BLOOD BROTHERS by Shegollum 1/1
Aug. 7th, 2005 09:15 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
shegollum.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rugbytackleTitle: Blood Brothers
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean
Rating: Pretty tame all in all
Summary: A story based on the wonderful Bruce Springsteen song, "Blood Brothers". It has belonged to Vig and Bean in my head ever since I saw the movies. Please see my previous post for lyrics all in one spot and a link. Thanks, folks.
Warnings: Schmoop. M/M RPS. The ususal...
Disclaimer: All made up in my wee little brain. No truth in it at all. Please do not even BEGIN to think that either of these much beloved men had anything to do with this or influenced it in any way other than by their undeniable hotness. ;-)
Archive: Viggo-Cursive and rugbytackle
A/N: Not beta'd. All errors are completely mine and mine alone.
Also, I will love you forever -- forever I tell you! -- if you will leave me feedback and tell me what you think of the story, the song, my strange fascination with Bruce...whatever you want.
And finally, big thanks to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
causette for teaching me how to make the little boxy things for the lyrics. :-D She's so good to me. ~~squishes~~
B L O O D
B R O T H E R S
“So, when did you realize we’d regressed to the age of 11 again?” Viggo said with a laugh, washing his chuckles down with the last of his beer.
“When I regressed? Or when you did? I’m not sure we arrived there at the same time, mate.”
Sean looked across the table at his best friend from that great adventure, now some four years behind them. Viggo looked the same as he always did – ruggedly boyish and carelessly handsome, blue eyes shining against tan skin. He would probably forever be the man who didn’t look his age. Even when the wrinkles showed, they were typically being caused by such exuberant and contagious laughter that no one noticed them.
“You may be right,” he said thoughtfully. “I was never that mature to begin with.”
“No, you weren’t. Not sure madness and maturity go hand in hand, Vig.”
The other man responded with a slow grin, nodding the whole time. A comfortable silence cushioned the space between them as another round arrived, soft clinks of glass and a murmured ‘Enjoy’ poking into the quiet.
“God,” said Sean, sitting back in his seat and shoving his hand through his hair as he remembered, a far off look in his eyes and a happy smile breaking loose on his lips.
“Do you remember some of that shit? Running up and down those hills dressed like people out of fairytales and myth…” He shook his head, close-cropped blonde hair too short to move on its own glimmering in the faint light that cocooned them in their booth.
“Insane,” agreed the American, memories racing through his mind.
“Aye. Never in all my life would I have expected playing it – acting as Boromir – could become so real. But it did. Like playing king of the mountain…all of us. Like we were children again. With horses and knights. And princesses and elves. And hobbits! Good Lord, let us not forget the dear hobbits!”
They clanked beers together at that, one of them murmuring “To absent friends” and the other echoing it, both of them smiling. They sat in easy quiet for a minute, each reminiscing, brains filling with sights, sounds and scents of a magical time and place.
“And then we crashed back to shore, didn’t we? Thrown back into the world. Just women and men again. It was a hard transition for me,” said Viggo softly.
“For me, too. Me, too. I was glad it got so busy afterward. Made it easier to not think about it too deeply,” said the other man, reaching out to lay one of his hands over Viggo’s, a wry smile on his face for just a moment. He looked on the verge of speaking but was interrupted by a pair of young girls and their mother as they approached the table with a polite request for autographs.
Sean let the touch turn into a hollow manly gesture – his fist bouncing lightly on Viggo’s spread fingers – before he turned on his Sharpe smile and greeted the children warmly, taking the napkin that they held, signing in one corner before passing it over to his friend. His king. Forever his king.
“You know what always puts me right back there? Sunlight on water. I don’t know why exactly…it’s a sight I’ve obviously seen many times before and since…but just that shimmer…takes me right back.”
“Well that figures, you fuckin’ poet. What takes me back are hyperactive young men with Mohawks. Helicopters. Irish pubs in places that aren’t Ireland. Far less poetic in my memories, aren’t I? Oh, and let’s not forget chubby little men in shorts.”
“And clove cigarettes. God…the stench,” replied Viggo with a laugh.
“Oh God, yeah. The first one always smelled kind of nice, but trying to get that smell out of your nose and your hair and clothes after a night out. Forget it.”
“Jameson’s, too.”
“Yeah. And Newcastle Brown.”
“Yup. That’s right.”
Grins came and went and came again as they recalled more things: fake ears and fake blood, real blood, horse sweat, saddle sores and bruises. And conversations over beer or whiskey, under trees and in their trailer, sober ones and not so sober ones as well.
“I missed you, Vig. Such a good mate,” Sean murmured.
Viggo’s eyes rose to meet Sean’s, the nostalgia of their memories catching up with them and making both faces more somber. Blue eyes narrowed briefly with the quick smile on Viggo’s face and then he reached across the table to tip his bottle against Sean’s, the crisp clink underscoring his words.
“Me, too, Sean. Still do.”
“Never had a blood brother before,” he continued.
Sean laughed, shaking his head, his green eyes still tracking on Viggo’s blue ones.
“Crazy bugger. Still can’t believe you did that.”
It had been during the Amon Hen filming. Sean had fallen during one of his fight scenes, feet slipping on layers of old leaves, and as he’d landed he’d sliced his hand on a half-buried rock. Griping about it and calling out to Pete that he needed a minute to get cleaned up, he’d headed off set to the tents. On his way there, he’d run into Viggo, fresh from finishing some of his own scenes on the other side of the hill. He was sweaty and filthy and completely Aragorn with the noticeable exception of the silly grin on his face.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Slipped and cut my hand. Just need a moment.” He’d held up his hand as he’d said it, blood flowing steadily from the fleshy part of his palm. Viggo had looked at it, then at Sean, blue eyes glittering in the dappled light under the trees. Never stopping his walk toward him, he pulled out Aragorn’s dagger and sliced quickly, efficiently across his own palm, a line of red spilling from the cut immediately. He’d grabbed Sean’s hand with his own, deliberately mingling their blood, gripping tightly -- almost painfully tight -- before pulling him closer into a rough one-armed hug.
“My blood brother,” he’d murmured, and then he’d stepped back again, never letting their hands separate. Looking intently into Sean’s eyes, he’d allowed his free hand to move up to that face, bent fingers to stroke across the roughness of his dirty cheek and then he’d smiled a sheepish grin that didn’t make its way completely into his eyes.
“We’re bound now, friend. I’ll be with you forever.” He cleared his throat. “As you will always be with me.”
Sean had just looked at him, his brain racing to process what Viggo had just done. He smirked at the absurdity of it and at the same time marveled at how touched he was. He looked down at their clasped hands, felt the warmth and stickiness of their blood mingled together.
He had been flustered, a position with which Sean Bean had never before been even remotely familiar.
And then Viggo had kissed him, lightly, briefly and chastely, but right there in front of the crew and the Urak Hai and everyone, in the golden-spotted leaves on that hillside.
He realized he was smiling now. He looked up to see Viggo watching him, an expression of curiosity on his face.
“What?” he asked faintly.
“You kissed me. And said we were bound.” Sean’s thumb was unconsciously running over the faint scar in the palm of the other hand. His eyebrows crinkled as Viggo watched him, his nervousness making him unusually careful of his words. For the second time in his life, he felt flustered.
“I did.”
“And I remembered. Always. I’ve never forgotten.” Sean sighed deeply, reaching down to gather reserves within himself before he spoke again. “That’s why I called you. Asked you to come.”
“I wanted – needed to see you again. Needed to know…”
His voice trailed away and he became aware of another person approaching the table timidly ad realized that there were more behind this one. He smiled a small, distant smile at the person and signaled him closer. It was easier to just acknowledge it and move along than to feel the looks and the whispers. They were always nice, sometimes hysterically amusing or touchingly effusive in their comments and he typically enjoyed it just for what it was, but right now, he also welcomed it as a distraction, a chance to step back behind a mask again for just a bit.
When they were alone again, they were aware that it might only be for a moment, and Sean spoke quickly.
“What did you mean with all of that fooling about? I don’t think I ever quite got the joke.”
He knew there had been no joke. But he needed to hear it from Viggo. So he pressed and then he waited.
Viggo shrugged ever so slowly, gaze locked on him even as he downed the last of another beer.
“No joke about it. Not then or now. You’re with me. Always. Do with that knowledge what you will, Sean.”
That blue gaze never let Sean slip an inch, didn’t allow him the tiniest bit of wiggle room.
He turned and signaled their server, happy to lose himself in the routine, safe process of paying the check and getting a cab. Back on safe ground that was.
And then, within only minutes, the safe ground was pulled out from under him again as they entered Viggo’s hotel room. It was a quiet place that overlooked the city and the river and was blissfully private. That made it a perfect fit for the man who occupied it and who was already rummaging for ice and his bottle of Jameson’s.
“Didn’t used to be so fucking difficult,” he mumbled as he poured Jameson’s over ice for both of them, the ice cracking in response to the room temperature liquid.
“No. It was simpler then. To be off in New Zealand with no expectations on us. Things were clearer. Easier. Don’t you think?” Sean puttered around the room, looking out the French doors at the balcony, picking at the stack of newly purchased books on the sofa table and jingling the change in his pocket.
“Yeah, goof…I just said that. Why are you so nervous? To use a phrase of my grandmother’s, you look like a long tailed cat in a room full of rockers.”
Sean laughed out loud and took his drink, shaking his head. “Yeah. I guess I am a bit edgy, mate. I guess I am.”
“Well, don’t be. It’s me, remember? Your friend. Your brother. Your fucking blood brother,” he said with a muffled cackle. “It did get crazy after New Zealand, yeah. And I know I got opportunities then that I never would have had before. So in that sense, I will be forever grateful.”
Viggo spoke quietly, as he always did, but there was a sadness in his words, too, and Sean looked up at him with concern. He found the other man looking at him, head tilted to one side and his eyes narrowed slightly with what looked like curiosity. And unguarded desire.
Sean found himself smiling a little in instinctive response and he moved closer, reached his hand – that hand – to Viggo’s, pulling it up so that he could find the almost delicate scar in his palm, tracing his index finger over it before he raised it to his mouth. He kissed the palm gently, closing his eyes and knowing only the touch of his lips against the warm, firm skin.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Sean heard himself saying, his head still bent, his gaze focusing only on the hand he kissed. And it was suddenly so easy again. So clear and simple. “I’ve missed knowing you were there. With me. At my back. My side.”
He stood straight and took a deep breath, preparing to raise his eyes and meet his fate, not sure what to expect from the other man at the unmistakable intimacy of – invitation in – his words. But before he could make even that small move, a hand was beneath his chin, pulling his face roughly up to lips eager for his own, and he was lost in a kiss that was more than he’d ever imagined. He felt the passionate strokes of Viggo’s tongue against his own, felt his arms going around him as though they’d always belonged there. And he felt like he was finally where he needed – wanted – to be.
Viggo broke away first, ending their kiss, the kiss he’d started. He didn’t even meet Sean’s eyes, just started apologizing.
“Sorry…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
Sean couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. And he was hurt and confused and quickly getting pissed.
“Shouldn’t have?” he questioned, not sure why that was the question he asked above all other, other than he’d long ago ceased to think that Viggo would ever have to ask his permission for anything. And for precisely that reason, the notion that the other man had to apologize for the contact seemed the most surreal piece of all that had just happened.
But then when he started to hear the answer, he knew where they both were again. And it was all okay. The safe ground was sliding back beneath them both and they were finding their feet again.
Viggo looked at him, his mouth ruddy with color from the passionate kiss, his brow dimpled by his crumpled look of contrition.
“I don’t know why I thought I could do that. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry, Sean. I thought-- . Or I didn’t think, I guess. I’m just so fucking confused,” he finished miserably.
“Why?” breathed Sean, wanting to hear but also wanting to comfort him with another kiss.
“I’ve loved you so much. And I didn’t know how to ask for what I thought you weren’t ready to give. But I’ve loved you forever. Since that day. Since before that day.”
Sean stopped him with a quick kiss and then another to the scarred palm before Viggo spoke again.
“When you called this time, and asked me to come, I hoped. But I didn’t count on it. But I would have always taken whatever you could give me. Will always,” he corrected himself quickly, looking concerned all of a sudden. “I don’t mean to pressure you. Maybe this isn’t what you—“
Again Sean stopped him with a kiss, but this time it was a passionate, deep and long kiss, accompanied by Sean thrusting hard against Viggo until the other man’s ass was firmly situated on the sofa table and Sean could step between his legs, grinding his hard cock against Viggo’s.
“This is exactly what I want, Vig. Don’t second-guess us,” he growled threateningly and dropped his eager mouth to the salty skin at Viggo’s throat, pushing the other man’s chin back roughly to gain greater access to the stubbly skin.
He heard a breathy groan in reply and felt Viggo’s hands moving lower, skimming down his back to his ass, grabbing him and pulling him closer. All of which made it doubly shocking when Viggo finally pulled away as far as his position on the table would allow, his hands shoving Sean away roughly.
“What the fuck, Viggo?” he rasped, hurt and surprise and denied hunger all fueling the anger in his voice.
“What are we doing? What is this?” whispered the other man. “It can’t be just a fuck, Sean. It can’t. I can’t.”
His quiet words went straight to Sean’s heart. Made him hurt for the other man. He wanted to stop his fear.
He grabbed his hand and pulled him with him, out of the confining space and onto the balcony high above the city, a space bordered by artful shrubs and a few well-placed loungers, a table. He led him out to the farthest corner, letting the cool gentle breeze wash over them as he stopped and turned to face the other man.
“Look, Viggo. This is real to me. To me as well as to you. I have been second-guessing myself all night. Wondering why I called and if there was really anything more than friendship between us or if I’d imagined it all. But look! We’re here! Another world, another lifetime away from where we started – and the feelings are the same, stronger even. You didn’t imagine anything. I called you here for this. For us.”
And then they were together again, Sean’s hands cupping the strong bones of Viggo’s face, feeling him kiss him, hearing him moan in response, knowing but somehow not quite believing that this strong and quiet man was his.
He tilted his own head further, pressing into the other man for more contact, heard himself speaking as he broke away only to say “I love you” to the one person who’d been in his heart for all these years. Hearing the words whispered back to him, that softly gruff voice caressing at his ear, sent a sense of completeness through him that he'd never felt before. He finally felt like he knew what he needed to know, that he had what he needed to go forward, and he was satisfied and happy in a way so much deeper than he'd ever anticipated.
"Bound," he whispered.
And "Forever" was whispered back.
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean
Rating: Pretty tame all in all
Summary: A story based on the wonderful Bruce Springsteen song, "Blood Brothers". It has belonged to Vig and Bean in my head ever since I saw the movies. Please see my previous post for lyrics all in one spot and a link. Thanks, folks.
Warnings: Schmoop. M/M RPS. The ususal...
Disclaimer: All made up in my wee little brain. No truth in it at all. Please do not even BEGIN to think that either of these much beloved men had anything to do with this or influenced it in any way other than by their undeniable hotness. ;-)
Archive: Viggo-Cursive and rugbytackle
A/N: Not beta'd. All errors are completely mine and mine alone.
Also, I will love you forever -- forever I tell you! -- if you will leave me feedback and tell me what you think of the story, the song, my strange fascination with Bruce...whatever you want.
And finally, big thanks to
causette for teaching me how to make the little boxy things for the lyrics. :-D She's so good to me. ~~squishes~~B R O T H E R S
The world come chargin' up the hill, and we were women and men” |
“So, when did you realize we’d regressed to the age of 11 again?” Viggo said with a laugh, washing his chuckles down with the last of his beer.
“When I regressed? Or when you did? I’m not sure we arrived there at the same time, mate.”
Sean looked across the table at his best friend from that great adventure, now some four years behind them. Viggo looked the same as he always did – ruggedly boyish and carelessly handsome, blue eyes shining against tan skin. He would probably forever be the man who didn’t look his age. Even when the wrinkles showed, they were typically being caused by such exuberant and contagious laughter that no one noticed them.
“You may be right,” he said thoughtfully. “I was never that mature to begin with.”
“No, you weren’t. Not sure madness and maturity go hand in hand, Vig.”
The other man responded with a slow grin, nodding the whole time. A comfortable silence cushioned the space between them as another round arrived, soft clinks of glass and a murmured ‘Enjoy’ poking into the quiet.
“God,” said Sean, sitting back in his seat and shoving his hand through his hair as he remembered, a far off look in his eyes and a happy smile breaking loose on his lips.
“Do you remember some of that shit? Running up and down those hills dressed like people out of fairytales and myth…” He shook his head, close-cropped blonde hair too short to move on its own glimmering in the faint light that cocooned them in their booth.
“Insane,” agreed the American, memories racing through his mind.
“Aye. Never in all my life would I have expected playing it – acting as Boromir – could become so real. But it did. Like playing king of the mountain…all of us. Like we were children again. With horses and knights. And princesses and elves. And hobbits! Good Lord, let us not forget the dear hobbits!”
They clanked beers together at that, one of them murmuring “To absent friends” and the other echoing it, both of them smiling. They sat in easy quiet for a minute, each reminiscing, brains filling with sights, sounds and scents of a magical time and place.
“And then we crashed back to shore, didn’t we? Thrown back into the world. Just women and men again. It was a hard transition for me,” said Viggo softly.
“For me, too. Me, too. I was glad it got so busy afterward. Made it easier to not think about it too deeply,” said the other man, reaching out to lay one of his hands over Viggo’s, a wry smile on his face for just a moment. He looked on the verge of speaking but was interrupted by a pair of young girls and their mother as they approached the table with a polite request for autographs.
Sean let the touch turn into a hollow manly gesture – his fist bouncing lightly on Viggo’s spread fingers – before he turned on his Sharpe smile and greeted the children warmly, taking the napkin that they held, signing in one corner before passing it over to his friend. His king. Forever his king.
We got our own roads to ride and chances we gotta take” |
“You know what always puts me right back there? Sunlight on water. I don’t know why exactly…it’s a sight I’ve obviously seen many times before and since…but just that shimmer…takes me right back.”
“Well that figures, you fuckin’ poet. What takes me back are hyperactive young men with Mohawks. Helicopters. Irish pubs in places that aren’t Ireland. Far less poetic in my memories, aren’t I? Oh, and let’s not forget chubby little men in shorts.”
“And clove cigarettes. God…the stench,” replied Viggo with a laugh.
“Oh God, yeah. The first one always smelled kind of nice, but trying to get that smell out of your nose and your hair and clothes after a night out. Forget it.”
“Jameson’s, too.”
“Yeah. And Newcastle Brown.”
“Yup. That’s right.”
Grins came and went and came again as they recalled more things: fake ears and fake blood, real blood, horse sweat, saddle sores and bruises. And conversations over beer or whiskey, under trees and in their trailer, sober ones and not so sober ones as well.
“I missed you, Vig. Such a good mate,” Sean murmured.
Viggo’s eyes rose to meet Sean’s, the nostalgia of their memories catching up with them and making both faces more somber. Blue eyes narrowed briefly with the quick smile on Viggo’s face and then he reached across the table to tip his bottle against Sean’s, the crisp clink underscoring his words.
“Me, too, Sean. Still do.”
We said until we died we'd always be blood brothers” |
“Never had a blood brother before,” he continued.
Sean laughed, shaking his head, his green eyes still tracking on Viggo’s blue ones.
“Crazy bugger. Still can’t believe you did that.”
It had been during the Amon Hen filming. Sean had fallen during one of his fight scenes, feet slipping on layers of old leaves, and as he’d landed he’d sliced his hand on a half-buried rock. Griping about it and calling out to Pete that he needed a minute to get cleaned up, he’d headed off set to the tents. On his way there, he’d run into Viggo, fresh from finishing some of his own scenes on the other side of the hill. He was sweaty and filthy and completely Aragorn with the noticeable exception of the silly grin on his face.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Slipped and cut my hand. Just need a moment.” He’d held up his hand as he’d said it, blood flowing steadily from the fleshy part of his palm. Viggo had looked at it, then at Sean, blue eyes glittering in the dappled light under the trees. Never stopping his walk toward him, he pulled out Aragorn’s dagger and sliced quickly, efficiently across his own palm, a line of red spilling from the cut immediately. He’d grabbed Sean’s hand with his own, deliberately mingling their blood, gripping tightly -- almost painfully tight -- before pulling him closer into a rough one-armed hug.
“My blood brother,” he’d murmured, and then he’d stepped back again, never letting their hands separate. Looking intently into Sean’s eyes, he’d allowed his free hand to move up to that face, bent fingers to stroke across the roughness of his dirty cheek and then he’d smiled a sheepish grin that didn’t make its way completely into his eyes.
“We’re bound now, friend. I’ll be with you forever.” He cleared his throat. “As you will always be with me.”
Sean had just looked at him, his brain racing to process what Viggo had just done. He smirked at the absurdity of it and at the same time marveled at how touched he was. He looked down at their clasped hands, felt the warmth and stickiness of their blood mingled together.
He had been flustered, a position with which Sean Bean had never before been even remotely familiar.
And then Viggo had kissed him, lightly, briefly and chastely, but right there in front of the crew and the Urak Hai and everyone, in the golden-spotted leaves on that hillside.
He realized he was smiling now. He looked up to see Viggo watching him, an expression of curiosity on his face.
“What?” he asked faintly.
“You kissed me. And said we were bound.” Sean’s thumb was unconsciously running over the faint scar in the palm of the other hand. His eyebrows crinkled as Viggo watched him, his nervousness making him unusually careful of his words. For the second time in his life, he felt flustered.
“I did.”
“And I remembered. Always. I’ve never forgotten.” Sean sighed deeply, reaching down to gather reserves within himself before he spoke again. “That’s why I called you. Asked you to come.”
Makin' a fool's joke out of the promises we make” |
“I wanted – needed to see you again. Needed to know…”
His voice trailed away and he became aware of another person approaching the table timidly ad realized that there were more behind this one. He smiled a small, distant smile at the person and signaled him closer. It was easier to just acknowledge it and move along than to feel the looks and the whispers. They were always nice, sometimes hysterically amusing or touchingly effusive in their comments and he typically enjoyed it just for what it was, but right now, he also welcomed it as a distraction, a chance to step back behind a mask again for just a bit.
When they were alone again, they were aware that it might only be for a moment, and Sean spoke quickly.
“What did you mean with all of that fooling about? I don’t think I ever quite got the joke.”
He knew there had been no joke. But he needed to hear it from Viggo. So he pressed and then he waited.
Viggo shrugged ever so slowly, gaze locked on him even as he downed the last of another beer.
“No joke about it. Not then or now. You’re with me. Always. Do with that knowledge what you will, Sean.”
That blue gaze never let Sean slip an inch, didn’t allow him the tiniest bit of wiggle room.
He turned and signaled their server, happy to lose himself in the routine, safe process of paying the check and getting a cab. Back on safe ground that was.
We lose ourselves in work to do and bills to pay” |
And then, within only minutes, the safe ground was pulled out from under him again as they entered Viggo’s hotel room. It was a quiet place that overlooked the city and the river and was blissfully private. That made it a perfect fit for the man who occupied it and who was already rummaging for ice and his bottle of Jameson’s.
“Didn’t used to be so fucking difficult,” he mumbled as he poured Jameson’s over ice for both of them, the ice cracking in response to the room temperature liquid.
“No. It was simpler then. To be off in New Zealand with no expectations on us. Things were clearer. Easier. Don’t you think?” Sean puttered around the room, looking out the French doors at the balcony, picking at the stack of newly purchased books on the sofa table and jingling the change in his pocket.
“Yeah, goof…I just said that. Why are you so nervous? To use a phrase of my grandmother’s, you look like a long tailed cat in a room full of rockers.”
Sean laughed out loud and took his drink, shaking his head. “Yeah. I guess I am a bit edgy, mate. I guess I am.”
“Well, don’t be. It’s me, remember? Your friend. Your brother. Your fucking blood brother,” he said with a muffled cackle. “It did get crazy after New Zealand, yeah. And I know I got opportunities then that I never would have had before. So in that sense, I will be forever grateful.”
Viggo spoke quietly, as he always did, but there was a sadness in his words, too, and Sean looked up at him with concern. He found the other man looking at him, head tilted to one side and his eyes narrowed slightly with what looked like curiosity. And unguarded desire.
Sean found himself smiling a little in instinctive response and he moved closer, reached his hand – that hand – to Viggo’s, pulling it up so that he could find the almost delicate scar in his palm, tracing his index finger over it before he raised it to his mouth. He kissed the palm gently, closing his eyes and knowing only the touch of his lips against the warm, firm skin.
With no one runnin' by your side my blood brother” |
“I’ve missed you so much,” Sean heard himself saying, his head still bent, his gaze focusing only on the hand he kissed. And it was suddenly so easy again. So clear and simple. “I’ve missed knowing you were there. With me. At my back. My side.”
He stood straight and took a deep breath, preparing to raise his eyes and meet his fate, not sure what to expect from the other man at the unmistakable intimacy of – invitation in – his words. But before he could make even that small move, a hand was beneath his chin, pulling his face roughly up to lips eager for his own, and he was lost in a kiss that was more than he’d ever imagined. He felt the passionate strokes of Viggo’s tongue against his own, felt his arms going around him as though they’d always belonged there. And he felt like he was finally where he needed – wanted – to be.
Always movin' ahead and never lookin' back” |
Viggo broke away first, ending their kiss, the kiss he’d started. He didn’t even meet Sean’s eyes, just started apologizing.
“Sorry…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
Sean couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. And he was hurt and confused and quickly getting pissed.
“Shouldn’t have?” he questioned, not sure why that was the question he asked above all other, other than he’d long ago ceased to think that Viggo would ever have to ask his permission for anything. And for precisely that reason, the notion that the other man had to apologize for the contact seemed the most surreal piece of all that had just happened.
But then when he started to hear the answer, he knew where they both were again. And it was all okay. The safe ground was sliding back beneath them both and they were finding their feet again.
If I've fallen 'neath the wheel, if I've lost or I've gained sight” |
Viggo looked at him, his mouth ruddy with color from the passionate kiss, his brow dimpled by his crumpled look of contrition.
“I don’t know why I thought I could do that. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry, Sean. I thought-- . Or I didn’t think, I guess. I’m just so fucking confused,” he finished miserably.
“Why?” breathed Sean, wanting to hear but also wanting to comfort him with another kiss.
“I’ve loved you so much. And I didn’t know how to ask for what I thought you weren’t ready to give. But I’ve loved you forever. Since that day. Since before that day.”
Sean stopped him with a quick kiss and then another to the scarred palm before Viggo spoke again.
“When you called this time, and asked me to come, I hoped. But I didn’t count on it. But I would have always taken whatever you could give me. Will always,” he corrected himself quickly, looking concerned all of a sudden. “I don’t mean to pressure you. Maybe this isn’t what you—“
Again Sean stopped him with a kiss, but this time it was a passionate, deep and long kiss, accompanied by Sean thrusting hard against Viggo until the other man’s ass was firmly situated on the sofa table and Sean could step between his legs, grinding his hard cock against Viggo’s.
“This is exactly what I want, Vig. Don’t second-guess us,” he growled threateningly and dropped his eager mouth to the salty skin at Viggo’s throat, pushing the other man’s chin back roughly to gain greater access to the stubbly skin.
He heard a breathy groan in reply and felt Viggo’s hands moving lower, skimming down his back to his ass, grabbing him and pulling him closer. All of which made it doubly shocking when Viggo finally pulled away as far as his position on the table would allow, his hands shoving Sean away roughly.
“What the fuck, Viggo?” he rasped, hurt and surprise and denied hunger all fueling the anger in his voice.
“What are we doing? What is this?” whispered the other man. “It can’t be just a fuck, Sean. It can’t. I can’t.”
Or if any of this matters anymore after all” |
His quiet words went straight to Sean’s heart. Made him hurt for the other man. He wanted to stop his fear.
He grabbed his hand and pulled him with him, out of the confining space and onto the balcony high above the city, a space bordered by artful shrubs and a few well-placed loungers, a table. He led him out to the farthest corner, letting the cool gentle breeze wash over them as he stopped and turned to face the other man.
“Look, Viggo. This is real to me. To me as well as to you. I have been second-guessing myself all night. Wondering why I called and if there was really anything more than friendship between us or if I’d imagined it all. But look! We’re here! Another world, another lifetime away from where we started – and the feelings are the same, stronger even. You didn’t imagine anything. I called you here for this. For us.”
And then they were together again, Sean’s hands cupping the strong bones of Viggo’s face, feeling him kiss him, hearing him moan in response, knowing but somehow not quite believing that this strong and quiet man was his.
He tilted his own head further, pressing into the other man for more contact, heard himself speaking as he broke away only to say “I love you” to the one person who’d been in his heart for all these years. Hearing the words whispered back to him, that softly gruff voice caressing at his ear, sent a sense of completeness through him that he'd never felt before. He finally felt like he knew what he needed to know, that he had what he needed to go forward, and he was satisfied and happy in a way so much deeper than he'd ever anticipated.
"Bound," he whispered.
And "Forever" was whispered back.
I'll keep movin' through the dark with you in my heart My blood brother” |
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Date: 2005-08-07 05:26 pm (UTC)To be honest, I started crying after this sentence and the rest of the story was read in a blur of tears.
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Date: 2005-08-07 05:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-07 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-07 05:55 pm (UTC)http://www.livejournal.com/users/shegollum/141283.html
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Date: 2005-08-07 06:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-07 07:05 pm (UTC)*tries to find words*
There just comes a time when I read something and I get so sucked into it and the angst and the romance and the emotion behind the words touch me so much I just get this warm tingling feeling running through my hands and body. So very good. I loved this story because I can really feel the emotion behind the words.
One minor thing though, and this is a common problem faced by slash writers. You refer to both Vig and Sean as "him" very often. Take this line for example:
He grabbed his hand and pulled him with him
Who is 'he'? And which him are you referring to when you use the two him's after? You would know, being the writer, but a reader can get confused because you're using "him" to refer to both of them and it becomes awkward. You have to identify them, either by name or description. Brit, Dane, American, older man, younger man, whatever. Just be sure who you're referring to ;)
But otherwise, well done! I've saved it =)
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Date: 2005-08-07 07:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-07 07:38 pm (UTC)Thanks.
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Date: 2005-08-07 07:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-08 02:02 pm (UTC)Gorgeous... *adds to memories* Thank you!
~Kris
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Date: 2005-08-09 04:27 pm (UTC)So hopefully i didn't hit those notes too hard.
And woot! I think I've only ever been added to anyone's memories twice so for some reason that makes me especially happy! :-)
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