Goofing off again.
Jan. 19th, 2004 01:36 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
arden-elear.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rugbytackleTitle: The Merits of Ferrets.
Series: None
Chapter: 1/1
Rated: NC-17
Pairing: VM/SB
Disclaimer: RPS: Real Person Slash. Read it/Don’t Read It. Make an adult decision.
Warning: No ferrets were harmed during the writing of this story.
Feedback: Nice, but not required.
Archive: No
Overall Summary: There are ferrets in New Zealand. Not all of them have four legs.
Chapter Summary: None.
Author: Arden Elear
Email: thedarkvoice@hotmail.com
Live Journal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/arden_elear/
Notes: I cannot seem to get these guys out of my head! I'm supposed to be working on original fiction, which I am, which means I spend waaay too much time writing and not enough time on my life. Oh. Right. What life....
Sean moved slowly, mounting one step at a time, swinging the door open and holding it so that it didn’t swing back on him, closing it behind him with equal care.
Safely inside the trailer, he reached behind and rubbed at his aching arse.
Ooh fuck, how it ached. He just knew he was gonna be walking funny for a week!
Sean moved slowly, mounting one step at a time, swinging the door open and holding it so that it didn’t swing back on him, closing it behind him with equal care.
Safely inside the trailer, he reached behind and rubbed at his aching arse.
Ooh fuck, how it ached. He just knew he was gonna be walking funny for a week!
“You okay?”
(Cautiously) turning, Sean discovered that Viggo was still there, sitting on the tiny couch in the living space they shared. He looked as tired as Sean felt, hair still mussed and damp from the shower, jeans only half done up, shirt in a similar state of disarray.
“Yeah.” He took the few steps needed to join Viggo and gingerly lowered his rump onto the cushions, sighing happily at the unexpected comfort they offered.
He could smell the sweet scent of one of Viggo’s cigars and caught a glimpse of a trail of smoke rising from the ashtray on the coffee table. An empty mug sat beside it. Been unwinding then; Sean didn’t blame him. What a complete bastard of a day!
“An entire day of falling backwards onto Orli’s skinny bones, I assume?” Viggo asked, pointing at Sean’s throbbing posterior.
“Yeah. Scrawny little thing. No meat on him t’all.” He rubbed his tailbone where it had connected with Orlando’s hipbone. “Mind you, didn’t help that the little shit was messin’ with me.” He bitched. “That kid has hands like a pair of hyperactive ferrets! Bad enough that I had to keep landing on him, but he has to go the grope every time the effing camera stopped! Like I wasn’t miserable enough already!”
A muffled snort and a soft brush of a foot against his thigh made him swing his head around. Viggo had collapsed sideways and was holding his sides laughing, legs drawn up in the fetal position.
“What’s so effing funny?” Sean demanded.
Viggo just shook all the harder. Mostly, Viggo laughed silently, never making a sound. Sometimes you’d hear a soft chuckle and, if he was in one of his really strange moods, he’d get this sort of maniac giggle going, but usually, like now, you couldn’t hear him.
His fringe had fallen over his face, so Sean couldn’t tell if Vig was looking at him or not but his hands came up from his waist when Sean spoke and he pantomimed these . . . squirmy, wiggly things. Hands attacking each other and rolling around.
Oh. The ferret remark.
“What?” Sean said defensively. “He was. Pinching and patting and poking. Never knew where they were gonna turn up next. It wasn’t funny, Vig!”
At Sean’s complaint, the hands just started moving faster, Viggo curling up even tighter as a fresh round of the silent giggles hit.
It was that irrational, end-of-the-day, overly-tired kind of humor but Sean couldn’t help it, Viggo’s mirth was infectious and he could feel his mouth curling up into a grin.
He didn’t know whether he was laughing at the ridiculousness of his tirade, the stupidity of grown men playing dress-ups and throwing themselves around for a living or whether he was laughing at Viggo’s teasing, but whatever, it felt good, his tiredness melting away along with his bad mood.
“You’re a nasty cunt, you know that?” He commented good-naturedly.
He saw Viggo nod; one blue eye peeping at him.
“W . . . w . . .Where?” His hysterical friend finally managed.
“Where what? Where did he get me?” Another nod. “You name it; he had his bloody hands on it. I’ve never been so systematically groped. Up under the damned tunic, down the back of my breeches, you nam . . . What?”
“T . . . t. . . Trousers? Trousers?! You had a ferret in your trousers?”
Ahh. Now he got it. Making mind pictures again. Viggo rolled over onto his back, his knees still drawn up and now Sean could see the tears of laughter glistening in the corners of his eyes, the amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Yes, Viggo.” He returned with mock patience, grinning broadly. “I had my own personal trouser ferret. Happy?”
“Not as happy as you must have Bean.” Viggo punned.
“Oh, har-har. I’m glad you find my suffering so amusing, you nasty sod.” Sean smirked. “Just wait till he starts feeling you up in Fangorn or groping you in the Golden Hall.”
Viggo raised an eyebrow.
“Orlando? Grope me? He wouldn’t dare.” He said loftily.
Which was sad, but true, Sean realized. Orli might tease Viggo, ruffle his hair and make fond jokes at his expense, but cop a quick feel, uh-uh, never. Which didn’t mean that someone shouldn’t do it.
Sean looked sideways at Viggo, letting a devilish glint come to his eyes, a secret little smile play across his lips. Viggo’s eyebrows knitted together.
“Sean?” He said warningly. “What are you thinking about?”
Sean leered at him suggestively.
“The merits of ferrets.” He said.
And pounced.
“Aarrgh! Don’t you dare!”
Viggo twisted and tried to slide out from under, but Sean had him jammed against the side of the couch and was sitting astride his waist, effectively trapped. He grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the cushion either side of his head.
Now Viggo was laughing out loud, they both were, wrestling like a couple of schoolboys while Sean tried to get at least one hand down the back of Viggo’s jeans without losing his grip on his slippery, squirming victim.
“How do you like it?” He laughed. “Not so bloody funny now, is it? Try it for eight solid hours, mate.”
Viggo was wriggling frantically trying to escape the tickling fingers, levering his hips up in the attempt which, frankly, was helping Sean rather than hindering.
“You are . . . so going . . . to . . . pay for this.” He threatened breathlessly. “Stinky fish are going to seem like a fond memory compared to what I’m gonna do to you. I’m gonna duct tape . . . Get . . . out . . . of . . . it. Oh, Sean! Jeezus!”
Sean’s roaming hand had, apparently, located an erogenous zone and Viggo’s reaction was nothing short of electric. His hips shot skywards and (there was no other word to describe it) he writhed under Sean’s hand, gasping for breath.
“Oh, fuck! Stop!”
“Ooh, somebody likes that.” Sean teased, mercilessly doing it again.
“Oh. You. Fuck. You . . . bastard!”
Sean was enjoying himself immensely. Serve him right. He slid the hand around, caressing the soft skin inside his hipbone with a lazy thumb.
“Cunt! Jeezus! Aah!”
Viggo’s hips were positively grinding against Sean now, the expression on his face a mixture of need and amusement, an enticing combination.
Sean realized that his own cock had noticed what was going on.
He raised his knees a little and leaned forward, bringing his pelvis into line with Viggos’, rocking in counterpoint to Viggo’s rhythm.
“Not so cocky now, are we?” He smirked, bringing his face down close.
Viggo shook his head, fringe falling across his eyes.
“I don’t fucking believe you’re doing this?” He grinned.
“What’s that?” Sean asked politely, giving another little push with his hips.
“Fucking dry-humping me in the fucking trailer, for chrissakes!”
Sean shrugged, never stopping his slow grind. He could feel Viggo’s hard-on pulsing against the cloth of his jeans, rubbing against his own.
“You started it.”
“I did . . . not . . . Ahh . . . fucking start it.”
Sean’s hand had found its way between their bodies and was busily trying to reach its target, the inside of Viggo’s denim jeans.
“Yes you did. You were rubbing yourself up against me like a cat in heat.”
Viggo snorted, shifting a little to let Sean in.
“A cat? What happened to the ferret?”
“Cat. Ferret. Who cares?” Sean had Viggo’s erection free of his pants now and was working on his own.
“All grey at night?” Viggo managed between gasps as Sean bought both their cocks together and began stroking.
“Exactly.” Sean groaned.
The delicious friction was rapidly bringing things to a climax. Sean worked his hand faster, pumping them both, their mingled moisture made his hand into a slippery, warm cavern and he could feel the beginnings of orgasm pooling in the base of his spine.
“Ooh. Fuck! Chriiiist!” Viggo’s back arched, blue eyes fluttered closed and his stomach muscles tensed. His free hand clutched at the worn fabric of the sofa. Sean felt the hot gush of orgasm release into his hand. It was enough to send him spiraling over the edge and he shouted and came, pumping hard into his hand as his prick rubbed delightfully against the hot, wet swell of Viggo’s cock.
“Ooh, Jeezus!” He panted, sliding his hand out from between them and resting on his elbows while he composed himself.
“That,” He wheezed moments later. “By the way, was not a dry-hump.”
Viggo paused in his own recovery to raise a weary eyebrow in his direction.
“No shit Batman.” He said, wiping his stomach with the tail of his shirt.
“But it was,” Sean began to move, slowly lifting his weight off Viggo’s prone form. “Your fault.”
Viggo finished tucking his shirttails in and stood up, working on the buttons of his fly. He favored Sean with a dark look. But then he threw his hands in the air, conceding.
“Okay. It was my fault. I’ll just forget about the wandering hands, won’t talk about cats or make any reference to trouser ferrets. How about I buy you a beer instead and we talk about something else? Anything else.”
Sean had straightened himself out too. He walked over to where Viggo stood and threw a friendly arm around his shoulders.
“Deal. We can talk about my getting even with Orli.” He said with a grin and led him toward the door.
“Tell me something.” Sean asked as he walked slowly and carefully down the trailer steps. “What was that about duct tape?”
Fin.
Series: None
Chapter: 1/1
Rated: NC-17
Pairing: VM/SB
Disclaimer: RPS: Real Person Slash. Read it/Don’t Read It. Make an adult decision.
Warning: No ferrets were harmed during the writing of this story.
Feedback: Nice, but not required.
Archive: No
Overall Summary: There are ferrets in New Zealand. Not all of them have four legs.
Chapter Summary: None.
Author: Arden Elear
Email: thedarkvoice@hotmail.com
Live Journal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/arden_elear/
Notes: I cannot seem to get these guys out of my head! I'm supposed to be working on original fiction, which I am, which means I spend waaay too much time writing and not enough time on my life. Oh. Right. What life....
Sean moved slowly, mounting one step at a time, swinging the door open and holding it so that it didn’t swing back on him, closing it behind him with equal care.
Safely inside the trailer, he reached behind and rubbed at his aching arse.
Ooh fuck, how it ached. He just knew he was gonna be walking funny for a week!
Sean moved slowly, mounting one step at a time, swinging the door open and holding it so that it didn’t swing back on him, closing it behind him with equal care.
Safely inside the trailer, he reached behind and rubbed at his aching arse.
Ooh fuck, how it ached. He just knew he was gonna be walking funny for a week!
“You okay?”
(Cautiously) turning, Sean discovered that Viggo was still there, sitting on the tiny couch in the living space they shared. He looked as tired as Sean felt, hair still mussed and damp from the shower, jeans only half done up, shirt in a similar state of disarray.
“Yeah.” He took the few steps needed to join Viggo and gingerly lowered his rump onto the cushions, sighing happily at the unexpected comfort they offered.
He could smell the sweet scent of one of Viggo’s cigars and caught a glimpse of a trail of smoke rising from the ashtray on the coffee table. An empty mug sat beside it. Been unwinding then; Sean didn’t blame him. What a complete bastard of a day!
“An entire day of falling backwards onto Orli’s skinny bones, I assume?” Viggo asked, pointing at Sean’s throbbing posterior.
“Yeah. Scrawny little thing. No meat on him t’all.” He rubbed his tailbone where it had connected with Orlando’s hipbone. “Mind you, didn’t help that the little shit was messin’ with me.” He bitched. “That kid has hands like a pair of hyperactive ferrets! Bad enough that I had to keep landing on him, but he has to go the grope every time the effing camera stopped! Like I wasn’t miserable enough already!”
A muffled snort and a soft brush of a foot against his thigh made him swing his head around. Viggo had collapsed sideways and was holding his sides laughing, legs drawn up in the fetal position.
“What’s so effing funny?” Sean demanded.
Viggo just shook all the harder. Mostly, Viggo laughed silently, never making a sound. Sometimes you’d hear a soft chuckle and, if he was in one of his really strange moods, he’d get this sort of maniac giggle going, but usually, like now, you couldn’t hear him.
His fringe had fallen over his face, so Sean couldn’t tell if Vig was looking at him or not but his hands came up from his waist when Sean spoke and he pantomimed these . . . squirmy, wiggly things. Hands attacking each other and rolling around.
Oh. The ferret remark.
“What?” Sean said defensively. “He was. Pinching and patting and poking. Never knew where they were gonna turn up next. It wasn’t funny, Vig!”
At Sean’s complaint, the hands just started moving faster, Viggo curling up even tighter as a fresh round of the silent giggles hit.
It was that irrational, end-of-the-day, overly-tired kind of humor but Sean couldn’t help it, Viggo’s mirth was infectious and he could feel his mouth curling up into a grin.
He didn’t know whether he was laughing at the ridiculousness of his tirade, the stupidity of grown men playing dress-ups and throwing themselves around for a living or whether he was laughing at Viggo’s teasing, but whatever, it felt good, his tiredness melting away along with his bad mood.
“You’re a nasty cunt, you know that?” He commented good-naturedly.
He saw Viggo nod; one blue eye peeping at him.
“W . . . w . . .Where?” His hysterical friend finally managed.
“Where what? Where did he get me?” Another nod. “You name it; he had his bloody hands on it. I’ve never been so systematically groped. Up under the damned tunic, down the back of my breeches, you nam . . . What?”
“T . . . t. . . Trousers? Trousers?! You had a ferret in your trousers?”
Ahh. Now he got it. Making mind pictures again. Viggo rolled over onto his back, his knees still drawn up and now Sean could see the tears of laughter glistening in the corners of his eyes, the amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Yes, Viggo.” He returned with mock patience, grinning broadly. “I had my own personal trouser ferret. Happy?”
“Not as happy as you must have Bean.” Viggo punned.
“Oh, har-har. I’m glad you find my suffering so amusing, you nasty sod.” Sean smirked. “Just wait till he starts feeling you up in Fangorn or groping you in the Golden Hall.”
Viggo raised an eyebrow.
“Orlando? Grope me? He wouldn’t dare.” He said loftily.
Which was sad, but true, Sean realized. Orli might tease Viggo, ruffle his hair and make fond jokes at his expense, but cop a quick feel, uh-uh, never. Which didn’t mean that someone shouldn’t do it.
Sean looked sideways at Viggo, letting a devilish glint come to his eyes, a secret little smile play across his lips. Viggo’s eyebrows knitted together.
“Sean?” He said warningly. “What are you thinking about?”
Sean leered at him suggestively.
“The merits of ferrets.” He said.
And pounced.
“Aarrgh! Don’t you dare!”
Viggo twisted and tried to slide out from under, but Sean had him jammed against the side of the couch and was sitting astride his waist, effectively trapped. He grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the cushion either side of his head.
Now Viggo was laughing out loud, they both were, wrestling like a couple of schoolboys while Sean tried to get at least one hand down the back of Viggo’s jeans without losing his grip on his slippery, squirming victim.
“How do you like it?” He laughed. “Not so bloody funny now, is it? Try it for eight solid hours, mate.”
Viggo was wriggling frantically trying to escape the tickling fingers, levering his hips up in the attempt which, frankly, was helping Sean rather than hindering.
“You are . . . so going . . . to . . . pay for this.” He threatened breathlessly. “Stinky fish are going to seem like a fond memory compared to what I’m gonna do to you. I’m gonna duct tape . . . Get . . . out . . . of . . . it. Oh, Sean! Jeezus!”
Sean’s roaming hand had, apparently, located an erogenous zone and Viggo’s reaction was nothing short of electric. His hips shot skywards and (there was no other word to describe it) he writhed under Sean’s hand, gasping for breath.
“Oh, fuck! Stop!”
“Ooh, somebody likes that.” Sean teased, mercilessly doing it again.
“Oh. You. Fuck. You . . . bastard!”
Sean was enjoying himself immensely. Serve him right. He slid the hand around, caressing the soft skin inside his hipbone with a lazy thumb.
“Cunt! Jeezus! Aah!”
Viggo’s hips were positively grinding against Sean now, the expression on his face a mixture of need and amusement, an enticing combination.
Sean realized that his own cock had noticed what was going on.
He raised his knees a little and leaned forward, bringing his pelvis into line with Viggos’, rocking in counterpoint to Viggo’s rhythm.
“Not so cocky now, are we?” He smirked, bringing his face down close.
Viggo shook his head, fringe falling across his eyes.
“I don’t fucking believe you’re doing this?” He grinned.
“What’s that?” Sean asked politely, giving another little push with his hips.
“Fucking dry-humping me in the fucking trailer, for chrissakes!”
Sean shrugged, never stopping his slow grind. He could feel Viggo’s hard-on pulsing against the cloth of his jeans, rubbing against his own.
“You started it.”
“I did . . . not . . . Ahh . . . fucking start it.”
Sean’s hand had found its way between their bodies and was busily trying to reach its target, the inside of Viggo’s denim jeans.
“Yes you did. You were rubbing yourself up against me like a cat in heat.”
Viggo snorted, shifting a little to let Sean in.
“A cat? What happened to the ferret?”
“Cat. Ferret. Who cares?” Sean had Viggo’s erection free of his pants now and was working on his own.
“All grey at night?” Viggo managed between gasps as Sean bought both their cocks together and began stroking.
“Exactly.” Sean groaned.
The delicious friction was rapidly bringing things to a climax. Sean worked his hand faster, pumping them both, their mingled moisture made his hand into a slippery, warm cavern and he could feel the beginnings of orgasm pooling in the base of his spine.
“Ooh. Fuck! Chriiiist!” Viggo’s back arched, blue eyes fluttered closed and his stomach muscles tensed. His free hand clutched at the worn fabric of the sofa. Sean felt the hot gush of orgasm release into his hand. It was enough to send him spiraling over the edge and he shouted and came, pumping hard into his hand as his prick rubbed delightfully against the hot, wet swell of Viggo’s cock.
“Ooh, Jeezus!” He panted, sliding his hand out from between them and resting on his elbows while he composed himself.
“That,” He wheezed moments later. “By the way, was not a dry-hump.”
Viggo paused in his own recovery to raise a weary eyebrow in his direction.
“No shit Batman.” He said, wiping his stomach with the tail of his shirt.
“But it was,” Sean began to move, slowly lifting his weight off Viggo’s prone form. “Your fault.”
Viggo finished tucking his shirttails in and stood up, working on the buttons of his fly. He favored Sean with a dark look. But then he threw his hands in the air, conceding.
“Okay. It was my fault. I’ll just forget about the wandering hands, won’t talk about cats or make any reference to trouser ferrets. How about I buy you a beer instead and we talk about something else? Anything else.”
Sean had straightened himself out too. He walked over to where Viggo stood and threw a friendly arm around his shoulders.
“Deal. We can talk about my getting even with Orli.” He said with a grin and led him toward the door.
“Tell me something.” Sean asked as he walked slowly and carefully down the trailer steps. “What was that about duct tape?”
Fin.
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no subject
Date: 2004-01-18 05:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-18 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-18 06:05 pm (UTC)Lovely and hot and funny indeed. And your Viggo is so very Viggo.. I can just see him :) And Sean too..
Thanks, and please don't fret about not being able to get them out of your mind, we'd like more *g*
no subject
Date: 2004-01-18 06:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-18 07:03 pm (UTC)oh, it was MORE than enough. god, that was nice and hot. i love it when hot men tussle, and you wrote a very realistic rendition of one. and i love viggo trying to talk between gasps. love. it.
keep em coming, lady. do not deny the bunnies, for they are a vengeful lot.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-18 07:31 pm (UTC)~Kris
no subject
Date: 2004-01-18 10:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-18 11:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-19 03:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-19 05:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-19 11:49 am (UTC)Very amusing. And quite hot. Lovely *S*
no subject
Date: 2004-07-02 08:56 pm (UTC)I think that you have Viggo's voice down perfectly:
“You are . . . so going . . . to . . . pay for this.” He threatened breathlessly. “Stinky fish are going to seem like a fond memory compared to what I’m gonna do to you. I’m gonna duct tape . . . Get . . . out . . . of . . . it. Oh, Sean! Jeezus!”
And Sean's as well:
“Ooh, somebody likes that.” Sean teased, mercilessly doing it again.
Keep up the great work!