rugbytackle | You only tell me you love me when you are drunk

TITLE: You only tell me you love me when you are drunk
AUTHOR: Sadness1986
PAIRING: SB/ VM
RATING: NC-17
WARNING: porn with plot..., yes over 1500 words smut...
DISCLAIMER: It's fiction.
SUMMARY: "Strange", Sean thinks, "so different."
Lips soft and scratchy stubble. Hands gentle but strong, as strong as his. The body under him muscular and solid, no soft curves, just edges meeting his own.
This scent. Bittersweetness covered in musk.
NOTES: For widdershin, because I'm so in love with her series...

"Strange", Sean thinks, "so different."
Lips soft and scratchy stubble. Hands gentle but strong, as strong as his own. The body under him muscular and solid, no soft curves, just edges meeting his own.
This scent. Bittersweetness covered in musk.
"Sean...", that voice so soft but raspy and slender thighs parting for him, "Please..."
He hesitates and kisses sweat-slick skin. Pale bronze and smooth.
Kisses.
Forehead. Insides of upper arms. Hipbones. Knee-bends.
Writhing, moaning under his ministrations.
His hands explore the trembling form sprawled on the white sheets.
Hair. Silky, long, sweet scented strands on the pillow, slightly damp with sweat, prickling stubble, furry chest, abs, trail of hair down from the navel, down to dark curls.
Fragile, pulsing hardness resting on the muscular belly, his fingertips brush it accidentally.
Soft whimpers and needy little sounds as response.
A litany of pleas as he parts quivering thighs, lets his hands slide under a firm ass, lifting slim hips, thumbs parting the cheeks.
"Very different", he remarks mentally and smirks as he leans in, his hot breath touching the exposed tight little pucker. The whole body arches like a bow.
His tongue-tip darts out, touching, just barely touching. Hips bucking so hard, that he has to use all his strength to hold them still.
Sean confidently licks at the tight entrance, then finally pushing in.
A hoarse cry shatters on the walls, paint-splattered artist hands gripping white knuckled satin sheets as he tongue-fucks this squirming body, slowly, deeply, nastily.
Such sweet moans, even sobs mingling with them.
A broken little gasp and he is pushed out by the clenching insides of this being tumbling towards ecstasy, then becoming pliable in the limpness of aftermath.
His gaze drifts to a flushed face, dark sweaty strands cling to angular cheekbones, eyes clouded, slowly focusing, lips moist and slightly open.
Suddenly Sean's aware of his own painful arousal, his brain drugged by the heavy scent rising from hot, pale-bronze skin, by its taste and feel under his fingertips, working again.
"Want you", his own voice is roughened and needy.
The reply is a soft smile and the body under his tries to roll over. But he stops it with a firm grip on hard hipbones, that seem to fit perfectly into his hands and slides between irritated thighs, facing pure beauty. Tenderly he traces the hard planes of chiselled features.
So serene and he dares to lean down, questioning silently for a kiss.
Those amazing eyes close and lips part for him. Sweet, so sweet they taste.
Breathlessly Sean asks for lube.
This little voice replies: "It's okay like this..."
Sean shakes his head and an elegant artist hand fumbles through the night-stand, finally handing him a small bottle.
Sean quickly lubes himself and carefully pushes a slick finger into the relaxed tightness, adds two more, stretching it before guiding himself in, breathing the little gasp, that escapes from moist lips with a kiss.
He smoothly slides into the still perfectly sated, still body, all the way in, but slowly, tantalising slowly. Still so tight. He moans softly and remembers to reach for the spent, soft cock, coaxing it to hardness again.
Whimpers break the half-silence, still too oversensitive.
Sean gently rolls his hips, searching the right angle, finding it and finally exhaustion is forgotten and he's got a writhing body beneath his own again.
"Like a dance", he thinks, "Perfectly synchronised in rhythm and pace."
It's bliss, white and pure as powerful muscles lock, whole body arching, quivering, tightening almost painful.
He stays perfectly still, wide-eyed, alcohol-numbed, watching mesmerised, how waves of orgasms tear through his lover, shaking the sweat-glistening body like a rag-doll. Stormy grey-blue eyes cloud over into midnight-blue, losing focus.
Spasms rack through the lean frame, hard-muscled thighs hold him in place.
Sean's unable to move, unable to make a sound, just feels this viselike incredible tightness, feels cum splattering against his belly, then his vision is drowned into pure white behind his eyes, then darkness claims him.
As he opens his eyes again, he can't tell, how long he'd been unconscious, but the sweat has chilled his skin and he can't help but shiver at the contrast of cold to the searing heat beneath him.
He's still deeply buried in his lover's body, his brain still alcohol-fogged and for a moment he struggles with remembering, how exactly he got there, but then he decides to hell with it, this feels just too good.
Sleepily he nuzzles the broad chest under his cheek, listens to the strong and steady heartbeat. Then a nipple appears in his view. With a wicked grin he approaches it, licks it, enjoys the squirming, sucks it gently and he is lifted with the elegant arch of the spine.
Feels muscles locking and tightening and he hardens again.
A gasp and wide eyes search his in shock, wet strands clinging to a sweaty forehead and sharp cheekbones, skin glistening in the moonlight.
"Beautiful...", he whispers and thinks, "More beautiful than a man should be."
His fingertips ghost over quivering thighs, trailing down their sensitive insides to the place, where their bodies join, gently caressing the tight ring of muscle pierced by his cock.
The reaction is violent: slim hips bucking, a moan escaping between moist lips. He feels soft pulsing pressure building and pressing against his belly.
A broken sob shatters on Sean's skin and he purrs: "Beautiful..."
Cups a cute little ass, squeezes, feels its tautness, but doesn't stop the wiggling, fucking itself in slow small circling movements on him.
He leans down, claims luscious lips with a kiss, embracing the lean body and strong arms wrap around him as he mimics the slow sweet things in this delicious mouth, his cock does to the other orifice, with his tongue.
Rising into a sitting position, Sean cradles the shivering body in his arms, nuzzles soft, sweat-dripping strands of long hair, hipbones fitting too perfectly into his hands, guiding a gentle pace.
Hot breath tickling Sean's ear, they are clinging to each other and time stretches into an endless nothing.
Suddenly the body in Sean's arms, at Sean's mercy, tenses in a different way, saying, that it is too much, thighs quivering painfully in exhaustion.
"Can't", protest is uttered, "Can't... anymore... I... am...getting...sore..."
Sean carefully leans forward, lies his lover down on his back, withdraws. But elegant artist hands claw at him.
"Don't... Stop... Please... Feels... so... good... Marvellous...", soft little voice, so beautifully wanton and desperate.
"Patience, luv...", he mutters and reaches for the discarded bottle of lube and the room spins as he leans forward. Still drunk, explains his incredible stamina. Sean chuckles and grabs the small bottle.
Looking at his sprawled lover, he smiles, as he notices the squirming, the lust-fogged eyes, the flush...
Lubing the tight passage and himself quickly, he loses no time to slide home again with a soft moan. A weak cry meets his invasion and he sets a nice slow pace.
Unable to move anymore the beauty beneath him just lies pliable sprawled on the already soiled sheets, even to weak and too exhausted to claw at him anymore.
But whispers break through the wall of white teeth, pleas, lashes flutter like butterfly wings, then tears roll down on the pillow, in frustration, the oversensitive body seeks release, demands it fiercely with waves of pleasure intense enough to hurt.
Kept on the edge to overload for what seems eternities, all self-control crumbles to dust and weak cries of: "Please let me come, please..." resound in the silent bedroom.
Sean's body reactions are still reduced to some strange pleasurable buzz, but the sight of his crying lover causes him to take pity.
Draping long legs over his shoulders, he changes the angle and his lover demands: "Harder."
He does so with a smile, his eyes never leaving the beautiful serene head tossing on the damp pillow.
"Yes, just like this, it's incredible...", is the reply, then drowns in incoherence with a cry and Sean finds his own release in the painfully clenching depth of his lover, who arches up one last time before collapsing and passing out.
He finally withdraws, searching for something to clean them, takes a boxer-short, that lay next to the bed, throws it into the dark again.
He looks at the sprawled, limp form of his lover.
Well-honed, but delicate, frail, but sinewy.
His face so serene, so peaceful. Nothing fierce about him, he looks so young, almost boyish, innocent, untouched by Sean's sinner's hands.
Sean lies down again and the man curls immediately into his embrace, head resting on his shoulder.

"I love, Viggo, love you so much, love you like a never loved somebody before", he whispers into ruffled strands of long hair, confesses to the dark, what he never could say in the light of day, while looking into Viggo's beautiful eyes, being perfectly sober.
It was their first time together born of a drunken wrestling match for the remote of the TV and Sean cries, cries for the first time since years, cries for real, not for a role and soft lips kiss his tears away and shining blue eyes ban darkness forever from his life.
"I love you, too", Viggo whispers sleepily and Sean hugs him fiercely, maybe too fierce, but Viggo doesn't mind, just drowsily plants kisses all over his face.