rugbytackle | (no subject)

Title: Sleeping Beauty: Epilogue
Chapter: Consummation
Author: Arden Elear
E-mail: thedarkvoice@hotmail.com
Rated: NC-17
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen x Sean Bean.
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: Short, but sweet. Poetic, not frenetic.

**

Sean closed the bedroom door behind him and turned. Viggo stood by the bed, waiting patiently, the late afternoon sunshine through the blinds slanting stripes of light across his body. Blue eyes burned in the shadows.
Smiling, Sean covered the space that separated them and, without touching, placed a brief kiss on Viggo’s mouth. Stepping back, he bought his hands up to Viggo’s shirt and began sliding each button from its hole. He teased the cloth from beneath the waistband of his jeans and slid the soft flannel from his shoulders, releasing it to drop unheeded to the floor.
The fine hairs on Viggo’s chest and arms glinted, the color of old gold against the darker tan of his skin, nipples pale in contrast.
Unhurried, despite the rush of blood to his groin at the sight, Sean leaned in for another kiss, keeping his hands to himself.
“What’s this, then?” Viggo murmured against his mouth. “One kiss per item of clothing?”
“Something like that.” Sean smiled, tongue darting out to taste the beads of sweat on Viggo’s upper lip.
“Well, that’s unfair” Vig told him. “I’ll only get two.”
“Try wearing more clothes.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Damn right I don’t.” Sean growled.
Forcing himself to pull away, Sean turned his attention to the jeans, working the buttons open before sliding them down, over Viggo’s hips letting them drop to the floor as well.
Viggo stepped out of them easily.
“Ahh.” Sean said. “Now I see why you never wear shoes.”
“Can’t keep secrets from you, can I?”
This time, he gathered Viggo into his arms and kissed him deeply, finally allowing his hands the freedom to roam. He traced length of his spine from bottom to top, sketching the arc of his shoulder blades and down the strong upper arms to his fingertips and back again. He was all hard muscle encased in hot velvet, ripples and curves to delight in and explore. Wonderful.
Caressing the fine column of his throat with his palm, Sean moved upward to beneath his jaw and tipped his head back to drink deep of the tastes his tongue discovered.
The need for oxygen was the only thing that could possibly drive them apart and reluctantly Sean stepped back again, releasing his hold. He wanted skin against skin and his hands went to his T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one swift move. He flipped off his loafers and released his shorts to join the pile.
This time when he moved back, his hand dropped down between their bodies and his kisses had more heat, a greater need. He stroked the length of Viggo’s cock where it lay, hard and pulsing against his belly. Viggo buried his head against Sean’s neck and bit him, a soft moan escaping at the contact.

They dropped onto the bed, Viggo on his back, Sean by his side, mouths melted together. Trailing a line with his mouth, Sean worked his way down Viggo’s neck and across his chest, tasting, biting lightly with his teeth, Viggo’s fingers entangled in his hair, flexing and kneading. He sucked a nipple into his mouth and then bit that too, feeling that surge of power again when Viggo arched his back, offering himself.
Sean didn’t have the strength to articulate with words how he felt right now. Blessed and tortured at the same time, his skin prickling from more than sweat and his blood singing sweetly in his veins. But he didn’t need a voice for this. He would paint his feelings upon Viggo’s flesh with his hands and his tongue and his mouth. Stroke by stroke, one touch at a time. It was the best he could do.
Sliding further down, his mouth moved, open and wet, across the head of Viggo’s cock. The hands in his hair tightened and his ear, pressed against Viggo’s side, heard the deep rumble in his chest as a groan escaped his lips. He licked the underside, swirling his tongue, pressing soft kisses along the shaft before taking him into his mouth.
The afternoon light played along, a beam of pure sunlight illuminating the places that needed touching, guiding his hands and mouth along the path of mutual pleasure. Swirling dust motes and golden skin, soft moans and quickening breath and Sean was reaching for the drawer before he knew it and it was all moving too fast, or not fast enough, no time to savor and all the time in the world to rejoice.
With slick, shaking fingers he pressed inside, preparing the way. One and two and Viggo was writhing beneath him, flesh shining with perspiration, slick with need, inarticulate moans and pleas issuing from between parched lips.
And Sean was hard and there was heat, such heat, and he rocked and thrust deeper, seeking the core, finding it, and watching with hooded eyes as his lover came undone.
Now it was coming and Sean discovered that it was a beginning not an end. Piling up, building on itself like an ocean swell, droplets of sweat falling from his brow onto Viggo’s chest. With thrusts and grinds he was racing to catch up and now it was cresting and he was riding the wave, Viggo with him, higher and faster until everything exploded around him. Inside him.
His spine arched and his head dropped and he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe for the pulse of it, crashing over him, sweeping him away.

“I love you.” He told him.
And that too, was a beginning.

End.