be attacking thin air with a bamboo stake.
Viggo looked over his shoulder and smirked. “Killing orcs.”
“Right.”
He sat and watched his King-in-waiting, barefoot and clad in denim and flannel instead of Ranger green, swinging gracefully at his invisible enemies. Viggo ended the sequence, leaned down to retrieve something and then turned to face him, a second shaft of bamboo in his other hand.
“Care to join me.” He asked with a wicked grin.
“Love to.”
He’d never sparred with anyone; it was far too dangerous even with blunted stunt swords, but he figured he couldn’t get skewered by a garden stake. Or could he?
Viggo was looking positively devilish. That light was in his eyes. The one that always meant trouble. For someone. And Sean was the only someone around. Uh-oh.
Be that as it may, Sean soon found that he was acquitting himself quite well, managing to parry some of Viggo’s better moves and even get a few good points in of his own.
Viggo wasn’t holding back either, it simply wasn’t in his nature and he’d never be so insulting as to rein himself in.
Sean was pretty good with a blade, but Vig was simply awesome. He was a pleasure to watch, but it was not so nice on the receiving end Sean found, as he watched the top half of his stake flying off into the trees.
Mistake.
Oomph!
Fuck! Blindside tackle.
“You cunt!”
All he got for that pithy remark was a poke in the ribs and the sound of Viggo’s laugh, coming from somewhere near his left ear.
“Right you bastard!”
A brief but vicious wrestling match followed. Truthfully, it was more of an inelegant rolling contest across the lawn, but there were elbows and knees involved, not to mention the odd poke and random tickling.
They came to rest up against the clothesline, Sean on top, breathless with laughter. He had Viggo pinned now, one leg laying across his opponent’s thighs, hands trapped by his sides and unable to flip and reverse their positions because of the steel post in the way.
“Ha!” He chortled. “Concede defeat.”
“Okay.”
What?
Suspicious, he carefully raised his weight and drew his legs up, straddling his victim for safety’s sake, before releasing his arms. But Viggo did nothing . . . untoward, just shifted a bit to get more comfortable and stared up at Sean, eyes glowing.
“Come ‘ere.” He invited. His entire demeanor had changed.
Hard to resist. No, impossible.
Sean leaned down and tasted the spoils of victory, his hand curving itself to the shape of the jaw beneath. A languid, easy kiss well suited to the sultry weather.
Letting his tongue do a slow dance across Viggo’s mouth, lips parting to admit him.
Exploring the dark velvet depths and unsurprised at the slow build of arousal, the quickening breath, that delicious hint of moisture forming on flesh, driven out by the heat building within.
He planted a series of kisses, tracing the path of cheek to temple and licked away the beads of sweat he found gathering there.
“Sean.”
Heady scent of flowers and shampoo and the clean, pure silk of Viggo’s hair tempting his fingers to bury themselves, to let it fall loose and gather it up again, stroking, sliding . . .
“Sean.”
“Mmm?”
Reluctantly, he drew back and confronted the banked heat of Viggo’s eyes.
Just looking was like being consumed and every feeling he had ever had for this man magnified a thousand times. Sean’s skin felt too tight, too hot. He felt so loved by that look that he might just burst.
He moved, covering Viggo’s body with his own, sliding down until he was cradled, hip to hip, thighs resting between Viggo’s legs.
“This what you want?” A low, throaty growl.
Viggo’s eyelids fluttered, pupils dilated and a breath escaped his lungs, tinting Sean’s skin with heat.
“Sean.” Another kiss. “Sean!”
Sean growled distractedly. He wanted kisses, not conversation.
“I know this is, ahh, your deal and all, but . . .”
Viggo broke off as Sean’s fingers found their way beneath the flannel shirt and thumbed across one taut nipple.
“Jeezus!” He groaned.
Sean hid an evil grin by burying his face in Viggo’s neck, sucking and biting at the tender place where it joined his collarbone.
“Fuckkit! Sean! You keep this up and you’d better be intending to make good.” Viggo managed finally.
“Keep what up?” Sean breathed against his ear. He nibbled too, and Viggo arched against him.
“This.” Viggo’s hands were wrapped around Sean’s waist and he moved them down, grabbing his hips, stilling the unconscious movements.
“Ahh.” Sean levered himself up again, hands on either side of Viggo’s head. He ground against him again. Once. Twice. A tiny, suggestive thrust . . . or two.
“This?”
“Fucking . . . aah cunt. Yes!”
Sean took pity on him. No, truth be told, the sight of Viggo, head thrown back, eyes closing, panting in response to his, Sean’s, touch, was too much.
He stopped moving and came down to rest on his elbows.
Viggo’s eyes had fully closed, the dark lashes shadowing across his cheeks. When his tongue darted out from between those perfectly shaped lips to moisten them, Sean forgot to breathe.
That he had this power, could make Viggo feel this way, react, look like that was overwhelming.
He’d never felt this way with anyone before and it was a heady sensation, having that control. The power to arouse, to make him writhe and gasp for air and it was . . . humbling.
“Vig?”
“Hmm?”
Sean leaned down until their noses were just touching.
“You . . . You want this? I mean . . .”
His eyes flew open, mere inches away from Sean’s, soft and bright.
“Yes.”
Viggo’s hands tangled in Sean’s hair, pulling him down for another kiss. Tongues and lips and slick, wet heat and the crazy notion that this was perfection, that it never got any better than this.
Breathless, they ended it by mutual agreement, Viggo gently pushing Sean away.
“Off, Bean. We’re going inside.”
“I thought this was my deal?”
He loved it. It was so easy, so natural to be passionate one minute and bantering with his mate the next. Everyone should have this; he could take out a patent.
Viggo rolled over and got up, trying to straighten his twisted shirt at the same time. Sean took his hand to steady him.
“My apologies.” Gracious nod. “It is.”
Viggo stepped away and began heading for the house, for the bed. Sean delayed for a second, to enjoy the rear view.
He distinctly heard a muttered, “For now.” Laughing, Sean made to follow him.
Viggo looked over his shoulder when he heard that soft chortle, hand poised to grab the railing on the back stairs.
“And stop looking at my ass.” He ordered.
“Why?” Sean challenged him, still smiling.
Viggo smoldered; that was the only possible way to describe it.
“Because I can think of better things you could be doing to it.”
Sean swallowed, hard. Well, okay then. He could work with that.
**
Author’s Note: Epilogue to follow.
Orlando’s comeuppance as well.
Maybe requested POV change as well.
Chapter: 6/6
Author: Arden Elear
E-mail: thedarkvoice@hotmail.com
Rated: PG to NC-17
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen x Sean Bean, Orlando Bloom
Disclaimer: They're real. This is not.
Warning: RPS; Real person slash. Don't read it / do read it. Make an adult decision.
Feedback: Nice, but not required.
Archive: No.
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/arden_elear/
Summary: It takes some people a long time to wake up. Especially to themselves.
He could never have expected to be this content, not in a month of Sunday’s.
Actually, it had been a month of Sundays, of lazy afternoons, just like this one.
Days and days of warm, melting kisses, of touching and being touched, of learning to be together like always, yet different.
What amazed Sean the most though, was how Viggo had let him lead the way through to this point in time. They’d not discussed it at all, it just seemed that Viggo knew how much Sean wanted to take this slowly and be sure. To do it right.
And maybe Vig needed this unhurried, leisurely build too. After all, he was the one avoiding relationships, connections of any kind, while Sean was the one who always rushed it; let passion get the better of him, only to regret it when it was far too late.
I have been a chaste and virtuous man for four fucking weeks now, he thought, and I couldn’t feel better if I tried. It was building, it was coming, that was for sure, but when it came? Well, it would happen when it was meant to.
He and Viggo were spending the afternoon in Sean’s yard, clearing, cleaning it up, a general maintenance sort of a thing.
At least, Sean had been cleaning, Viggo kept wandering off, but Sean didn’t mind. Gardens were not Viggo’s thing.
Orlando had promised to help as well, but there was no sign of him so far. Probably been waylaid by hobbits. Off to the beach or down at the pub; both fairly regular occurrences.
Thinking of Orlando reminded him. He owed that faithless sprat a good going over.
Trouble was he didn’t know whether he wanted to hug him, or kick his arse from here to Christmas. Maybe that’s why Orlando hadn’t shown.
He still hung around with Sean and Viggo, but not nearly as much as he used to. Sean assumed that he was waiting for the axe to fall, knowing it would happen, just nervous about the when part.
Payback was such a bitch, he thought, a lazy smile suffusing his face.
He heard a noise and cracked an eyelid.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He sat up, rest period was over obviously, and looked over at Viggo who appeared to be attacking thin air with a bamboo stake.
Viggo looked over his shoulder and smirked. “Killing orcs.”
“Right.”
He sat and watched his King-in-waiting, barefoot and clad in denim and flannel instead of Ranger green, swinging gracefully at his invisible enemies. Viggo ended the sequence, leaned down to retrieve something and then turned to face him, a second shaft of bamboo in his other hand.
“Care to join me.” He asked with a wicked grin.
“Love to.”
He’d never sparred with anyone; it was far too dangerous even with blunted stunt swords, but he figured he couldn’t get skewered by a garden stake. Or could he?
Viggo was looking positively devilish. That light was in his eyes. The one that always meant trouble. For someone. And Sean was the only someone around. Uh-oh.
Be that as it may, Sean soon found that he was acquitting himself quite well, managing to parry some of Viggo’s better moves and even get a few good points in of his own.
Viggo wasn’t holding back either, it simply wasn’t in his nature and he’d never be so insulting as to rein himself in.
Sean was pretty good with a blade, but Vig was simply awesome. He was a pleasure to watch, but it was not so nice on the receiving end Sean found, as he watched the top half of his stake flying off into the trees.
Mistake.
Oomph!
Fuck! Blindside tackle.
“You cunt!”
All he got for that pithy remark was a poke in the ribs and the sound of Viggo’s laugh, coming from somewhere near his left ear.
“Right you bastard!”
A brief but vicious wrestling match followed. Truthfully, it was more of an inelegant rolling contest across the lawn, but there were elbows and knees involved, not to mention the odd poke and random tickling.
They came to rest up against the clothesline, Sean on top, breathless with laughter. He had Viggo pinned now, one leg laying across his opponent’s thighs, hands trapped by his sides and unable to flip and reverse their positions because of the steel post in the way.
“Ha!” He chortled. “Concede defeat.”
“Okay.”
What?
Suspicious, he carefully raised his weight and drew his legs up, straddling his victim for safety’s sake, before releasing his arms. But Viggo did nothing . . . untoward, just shifted a bit to get more comfortable and stared up at Sean, eyes glowing.
“Come ‘ere.” He invited. His entire demeanor had changed.
Hard to resist. No, impossible.
Sean leaned down and tasted the spoils of victory, his hand curving itself to the shape of the jaw beneath. A languid, easy kiss well suited to the sultry weather.
Letting his tongue do a slow dance across Viggo’s mouth, lips parting to admit him.
Exploring the dark velvet depths and unsurprised at the slow build of arousal, the quickening breath, that delicious hint of moisture forming on flesh, driven out by the heat building within.
He planted a series of kisses, tracing the path of cheek to temple and licked away the beads of sweat he found gathering there.
“Sean.”
Heady scent of flowers and shampoo and the clean, pure silk of Viggo’s hair tempting his fingers to bury themselves, to let it fall loose and gather it up again, stroking, sliding . . .
“Sean.”
“Mmm?”
Reluctantly, he drew back and confronted the banked heat of Viggo’s eyes.
Just looking was like being consumed and every feeling he had ever had for this man magnified a thousand times. Sean’s skin felt too tight, too hot. He felt so loved by that look that he might just burst.
He moved, covering Viggo’s body with his own, sliding down until he was cradled, hip to hip, thighs resting between Viggo’s legs.
“This what you want?” A low, throaty growl.
Viggo’s eyelids fluttered, pupils dilated and a breath escaped his lungs, tinting Sean’s skin with heat.
“Sean.” Another kiss. “Sean!”
Sean growled distractedly. He wanted kisses, not conversation.
“I know this is, ahh, your deal and all, but . . .”
Viggo broke off as Sean’s fingers found their way beneath the flannel shirt and thumbed across one taut nipple.
“Jeezus!” He groaned.
Sean hid an evil grin by burying his face in Viggo’s neck, sucking and biting at the tender place where it joined his collarbone.
“Fuckkit! Sean! You keep this up and you’d better be intending to make good.” Viggo managed finally.
“Keep what up?” Sean breathed against his ear. He nibbled too, and Viggo arched against him.
“This.” Viggo’s hands were wrapped around Sean’s waist and he moved them down, grabbing his hips, stilling the unconscious movements.
“Ahh.” Sean levered himself up again, hands on either side of Viggo’s head. He ground against him again. Once. Twice. A tiny, suggestive thrust . . . or two.
“This?”
“Fucking . . . aah cunt. Yes!”
Sean took pity on him. No, truth be told, the sight of Viggo, head thrown back, eyes closing, panting in response to his, Sean’s, touch, was too much.
He stopped moving and came down to rest on his elbows.
Viggo’s eyes had fully closed, the dark lashes shadowing across his cheeks. When his tongue darted out from between those perfectly shaped lips to moisten them, Sean forgot to breathe.
That he had this power, could make Viggo feel this way, react, look like that was overwhelming.
He’d never felt this way with anyone before and it was a heady sensation, having that control. The power to arouse, to make him writhe and gasp for air and it was . . . humbling.
“Vig?”
“Hmm?”
Sean leaned down until their noses were just touching.
“You . . . You want this? I mean . . .”
His eyes flew open, mere inches away from Sean’s, soft and bright.
“Yes.”
Viggo’s hands tangled in Sean’s hair, pulling him down for another kiss. Tongues and lips and slick, wet heat and the crazy notion that this was perfection, that it never got any better than this.
Breathless, they ended it by mutual agreement, Viggo gently pushing Sean away.
“Off, Bean. We’re going inside.”
“I thought this was my deal?”
He loved it. It was so easy, so natural to be passionate one minute and bantering with his mate the next. Everyone should have this; he could take out a patent.
Viggo rolled over and got up, trying to straighten his twisted shirt at the same time. Sean took his hand to steady him.
“My apologies.” Gracious nod. “It is.”
Viggo stepped away and began heading for the house, for the bed. Sean delayed for a second, to enjoy the rear view.
He distinctly heard a muttered, “For now.” Laughing, Sean made to follow him.
Viggo looked over his shoulder when he heard that soft chortle, hand poised to grab the railing on the back stairs.
“And stop looking at my ass.” He ordered.
“Why?” Sean challenged him, still smiling.
Viggo smoldered; that was the only possible way to describe it.
“Because I can think of better things you could be doing to it.”
Sean swallowed, hard. Well, okay then. He could work with that.
**
Author’s Note: Epilogue to follow.
Orlando’s comeuppance as well.
Maybe requested POV change as well.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 04:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 04:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 07:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 08:53 pm (UTC)[claps hands] Good!
Orlando’s comeuppance as well.
Yessssss!
Maybe requested POV change as well.
And we are requesting..... please?
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Date: 2004-01-03 12:55 am (UTC)Love where you've worked them to and an epilogue, as well?!
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Date: 2004-01-03 11:38 am (UTC)