Green Dark by shegollum - Part 6/?
Aug. 28th, 2005 06:54 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rugbytackleTitle: Green Dark
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean; includes some Orlando, too.
Rating: R - NC17 (I dunno how to be a rating board, I guess!)
Summary: Morning after the night before...where are they in this strange new space?
Warnings: Angst; mental cruelty/instability; possibly non-con
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.
I would love to hear feedback please. Any and all welcome.
Thank you guys for putting up with 3 fic posts in a weekend. I am Spam Girl! :-)
For what its worth, this chapter is dedicated to Amanda just 'cause she is too cool. :-)
-- shegollum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Banner bestowed upon me by the monstrously talented Amanda (![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
legomyarrow). I am not worthy, but I LOVE it so much. Thank you, sweets. :-)
Sean woke alone in a cold, sickly sweat. As the room tilted and flickered around him, he realized he wasn’t hung over as he’d feared. He was still drunk. Again. And he had not even the excuse of an evening with a mate this time. He’d just fucked about on his own and gotten shit-faced the night before. All alone in his exclusive hotel room in one of the see-and-be-seen capitals of the world, he’d sat on his bed and leaned back against the headboard, the bottle of scotch sandwiched between his thighs when not tilted to his mouth for long swallows that burned yet healed.
He had no real sense of what time it was but daylight was annoying him almost as much as he was annoying himself. It did its best to creep in around the heavy hotel room drapes and Sean rolled over to face the blank wall. His head swam as he made the move, his vestibular system clearing not keeping pace with his drug of choice.
He wished for sleep or loss of consciousness, whichever came first. He’d given up caring how his oblivion came to him so long as it gave him an escape from the struggle to understand what had happened, the looping of thoughts and feelings through his brain that always tread a familiar but irresolvable path from friendship and hope to something miraculous to the sudden inexplicable death of both the friendship and the hope.
The nothingness he prayed for would not come and despite his best effort, his mind drifted sluggishly. Another city. Another hotel room. And the loss of the dearest mate he’d ever had.
It hurt to think and more so to feel.
And yet his brain kept insisting. At any moment when it wasn’t overwhelmed by chemicals, it took him back to this. This memory that was so right and so wrong all at once that it left him with a physical pain in his heart, a knifelike sensation beneath his ribs that was cold and searing. And to the anger at the aftermath that was like nothing he’d ever felt. He had less idea of how to work with the anger than he did with the hurt. There was no way to rationally think through his reaction to Viggo’s callousness. The betrayal in his words and actions as he left without ever really even looking at Sean, with such uncaring disregard for this barrier they had passed through, sent a rage through him like nothing he’d ever felt.
He grunted with frustration, giving in – at least a little -- for the moment. He wanted to figure out a way through these thoughts. A path that would let him decide what had happened, label it as such, and pack it neatly away. But he couldn’t find that place. Every entry into the memory left him in an agony he couldn’t contain, a pain that he’d only been able to diminish through the power of his almighty scotch. He let himself open the door to the memory for a moment, struggling to let it in without the wave of pain he knew would sneak in with it.
He recalled his surprise at the first kiss. He’d not been surprised that it had finally happened but only that it had been Viggo who’d initiated it after all this time. He’d been so sure for so long that he would be the one to cross that line first – the one to no longer be able to see any reason not to touch the other in one of the few ways still foreign to them. He’d known for a long time that there was an element of fate in their relationship and while he didn’t really even know how to change it to something more immediate and more real, he also just knew that it would be when it was time.
Every time he’d seen or spoken with Viggo – every single time – it had seemed more and more unavoidable that their rightness for each other– their simple inevitability -- would soon be a part of their lives – an accepted reality for them and no longer the sweetly bitter tantalization it had been for those many years.
And then, with no warning and no awareness that their time had finally come,the decision had been taken from him, superseded by the rawness of Viggo’s needy demand. He was suddenly being kissed; tongue-fucked in a way he’d never even imagined before. The feelings passing to him in those kisses were open unrestrained passion and absolute need. Love expressed in a corporeal reality that left no room – had no need – for the crude approximations of verbal declarations.
Viggo’s roughness, the coarseness of his hands ripping at clothes and skin alike, had not been a manifestation of violence, but a long-denied rush of knowing . It had been the reality of what they both wanted – what they both knew they both wanted – and it shared none of the crude indifference of a violation. It had been a perfection that suited them completely, offered by the one person in the world that he loved with no fear.
His body had reacted instantly and he’d thrust hard into the kiss, moaning a sound that escalated into a roar in his brain, inciting in him his own instinctive and very male need to dominate and seek what he wanted for himself. Sean had been pinned, hands up and beside his head and held there by the hard strength of Viggo’s hands clawed around his wrists. He’s pushed hard against the other man with his hips, shoving him off balance. As he did so, he felt the nails dig into his wrists, bruising and marking him.
And they’d stopped the fighting and struggling just like that. He wanted more and the sharp bite of pain suddenly triggered the realization that this was it. This was going to happen. They were going to fuck. Finally. Inevitably. Suddenly they realized that they didn’t have to struggle, that they could just have in a way that made complete and blinding sense.
His chest had heaved with short breaths that he couldn’t clearly attribute to lust or exertion or fear. And for just a moment, he’d panicked and wanted to be free of this. Too soon. Too much. Too real.
And then his hands were let go.
And Viggo had stepped back, all flushed, blue-eyed lust.
And Sean had ached to close the distance between them again, taking one long stride to crush himself against the other man, his hands finding either side of Viggo’s face before claiming his mouth, fiercely thrusting his tongue into the perfection of his welcoming warmth, surrendering to the rightness of Viggo’s tongue twining around his own.
They’d found each other with hands and arms, mouths crashing against each other in an animalistic frenzy that neither cared to abandon. Viggo had pulled Sean’s shirt aside roughly, dropping to his knees to yank aside fabric and fill his mouth with the only thing he needed at that moment. Sean had fallen back against the wall, unable to keep pace with what was happening, reveling in the feel of Viggo’s stubbly cheek against his thigh, that long-desired mouth sucking and caressing at his hardness, the long shaggy hair he felt beneath his hands finally touched with no thought to propriety.
“Wait,” he’d murmured as Viggo had brought him so close. So achingly close. “Wait.” And then he’d let himself be pulled-thrown-shoved to the bed, a willing captive beneath a body unbelievably warm and solid and needy.
With an agonized groan, Sean heaved himself out of his foreign bed, depending on his physicality to remove himself from these memories. He stood, shaky and wide legged, his tired eyes scanning the room for his cigarettes and his alcohol, not necessarily in that order.
He vaguely wondered what day it was and then decided he didn’t really give a fuck. He’d had enough of this feeling of loss. Of wrongness, guilt and shame competing with feelings of being completely screwed over. Fuck Viggo. And fuck that whole part of his life – good memories and bad. The good ones were one and the same with bad ones now anyway, he realized.
He wondered where the fuck his clean clothes were, angrily kicking through items strewn randomly around the room. He found piles of clothes and shoes that had been worn to places he couldn’t recall, an empty cigarette carton as well as a half-full one, and his long-dead cell phone. The closets were empty. Fine wooden hangers clanged together when he slammed the door shut on them.
He dropped heavily onto the foot of the bed, his eyes falling on the several untouched bottles of scotch lined up neatly on the countertop. He signed as he vaguely recalled that when he’d checked in not even a week before, he had a full case brought in. He needed to find the phone, he realized. It was time to order more.
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean; includes some Orlando, too.
Rating: R - NC17 (I dunno how to be a rating board, I guess!)
Summary: Morning after the night before...where are they in this strange new space?
Warnings: Angst; mental cruelty/instability; possibly non-con
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.
I would love to hear feedback please. Any and all welcome.
Thank you guys for putting up with 3 fic posts in a weekend. I am Spam Girl! :-)
For what its worth, this chapter is dedicated to Amanda just 'cause she is too cool. :-)
-- shegollum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Banner bestowed upon me by the monstrously talented Amanda (
legomyarrow). I am not worthy, but I LOVE it so much. Thank you, sweets. :-)Sean woke alone in a cold, sickly sweat. As the room tilted and flickered around him, he realized he wasn’t hung over as he’d feared. He was still drunk. Again. And he had not even the excuse of an evening with a mate this time. He’d just fucked about on his own and gotten shit-faced the night before. All alone in his exclusive hotel room in one of the see-and-be-seen capitals of the world, he’d sat on his bed and leaned back against the headboard, the bottle of scotch sandwiched between his thighs when not tilted to his mouth for long swallows that burned yet healed.
He had no real sense of what time it was but daylight was annoying him almost as much as he was annoying himself. It did its best to creep in around the heavy hotel room drapes and Sean rolled over to face the blank wall. His head swam as he made the move, his vestibular system clearing not keeping pace with his drug of choice.
He wished for sleep or loss of consciousness, whichever came first. He’d given up caring how his oblivion came to him so long as it gave him an escape from the struggle to understand what had happened, the looping of thoughts and feelings through his brain that always tread a familiar but irresolvable path from friendship and hope to something miraculous to the sudden inexplicable death of both the friendship and the hope.
The nothingness he prayed for would not come and despite his best effort, his mind drifted sluggishly. Another city. Another hotel room. And the loss of the dearest mate he’d ever had.
It hurt to think and more so to feel.
And yet his brain kept insisting. At any moment when it wasn’t overwhelmed by chemicals, it took him back to this. This memory that was so right and so wrong all at once that it left him with a physical pain in his heart, a knifelike sensation beneath his ribs that was cold and searing. And to the anger at the aftermath that was like nothing he’d ever felt. He had less idea of how to work with the anger than he did with the hurt. There was no way to rationally think through his reaction to Viggo’s callousness. The betrayal in his words and actions as he left without ever really even looking at Sean, with such uncaring disregard for this barrier they had passed through, sent a rage through him like nothing he’d ever felt.
He grunted with frustration, giving in – at least a little -- for the moment. He wanted to figure out a way through these thoughts. A path that would let him decide what had happened, label it as such, and pack it neatly away. But he couldn’t find that place. Every entry into the memory left him in an agony he couldn’t contain, a pain that he’d only been able to diminish through the power of his almighty scotch. He let himself open the door to the memory for a moment, struggling to let it in without the wave of pain he knew would sneak in with it.
He recalled his surprise at the first kiss. He’d not been surprised that it had finally happened but only that it had been Viggo who’d initiated it after all this time. He’d been so sure for so long that he would be the one to cross that line first – the one to no longer be able to see any reason not to touch the other in one of the few ways still foreign to them. He’d known for a long time that there was an element of fate in their relationship and while he didn’t really even know how to change it to something more immediate and more real, he also just knew that it would be when it was time.
Every time he’d seen or spoken with Viggo – every single time – it had seemed more and more unavoidable that their rightness for each other– their simple inevitability -- would soon be a part of their lives – an accepted reality for them and no longer the sweetly bitter tantalization it had been for those many years.
And then, with no warning and no awareness that their time had finally come,the decision had been taken from him, superseded by the rawness of Viggo’s needy demand. He was suddenly being kissed; tongue-fucked in a way he’d never even imagined before. The feelings passing to him in those kisses were open unrestrained passion and absolute need. Love expressed in a corporeal reality that left no room – had no need – for the crude approximations of verbal declarations.
Viggo’s roughness, the coarseness of his hands ripping at clothes and skin alike, had not been a manifestation of violence, but a long-denied rush of knowing . It had been the reality of what they both wanted – what they both knew they both wanted – and it shared none of the crude indifference of a violation. It had been a perfection that suited them completely, offered by the one person in the world that he loved with no fear.
His body had reacted instantly and he’d thrust hard into the kiss, moaning a sound that escalated into a roar in his brain, inciting in him his own instinctive and very male need to dominate and seek what he wanted for himself. Sean had been pinned, hands up and beside his head and held there by the hard strength of Viggo’s hands clawed around his wrists. He’s pushed hard against the other man with his hips, shoving him off balance. As he did so, he felt the nails dig into his wrists, bruising and marking him.
And they’d stopped the fighting and struggling just like that. He wanted more and the sharp bite of pain suddenly triggered the realization that this was it. This was going to happen. They were going to fuck. Finally. Inevitably. Suddenly they realized that they didn’t have to struggle, that they could just have in a way that made complete and blinding sense.
His chest had heaved with short breaths that he couldn’t clearly attribute to lust or exertion or fear. And for just a moment, he’d panicked and wanted to be free of this. Too soon. Too much. Too real.
And then his hands were let go.
And Viggo had stepped back, all flushed, blue-eyed lust.
And Sean had ached to close the distance between them again, taking one long stride to crush himself against the other man, his hands finding either side of Viggo’s face before claiming his mouth, fiercely thrusting his tongue into the perfection of his welcoming warmth, surrendering to the rightness of Viggo’s tongue twining around his own.
They’d found each other with hands and arms, mouths crashing against each other in an animalistic frenzy that neither cared to abandon. Viggo had pulled Sean’s shirt aside roughly, dropping to his knees to yank aside fabric and fill his mouth with the only thing he needed at that moment. Sean had fallen back against the wall, unable to keep pace with what was happening, reveling in the feel of Viggo’s stubbly cheek against his thigh, that long-desired mouth sucking and caressing at his hardness, the long shaggy hair he felt beneath his hands finally touched with no thought to propriety.
“Wait,” he’d murmured as Viggo had brought him so close. So achingly close. “Wait.” And then he’d let himself be pulled-thrown-shoved to the bed, a willing captive beneath a body unbelievably warm and solid and needy.
With an agonized groan, Sean heaved himself out of his foreign bed, depending on his physicality to remove himself from these memories. He stood, shaky and wide legged, his tired eyes scanning the room for his cigarettes and his alcohol, not necessarily in that order.
He vaguely wondered what day it was and then decided he didn’t really give a fuck. He’d had enough of this feeling of loss. Of wrongness, guilt and shame competing with feelings of being completely screwed over. Fuck Viggo. And fuck that whole part of his life – good memories and bad. The good ones were one and the same with bad ones now anyway, he realized.
He wondered where the fuck his clean clothes were, angrily kicking through items strewn randomly around the room. He found piles of clothes and shoes that had been worn to places he couldn’t recall, an empty cigarette carton as well as a half-full one, and his long-dead cell phone. The closets were empty. Fine wooden hangers clanged together when he slammed the door shut on them.
He dropped heavily onto the foot of the bed, his eyes falling on the several untouched bottles of scotch lined up neatly on the countertop. He signed as he vaguely recalled that when he’d checked in not even a week before, he had a full case brought in. He needed to find the phone, he realized. It was time to order more.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 04:09 am (UTC)What happened to Orli? If I recall correctly (and you know I do!! LOL) he was calling Viggo. Which brings me to the question ... where the h*ll is Viggo?! I'm gonna kick is scrawny Danish arse for leaving Sean in this state!
Hurry back with the next chapter. I'm just gonna sit here and hit refresh until you do!
no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 08:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 05:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 08:38 pm (UTC)so happy that you like it!
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 11:44 am (UTC)Yesterday I watched a Viggo movie - The passion of Darky Noon - it was weird and scary, but the sex scene was so hot, Viggo tearing her clothes with "loving violence" - when I read this chapter, I could easily replace her with Sean in my imagination... (not a bad image at all...)
no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 08:39 pm (UTC)and, oh yeah, baby...i LOVE that scene in that movie. ;-)
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 09:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 08:40 pm (UTC)welcome to my twisted little brain. ;-)