Fic: Thanking the Cook
Nov. 30th, 2004 10:21 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
irrlicht74.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rugbytackleTitle: Thanking the Cook
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
afra_schatz & irrlicht74
Pairing: SB/VM
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Um...Sean comes home after he’s been a few weeks away? I’m not good at this, really...
Warnings: PWP. This was written as a roleplay (so don’t get confused by alternating POV’s). But I think you’re used to that, because I’m sure you’ve read the wonderful “Gamekeeper/Blouseman” series. ;)
Notes: This is for all you talented slash writers, who are so kind to share their fiction with us. But especially formoldava and liars_dance who are so damn inspiring! Thank you for creating the “Walker/Mellors” universe. :) And of course for my very dear friend sairalinde. Hope everything’s alright with you, sweetie. And...buttered potatoes or tomatoes, where’s the difference? *lol* And for shrinetolust. Just because. ;)
Disclaimer: All made up. Not making money with it. Yaddayadda...
Archive: www.Rugbytackling.com, others please ask first
Beta:lorielen Thank you so much for your time and the patience. *huggles you*
Thanking the Cook
Sean was whistling when he strolled up the gravel walk to the house, thankful that he was so unmusical that he couldn't hear his own lack of tune. Would somewhat spoil the happiness that had led to the whistling in the first place, wouldn't it?
He loved his job - except for the endless hours in make up and those bloody wigs maybe - but that didn't keep him from smiling broadly (and only barely being able to not hop down the drive way in anticipation) every time he finally got a chance to come home to his garden, his kitchen with his favourite beer in the fridge, his bed with the freshest white sheets.
So, he was still whistling when he opened the door and only stopped when the faint smell of food found him on the hallway.
Raising one eyebrow he kicked the door shut and called down the hallway: "I don't remember employing a chef before I left!"
Viggo smiled as he heard the footsteps and the unmusical whistling of his lover in the hallway.
He had often told Sean that every cat on earth could produce more melodic tones than he, Sean, did, but Sean had just laughed and ruffled Viggo’s hair as if that was something so unimportant he didn’t even bother to get angry.
And, of course, it was. Sean could whistle as unmelodically as he liked, as long as he didn’t stop ruffling Viggo’s hair like that, touching him and telling him with every movement and every single look of those amazing, emerald eyes that he was still in love with him.
Viggo arched an eyebrow when Sean entered the kitchen.
"So... Does that mean you’re not hungry and that I’m supposed to throw allthat," he pointed at the table, "away? Or give it to the poor and needy, perhaps?“
Sean chuckled, leaning against the doorframe.
"Am I supposed to make a joke about the 'needy' part now, Vig?"
Of course he was gonna eat and love the food, it smelled so delicious that Sean couldn't help but come closer and stick his index finger right into one of the bowls on the table and lick it, even before he had kissed Viggo hello.
He hummed his appreciation and with a popping sound released his finger from his lips.
"Of course I'm bleedin' peckish," a smirk appeared on his face along with little dimples around his eyes, “'m just saying that since you don't have a contract with me, I don't necessarily have to pay you, do I?"
And the finger went back into the deliciously tasting sauce once again, though this time accompanied by Sean eyeing Viggo, not the food, hungrily.
Viggo took two slow, almost lazy steps until he stood right in front of Sean. Cerulean met emerald.
"Right", murmured Viggo, so low it was barely a whisper. "You don’t have to pay me for anything. Which is good, ‘cause you couldn’t afford me anyway...“
He could feel Sean holding his breath. Good.
"But... " Without taking his eyes off Sean, Viggo reached for the wrist of Sean’s hand that was still sticking into the sauce bowl. "Maybe we should discuss that ‘needy part’ a little more... intensively? "
With that he raised Sean’s hand to his lips and sucked the sauce covered index finger into his mouth. The small gasp emanating from Sean’s lips was music to his ears. Viggo took his time licking Sean’s finger clean and released it with a last, playful swirl of his tongue.
Then he asked innocently: "Don’t you think?"
'Don't you think?' echoed in Sean's brain and the few braincells still working pointed out that he bloody well could not think when Viggo was sucking his finger into his mouth...
He allowed himself to get lost in Viggo's eyes for yet another moment and wondered how he could have made it to be a quite respected actor, if he had no self control whatsoever - all it took for him to fall apart was Viggo looking at him from under lowered eyelashes. Then he remembered that this was exactly the reason why he spent his time filming the "Fellowship" with a constant hard on - ah, memories. Only problem with that was that he kept missing his prompt. Like now. Fuck.
Shaking his head slightly, Sean returned to the kitchen and got at least some of his wit back.
"Yea, let's discuss that, oh unaffordable one." He agreed and rubbed his nose with one of the nine remaining dry fingers, "What does it say about you that you cook for me only to forget all about said food the minute I come home?"
Viggo grinned.
"It says that I’ve been waiting very, very impatiently for you to come. – Home, that is. "
Then he laughed softly at the expression on Sean’s face, stepped forward and breathed a small kiss on his lover’s neck. On this particular, sensitive spot just a little below his earlobe.
"By the way, you haven’t greeted me properly up until now. " Viggo pouted a little. "Where’s my ‘darling-I’m-home’-kiss, hm? "
Smiling, he turned away to fetch the cutlery he didn’t have the time yet to lay on the table, leaving Sean to whatever he was thinking and/or feeling now. Viggo just loved to tease Sean! Sometimes it had pretty...well...unexpected results...
"Darling I'm home kiss?" Sean smirked and crossed his arms over his chest, "You actually have names for different types of kisses? Wait, stupid question, of course you do, you are you." Which equaled 'quite bonkers' in this case, obviously.
Since they already seemed to be in some kind of 'old married couple' routine, he really wouldn't mind having a beer while he was doing nothing but leering - how very thoughtful of Vig not to go round the table, but reach over, bending ever so nicely for Sean to watch.
The Brit stepped closer and soundly slapped Viggo on his butt.
"Darling-I'm-home-bottom-patting. Far more original and heartfelt anyway." He left his hand where it was.
Viggo turned his head slowly, staring unbelievingly at Sean.
"Darling-I’m-home-bottom-patting??? "
It sounded almost accusing. Sean grinned and patted Viggo’s butt some more. Viggo blinked. Once. Twice. More original and heartfelt, hm...Yeah, right. The more he thought about it the more he had to agree with Sean. This really felt more like something his friend and lover would do, rather than kissing Viggo’s cheek like George Parker would have done in "Pleasantville".
Viggo shrugged mentally and wriggled his butt a little, still teasing somehow. The evening had, after all, just begun.
"Okay. " He almost purred. "This is something I can get used to. "
Sean didn't even try to suppress the huge grin appearing on his face, and the way Viggo looked at him he knew it was one of the ones labelled as “maniac”.
Vig's own fault, really, since he was the one turning Sean completely incoherent all the time and should've expected some revenge sooner or later.
While he was still busy with grinning and bottom-patting (TM), his brain already started thinking about new ways to make Viggo look so endearingly indignant again - not an easy task, regarding the fact that, up to walking into the supermarket with nothing on but body paint, there was practically nothing that the Dane thought embarrassing in the first place. Ah well, some other time then.
Still smiling he cupped Viggo's face with his palms and placed a sloppy wet kiss onto the other man's lips. "'s good to be home. What's for dinner?"
"Dunno", Viggo answered, rubbing his nose grinning against Sean’s. "But I can tell you who’s for desert. What’s for desert, I meant."
He laughed and took a small step back. "Just kidding. Since you seem to have developed a strong preference for buttered tomatoes lately it’s part of today’s meal. And we have salad and potatoes, too. AND", Viggo added with a little smile when he saw the dawning disappointment on Sean’s handsome face, "of course, we have a few steaks, too. I could never allow you to die of malnutrition. "
Sean's left hand closed around his right wrist behind Viggo's back, locking the other man in his embrace, and he was still chuckling (Gods, he loved Viggo's sense of humour about as much as he loved Viggo's hands. And he worshipped those hands, elegant, smooth and skilful, he would write poems about them. If he was into poetry, that is. Anyway...).
He refused to let go, even when the other man took a small step backwards, but listened closely to the chef presenting the menu. Good to know that his pouting skills still earned him a decent steak.
"Mmm, sounds delicious," he answered, and with a playful tone to his lowered voice he added. "Perhaps I should thank the cook in advance, aye?" He leaned in closer and his lips ghosted ever so lightly over Viggo's beloved familiar mouth.
Viggo purred, but murmured.
"Is that your way of thanking the cook, hm?" He closed his eyes as he bit Sean’s lower lip softly then nibbled a little at the corner of his mouth. "Thank me properly or maybe next time I’ll remember that your thankfulness in advance isn’t even worth the butter on the tomatoes."
Viggo kept his tone playful, too. He didn’t want to hurt Sean. He never would. Sean was the best thing that had ever happened to him and there was no person in the world that meant more to him than this sexy, attractive, stubborn, sometimes a little rough, but always affectionate, green-eyed Brit.
He put his arms around Sean’s neck and leaned into his well-shaped body. Viggo sighed softly. He would never tire to look into Sean’s eyes. Never ever.
Sean pulled back a little, a smirk on his lips only partly hidden by his tongue licking the corner of his mouth.
"Thanking you properly? My, Vig, the food would be cold the time I've finished and wouldn't that be a waste?"
He brought one of his hands up to stroke over Viggo's hair while the other was still resting at the small of the other man's back. Lingering one more moment to just look at Viggo after his far too long time of absence, his eyes fixed the dinner table and added. "And I suppose I shall need my strength for all the events you have planned for tonight, won't I. Plus, the flight was sapping and they didn't even give me a decent flick to watch." He grinned "Did I mention that I hate flying?"
Despite of Sean’s grinning Viggo became a little concerned immediately.
"Of course," he said. " ‘m sorry, love. I’m sure the flight was dreadful for you. You must be tired."
How selfish of him to assault Sean like that when he barely had entered the house. He knew perfectly well how much his lover hated to fly and how long the flight had been. He should’ve minded that instead of acting like a hormone-slaved teenager.
He planted a last light kiss on Sean’s soft lips then said: "Let’s eat. And when we’re finished you can rest a little upstairs while I’m doing the washing-up if you like. How does that sound?"
It seemed odd to Sean that an American would use this kind of nick name, but Vig talked to the very British little part of his heart, reducing him to a puddle of mush simply by calling him 'love' so casually. Sean tilted his head and his accent thickened a little.
"Ye're daft sometimes, know that? Why would I wanna spend time anywhere but close to you whenever I can?"
His smile was nothing but loving and gentle, but the Northern upbringing took its toll in the end and simply refused him to sound like an utter sap, and he had to add with a smirk and a wink, "I'll stay and watch you cleaning up."
His thumb stroked gently over Viggo's cheekbone once, before Sean pulled back and sat down at the table. "How's your day then?"
"Getting better every second."
Viggo sounded a little ironic, but the twinkle in the corner of his eyes belied his words. Sean was home and that was all he needed at present. He joined Sean at the table and they began to eat.
Replying to another question of Sean, Viggo added that he had spent his time painting all day and gave Sean the well-meant advice not to visit the loft for the next few...well, weeks actually. Viggo just loved to paint. He could’ve spent ages with painting, but cleaning-up afterwards wasn’t really his cup of tea, because...Well, maybe he happened to get an inspiration for a brilliant picture and then nothing was ready! No. It was better to leave all the colours and brushes and canvas’ where they were. Just in case.
But knowing that Sean tended to be a more...erm...orderly person than he was, he regarded that and gave Sean a little warning.
Sean chewed on his steak happily and used the cutlery in his hands to accompany his words with gestures. His fork (licked clean) was pointing at Viggo as he investigated.
"Painting, really? Does that mean I can still find traces of various colours smeared all over your body as usual or did you possibly behave yourself to some extent this time?" He smiled innocently as if Viggo was the only one who got carried away from time to time.
The single raised eyebrow of the Dane indicated though, that Viggo was thinking of the numerous times Sean had reappeared from his garden covered in mud, grinning like a two year old after playing in a puddle.
Sean's smile turned into a boyish grin as he surrendered to Viggo's stare.
"Never said I'd mind, did I. Makes you just as precious and unique as your art." Yea, as if Vig needed additional paint for that.
"So...I’m allowed to go on like that? To leave my painting stuff wherever it is? And you wouldn’t mind? "
Viggo knew perfectly well that Sean hadn’t meant it like that, but he just loved the short shocked expression on the Brit’s face, vanished as fast as it came up. Sean put the cutlery down. Slowly.
Viggo chuckled. "Relax, Hon! Just teasing. I promise to restrict everything that has to do with my...artistic impulses to the loft. And to clean it up – from time to time." He smiled broadly. "Whatever makes you happy makes me happy. But I need a little more space now that we’re dating obviously more regularly, don’t you think? I mean, hey! Back home in the States I have a house to sow my wild oates, so to speak."
"Dating more regularly?", Sean chuckled good naturedly. "You could call it like that. I'd have said 'you taking over reign completely', but you are the poet with the correct words at hand at any time. Though," he took another sip of beer, "my phrasing would include me having to call you 'your royal highness'."
He waggled his eyebrows and stood up, taking his and Vig's plate to the sink. Concentrating on not scalding his hands with the water for rinsing he added with an almost too casual tone to his voice. "And you can have all the space you need, you know that. As long as this doesn't involve me accidentally brushing my teeth with umbra No.5 or find brushes poking me - somewhere."
Bollocks, there was definitely too much washing-up liquid in there, the dishes had disappeared completely... "You think you could paint me some naked lasses in compromising positions onto the bedroom wall?"
At that point Viggo was just about to burst into laughter, but managed somehow to control himself. He joined Sean at the sink, bringing two bowls with him. (Why and how did they always manage to leave one single tomato in it? Or potato? Anything? One should mean two grown up men like them would’ve been able to eat it instead of throwing it away, but no! There must be a kind of cosmic law that read: “You always have to leave one piece of food over in your bowls, pans, pots, whatever!”)
"Ya know, I can paint you anything anywhere, but I’d rather paint on your naked skin." He turned his head so he could look Sean right into his sparkling green eyes and tilted it a little to the left. "And if it’s lasses that your heart or...whatever...desires, I’ll paint that, too. But excuse me, that the idea of you being poked by one of my brushes in one or some...certain places has something...yes, ridiculous, but arousing also."
The look Sean gave Viggo was nothing short of horrified before he howled with laughter and had to steady himself, both of his foam covered hands on either side of the sink. Tears were running down his cheeks and it didn't help at all that Viggo was looking at him completely straight faced, if anything with a patient look in his eyes.
The Brit pulled himself together eventually and shook his head: "'m sorry, love, but you do remember that I'm ticklish as fuck, right? So, unless you want me squealing like," it took him only the fraction of a second to come up with the perfect comparison, "Orli, you will keep your brushes as far away from the bed as possible."
He dried his hands with a towel and saw his job - hiding all the dirty stuff under mountains of foam - done. Cleaning his watch with a thumb, he considered the time and looked at Viggo expectantly. “Got any further plans for tonight?"
Viggo blinked slowly, almost cat-like.
"You mean aside from shaggin’ each other’s brains out? Not really, no. But if you want to do something else or perhaps go somewhere else – taking a shower maybe? – before, go ahead! I don’t mind. I’m game for everything."
He smirked at the expression on Sean’s face and took over where his lover had ended: he stuck his hands in the now only lukewarm water and began to wash the dishes, like he had promised before.
It took Sean a few seconds to remember to shut his mouth - jaw hanging open in indignation. Okay, he was tired and looked somewhat... roughened up from the flight, but that Viggo dared to mention shagging in one sentence and start to clean the bleeding kitchen - well, he hadn't played bad guys for nothing and his revenge would be (he smirked inwardly) inventive.
He tilted his head, and regarded his victim with a professional look. Slightly bent over the sink and leaving his back completely without cover. How very, very careless.
Sean licked his lips and stepped close, invading Viggo's personal space shamelessly by pressing him against the counter and rubbing his nose against the other man's neck. His tongue darted out to lick a wet path along the tiny blond hairs there, along the rim of the other man's T-Shirt, before he bit down lightly, teeth scratching over sensitive skin.
He pulled away as suddenly as he had leaned in and said matter-of-factly: "I'm gonna take a shower then. Happy rinsing, mate."
Viggo heard Sean leaving the kitchen and only then allowed himself to gasp for air.
Hells. Bells.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. He was sure his body would remember how to do that alone in a few seconds, but up until then...
For a moment Viggo steadied himself by putting his hands on the rim of the sink, and closed his eyes. He could still feel the warm, seductive wetness of Sean’s tongue on his neck and shoulders, his soft breath touching the sensitive skin... Bastard!
Although Viggo knew he had had it coming, he just couldn’t believe that Sean was so cold-blooded as to do a thing like that! To just light him up like a match and then – to keep with the metaphor – throw him into a puddle of rain-water. Then again...This was Sean. Of course he was.
Inhale. Exhale.
Well...The evening had just started, right? Viggo was sure he would find a way to make Sean regret this...episode. – At least a little. Smiling, he continued rinsing.
Sean whistled again, heading for the bathroom, and he tapped the melody in his head onto the wooden banister as he climbed up the stairs. Life was good, hell, he was good. He snickered, ruining the already wavering tone completely.
Leaving the bathroom door open he began to undress, discarding his clothes all over the bathroom floor. Only when he was finished and naked, he kicked them into one corner to form a not-so-neat little pile there. He stood in front of the mirror and regarded the state of his beard and discounted shaving as a stupid waste of time.
His fingers now where tapping onto the ceramics of the sink, melody replaced by a somewhat impatient rhythm. With his tongue literally and metaphorically in his cheek he contemplated that Viggo indeed was still rumbling in the kitchen and not on his way to the bathroom. Looking at his own face in the mirror, he sighed in an overly dramatic manner: "Bastard."
Smiling, he stepped into the shower.
When Viggo had finished cleaning-up the kitchen he climbed up the stairs and went to the bathroom.
Even from afar he could hear that Sean was still under the shower. Jeez, this man needed time for showering others wouldn’t have wasted on taking a full-bath. Not that Viggo was neglectful, but hey! Two hours spent in the bathroom for taking a shower? Lord!
Anyway...
Viggo could hear Sean singing. Well, at least what Sean thought was singing. Viggo opened the door not bothering with trying to be silent. The running water deadened his movements anyway.
The bathroom was so damp-screened he could hardly see a thing, but Viggo didn’t need to see something to find his way to the bathtub that stood right next to the shower cabin.
Carefully he balanced on the rim of the bathtub and lifted the bucket he brought with him slowly above the rim of the shower cabin.
When Sean turned the water off Viggo tipped the bucket over and listened a little satisfied to Sean’s yelp when a flood of icecold water hit his body.
"So?" Viggo asked putting down the bucket. "How does it feel to be left standing alone in the cold? – And before you come out to kill me: contrast showers are said to be very healthy."
Sean gasped, running his free hand through his wet hair and when he looked up at Viggo, tiny droplets of (bleeding ice-cold) water dripped down his chin. Judging by the suddenly appearing far-away-look on Viggo's face, the other man found something arty even in this. But however much Sean normally loved watching Viggo getting all artistic, now was definitely not the time for that.
Even though the Dane was still standing on the rim of the bathtub and therefore was much taller than Sean himself, the Brit managed to stare him down. His eyes narrowed (though the effect was somewhat ruined by having to blink waterdroplets away repeatedly) and with a dangerously controlled tone to his voice he replied: "Contrast showers will prove to be extremely unhealthy. For you."
The look on his face not giving away anything, he turnedthe water on again and directed the shower head, that had been resting in his right hand, upwards, aiming it right at Viggo's head.
Plus, he resumed the singing: "And we marched into Lisbon proud Wellington's army, the war being over it's homeward we're bound..."
Viggo, completely lost in his artistic contemplations, gasped and gurgled as the water hit him right in the face.
With a squealing sound that would've done Orlando credit he reached for the rim of the shower cabin as he lost balance.
But he reached into the empty and saw himself dead already by breaking his neck, when Sean's strong hand gripped his and steadied him.
With a loud thud the showerhead dropped onto the tiled floor and water sprayed up Sean's naked body as the Brit's hand reflexively let go and reached for Viggo's wrist. He saw his knuckles turning white for he gripped so hard and his voice was full with fear-imposed anger as he said: "Bloody hell, are you still trying to be funny? Cause you scared me to death, you sod!"
He stopped the waterflow with a furious push of his palm onto the handle and stepped out of the shower, refusing to let go of Viggo's hand for as long as possible. Standing naked in the middle of the bathroom, he grabbed Viggo's elbow and helped the still somewhat wavering man down to the floor.
"Arsehole.", he grumbled, eyebrows still knitted together in a deep frown, before he pulled Viggo into a crushing hug, refusing to let go even though he got the other man wet all over.
Viggo didn’t care. Not for a split second. He cuddled closer to Sean’s naked, warm, wet body and nestled his head against his lover’s shoulder.
" ‘m sorry, love.", he murmured (no matter how unusual this was for Americans). Jeez! He had scared himself! "Didn’t mean to, I swear. Just lost balance."
It felt incredibly good to hold Sean and to be held by him like that. Viggo sighed contently and stroked the Brit’s back tenderly.
He was with Sean. He was safe. Everything was alright.
Sean felt his own heart thudding hard and fast against the inside of his chest and through the wet fabric of Viggo's shirt he could also feel the other man's heartbeat, as increased as his own.
Last time he had been that scared had been when he - back home in England - couldn't reach Viggo on his mobile in New Zealand and, worried, had called Orlando to ask about Vig's whereabouts. The fellow Brit had told him that Viggo had had an accident during filming, nearly drowned in the river, and was in the hospital over night, safe and sound. Sean hadn't slept all night and Viggo had been absolutely furious with Orlando for telling him in the first place, if only because from that time on Sean had behaved like an overprotective motherhen...
It had been worse that last time, because he couldn't hold Viggo close to him, assuring himself that indeed everything was fine, he had had to trust the other man's voice on the phone alone.
So, Sean still refused to let go, closed his eyes at the feeling of Viggo's palms on his back, at the light scratching of Viggo's stubble against his shoulder and felt his heartbeat return to a normal pace, beating in consonance with Viggo's.
Viggo sighed inwardly. Suddenly he had the strange feeling to know exactly what Sean was thinking about. Fuck! Short after that... unfortunate incident on set in New Zealand he’d had nearly no time to spend it all by himself, because Sean – loving, caring and unfounded concerned as he was – couldn’t be forced to budge from his side, not even by all wild horses in the whole wide fucking world!
And every time something like this ‘almost-falling-from-a-bathtub-rim’ happened Viggo could see the same fear in Sean’s eyes he had heard in his voice back then in New Zealand and he couldn’t find any way to calm him, to just convince him that he wouldn’t die just like that, to... whatever. And to make it all worse: before almost breaking his neck by falling from a bathtub, Sean had had relaxed. He’d had nearly made it to not watching every single one of Viggo’s steps so closely that one could’ve got the impression that he, Sean, was afraid that Viggo would turn into a second but much older Orlando ‘No-danger-is-dangerous-enough’ Bloom.
And now?
Viggo sighed again. Maybe they were right at the beginning again. Well...
He patted Sean’s (firm and of course perfect shaped) buttocks slightly and said: "Don’t do that again, okay? It’s not like New Zealand at all. And shit like this just happens once in a while. Christ, Sean, you almost killed me eight months ago when you cut your hand with this fucking pair of pruning-shears so deep that I feared you would bleed to death right there at my feet. But I’ve never asked you to give up on gardening, have I? "
Sean pulled back a little, a small frown appearing on his face. He perfectly well heard the seriousness in Viggo's tone (comes from practically learning everything Viggo had ever said to him by heart, he reckoned). Okay, aye, he was the pest when he fussed, he knew that himself, ta. And aye, Viggo was completely right - and even if the other
man surely wouldn't like to hear that, Sean thought him much less crazy than it might seem.
So, his tone was almost apologetic, even if his words seemed to resume their normal bantering: "Did I ever ask you to avoid contact with water?"
A smile appeared on the Dane's lips, but it didn't reach his eyes which were still looking at him with all too much seriousness, so that Sean had to look away, before he muttered: "Aye, aye, I won't treat you like an infant anymore." Slightly more silently he added: "Just can't help being worried at times."
"And I do so love you for it, " Viggo replied softly, brushed a kiss on his lips, brought one hand up and stroked his cheek tenderly. "It shows that you love me, too, and that you care for me and that I’m not completely unimportant to you. But don’t fence me in. Please, Sean. I need a certain degree of freedom. I know that I worry – and even scare – you sometimes, but I don’t do this by intent and, of course, I’m very sorry about that, too. But the way you’re... guarding me from time to time makes me feel restricted. And that’ll be my death one day. Look, hon, why don’t we make a compromise here? I promise to avoid any risk as much as possible and you promise that you just won’t go berserk every time I cut my finger while peeling potatoes or such, okay? "
He smiled lovingly and kissed Sean again.
Sean inwardly thanked Viggo for kissing him right now - aside from the fact that kissing Viggo always was a wonderful thing to do, now it also gave him a moment to figure out what to answer.
Normal people might have a problem with having a serious conversation while one of the parties was completely stalkers. Sean himself, not giving a damn about the nakedness, had issues with problem-talk as such. He tended to phrase things completely wrong when he felt the least bit cornered, so even when he wanted to give in, discussions frequently ended with him shouting and throwing objects.
He knew that Viggo felt the slight reservation in his kiss that came from still not having sussed out what to say, and reluctantly he pulled back to look at the other man.
He knew he could have apologised and really mean it for the moment, but feel dishonest somehow because worrying was what he did. He knew he could've made a joke out of it, about ways of keeping Viggo too occupied to get himself hurt ever again. But he didn't trust his mouth right now, so he just kept looking at Viggo, contemplative, unsure and tender.
"I love you.", he said quietly and without averting his gaze.
Viggo was just about to ask: "But?", because there was definitely a "but" in Sean’s words, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. It didn’t matter, anyway. Whatever ‘but’s’ or ’when’s‘ there were, this was as close to a compromise as he’d ever get with Sean and he knew it.
In the worst case he would have to fight for his piece of personal freedom with Sean like he had done the past few years, because leaving Sean was completely beyond question!
However hard their arguments had been – and even would be in the future – it had never crossed Viggo’s mind to give all that up and to live without Sean. He had never ever even considered it, because this was just no option at all.
So he just smiled at Sean and said: "I know."
Sean returned the smile, a small, almost private curving of his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, that was all.
Dimensions from them roaring and almost strangling the other (even if it was only an argument about who was to have the last pudding, which had set something like that off the last time...), only to end up having first wild and then tender make up sex minutes after. It was like they had skipped the strange foreplay and went straight to the tenderness, something Sean really didn't object to at all, mind you.
His eyes lingered at the curve of Viggo's mouth, symmetry slightly interrupted by the faint scar on his upper lip, and the Brit's own smile broadened as he thought about Viggo shivering when Sean licked said scar.
Letting his gaze drop, he regarded Viggo's shirt, damp from the shower water, and pointed out the obvious: "Ye're wet all over."
Viggo chuckled good-naturedly and so Sean added in a playful tone, while tugging at the fabric: "Didn't your Mom teach you to undress before washing yerself?"
"No," the Dane replied letting Sean tug the shirt over his head just to see it sent flying through the room onto the small pile Sean had created earlier with his own clothes. "She said she doesn’t need to anymore now that I have you."
Viggo bent over to peel off his jeans as well, what earned him a clapping slap on the butt. Well, he should’ve known.
"Ouch. Hey!" he shouted, pretending to be angry as he almost lost balance – again. Thank God he was standing on the floor right now and not on the rim anymore. "We’re not into spanking now, are we?"
He was only partly joking. He loved Sean more than life itself and he was game for pretty much everything, but there were lines he wouldn’t cross for anyone.
Sean thought it Viggo's own fault - if he didn't want to have his butt slapped playfully, he shouldn't very well have such a perfect arse in the first place, right? Sean was the helpless victim here, not vice-versa.
Still, he put a high dose of compassion into his tone as he replied: "'m sorry, love, did that hurt too much?"
Okay, the batting of eyelashes might have been too much and a dead giveaway that he was teasing, but since Vig still was struggling with his pants, he didn't see it anyway.
Still, Viggo looked over his shoulder with an arched eyebrow and Sean felt obliged to add: "Here, let me make it better."
With that he lowered himself to his knees (tiles were bleeding cold, he should seriously consider having floor heating installed in his house) and soundly placed two kisses onto Viggo's butt. "Already healing?"
The look Viggo threw him through his slightly parted legs must’ve been somewhere between utter disbelief and mild surprise, because that was exactly how Viggo felt right now. Had Sean done that? Really??
He saw Sean grinning like a Cheshire cat, smug and content, eyes shining, and he just couldn’t help laughing.
Sean adored Vig when he was laughing, that low chuckling with a hint of a giggle (which the Dane constantly denied was there) left Sean feeling drunk with happiness every time.
He stood back up, oh-so-accidentally brushing along Viggo's side and waited patiently until the other man had won the struggle with his jeans.
"So, oh survivor of the great pant war," he grinned, "you want to shower properly now?"
He tilted his head and when Viggo stood upright in front of him (bloody finally) the tips of the Brit's fingers lightly danced over the firm muscles of the other man's upper arm. "Want me to wash your back?"
Sometimes Viggo thought there could not possibly be anything more sexy in the world than Sean tilting his head. It always made him want to let go all of his – sometimes alarmingly low-levelled – self-control and to just... snuggle Sean to death! And to do some other things as well, of course.
He brought up his hands to Sean’s nipples and stroked each one tenderly with one of his thumbs. "That would be very nice," he whispered, lips ghosting slightly over Sean’s. "And several other parts as well, if you don’t mind."
When Viggo's fingers touched Sean's body, he looked down to watch the other man's hands drawing idle and invisible symbols onto his chest. "Mmm, one knows it's going to be a perfect night when it starts with showering twice."
He returned the grin appearing on Viggo's face for he had no problem admitting that lack of water in some areas in Africa might very well be due to his favourite hobby - after anything involved with Vig naked of course. All the better that now he got both at the same time.
They stepped into the shower and Sean picked up the shower-head he had dropped earlier to put it back where it belonged. The water in the pipes was still warm and both men stood silently under the hot spray. The high temperature of the water made the drops on Sean's skin feel like gentle fire and the air was steamy, nothing clearly visible but Viggo's back right in front of him.
Sean started to hum (which was far less off-tune than any of his other musical attempts, thank you very much) and soaped the Dane's back generously, strong and sure circles of his palms, nerve endings tingling at the touch of wet skin.
Leaving it to the water to rinse off the foam he moved his hands to Viggo's head, washing his hair as well. He smiled at Viggo's content humming as the Brit's fingertips massaged his scalp, cleaning it of shampoo.
Sean's arms came round Viggo's chest to pull him close to his own body and his lips almost touched Viggo's ear when he asked: "What now, hm?"
When the other man didn't answer immediately but only leaned back, he rephrased his question: "In for some shower-shagging or do you wanna move this to that nice, big bed of mine?"
That was pretty difficult a question, Viggo thought. No, not thought really. It was very hard to think when Sean’s beautiful, naked body was so close to his. The thought just popped into Viggo’s mind somehow. Considering the fact that he’d had to get along without Sean for several – very lonely – weeks and that he’d been very close to take Sean (or let himself be taken by Sean) earlier in the kitchen, a shower-shag was, of course, extremely tempting.
But Sean’s king-size bed was tempting also. It was warm and big and soft and they wouldn’t have to walk over there „afterwards“. They would already be there and could stay in the silky sheets and covers and... Oh, to hell with it! He’d had to do without Sean for far too long now, so he wiggled his butt a little and purred: "Why wasting precious time? Missed you so much... "
Sean lived to prove people wrong. Like for example that die-hard rumour that he was completely unable to be patient. Bugger that. He did stay still the entire time it took Viggo to decide, didn't he?
He had to admit, though, that it was far too entertaining to interrupt - Viggo, brilliant actor and (this time a rumour that Sean decided could also be called the truth) known for being unreadable, had the different emotions flickering over his face as he tried to make his mind up.
At Viggo's reply, Sean smiled and while his tongue amused itself by catching waterdroplets running down the perfect curve of the Dane's neck, his hands began to slip downwards. When his fingers closed around Viggo's half hard cock, the Brit said with a low voice: "Oh, aye, I notice you missed me."
Viggo turned to look at him and roll his eyes at the completely cheesy remark, but since Sean's hands started stroking the other man's cock with an agonizingly slow pace, the Dane couldn't hold back a moan and Sean reckoned that the eyerolling now had quite a different reason.
Grinning, he started licking the curve of Viggo's ear. "Missed you, too. Want me to show you?"
Trying to keep his wits about one despite of the almost lazy strokes Viggo inhaled deeply, because he thought it rather difficult to answer without at least some air into his lungs (And he knew Sean wouldn’t go any further without an answer, just to fucking tease him!) and then somehow managed to say: "Absolutely! " It sounded quite breathless, but that wasn’t really surprising, was it?
"How? "
Viggo blinked. Had Sean just asked him how??
"How what?" he gasped, unable to thrust his hips forward into Sean’s caressing hand. The Brit nibbled playful at his earlobe, eliciting another soft moan from his lover’s lips.
"How do you want me to show you that I missed you, too? "
Viggo groaned somewhere between frustration and sheer bliss. "Sean, for heaven’s sake, get it going, will ya. "
Sean laughed out loud, his chest trembling against Viggo's back.
"And they say ye're a bleeding poet and I never believed it." His tongue abandoned the Dane's ear and he let his teeth scratch lighly down Viggo's neck to bite down without any force when he reached the other man's shoulder. "Ye're such a romantic."
Before Viggo could get really annoyed - not that that had to be a bad thing, the Brit mused for a second, Vig could get really creative when pushed too far - Sean took hold of Viggo's hips and spun him around in one swift movement, careful to not let the other man slip accidentally. He pressed up against him, they were chest to chest now and once again Sean could feel the steady thudding of his lover's heart.
Viggo hissed, because the shower tiles were bloody cold and Sean's body prevented him from avoiding the contact with them. Sean didn't kiss Viggo, even though his mouth, single water drops forming on the lower lip, was tempting, he just enjoyed the feeling of full body contact for one moment. Then his palms on Viggo's shoulders were the only thing keeping the Dane still when Sean pushed himself back a little to now bite the other shoulder and lick downwards.
Lowering himself to his knees in front of his lover, he looked back up, blinking because of the downpouring water blinding him. His hands rested firmly on Viggo's hips again, holding him back and up at the same time for the Dane's legs trembled slightly, when Sean's tongue flicked around the head of his cock.
Viggo was whimpering. Sean took pity on him, skipped the teasing and took him fully into his mouth. Bleeding hell, was there anything more damn erotic than feeling Vig's cock swell to full hardness between his lips?
***
A/N: On to Part 2...
Authors:
afra_schatz & irrlicht74 Pairing: SB/VM
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Um...Sean comes home after he’s been a few weeks away? I’m not good at this, really...
Warnings: PWP. This was written as a roleplay (so don’t get confused by alternating POV’s). But I think you’re used to that, because I’m sure you’ve read the wonderful “Gamekeeper/Blouseman” series. ;)
Notes: This is for all you talented slash writers, who are so kind to share their fiction with us. But especially for
moldava and liars_dance who are so damn inspiring! Thank you for creating the “Walker/Mellors” universe. :) And of course for my very dear friend sairalinde. Hope everything’s alright with you, sweetie. And...buttered potatoes or tomatoes, where’s the difference? *lol* And for shrinetolust. Just because. ;)Disclaimer: All made up. Not making money with it. Yaddayadda...
Archive: www.Rugbytackling.com, others please ask first
Beta:
lorielen Thank you so much for your time and the patience. *huggles you*Thanking the Cook
Sean was whistling when he strolled up the gravel walk to the house, thankful that he was so unmusical that he couldn't hear his own lack of tune. Would somewhat spoil the happiness that had led to the whistling in the first place, wouldn't it?
He loved his job - except for the endless hours in make up and those bloody wigs maybe - but that didn't keep him from smiling broadly (and only barely being able to not hop down the drive way in anticipation) every time he finally got a chance to come home to his garden, his kitchen with his favourite beer in the fridge, his bed with the freshest white sheets.
So, he was still whistling when he opened the door and only stopped when the faint smell of food found him on the hallway.
Raising one eyebrow he kicked the door shut and called down the hallway: "I don't remember employing a chef before I left!"
Viggo smiled as he heard the footsteps and the unmusical whistling of his lover in the hallway.
He had often told Sean that every cat on earth could produce more melodic tones than he, Sean, did, but Sean had just laughed and ruffled Viggo’s hair as if that was something so unimportant he didn’t even bother to get angry.
And, of course, it was. Sean could whistle as unmelodically as he liked, as long as he didn’t stop ruffling Viggo’s hair like that, touching him and telling him with every movement and every single look of those amazing, emerald eyes that he was still in love with him.
Viggo arched an eyebrow when Sean entered the kitchen.
"So... Does that mean you’re not hungry and that I’m supposed to throw allthat," he pointed at the table, "away? Or give it to the poor and needy, perhaps?“
Sean chuckled, leaning against the doorframe.
"Am I supposed to make a joke about the 'needy' part now, Vig?"
Of course he was gonna eat and love the food, it smelled so delicious that Sean couldn't help but come closer and stick his index finger right into one of the bowls on the table and lick it, even before he had kissed Viggo hello.
He hummed his appreciation and with a popping sound released his finger from his lips.
"Of course I'm bleedin' peckish," a smirk appeared on his face along with little dimples around his eyes, “'m just saying that since you don't have a contract with me, I don't necessarily have to pay you, do I?"
And the finger went back into the deliciously tasting sauce once again, though this time accompanied by Sean eyeing Viggo, not the food, hungrily.
Viggo took two slow, almost lazy steps until he stood right in front of Sean. Cerulean met emerald.
"Right", murmured Viggo, so low it was barely a whisper. "You don’t have to pay me for anything. Which is good, ‘cause you couldn’t afford me anyway...“
He could feel Sean holding his breath. Good.
"But... " Without taking his eyes off Sean, Viggo reached for the wrist of Sean’s hand that was still sticking into the sauce bowl. "Maybe we should discuss that ‘needy part’ a little more... intensively? "
With that he raised Sean’s hand to his lips and sucked the sauce covered index finger into his mouth. The small gasp emanating from Sean’s lips was music to his ears. Viggo took his time licking Sean’s finger clean and released it with a last, playful swirl of his tongue.
Then he asked innocently: "Don’t you think?"
'Don't you think?' echoed in Sean's brain and the few braincells still working pointed out that he bloody well could not think when Viggo was sucking his finger into his mouth...
He allowed himself to get lost in Viggo's eyes for yet another moment and wondered how he could have made it to be a quite respected actor, if he had no self control whatsoever - all it took for him to fall apart was Viggo looking at him from under lowered eyelashes. Then he remembered that this was exactly the reason why he spent his time filming the "Fellowship" with a constant hard on - ah, memories. Only problem with that was that he kept missing his prompt. Like now. Fuck.
Shaking his head slightly, Sean returned to the kitchen and got at least some of his wit back.
"Yea, let's discuss that, oh unaffordable one." He agreed and rubbed his nose with one of the nine remaining dry fingers, "What does it say about you that you cook for me only to forget all about said food the minute I come home?"
Viggo grinned.
"It says that I’ve been waiting very, very impatiently for you to come. – Home, that is. "
Then he laughed softly at the expression on Sean’s face, stepped forward and breathed a small kiss on his lover’s neck. On this particular, sensitive spot just a little below his earlobe.
"By the way, you haven’t greeted me properly up until now. " Viggo pouted a little. "Where’s my ‘darling-I’m-home’-kiss, hm? "
Smiling, he turned away to fetch the cutlery he didn’t have the time yet to lay on the table, leaving Sean to whatever he was thinking and/or feeling now. Viggo just loved to tease Sean! Sometimes it had pretty...well...unexpected results...
"Darling I'm home kiss?" Sean smirked and crossed his arms over his chest, "You actually have names for different types of kisses? Wait, stupid question, of course you do, you are you." Which equaled 'quite bonkers' in this case, obviously.
Since they already seemed to be in some kind of 'old married couple' routine, he really wouldn't mind having a beer while he was doing nothing but leering - how very thoughtful of Vig not to go round the table, but reach over, bending ever so nicely for Sean to watch.
The Brit stepped closer and soundly slapped Viggo on his butt.
"Darling-I'm-home-bottom-patting. Far more original and heartfelt anyway." He left his hand where it was.
Viggo turned his head slowly, staring unbelievingly at Sean.
"Darling-I’m-home-bottom-patting??? "
It sounded almost accusing. Sean grinned and patted Viggo’s butt some more. Viggo blinked. Once. Twice. More original and heartfelt, hm...Yeah, right. The more he thought about it the more he had to agree with Sean. This really felt more like something his friend and lover would do, rather than kissing Viggo’s cheek like George Parker would have done in "Pleasantville".
Viggo shrugged mentally and wriggled his butt a little, still teasing somehow. The evening had, after all, just begun.
"Okay. " He almost purred. "This is something I can get used to. "
Sean didn't even try to suppress the huge grin appearing on his face, and the way Viggo looked at him he knew it was one of the ones labelled as “maniac”.
Vig's own fault, really, since he was the one turning Sean completely incoherent all the time and should've expected some revenge sooner or later.
While he was still busy with grinning and bottom-patting (TM), his brain already started thinking about new ways to make Viggo look so endearingly indignant again - not an easy task, regarding the fact that, up to walking into the supermarket with nothing on but body paint, there was practically nothing that the Dane thought embarrassing in the first place. Ah well, some other time then.
Still smiling he cupped Viggo's face with his palms and placed a sloppy wet kiss onto the other man's lips. "'s good to be home. What's for dinner?"
"Dunno", Viggo answered, rubbing his nose grinning against Sean’s. "But I can tell you who’s for desert. What’s for desert, I meant."
He laughed and took a small step back. "Just kidding. Since you seem to have developed a strong preference for buttered tomatoes lately it’s part of today’s meal. And we have salad and potatoes, too. AND", Viggo added with a little smile when he saw the dawning disappointment on Sean’s handsome face, "of course, we have a few steaks, too. I could never allow you to die of malnutrition. "
Sean's left hand closed around his right wrist behind Viggo's back, locking the other man in his embrace, and he was still chuckling (Gods, he loved Viggo's sense of humour about as much as he loved Viggo's hands. And he worshipped those hands, elegant, smooth and skilful, he would write poems about them. If he was into poetry, that is. Anyway...).
He refused to let go, even when the other man took a small step backwards, but listened closely to the chef presenting the menu. Good to know that his pouting skills still earned him a decent steak.
"Mmm, sounds delicious," he answered, and with a playful tone to his lowered voice he added. "Perhaps I should thank the cook in advance, aye?" He leaned in closer and his lips ghosted ever so lightly over Viggo's beloved familiar mouth.
Viggo purred, but murmured.
"Is that your way of thanking the cook, hm?" He closed his eyes as he bit Sean’s lower lip softly then nibbled a little at the corner of his mouth. "Thank me properly or maybe next time I’ll remember that your thankfulness in advance isn’t even worth the butter on the tomatoes."
Viggo kept his tone playful, too. He didn’t want to hurt Sean. He never would. Sean was the best thing that had ever happened to him and there was no person in the world that meant more to him than this sexy, attractive, stubborn, sometimes a little rough, but always affectionate, green-eyed Brit.
He put his arms around Sean’s neck and leaned into his well-shaped body. Viggo sighed softly. He would never tire to look into Sean’s eyes. Never ever.
Sean pulled back a little, a smirk on his lips only partly hidden by his tongue licking the corner of his mouth.
"Thanking you properly? My, Vig, the food would be cold the time I've finished and wouldn't that be a waste?"
He brought one of his hands up to stroke over Viggo's hair while the other was still resting at the small of the other man's back. Lingering one more moment to just look at Viggo after his far too long time of absence, his eyes fixed the dinner table and added. "And I suppose I shall need my strength for all the events you have planned for tonight, won't I. Plus, the flight was sapping and they didn't even give me a decent flick to watch." He grinned "Did I mention that I hate flying?"
Despite of Sean’s grinning Viggo became a little concerned immediately.
"Of course," he said. " ‘m sorry, love. I’m sure the flight was dreadful for you. You must be tired."
How selfish of him to assault Sean like that when he barely had entered the house. He knew perfectly well how much his lover hated to fly and how long the flight had been. He should’ve minded that instead of acting like a hormone-slaved teenager.
He planted a last light kiss on Sean’s soft lips then said: "Let’s eat. And when we’re finished you can rest a little upstairs while I’m doing the washing-up if you like. How does that sound?"
It seemed odd to Sean that an American would use this kind of nick name, but Vig talked to the very British little part of his heart, reducing him to a puddle of mush simply by calling him 'love' so casually. Sean tilted his head and his accent thickened a little.
"Ye're daft sometimes, know that? Why would I wanna spend time anywhere but close to you whenever I can?"
His smile was nothing but loving and gentle, but the Northern upbringing took its toll in the end and simply refused him to sound like an utter sap, and he had to add with a smirk and a wink, "I'll stay and watch you cleaning up."
His thumb stroked gently over Viggo's cheekbone once, before Sean pulled back and sat down at the table. "How's your day then?"
"Getting better every second."
Viggo sounded a little ironic, but the twinkle in the corner of his eyes belied his words. Sean was home and that was all he needed at present. He joined Sean at the table and they began to eat.
Replying to another question of Sean, Viggo added that he had spent his time painting all day and gave Sean the well-meant advice not to visit the loft for the next few...well, weeks actually. Viggo just loved to paint. He could’ve spent ages with painting, but cleaning-up afterwards wasn’t really his cup of tea, because...Well, maybe he happened to get an inspiration for a brilliant picture and then nothing was ready! No. It was better to leave all the colours and brushes and canvas’ where they were. Just in case.
But knowing that Sean tended to be a more...erm...orderly person than he was, he regarded that and gave Sean a little warning.
Sean chewed on his steak happily and used the cutlery in his hands to accompany his words with gestures. His fork (licked clean) was pointing at Viggo as he investigated.
"Painting, really? Does that mean I can still find traces of various colours smeared all over your body as usual or did you possibly behave yourself to some extent this time?" He smiled innocently as if Viggo was the only one who got carried away from time to time.
The single raised eyebrow of the Dane indicated though, that Viggo was thinking of the numerous times Sean had reappeared from his garden covered in mud, grinning like a two year old after playing in a puddle.
Sean's smile turned into a boyish grin as he surrendered to Viggo's stare.
"Never said I'd mind, did I. Makes you just as precious and unique as your art." Yea, as if Vig needed additional paint for that.
"So...I’m allowed to go on like that? To leave my painting stuff wherever it is? And you wouldn’t mind? "
Viggo knew perfectly well that Sean hadn’t meant it like that, but he just loved the short shocked expression on the Brit’s face, vanished as fast as it came up. Sean put the cutlery down. Slowly.
Viggo chuckled. "Relax, Hon! Just teasing. I promise to restrict everything that has to do with my...artistic impulses to the loft. And to clean it up – from time to time." He smiled broadly. "Whatever makes you happy makes me happy. But I need a little more space now that we’re dating obviously more regularly, don’t you think? I mean, hey! Back home in the States I have a house to sow my wild oates, so to speak."
"Dating more regularly?", Sean chuckled good naturedly. "You could call it like that. I'd have said 'you taking over reign completely', but you are the poet with the correct words at hand at any time. Though," he took another sip of beer, "my phrasing would include me having to call you 'your royal highness'."
He waggled his eyebrows and stood up, taking his and Vig's plate to the sink. Concentrating on not scalding his hands with the water for rinsing he added with an almost too casual tone to his voice. "And you can have all the space you need, you know that. As long as this doesn't involve me accidentally brushing my teeth with umbra No.5 or find brushes poking me - somewhere."
Bollocks, there was definitely too much washing-up liquid in there, the dishes had disappeared completely... "You think you could paint me some naked lasses in compromising positions onto the bedroom wall?"
At that point Viggo was just about to burst into laughter, but managed somehow to control himself. He joined Sean at the sink, bringing two bowls with him. (Why and how did they always manage to leave one single tomato in it? Or potato? Anything? One should mean two grown up men like them would’ve been able to eat it instead of throwing it away, but no! There must be a kind of cosmic law that read: “You always have to leave one piece of food over in your bowls, pans, pots, whatever!”)
"Ya know, I can paint you anything anywhere, but I’d rather paint on your naked skin." He turned his head so he could look Sean right into his sparkling green eyes and tilted it a little to the left. "And if it’s lasses that your heart or...whatever...desires, I’ll paint that, too. But excuse me, that the idea of you being poked by one of my brushes in one or some...certain places has something...yes, ridiculous, but arousing also."
The look Sean gave Viggo was nothing short of horrified before he howled with laughter and had to steady himself, both of his foam covered hands on either side of the sink. Tears were running down his cheeks and it didn't help at all that Viggo was looking at him completely straight faced, if anything with a patient look in his eyes.
The Brit pulled himself together eventually and shook his head: "'m sorry, love, but you do remember that I'm ticklish as fuck, right? So, unless you want me squealing like," it took him only the fraction of a second to come up with the perfect comparison, "Orli, you will keep your brushes as far away from the bed as possible."
He dried his hands with a towel and saw his job - hiding all the dirty stuff under mountains of foam - done. Cleaning his watch with a thumb, he considered the time and looked at Viggo expectantly. “Got any further plans for tonight?"
Viggo blinked slowly, almost cat-like.
"You mean aside from shaggin’ each other’s brains out? Not really, no. But if you want to do something else or perhaps go somewhere else – taking a shower maybe? – before, go ahead! I don’t mind. I’m game for everything."
He smirked at the expression on Sean’s face and took over where his lover had ended: he stuck his hands in the now only lukewarm water and began to wash the dishes, like he had promised before.
It took Sean a few seconds to remember to shut his mouth - jaw hanging open in indignation. Okay, he was tired and looked somewhat... roughened up from the flight, but that Viggo dared to mention shagging in one sentence and start to clean the bleeding kitchen - well, he hadn't played bad guys for nothing and his revenge would be (he smirked inwardly) inventive.
He tilted his head, and regarded his victim with a professional look. Slightly bent over the sink and leaving his back completely without cover. How very, very careless.
Sean licked his lips and stepped close, invading Viggo's personal space shamelessly by pressing him against the counter and rubbing his nose against the other man's neck. His tongue darted out to lick a wet path along the tiny blond hairs there, along the rim of the other man's T-Shirt, before he bit down lightly, teeth scratching over sensitive skin.
He pulled away as suddenly as he had leaned in and said matter-of-factly: "I'm gonna take a shower then. Happy rinsing, mate."
Viggo heard Sean leaving the kitchen and only then allowed himself to gasp for air.
Hells. Bells.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. He was sure his body would remember how to do that alone in a few seconds, but up until then...
For a moment Viggo steadied himself by putting his hands on the rim of the sink, and closed his eyes. He could still feel the warm, seductive wetness of Sean’s tongue on his neck and shoulders, his soft breath touching the sensitive skin... Bastard!
Although Viggo knew he had had it coming, he just couldn’t believe that Sean was so cold-blooded as to do a thing like that! To just light him up like a match and then – to keep with the metaphor – throw him into a puddle of rain-water. Then again...This was Sean. Of course he was.
Inhale. Exhale.
Well...The evening had just started, right? Viggo was sure he would find a way to make Sean regret this...episode. – At least a little. Smiling, he continued rinsing.
Sean whistled again, heading for the bathroom, and he tapped the melody in his head onto the wooden banister as he climbed up the stairs. Life was good, hell, he was good. He snickered, ruining the already wavering tone completely.
Leaving the bathroom door open he began to undress, discarding his clothes all over the bathroom floor. Only when he was finished and naked, he kicked them into one corner to form a not-so-neat little pile there. He stood in front of the mirror and regarded the state of his beard and discounted shaving as a stupid waste of time.
His fingers now where tapping onto the ceramics of the sink, melody replaced by a somewhat impatient rhythm. With his tongue literally and metaphorically in his cheek he contemplated that Viggo indeed was still rumbling in the kitchen and not on his way to the bathroom. Looking at his own face in the mirror, he sighed in an overly dramatic manner: "Bastard."
Smiling, he stepped into the shower.
When Viggo had finished cleaning-up the kitchen he climbed up the stairs and went to the bathroom.
Even from afar he could hear that Sean was still under the shower. Jeez, this man needed time for showering others wouldn’t have wasted on taking a full-bath. Not that Viggo was neglectful, but hey! Two hours spent in the bathroom for taking a shower? Lord!
Anyway...
Viggo could hear Sean singing. Well, at least what Sean thought was singing. Viggo opened the door not bothering with trying to be silent. The running water deadened his movements anyway.
The bathroom was so damp-screened he could hardly see a thing, but Viggo didn’t need to see something to find his way to the bathtub that stood right next to the shower cabin.
Carefully he balanced on the rim of the bathtub and lifted the bucket he brought with him slowly above the rim of the shower cabin.
When Sean turned the water off Viggo tipped the bucket over and listened a little satisfied to Sean’s yelp when a flood of icecold water hit his body.
"So?" Viggo asked putting down the bucket. "How does it feel to be left standing alone in the cold? – And before you come out to kill me: contrast showers are said to be very healthy."
Sean gasped, running his free hand through his wet hair and when he looked up at Viggo, tiny droplets of (bleeding ice-cold) water dripped down his chin. Judging by the suddenly appearing far-away-look on Viggo's face, the other man found something arty even in this. But however much Sean normally loved watching Viggo getting all artistic, now was definitely not the time for that.
Even though the Dane was still standing on the rim of the bathtub and therefore was much taller than Sean himself, the Brit managed to stare him down. His eyes narrowed (though the effect was somewhat ruined by having to blink waterdroplets away repeatedly) and with a dangerously controlled tone to his voice he replied: "Contrast showers will prove to be extremely unhealthy. For you."
The look on his face not giving away anything, he turnedthe water on again and directed the shower head, that had been resting in his right hand, upwards, aiming it right at Viggo's head.
Plus, he resumed the singing: "And we marched into Lisbon proud Wellington's army, the war being over it's homeward we're bound..."
Viggo, completely lost in his artistic contemplations, gasped and gurgled as the water hit him right in the face.
With a squealing sound that would've done Orlando credit he reached for the rim of the shower cabin as he lost balance.
But he reached into the empty and saw himself dead already by breaking his neck, when Sean's strong hand gripped his and steadied him.
With a loud thud the showerhead dropped onto the tiled floor and water sprayed up Sean's naked body as the Brit's hand reflexively let go and reached for Viggo's wrist. He saw his knuckles turning white for he gripped so hard and his voice was full with fear-imposed anger as he said: "Bloody hell, are you still trying to be funny? Cause you scared me to death, you sod!"
He stopped the waterflow with a furious push of his palm onto the handle and stepped out of the shower, refusing to let go of Viggo's hand for as long as possible. Standing naked in the middle of the bathroom, he grabbed Viggo's elbow and helped the still somewhat wavering man down to the floor.
"Arsehole.", he grumbled, eyebrows still knitted together in a deep frown, before he pulled Viggo into a crushing hug, refusing to let go even though he got the other man wet all over.
Viggo didn’t care. Not for a split second. He cuddled closer to Sean’s naked, warm, wet body and nestled his head against his lover’s shoulder.
" ‘m sorry, love.", he murmured (no matter how unusual this was for Americans). Jeez! He had scared himself! "Didn’t mean to, I swear. Just lost balance."
It felt incredibly good to hold Sean and to be held by him like that. Viggo sighed contently and stroked the Brit’s back tenderly.
He was with Sean. He was safe. Everything was alright.
Sean felt his own heart thudding hard and fast against the inside of his chest and through the wet fabric of Viggo's shirt he could also feel the other man's heartbeat, as increased as his own.
Last time he had been that scared had been when he - back home in England - couldn't reach Viggo on his mobile in New Zealand and, worried, had called Orlando to ask about Vig's whereabouts. The fellow Brit had told him that Viggo had had an accident during filming, nearly drowned in the river, and was in the hospital over night, safe and sound. Sean hadn't slept all night and Viggo had been absolutely furious with Orlando for telling him in the first place, if only because from that time on Sean had behaved like an overprotective motherhen...
It had been worse that last time, because he couldn't hold Viggo close to him, assuring himself that indeed everything was fine, he had had to trust the other man's voice on the phone alone.
So, Sean still refused to let go, closed his eyes at the feeling of Viggo's palms on his back, at the light scratching of Viggo's stubble against his shoulder and felt his heartbeat return to a normal pace, beating in consonance with Viggo's.
Viggo sighed inwardly. Suddenly he had the strange feeling to know exactly what Sean was thinking about. Fuck! Short after that... unfortunate incident on set in New Zealand he’d had nearly no time to spend it all by himself, because Sean – loving, caring and unfounded concerned as he was – couldn’t be forced to budge from his side, not even by all wild horses in the whole wide fucking world!
And every time something like this ‘almost-falling-from-a-bathtub-rim’ happened Viggo could see the same fear in Sean’s eyes he had heard in his voice back then in New Zealand and he couldn’t find any way to calm him, to just convince him that he wouldn’t die just like that, to... whatever. And to make it all worse: before almost breaking his neck by falling from a bathtub, Sean had had relaxed. He’d had nearly made it to not watching every single one of Viggo’s steps so closely that one could’ve got the impression that he, Sean, was afraid that Viggo would turn into a second but much older Orlando ‘No-danger-is-dangerous-enough’ Bloom.
And now?
Viggo sighed again. Maybe they were right at the beginning again. Well...
He patted Sean’s (firm and of course perfect shaped) buttocks slightly and said: "Don’t do that again, okay? It’s not like New Zealand at all. And shit like this just happens once in a while. Christ, Sean, you almost killed me eight months ago when you cut your hand with this fucking pair of pruning-shears so deep that I feared you would bleed to death right there at my feet. But I’ve never asked you to give up on gardening, have I? "
Sean pulled back a little, a small frown appearing on his face. He perfectly well heard the seriousness in Viggo's tone (comes from practically learning everything Viggo had ever said to him by heart, he reckoned). Okay, aye, he was the pest when he fussed, he knew that himself, ta. And aye, Viggo was completely right - and even if the other
man surely wouldn't like to hear that, Sean thought him much less crazy than it might seem.
So, his tone was almost apologetic, even if his words seemed to resume their normal bantering: "Did I ever ask you to avoid contact with water?"
A smile appeared on the Dane's lips, but it didn't reach his eyes which were still looking at him with all too much seriousness, so that Sean had to look away, before he muttered: "Aye, aye, I won't treat you like an infant anymore." Slightly more silently he added: "Just can't help being worried at times."
"And I do so love you for it, " Viggo replied softly, brushed a kiss on his lips, brought one hand up and stroked his cheek tenderly. "It shows that you love me, too, and that you care for me and that I’m not completely unimportant to you. But don’t fence me in. Please, Sean. I need a certain degree of freedom. I know that I worry – and even scare – you sometimes, but I don’t do this by intent and, of course, I’m very sorry about that, too. But the way you’re... guarding me from time to time makes me feel restricted. And that’ll be my death one day. Look, hon, why don’t we make a compromise here? I promise to avoid any risk as much as possible and you promise that you just won’t go berserk every time I cut my finger while peeling potatoes or such, okay? "
He smiled lovingly and kissed Sean again.
Sean inwardly thanked Viggo for kissing him right now - aside from the fact that kissing Viggo always was a wonderful thing to do, now it also gave him a moment to figure out what to answer.
Normal people might have a problem with having a serious conversation while one of the parties was completely stalkers. Sean himself, not giving a damn about the nakedness, had issues with problem-talk as such. He tended to phrase things completely wrong when he felt the least bit cornered, so even when he wanted to give in, discussions frequently ended with him shouting and throwing objects.
He knew that Viggo felt the slight reservation in his kiss that came from still not having sussed out what to say, and reluctantly he pulled back to look at the other man.
He knew he could have apologised and really mean it for the moment, but feel dishonest somehow because worrying was what he did. He knew he could've made a joke out of it, about ways of keeping Viggo too occupied to get himself hurt ever again. But he didn't trust his mouth right now, so he just kept looking at Viggo, contemplative, unsure and tender.
"I love you.", he said quietly and without averting his gaze.
Viggo was just about to ask: "But?", because there was definitely a "but" in Sean’s words, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. It didn’t matter, anyway. Whatever ‘but’s’ or ’when’s‘ there were, this was as close to a compromise as he’d ever get with Sean and he knew it.
In the worst case he would have to fight for his piece of personal freedom with Sean like he had done the past few years, because leaving Sean was completely beyond question!
However hard their arguments had been – and even would be in the future – it had never crossed Viggo’s mind to give all that up and to live without Sean. He had never ever even considered it, because this was just no option at all.
So he just smiled at Sean and said: "I know."
Sean returned the smile, a small, almost private curving of his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, that was all.
Dimensions from them roaring and almost strangling the other (even if it was only an argument about who was to have the last pudding, which had set something like that off the last time...), only to end up having first wild and then tender make up sex minutes after. It was like they had skipped the strange foreplay and went straight to the tenderness, something Sean really didn't object to at all, mind you.
His eyes lingered at the curve of Viggo's mouth, symmetry slightly interrupted by the faint scar on his upper lip, and the Brit's own smile broadened as he thought about Viggo shivering when Sean licked said scar.
Letting his gaze drop, he regarded Viggo's shirt, damp from the shower water, and pointed out the obvious: "Ye're wet all over."
Viggo chuckled good-naturedly and so Sean added in a playful tone, while tugging at the fabric: "Didn't your Mom teach you to undress before washing yerself?"
"No," the Dane replied letting Sean tug the shirt over his head just to see it sent flying through the room onto the small pile Sean had created earlier with his own clothes. "She said she doesn’t need to anymore now that I have you."
Viggo bent over to peel off his jeans as well, what earned him a clapping slap on the butt. Well, he should’ve known.
"Ouch. Hey!" he shouted, pretending to be angry as he almost lost balance – again. Thank God he was standing on the floor right now and not on the rim anymore. "We’re not into spanking now, are we?"
He was only partly joking. He loved Sean more than life itself and he was game for pretty much everything, but there were lines he wouldn’t cross for anyone.
Sean thought it Viggo's own fault - if he didn't want to have his butt slapped playfully, he shouldn't very well have such a perfect arse in the first place, right? Sean was the helpless victim here, not vice-versa.
Still, he put a high dose of compassion into his tone as he replied: "'m sorry, love, did that hurt too much?"
Okay, the batting of eyelashes might have been too much and a dead giveaway that he was teasing, but since Vig still was struggling with his pants, he didn't see it anyway.
Still, Viggo looked over his shoulder with an arched eyebrow and Sean felt obliged to add: "Here, let me make it better."
With that he lowered himself to his knees (tiles were bleeding cold, he should seriously consider having floor heating installed in his house) and soundly placed two kisses onto Viggo's butt. "Already healing?"
The look Viggo threw him through his slightly parted legs must’ve been somewhere between utter disbelief and mild surprise, because that was exactly how Viggo felt right now. Had Sean done that? Really??
He saw Sean grinning like a Cheshire cat, smug and content, eyes shining, and he just couldn’t help laughing.
Sean adored Vig when he was laughing, that low chuckling with a hint of a giggle (which the Dane constantly denied was there) left Sean feeling drunk with happiness every time.
He stood back up, oh-so-accidentally brushing along Viggo's side and waited patiently until the other man had won the struggle with his jeans.
"So, oh survivor of the great pant war," he grinned, "you want to shower properly now?"
He tilted his head and when Viggo stood upright in front of him (bloody finally) the tips of the Brit's fingers lightly danced over the firm muscles of the other man's upper arm. "Want me to wash your back?"
Sometimes Viggo thought there could not possibly be anything more sexy in the world than Sean tilting his head. It always made him want to let go all of his – sometimes alarmingly low-levelled – self-control and to just... snuggle Sean to death! And to do some other things as well, of course.
He brought up his hands to Sean’s nipples and stroked each one tenderly with one of his thumbs. "That would be very nice," he whispered, lips ghosting slightly over Sean’s. "And several other parts as well, if you don’t mind."
When Viggo's fingers touched Sean's body, he looked down to watch the other man's hands drawing idle and invisible symbols onto his chest. "Mmm, one knows it's going to be a perfect night when it starts with showering twice."
He returned the grin appearing on Viggo's face for he had no problem admitting that lack of water in some areas in Africa might very well be due to his favourite hobby - after anything involved with Vig naked of course. All the better that now he got both at the same time.
They stepped into the shower and Sean picked up the shower-head he had dropped earlier to put it back where it belonged. The water in the pipes was still warm and both men stood silently under the hot spray. The high temperature of the water made the drops on Sean's skin feel like gentle fire and the air was steamy, nothing clearly visible but Viggo's back right in front of him.
Sean started to hum (which was far less off-tune than any of his other musical attempts, thank you very much) and soaped the Dane's back generously, strong and sure circles of his palms, nerve endings tingling at the touch of wet skin.
Leaving it to the water to rinse off the foam he moved his hands to Viggo's head, washing his hair as well. He smiled at Viggo's content humming as the Brit's fingertips massaged his scalp, cleaning it of shampoo.
Sean's arms came round Viggo's chest to pull him close to his own body and his lips almost touched Viggo's ear when he asked: "What now, hm?"
When the other man didn't answer immediately but only leaned back, he rephrased his question: "In for some shower-shagging or do you wanna move this to that nice, big bed of mine?"
That was pretty difficult a question, Viggo thought. No, not thought really. It was very hard to think when Sean’s beautiful, naked body was so close to his. The thought just popped into Viggo’s mind somehow. Considering the fact that he’d had to get along without Sean for several – very lonely – weeks and that he’d been very close to take Sean (or let himself be taken by Sean) earlier in the kitchen, a shower-shag was, of course, extremely tempting.
But Sean’s king-size bed was tempting also. It was warm and big and soft and they wouldn’t have to walk over there „afterwards“. They would already be there and could stay in the silky sheets and covers and... Oh, to hell with it! He’d had to do without Sean for far too long now, so he wiggled his butt a little and purred: "Why wasting precious time? Missed you so much... "
Sean lived to prove people wrong. Like for example that die-hard rumour that he was completely unable to be patient. Bugger that. He did stay still the entire time it took Viggo to decide, didn't he?
He had to admit, though, that it was far too entertaining to interrupt - Viggo, brilliant actor and (this time a rumour that Sean decided could also be called the truth) known for being unreadable, had the different emotions flickering over his face as he tried to make his mind up.
At Viggo's reply, Sean smiled and while his tongue amused itself by catching waterdroplets running down the perfect curve of the Dane's neck, his hands began to slip downwards. When his fingers closed around Viggo's half hard cock, the Brit said with a low voice: "Oh, aye, I notice you missed me."
Viggo turned to look at him and roll his eyes at the completely cheesy remark, but since Sean's hands started stroking the other man's cock with an agonizingly slow pace, the Dane couldn't hold back a moan and Sean reckoned that the eyerolling now had quite a different reason.
Grinning, he started licking the curve of Viggo's ear. "Missed you, too. Want me to show you?"
Trying to keep his wits about one despite of the almost lazy strokes Viggo inhaled deeply, because he thought it rather difficult to answer without at least some air into his lungs (And he knew Sean wouldn’t go any further without an answer, just to fucking tease him!) and then somehow managed to say: "Absolutely! " It sounded quite breathless, but that wasn’t really surprising, was it?
"How? "
Viggo blinked. Had Sean just asked him how??
"How what?" he gasped, unable to thrust his hips forward into Sean’s caressing hand. The Brit nibbled playful at his earlobe, eliciting another soft moan from his lover’s lips.
"How do you want me to show you that I missed you, too? "
Viggo groaned somewhere between frustration and sheer bliss. "Sean, for heaven’s sake, get it going, will ya. "
Sean laughed out loud, his chest trembling against Viggo's back.
"And they say ye're a bleeding poet and I never believed it." His tongue abandoned the Dane's ear and he let his teeth scratch lighly down Viggo's neck to bite down without any force when he reached the other man's shoulder. "Ye're such a romantic."
Before Viggo could get really annoyed - not that that had to be a bad thing, the Brit mused for a second, Vig could get really creative when pushed too far - Sean took hold of Viggo's hips and spun him around in one swift movement, careful to not let the other man slip accidentally. He pressed up against him, they were chest to chest now and once again Sean could feel the steady thudding of his lover's heart.
Viggo hissed, because the shower tiles were bloody cold and Sean's body prevented him from avoiding the contact with them. Sean didn't kiss Viggo, even though his mouth, single water drops forming on the lower lip, was tempting, he just enjoyed the feeling of full body contact for one moment. Then his palms on Viggo's shoulders were the only thing keeping the Dane still when Sean pushed himself back a little to now bite the other shoulder and lick downwards.
Lowering himself to his knees in front of his lover, he looked back up, blinking because of the downpouring water blinding him. His hands rested firmly on Viggo's hips again, holding him back and up at the same time for the Dane's legs trembled slightly, when Sean's tongue flicked around the head of his cock.
Viggo was whimpering. Sean took pity on him, skipped the teasing and took him fully into his mouth. Bleeding hell, was there anything more damn erotic than feeling Vig's cock swell to full hardness between his lips?
***
A/N: On to Part 2...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2004-11-30 01:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-30 01:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-30 02:47 pm (UTC)And who is that on your icon?
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Date: 2004-12-01 08:30 am (UTC)Paul Hunter (left) and Matthew Stevens (right). My absolutely favourite snooker players. :) They’re best friends since I don’t know when, but they’re also both married. (Unfortunately not with each other. *sighs* ;)
When the picture was taken they were a bit younger. Now they look like this (in case you’re interested):
Matty (http://myweb.tiscali.co.uk/parsonsnose/photos/Welsh/StevensMatthew.jpg)
Paul (http://as.wn.com/i/83/ee4fec4353c342.jpg)
Thanks again for the comment, young gazelle... *g*
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Date: 2004-12-01 08:43 am (UTC)They are pretty though...
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Date: 2004-12-01 09:04 am (UTC)Yes, they are. And like I said...*points at own icon*
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Date: 2004-11-30 01:49 pm (UTC)It's late an I have to go to bed (early morning wake up call), but I promise, you'll get your review in the next few days.
Greetings Jinx;)
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Date: 2004-12-01 08:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 08:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 03:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 08:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 01:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 02:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-02 09:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-02 09:30 am (UTC)Taken from an Astrology profile that was done for me:
You can be something of a scatterbrain...
Yup, I agree. Of course, I will stick to ENGLISH pretty much. *blushes* So much for me making a good impression, lol
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Date: 2004-12-01 11:07 am (UTC)I was howling over the butt-patting (TM)--LOL...the very Viggo-esque way of naming particular kisses and then Sean's twist on the situation...hee...just loved that!
I love Sean's unmusical whistling and Viggo's flights of inspiration that prevent him from cleaning up, the shower fight (of course everyone knows how much I love shower fics...hee...I think 80% of my fics contain water sports of some sort... :P)
I love that when Sean doesn't know what to say he just says "I love you." And I love that Viggo knows what's on Sean's mind without him having to say it. *cuddles*
And that last line!! AUGH!!!!
And I'd love to know about buttered tomatoes, for I have never put butter on a tomato and believe me, I'm Lithuanian and we put butter on everything. Or sour cream...lol.
*runs to read next part*
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Date: 2004-12-01 04:10 pm (UTC)Thank you for your wonderful comment, so glad you liked it :).
And that last line!! AUGH!!!!
*giggles* Sean had very very weird dreams that night, I tell you. Dreams for which the only one responsible was of course Viggo.
I think 80% of my fics contain water sports of some sort... :P)
Oh I can very much relate to that - beautiful men should really spend much more time naked under hot water sprays :).
I'm Lithuanian and we put butter on everything. LOL, same thing in Germany. - From where do you come from - I've been to Vilnius last year and thought it very beautiful.
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Date: 2004-12-02 09:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 04:47 pm (UTC)Killed me you did :D I snorted when I read that! haha
And of course for my very dear friend sairalinde. Hope everything’s alright with you, sweetie. And...buttered potatoes or tomatoes, where’s the difference? *lol*
*hugs and squishes you and hugs you some more...because I can :D*
Thank you darlin, you made my day with this...both of you did a WONDERFUL job! :D
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Date: 2004-12-02 09:22 am (UTC)So happy you had the time to read it. :) Thank you!
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Date: 2005-04-29 01:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-11 11:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-12 09:00 pm (UTC)