No hash; Lots of slash.
Feb. 14th, 2004 12:15 pm![[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 Beard.
Chapter: 3/3
Rated: NC-17
Pairing: VM/SB
Disclaimer: RPS: Real Person Slash. Read it/Don’t read it. Make an adult decision.
Warning: Weirdness-at-work. Bring towels and lots of lube.
Feedback: Nice, but not required.
Archive: No.
Overall Summary: There is more than one way to skin a cat.
Author: Arden Elear
Email: rishalin@lycos.com
Live Journal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/arden_elear/
Website: http://www.angelfire.com/folk/rishalin/
“Aww, Vig. Quit complain’ will ya. It’s just a cuddle.” Sean squeezed even harder.
Cuddle?
Since when did grown men ‘cuddle’?
Whatever happened to good old-fashioned manly hugs?
Viggo had rather hoped he’d be able to hold out until the Christmas break but he couldn’t stand it one moment longer.
He either bailed now or he’d be shoving Sean down onto the nearest available flat surface.
Bailing seemed the safer of the two options.
He pulled into Sean’s drive and shut the engine down. He’d tell Sean that he just couldn’t do it anymore.
He’d tell him that he hadn’t expected Harry’s stubborn determination, the stress of pretending or the assumptions friends and workmates were making.
Hell, he’d tell him any-damned-thing! Anything but the truth, of course.
Sean wouldn’t mind. And maybe they could put their heads together and come up with some other plan to deal with Sean’s problem.
Beating Harry to a pulp perhaps? That might work.
He trudged up the garden path and mounted the stairs. Maybe once Sean stopped touching him, Viggo could regain control of his licentious thoughts!
Sean’s front door was open and he stopped when he heard voices coming from inside.
“I can’t take much more of this.” Sean was saying.
“Then why don’t you just give up.”
Harry!
Viggo’s fists clenched. Give up, indeed! What did Harry expect Sean to do? Lie back and think of England?!
“I don’t think so.” Sean responded.
Attaboy!
“You’re a stubborn sod, Bean.” Harry was laughing. “But I think it’s time you . . .”
Viggo had heard enough. He took the last two steps in a single bound and stalked into the living room.
“Vig!”
Harry’s head shot around at Sean’s exclamation. He took one look and starting reversing, his hands up.
“Now Viggo . . .” He stammered. “I was just . . .” He shot a panicked look in Sean’s direction. “. . . leaving.”
“Then leave!” Viggo rasped.
Harry gave him a wide berth as he made for the door. His footsteps battered the warped wooden stairs as he flew down them but Viggo didn’t relax until he heard the gate squeak and he turned to find Sean grinning at him.
“My hero!” Sean clasped his hands over his heart and fluttered his eyelashes.
Viggo snorted, a grin creasing his face at Sean’s dramatics.
Sean walked past him and looked out. With a satisfied expression on his face, he closed the door and strolled back to where Viggo stood.
“By Jove, I think you’ve done it!” He proclaimed. “Somehow I get the feeling I’ve just seen the last of Harry.”
Great! If that were true, it meant Viggo wouldn’t have to tell lies. This was good.
“What was he doing here?” Viggo asked. “Apart from the obvious, I mean.”
“He lives just round the corner, Vig. How did you know he was here?”
Viggo shrugged his shoulders. “I heard you talking as I came up the stairs.”
“Oh?” Sean looked tense suddenly.
“Yeah. Telling you to ‘give up’. As if.”
“Umm. Yeah.” Sean scratched the back of his head.
Viggo reassured him. “Did he really expect you would just fall into bed with him? What a dickhead!”
Sean looked relieved. “No. Yeah. Course not. Prat.”
Then his smile grew broad once more. “You are my champion, aren’t ya?”
Before Viggo could manage some modest response, Sean drew him into a great big bear hug.
Pressed tight up against Sean’s hard form and squeezed until he could scarely breathe, Viggo had no chance of coherence and even less chance of escape.
“Umm, Sean? Oxygen?” He gasped, his plea muffled by Sean’s shoulder.
“Aww, Vig. Quit complain’ will ya. It’s just a cuddle.” Sean squeezed even harder.
Cuddle?
Since when did grown men ‘cuddle’?
Whatever happened to good old-fashioned manly hugs?
Nice brief hugs?
Ending like about . . . now?
Please?
Umm.
Sean’s hands rubbing his back sure felt nice. Really nice.
Oh God, no! Down boy!
Okay, danger. He’d have to pull away.
In a second.
Before Sean noticed.
But God it felt nice.
Hands rubbing his back. Cupping his arse.
Cupping his. . .?
Oh. God.
Sean made a soft, ‘Mmm’ noise.
Mmm?
He wasn’t serious?
Oh Lord, he was. Is. Kissing . . . neck.
Mmm.
Oh, fuck it!
Viggo pulled his head back and locked his hands behind Sean’s head, all in one swift move.
Grabbed. Held. Plunged.
Oh. He had forgotten what this was like. Scratchy beard, soft lips and the kind of solidly punishing kiss only another guy can give you.
What the feel of a firm male body was like, rigid and unyielding against you.
Heat and muscle and strong determined fingers, imprinting their need on your flesh. The slow grind and delicious friction of a hard cock rubbing against your own.
Tongues dancing, vying for dominance. Losing, and the exquisite feeling that it releases deep in the pit of your belly as you bare your throat, declaring him the victor.
Oh no, there was nothing else quite like this. How could he have forgotten?
Sean’s mouth moving against his neck. “Yes?”
“Yes.” A throaty whisper is all you can manage now that his clever fingers have found their way beneath the layers of fabric that separate you and are pinching flesh between thumb and forefinger and your spine has melted as a result while your brain has turned to mush.
A soft chuckle greets your response before he assaults you, strong, capable hands tearing at your clothes, peeling layers off, making it skin against skin in the blink of an eye.
And this you remember. Rough hands on the softest of skin, wrapped around it, stroking and tugging and he’s pushing your hand away when you move to reciprocate and you remember that he won and you lost and you’re his to do with what he wills.
Slick and deft and . . . inside. And when did you get horizontal, the rug rubbing against your back as you writhe under his touch?
And is that your voice, moaning in disappointment when his fingers withdraw only to swell into a cry of pure pleasure when he rises over you and slides inside, your resistance to the intrusion almost non-existent?
Oh, fuck and who cares about carpet burn, it’s something to hold onto, hands fisting the rough fabric as your hips rocket skywards.
And he’s thrusting in so deep, making the rug fly across the hardwood floor like a magic carpet. And what a ride!
And you smell sweat and lube and varnish and all of it sticks to your skin, burrowing in the pores of your memory but you can’t even remember your own name, only his, repeated over and over as a mantra. “Sean. Sean. Sean”.
His rough hand curls around your cock and pulls, your balls tighten and explode, spilling your seed across your belly where it sinks beneath the surface to join the rest.
Hoarsely, with ragged breath, he calls your name. Arching his back as he plunges inside one last time and shudders, every muscle tense as he comes. He collapses atop you and then rolls to the side, his hands stroking your cheek, gentle now, no losers here, and you smile and turn to face him.
“Okay?” Sean asks.
Viggo nodded, momentarily too exhausted to offer more.
“Good yeah?” Viggo knows he’s not asking for a performance critique but for confirmation that something just happened.
“Mmm.” Viggo scooted closer and raised a hand, fingers lightly tracing the line of Sean’s jaw. He leaned forward and nuzzled at his throat, tugging the soft growth with his teeth, growling. Pulling back a little, his fingers played with the hair, combing and rearranging.
“What are you doing?” Sean grabbed his hand and stilled it, trapping Viggo’s fingers between his own.
He was patently waiting for his answer and beginning to look a little anxious when none was forthcoming.
Viggo took pity on him. He was done with pretending. He grinned suddenly, eyes twinkling.
“You look good with a beard.” He said.
*
“So?” “So?”
Christ! Stereo!
“Yeah. Umm. Thanks.”
“I knew it!”
Orlando high-fives Harry.
Surprisingly, Harry high-fives him back.
“Details?” Harry asks slyly. But he’s still staring at Orlando.
“Fuck off”!
Sean thinks keeping his promise to Harry might not be too difficult.
After all, Orlando is staring back.
Still, time to reiterate the rules.
“Either of you.”
He raises a finger. Just one finger. Doesn’t need more.
“One word. Not. One. Fucking. Word.”
Two heads shaking in tandem.
“Good. Now why don’t you two run along? And play nice.” This last he aims at Harry.
“Sure.” Orlando looks almost eager. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” He tells him and begins to turn away.
Looks back over his shoulder, a wicked glint in his eyes. Might as well have a little fun.
“Got to trim my beard.” He tells them.
Orlando’s eyes bug. Harry just looks sly.
Oh yeah. They’ll be fine.
*
Fin.
Chapter: 3/3
Rated: NC-17
Pairing: VM/SB
Disclaimer: RPS: Real Person Slash. Read it/Don’t read it. Make an adult decision.
Warning: Weirdness-at-work. Bring towels and lots of lube.
Feedback: Nice, but not required.
Archive: No.
Overall Summary: There is more than one way to skin a cat.
Author: Arden Elear
Email: rishalin@lycos.com
Live Journal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/arden_elear/
Website: http://www.angelfire.com/folk/rishalin/
“Aww, Vig. Quit complain’ will ya. It’s just a cuddle.” Sean squeezed even harder.
Cuddle?
Since when did grown men ‘cuddle’?
Whatever happened to good old-fashioned manly hugs?
Viggo had rather hoped he’d be able to hold out until the Christmas break but he couldn’t stand it one moment longer.
He either bailed now or he’d be shoving Sean down onto the nearest available flat surface.
Bailing seemed the safer of the two options.
He pulled into Sean’s drive and shut the engine down. He’d tell Sean that he just couldn’t do it anymore.
He’d tell him that he hadn’t expected Harry’s stubborn determination, the stress of pretending or the assumptions friends and workmates were making.
Hell, he’d tell him any-damned-thing! Anything but the truth, of course.
Sean wouldn’t mind. And maybe they could put their heads together and come up with some other plan to deal with Sean’s problem.
Beating Harry to a pulp perhaps? That might work.
He trudged up the garden path and mounted the stairs. Maybe once Sean stopped touching him, Viggo could regain control of his licentious thoughts!
Sean’s front door was open and he stopped when he heard voices coming from inside.
“I can’t take much more of this.” Sean was saying.
“Then why don’t you just give up.”
Harry!
Viggo’s fists clenched. Give up, indeed! What did Harry expect Sean to do? Lie back and think of England?!
“I don’t think so.” Sean responded.
Attaboy!
“You’re a stubborn sod, Bean.” Harry was laughing. “But I think it’s time you . . .”
Viggo had heard enough. He took the last two steps in a single bound and stalked into the living room.
“Vig!”
Harry’s head shot around at Sean’s exclamation. He took one look and starting reversing, his hands up.
“Now Viggo . . .” He stammered. “I was just . . .” He shot a panicked look in Sean’s direction. “. . . leaving.”
“Then leave!” Viggo rasped.
Harry gave him a wide berth as he made for the door. His footsteps battered the warped wooden stairs as he flew down them but Viggo didn’t relax until he heard the gate squeak and he turned to find Sean grinning at him.
“My hero!” Sean clasped his hands over his heart and fluttered his eyelashes.
Viggo snorted, a grin creasing his face at Sean’s dramatics.
Sean walked past him and looked out. With a satisfied expression on his face, he closed the door and strolled back to where Viggo stood.
“By Jove, I think you’ve done it!” He proclaimed. “Somehow I get the feeling I’ve just seen the last of Harry.”
Great! If that were true, it meant Viggo wouldn’t have to tell lies. This was good.
“What was he doing here?” Viggo asked. “Apart from the obvious, I mean.”
“He lives just round the corner, Vig. How did you know he was here?”
Viggo shrugged his shoulders. “I heard you talking as I came up the stairs.”
“Oh?” Sean looked tense suddenly.
“Yeah. Telling you to ‘give up’. As if.”
“Umm. Yeah.” Sean scratched the back of his head.
Viggo reassured him. “Did he really expect you would just fall into bed with him? What a dickhead!”
Sean looked relieved. “No. Yeah. Course not. Prat.”
Then his smile grew broad once more. “You are my champion, aren’t ya?”
Before Viggo could manage some modest response, Sean drew him into a great big bear hug.
Pressed tight up against Sean’s hard form and squeezed until he could scarely breathe, Viggo had no chance of coherence and even less chance of escape.
“Umm, Sean? Oxygen?” He gasped, his plea muffled by Sean’s shoulder.
“Aww, Vig. Quit complain’ will ya. It’s just a cuddle.” Sean squeezed even harder.
Cuddle?
Since when did grown men ‘cuddle’?
Whatever happened to good old-fashioned manly hugs?
Nice brief hugs?
Ending like about . . . now?
Please?
Umm.
Sean’s hands rubbing his back sure felt nice. Really nice.
Oh God, no! Down boy!
Okay, danger. He’d have to pull away.
In a second.
Before Sean noticed.
But God it felt nice.
Hands rubbing his back. Cupping his arse.
Cupping his. . .?
Oh. God.
Sean made a soft, ‘Mmm’ noise.
Mmm?
He wasn’t serious?
Oh Lord, he was. Is. Kissing . . . neck.
Mmm.
Oh, fuck it!
Viggo pulled his head back and locked his hands behind Sean’s head, all in one swift move.
Grabbed. Held. Plunged.
Oh. He had forgotten what this was like. Scratchy beard, soft lips and the kind of solidly punishing kiss only another guy can give you.
What the feel of a firm male body was like, rigid and unyielding against you.
Heat and muscle and strong determined fingers, imprinting their need on your flesh. The slow grind and delicious friction of a hard cock rubbing against your own.
Tongues dancing, vying for dominance. Losing, and the exquisite feeling that it releases deep in the pit of your belly as you bare your throat, declaring him the victor.
Oh no, there was nothing else quite like this. How could he have forgotten?
Sean’s mouth moving against his neck. “Yes?”
“Yes.” A throaty whisper is all you can manage now that his clever fingers have found their way beneath the layers of fabric that separate you and are pinching flesh between thumb and forefinger and your spine has melted as a result while your brain has turned to mush.
A soft chuckle greets your response before he assaults you, strong, capable hands tearing at your clothes, peeling layers off, making it skin against skin in the blink of an eye.
And this you remember. Rough hands on the softest of skin, wrapped around it, stroking and tugging and he’s pushing your hand away when you move to reciprocate and you remember that he won and you lost and you’re his to do with what he wills.
Slick and deft and . . . inside. And when did you get horizontal, the rug rubbing against your back as you writhe under his touch?
And is that your voice, moaning in disappointment when his fingers withdraw only to swell into a cry of pure pleasure when he rises over you and slides inside, your resistance to the intrusion almost non-existent?
Oh, fuck and who cares about carpet burn, it’s something to hold onto, hands fisting the rough fabric as your hips rocket skywards.
And he’s thrusting in so deep, making the rug fly across the hardwood floor like a magic carpet. And what a ride!
And you smell sweat and lube and varnish and all of it sticks to your skin, burrowing in the pores of your memory but you can’t even remember your own name, only his, repeated over and over as a mantra. “Sean. Sean. Sean”.
His rough hand curls around your cock and pulls, your balls tighten and explode, spilling your seed across your belly where it sinks beneath the surface to join the rest.
Hoarsely, with ragged breath, he calls your name. Arching his back as he plunges inside one last time and shudders, every muscle tense as he comes. He collapses atop you and then rolls to the side, his hands stroking your cheek, gentle now, no losers here, and you smile and turn to face him.
“Okay?” Sean asks.
Viggo nodded, momentarily too exhausted to offer more.
“Good yeah?” Viggo knows he’s not asking for a performance critique but for confirmation that something just happened.
“Mmm.” Viggo scooted closer and raised a hand, fingers lightly tracing the line of Sean’s jaw. He leaned forward and nuzzled at his throat, tugging the soft growth with his teeth, growling. Pulling back a little, his fingers played with the hair, combing and rearranging.
“What are you doing?” Sean grabbed his hand and stilled it, trapping Viggo’s fingers between his own.
He was patently waiting for his answer and beginning to look a little anxious when none was forthcoming.
Viggo took pity on him. He was done with pretending. He grinned suddenly, eyes twinkling.
“You look good with a beard.” He said.
*
“So?” “So?”
Christ! Stereo!
“Yeah. Umm. Thanks.”
“I knew it!”
Orlando high-fives Harry.
Surprisingly, Harry high-fives him back.
“Details?” Harry asks slyly. But he’s still staring at Orlando.
“Fuck off”!
Sean thinks keeping his promise to Harry might not be too difficult.
After all, Orlando is staring back.
Still, time to reiterate the rules.
“Either of you.”
He raises a finger. Just one finger. Doesn’t need more.
“One word. Not. One. Fucking. Word.”
Two heads shaking in tandem.
“Good. Now why don’t you two run along? And play nice.” This last he aims at Harry.
“Sure.” Orlando looks almost eager. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” He tells him and begins to turn away.
Looks back over his shoulder, a wicked glint in his eyes. Might as well have a little fun.
“Got to trim my beard.” He tells them.
Orlando’s eyes bug. Harry just looks sly.
Oh yeah. They’ll be fine.
*
Fin.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-02-14 02:01 am (UTC)I love your bunnies! *cuddles bunny*
After my totally WEIRD day at work this was just wonderful to come home and read. Happy Valentine's Day! Oh and LOVE your icon! tooo freakin cute!
no subject
Date: 2004-02-14 02:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-14 03:24 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-14 07:16 am (UTC)*laughing*
Date: 2004-02-14 04:04 am (UTC)ROTFL! Aaah, yes. Poor Viggo. Such a hard, hard decision to make. But in the end, it was he the one who got shoved onto, wasn't it? Not that he minds, I think.
Lils.
lethal cuteness
Date: 2004-02-14 06:16 am (UTC)i can't take it anymore... it's just so drop-dead-adorable! mwah! XD
no subject
Date: 2004-02-14 08:00 am (UTC)3/3? No more? *pouts... whines... begs for more*
All of which of course means that I have loved this dearly and it has totally made my week.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-14 09:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-14 11:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-14 12:14 pm (UTC)Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiha! Humor and bickering and sex. Who could ask for more?
no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 05:50 am (UTC)wonderful fic..i truly loved it!
as i'm sure you know by now!