rugbytackle | Tell Me Your Secrets

Author: Ashlyn K. Toliver
E-Mail: KTR525@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: SB/VM/KU/OFC/and a mystery lover at the epilogue…
Warnings: m/m/m SEX…the stuff your parents warned you about and you didn’t listen. Intimations of straight sex.
Disclaimer: This is FICTION, and nothing but FICTION...and it’s too bad because I would love to get this on film.

Summary: Some secrets are worth the telling…

Inspired by the darkwave group Lycia, whose hauntingly erotic ‘Clouds in the Southern Sky’ became the soundscape for this story.

To Anne, Greymist, Shadowstar, Brigantine, Haleth, Stefany, Marius and all my slash sisters (and brothers) in-arms (and anywhere else we should be). Like Sean and Viggo, you all continue to inspire me…I actually don’t procrastinate as much!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tell me your secrets, Sean.”

It was a familiar question, part of a game played by lovers who have gained enough trust in their relationship to reveal even the darkest secrets of their hearts.

The game had been initially conceived by Viggo, back when Sean, new to pleasure between men, was uncertain as to how to give and receive satisfaction. It demanded total honesty from both men, and through it, Sean had learned how to articulate his desires and how to act upon them.

Viggo’s hands, skilled and intrepid adventurers, mapped out territories of ecstasy on Sean’s golden skin, reading each quiver and shuddering sigh like ancient symbols pointing the way to paradise.

“Ah, so lovely,” Viggo sighed, the rough and the smooth textures of Sean’s flesh lightly quivered beneath him, tangling his fingers in the downy-soft hair on chest and thighs.

“So, tell me your secrets…”

Sean’s lilting tone was breathy with passion. “That I will love, but only if you tell me yours first.”

Viggo laughed, a sound rich and low – a sound that Sean would never tire of hearing. Just as he never grew tired of his lover’s many and sometimes inexplicable quirks. Besides, he knew that his standard response was as much a part of their game as were the answers.

“You first.”

“No, it’s your turn.”

“Make me…”

And this too, a wicked smile as Sean lips, those devastating weapons of mass arousal trailed their earth-shattering volcanic caress down and around Viggo’s eager body, heavily redolent from their earlier love play – was part of their game as well.

Within moments his swollen arousal found itself captive of Sean’s talented mouth, and neither cared who answered first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My secret is Karl.”

The bedroom was fragrant with the commingled scents of sweat, sandalwood and sated passion as a gentle breeze cooled their spent bodies.

“Karl.”

Sean’s feet absently intertwined with Viggo’s. “Karl Urban. Our former King of Rohan. Him.”

“And what about him?”

Here was the most important aspect of their game – the absolute honesty. Both demanded that as a symbol not only of love, but of deep trust – that they could be open without fear or censure.

“If you want to know, I’d like to shag him into the next century.” Sean’s cocky tone thinly disguised a certain hesitancy, even now.

The subject – polygamy – was really nothing new to either of them, though in the past it had been a means of injecting fantasy into their lovemaking. Or as was Viggo’s wont, to stimulate Sean in the playroom.

But this time, there was something intense in Sean’s answer – something Viggo never thought he’d hear in his lover’s voice. He wasn’t jealous, far too secure in Sean’s love to feel so. If anything, the fact that his lover was growing more accepting of his desires pleased him.

He rolled over to his side, sapphire-dark eyes practically boring into Sean’s soul.

Viggo’s finger idly toyed with Sean’s palm, drawing runes upon the outstretched skin. “You know I’d like to watch you with him, then I’d like to fuck you while you were inside of him.”

The tantalizing touch did nothing to curb the images that came to mind. “Damn it, Vig, I thought this was my secret.”

He grinned. “And who says we couldn’t possibly have the same secret?”

“Do you think he thinks about us like that?”

“I don’t know, Sean, but I’d like to think so.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You need more male energy in your life.”

The words were spoken softly, but were as loud as thunder to Karl’s ears.

He did not understand what Omphale meant, but that was nothing new. Omphale Onaedo was an enigma at the best of times, and statements like that only reinforced that fact.

They’d met six months ago on a lonely stretch of beach, she with camera in hand, the horizon spread out before her fiercely naked, not even the thinnest cover of cloud marring its perfection, as she snapped pictures of the sky and sea becoming one with the rays of the sun stretching out like watery tendrils.

For some time he’d been content just to watch her, admiring the way she smiled, shaking the intricate plaits of her waist-length braids away from her ageless face, the way the sun bathed her dark skin in coppery bronze. Her nearly sheer multi-hued skirt fluttered around her legs, as she stood immobile against the slowly rising tide.

There was something wildly and elementally beautiful about her, and it had been quite a long time since he’d felt the stirrings of desire for anyone.

When she finally turned around and spotted him watching her, she merely strode up to him and asked in a lilting voice with its sing-song accent, “Would you be so kind as to pose for me? You look like you belong in the sea.”

Her eyes, a pale dove gray, gave her an almost otherworldly look, though they seemed gentle and wise beyond her years.

Without a second thought, Karl found himself her new subject, the wind wildly whipping his hair and his shirt to and fro. She did not speak, simply allowed him to be, capturing him both playful and profound and he relaxed in her silent yet easy company, the only sounds being the ocean and of the click-whir of the camera.

When she had finished, she walked up to him again and kissed him lightly on the lips. Somehow that just seemed natural for her to do and he accepted it as he’d accepted everything about his mysterious artist.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and she began to walk away without a word.

“I’d like to at least know the name of the woman who’s just captured my essence on film for posterity,” he called out, watching the lush body move and sway to her own inner rhythm.

“Omphale,” she returned over her shoulder, her soft voice carrying over the waves. “And we’ll meet again, Karl Urban.”

And they had.

Now she idly toyed with the dark strands of his hair, tousled from their earlier love play. Karl had learned early in their relationship never to ask for or expect clarification right away. Omphale would answer him in her own sweet time, and she was always brutally honest.

So he waited, lying on her stomach, eyes closed as the light ocean breeze cooled their passion-slick bodies.

“You need to find passion with a man, my dear.”

That made him rise up with a start, his hazel eyes wide with shock. “What on earth are you talking about,” he asked, his tone more sharp than he’d intended.

She simply smiled that secretive smile which often meant that when she did answer him he’d be left even more confused than before.

“I’m talking about what you need to make you complete. Male energy, male power. And that’s obviously something I cannot give you.”

He’d shared his fantasies with her, knowing that she was non-judgmental. One fantasy in particular often fueled their passionate exploits.

“Sometimes I really regret ever telling you I was bisexual,” Karl muttered petulantly. “Now you’re probably going to set me up with every halfway decent-looking man you see.”

Omphale just laughed, tapping him lightly on his nose with a finger. “Oh Karl, you’re so funny. If you must know, I already sensed that about you, and no, I don’t plan on becoming a procuress. I just think it’s a dimension of your being that needs to be expressed, like my art.”

Karl stared out at the ocean, watching the sun blaze its last glory into the horizon. “So should I just start chasing after blokes myself or something to get this ‘male energy’?”

“I seriously doubt a man as beautiful as you are Karl Urban, would ever have to chase anyone. If anything, you might have to fight them off.”

Karl harrumphed, felt the mattress dip as Omphale rose gracefully, belting a silk kimono around her waist. She stretched lithely like a panther.

“You’re an artist, just as I am. Words – rules – they’re meaningless to people like us. They can be limiting to our craft and to our souls. Just like words like straight, gay, bisexual do not fully encompass the totality of human sexuality.” Omphale gazed deeply into his eyes, her own light gray ones a striking contrast to her sable skin. “Just like black and white are meaningless to you and I.”

Caressing his cheek, she continued, “Whatever works for you is what it is…even whatever turns you on.”

Karl laid his hand over hers, a glimmer of understanding beginning to dawn upon him. And if he were completely honest with himself, there was indeed unfinished business, questions and desires that had not been resolved, with not just one man, but two – from his past.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Omphale bent down, lightly touched her full lips to his, whispering with seductive mystery, “Maybe you should give Viggo and Sean a call. They may be expecting you.”

Suddenly awash in a surging tidal wave of lust, Karl pulled Omphale back to the bed, rolling himself on top of her, undoing the sash of the robe. He sucked in a deep breath as the material parted, revealing the lush expanse of Belgian chocolate skin he’d come to know so well. He parted her legs with a thigh, rubbing it against her wet heat, his cinnamon eyes blazing.

“There are so many things I want them to do to me…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, Omphale drove Karl to the airport. Both were silent, having said everything that needed to be said.

“This isn’t goodbye, Karl,” Omphale touched his lips with her fingers. “Only the beginning of something new, so just go with it.”

He let his mouth on hers speak eloquently on his behalf. No, not goodbye…

Releasing her, Omphale placed a light kiss on his nose, smiling. “Be well, my darling Karl. And thank you for everything.”

With that final enigmatic statement, Omphale Onaedo – artist, world traveler, adventuress, mystery – walked out of his life just as unfathomable as she’d been when she first walked into it. He wondered if there was anyone in the world who knew who she really was, and decided that he didn’t want to be one of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amazingly sleep came easily to him during the flight and it gave him the freedom to reflect on exactly he was planning to do.

Nearly four years and still their faces had the power to make him catch a breath. Both were extraordinarily handsome men, exuding an aura of powerful masculinity – Sean with his laughing green eyes and rakish smile, and Viggo with his sense of mystery and mischief, and a pair of steel blue eyes that once they fixed upon you, felt as if one were in the center of a cerulean maelstrom.

He’d been deeply attracted to them from Viggo’s initial rugbytackle, but never seemed to find the opportunity – no, that wasn’t true because there had been plenty of opportunities – and even though he knew Viggo and Sean were a couple, they had begun to make it quite clear that there was a place for him as well.

Several times it had almost happened, after a few drinks too many and the conducive surroundings of New Zealand nights – but somehow Karl had found some way to fall into a drunken stupor or embarrassed by his body’s reaction to his handsome co-stars, managed to stumble back to his bungalow, kicking himself all the way down the beach for being so stupid.

After filming wrapped up, they’d all made promises to keep in touch, but Karl had quickly gone his own way, relegating the what-could-have-beens to the attic of his mind.

But he could never forget them, and Omphale understood that.

So here he was, on his way to Los Angeles without any idea what to do or say when he got there.

He just knew this time, it would happen.

It was eleven in the morning when Karl’s flight landed at LAX. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel fatigued or disoriented. There was a sense of expectation, of possibility, in the warm Southern California air.

A few people, recognizing him from Lord of the Rings or from ‘Riddick, asked him autographs, which he cheerfully gave.

By the luggage carousel, he took his cell phone from his pocket and speed-dialed the number that he never allowed himself to forget.

It rang once…twice…three times…on the fourth…

“Hello?”

Sean. Karl’s heart skipped several beats. “Hi, Sean, it’s Karl. I’m here in L.A.”

Silence on the other end, then, “At the airport?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t move, Urban. Vig and I are on our way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Within an hour, Karl was in the backseat of Sean’s blue Mustang, the wind whipping his hair as he studied the two men in front of him.

Sean in classic Ray-Bans was any woman’s wet dream, Karl thought, studying the haughty profile, the lips pursed as he concentrated on the road ahead. And Viggo, what else was there to say about that cleft Karl had dreamed about so many times.

They looked well, and quite settled into whatever form of domestic bliss they’d created for themselves.

And they were more than happy to see him.

They had almost caused a scandal as the three friends tackled and hugged each other in hearty greetings, Viggo’s eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“You look good, Rohan rider,” he said, using the familiar nickname which brought back a rush of warm memories and Karl’s body heated as the older man’s gaze seemed to mentally undress him.

“So what brings you here,” Sean asked over the racing wind as he expertly maneuvered the car through traffic. “It’s good to see you, lad.”

“No reason really, just felt like getting away for a bit,” he replied. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but right now wasn’t the place to explain it. “I hope I’m not intruding on anything,” hesitancy in his tone. “I can always get a hotel.”

Viggo craned his head around, a smile on his lips that again heated Karl’s blood. “We’ve got plenty of room, and no, you’re not intruding at all. In fact, we’re both very glad to see you.”

Karl heard something else in Viggo’s enigmatic reply and couldn’t help thinking about Omphale. The two of them would get along famously, if they didn’t drive each other to distraction with their habit of being purposely oblique.

With nothing else to be said, Karl settled in for the ride, taking in the sights – or what he could see of them from the winding concrete freeway – until they turned onto Pacific Coast Highway and he was once again greeted with the heady fragrance of the ocean. He wondered if the waves that crashed tiredly upon this shore had traveled from his home and were thankful to have reached their destination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Karl Urban was still sex on two legs, Viggo thought as he slid into wicked fantasies about what he and Sean were planning to do to their former King of Rohan.

The dark hair was still the wild, untamable mane that had been the bane of the stylists on the set of ‘Rings. It flowed like silk around his ever-youthful features, complimenting the rakish goatee. His eyes were like liquid caramel and they made Viggo melt.

Those lips, full and soft, almost blushing-pink held a certain naughty appeal and would look quite nice wrapped around his cock…or Sean’s.

This time there would be no excuses. The Rohan rider was about to get ridden very hard and for a very long time.

He sensed the other man felt the powerful need as well – a need that had lasted and only become stronger as the years passed.

He also knew that Sean was thinking along the same lines, a wicked gleam behind the darkly-tinted sunglasses, as he did his best to adhere to the speed limit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’ll have to excuse the place,” Sean said, ushering Karl into the wide living room, made more spacious still by the floor to ceiling windows that opened to a redwood deck, letting in the light of the mid-afternoon sun. “I had just begun to straighten up when you called.”

If this was what Sean considered untidy, Karl thought, amused in spite of himself, noticing the only mess were the stacks and stacks of photography books as well as a few paintbrushes scattered on the coffee table, he would hire the man to fly back to New Zealand with him and attempt to make some sense of the chaos he’d left behind. A few finished and unfinished canvases lay stacked against one wall.

“Why don’t you go put Karl’s stuff in our spare bedroom, and I’ll start making something for us to eat,” Viggo suggested, looking at the Kiwi as if what he wanted to eat would not be found in the kitchen. Karl’s body temperature nearly skyrocketed. “You’re probably starving.”

I am, Karl thought, his libido sending silent signals. But not for food. “You’re right, I didn’t eat much on the plane. Just wasn’t hungry.”

No, just the fact that what I wanted wasn’t on the airline’s menu.

Viggo’s eyebrow cocked as if he’d read Karl’s unspoken reply, though what was in his eyes spoke volumes. He turned around and followed Sean up the stairs, trying his best not to stare at the other man’s tempting backside.

“It’s really good to see you, lad,” Sean repeated again, his green eyes warm – no hot. “We wondered if you remembered us.”

How the hell could I ever forget the both of you? “You and Viggo are not exactly forgettable you know? We had some great times back then.”

“Aye, that we did. And I’m glad you finally decided to visit. Most of the cast has dropped by at some point, save for Orlando and Martin – and that’s only because they’re filming.” He paused by an open door and ushered Karl inside. “Ah, here we are. Just drop your stuff anywhere.” Sean busied himself, opening the windows to let in more light and fresh air as Karl did his best not to just pounce on the Brit. That ass was beginning to get to him, and Karl wanted nothing more than to feel the tight muscles flex in his hands.

He wondered what Sean would look like on his knees as he fucked him.

Karl placed his bags on the bed and waited, his body urging him to do something – even a taste. He walked up behind Sean, placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and turned him around.

He was drowning in those eyes, full of jade heat and fire. Sean’s arms snaked around his waist, pulling him closer, hard bodies meshed together and slowly those lips Karl dreamed of descended upon his.

Kisses were not meant to make one scream…

That was unless one was being kissed into paradise by Sean Bean. Where on earth the man had learned to kiss was anyone’s guess but Karl was more than grateful to whomever his teacher had been for he could barely stand up as the kiss overwhelmed all five senses. It was a kiss to sink one’s soul into, as if it had been waiting for Karl’s mouth alone. The kiss took everything and gave back even more, and Karl was completely intoxicated, likening the green-eyed Brit’s mouth to the high from an illegal drug.

“Tell me your secrets, Karl.” Sean’s hot breath fanned against his face, teeth lightly nibbling on his earlobe. “What do you want…”

What did he want? The man had to be kidding not to know and Karl’s mouth didn’t want to do anything save be kissed again and again by Sean. He didn’t even want to breathe, much less speak.

But Sean wouldn’t be denied. He pulled his lips away, hovering inches from Karl’s own, his eyes blazing, full of barely leashed desire.

“Tell me your secrets, Karl…” he repeated, hands twining themselves into the thickness of Karl’s hair, possessing him. “Tell me what you need.”

What I need…what I need is you and Viggo…I want…and this time Karl said the words, his breath halting, the truth spilling forth from his soul, “My secret is that I came here because I want you and I want Viggo…from the time we met I always have, and I never acted on my feelings because I didn’t know how you felt, but now…”

With the admission fresh from Karl’s lips, Sean pulled Karl’s body with him as he moved towards the hall. “Vig, can you come up here please?” Karl’s eyes widened, wondering what the other man would do or say. Sean winked.

Moments later Viggo’s form paused in the doorway of the room, his eyes missing nothing of the tight embrace his lover held the dark-haired Kiwi.

It was a damn good thing he took the extra minute to turn everything off because from the energy that filled the room, dinner would be delayed indefinitely.

Cradling Karl’s body, Sean looked straight at his lover. “Our former King of Rohan has a secret that I think he needs to share…”

Within two strides, Karl was now pinned between two hard, hot bodies as Viggo’s arms encircled his waist. “So tell me your secrets, Karl…”

Sean’s breath came like a sirocco, teasing his ear and neck as he struggled to form at least a sentence. It was difficult to stare deep into Viggo’s blue-black eyes, dark with hunger, his own face reflected in them.

“…I want you Viggo…you and Sean together…however you both want me…I need to feel that…”

“Really,” Viggo growled, not asking but stating a fact. “We want you as well, Karl, and not just for a quick tryst either.”

His paint-calloused fingers reached out, tenderly caressing the whiskered cheek. For such an intense man, Viggo could be gentle when he wished.

The gentleness undid Karl, whose body arched against the other man’s, rubbing his swollen cock against the seam of Viggo’s jeans.

“I suggest we move this to our bedroom,” Viggo said, his voice a seductive rumble, as his fingers hooked into the waistband of Karl’s jeans.

TBC...