Green Dark by shegollum -- Part 21/?
Dec. 17th, 2005 09:39 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rugbytackleOnly a few chapters left. Here we go... :-)
THIS IS A DARK RIDE -- Shegollum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Green Dark by shegollum -- Part 21/?
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean; includes Orlando, too.
Rating: R - NC17
Summary: Morning after the night before...where are they in this strange new space?
Warnings: Angst; mental cruelty/instability; possibly non-con; cutting; substance abuse -- you name it...we've probably got it.
Disclaimer: No truth in it at all.
Archive: Viggo-Cursive and rugbytackle eventually
Previous parts at: http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=shegollum&keyword=Green+Dark&filter=all
A/N: Not beta'd. All errors are completely mine and mine alone.
I ♥ feedback. :-D
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Banner by the wonderful Amanda (![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
legomyarrow). :-)
Three days later, Sean and Viggo were working together in the yard, the Englishman finally unable to bear looking at dry grass and dead plants any longer. Bags of gravel and mulch had been ordered in and were stashed in the shed and the two men were starting off by weeding beds and removing long-dead sticks. The effort seemed to pain Sean and bore Viggo although his interest was caught by odd shadows and textures here and there. He’d long since gone in for his camera and had also long since given up pretending that those subjects interested him more than Sean.
The Englishman had thrown off his shirt early on and was wearing only an old pair of cargo shorts and leather flip-flops. The shorts dipped low front and back and Viggo was fascinated with how they might be staying up, tormenting the other man by staring first at the shorts and then at Sean’s face, shaking his head and making a tsk-ing sound every so often. Once he’d become bored with that, he’d taken to tickling him with a long, slender weed he poked down the back of the gapping shorts as Sean went about his work. Sean was amused at him despite mock protests to the contrary.
The days gone by had been good ones. Viggo was far more at ease in Sean’s company than he had been and they’d slipped back into old routines of talking and laughing and enjoying even their silences. Sean was disappointed though to realize that Viggo wasn’t ready for more of a physical relationship – he didn’t want Sean to pleasure him and he wouldn’t talk about it. He’d shake his head and distract Sean but wouldn’t explain. The Englishman knew there was guilt mixed with something else – not fear exactly -- certainly not physical ear of Sean …but a wariness that kept him slightly distant even still. Sean’s frustrations were nothing compared to his concerns and he wanted to give Viggo the time he needed so he contented himself with moving slowly, watching each day for a chance to modify their course.
The American’s nightmares had continued uninterrupted, each night a horrifying sameness that left him shaking and sweaty, too embarrassed – too exhausted – to tell Sean more than a few words. In a tired and resigned voice, he’d described dreams of being pinned, held while he could hear Henry calling for him, screaming for help. The nightmares almost always continued until he could no longer hear his son’s voice and he woke in terror. There were many variations on how he was confined – sometimes alone and tied, sometimes locked in a windowless room or isolated on a tall peak with no way down. It was rare now to dream specifically of the leather restraints or even of Alan. What remained constant was his powerlessness and fear.
He’d let Sean hold him and offer him comfort for the first time after their night together in the studio. He’d seemed uncomfortable about how to receive the caring, somehow unsure how to respond, but they’d wound around each other and talked until sleep finally caught them.
Now they worked side by side in the heat, rarely talking in more than short sentences as they focused on their tasks. Occasionally though, one or the other of them would stop to grab a drink of cool water from the hose and the other would catch them for a quick – or not so quick – kiss before returning to their work.
“Viggo, what was this poor beast anyway?” asked Sean, hacking away at the bleached bones of some long forsaken plant.
“I dunno.”
“Did you ever water it? Even once?”
“Dunno.”
“Viggo! How can you just ignore the poor things? Too busy taking pictures of cracked cement and empty swimming pools, I suppose…”
Viggo laughed – an easy, comfortable laugh that made Sean smile broadly. Seeing Viggo simply happy – not guarded or burdened in the bright sunshine – made his heart lurch and he reached out to pull the other man into a sweaty bear hug.
“God, I love you,” he whispered fiercely into Viggo’s ear, squeezing him tightly.
“Me, too,” was the immediate response. “I love you, too, Sean.”
Viggo’s warm hands moved up to Sean’s face, pulling his mouth down to meet his in a passionate kiss that made their hearts race.
Viggo laughed again as they broke apart and he reached out to pull Sean back to him via the waistband of his shorts. Kissing him, he started walking backwards, still pulling the other man along with him, each kiss a little more urgent than the one before. Sean willingly followed.
Stopping when his back brushed the door of the tool shed, Viggo leaned back, spreading his legs and pulling Sean between them, against him, needing him to feel his hardness and know how much he wanted him. Sean shoved back against him, allowing himself the pleasure of well placed friction, a long moan escaping his parted lips.
“Come on. The neighbors are gonna get jealous,” chuckled Viggo, pushing the door open and yanking Sean through it with him.
In the darkness of the small space, Sean pressed Viggo back until he was leaning against the far wall. Lovingly, he pushed his damp forelock back to better see his face, their eyes meeting in the dim light. Sean hungrily threw himself forward, growling a soft, “Viggo” as their lips met again.
He could feel Viggo’s hard cock through the thin layers of their clothes, could smell clean sweat and desire in the intimate confine of the shed. He pulled the American’s shirt up and over his head, allowing his hands to roam down his bare back and across his broad shoulders, his green eyes following their course as he noted each freckle, every muscle and sinew, a faint bruise just at the very top of his arm. He swallowed in sudden nervousness as he felt Viggo shudder slightly, saw him run his tongue over his full bottom lip. He watched his face, lost himself in blue eyes as he let his hands drop further, saddened only to realize that he could feel soft lines of scars. Stepping forward, he kissed Viggo lightly, lifting a hand – their fingers intertwined – to his lips for a solemn, eyes-closed kiss. He pulled the other man against him again, their mouths opening one against the other, encouraging…allowing, giving. Viggo’s hands were in his hair, his fingers pressed against his scalp, holding him close, his thumbs making loving caresses across his cheekbones.
“Vig,” he murmured, moving his foot between the American’s and pushing his legs wide apart, quickly stepping between them. A harsh, frenetic thrust of his hips brought him where he wanted to be and he moaned with his pleasure. Viggo reached for him and kissed him hard and deep and time either stood still or flew by. It didn’t matter except in that it was different than everything else. They’d found a measure of magic here in the near-darkness -- or so Sean thought – but then he felt Viggo pulling away to kneel before him, giving and refusing to take.
“Viggo, love,” he murmured. “No.”
There was only a kiss to his bare thigh in response and then his shorts were down. Talented lips and tongue teased at him, licking and sucking and offering him heaven. But he didn’t want to go there alone. Not again, not now, not like this.
“No,” he groaned, stepping back.
Viggo was startled and looked up, eyes widened.
“No, love. Together or not at all. Not just me again. I love you…need you.”
He knelt too, facing the other man and pulling him close before he could retreat. He didn’t wait for agreement or permission, just allowed his hands to do as they would while he kept his eyes locked on Viggo’s. He felt muscle and bone and sweat, hair-covered skin and smooth, all of it sparking his need.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful, Viggo.”
He brushed his thumbs over pale, pink nipples, feeling them tighten beneath his touch as he kissed Viggo’s lips, his cheek, then hungrily, his neck.
“Here,” he suddenly said, patting decisively at the stacked bags of mulch behind him.
“Sit here.’
“No, Sean.”
“Yeah, Vig,” he mumbled, distracted by the American’s muscular form as he stood, his cock erect and ready – for him, he knew. The man’s body was battle scarred and yet somehow perfect for it, a marble statue with an irregular vein of color marking it here and there, marring it and making it beautiful all at once. Putting out his hand, Sean steadily led Viggo where he wanted him, stepping close at the last moment, pushing him down to sit while distracting him with a kiss.
“I love you,” he whispered, bending to rest his forehead against Viggo’s shoulder, their skin damp with the heat.
The words weren’t returned and he waited, knowing.
“Sean…”
“Shhh, baby…let me, okay? Let me remind you. It can be okay, can be all about love. And us. Forever. Shhh.”
“No,” Viggo whispered finally, his face reflecting his turmoil. But even as his word trailed off, he tugged slowly and steadily on Sean’s arm, pulling him to him for another breathless kiss, a heady whirl of taste and touch that he greedily sank into. Sean’s hand found him, slowly squeezing and stroking his cock, long, leisurely motions that quickly escalated. Viggo broke from their kiss with a loud gasp and Sean gently pushed him back against the shed wall as he knelt before the bags to lick the long length of Viggo’s hard cock, appreciating the faint taste and scent as he drew back and fed it into his mouth, moaning as he felt the muscles in Viggo’s thighs contracting in response. He glanced quickly upward to be rewarded with the sight of the other man’s head as it dropped back, his expression one of pure rapture.
The Englishman moved his head back and forth, his lips sliding easily against wet skin, his tongue stroking patterns against the underside of Viggo’s cock. With one hand he cupped and caressed his balls; his other hand roamed from the flat and tight plane of his stomach to his thigh, stopping to linger over a newfound freckle at his hip. His own ardor kept increasing with the knowledge of what he was doing to the other man: hearing his name said in a raspy moan, feeling one of Viggo’s feet tap at the small of his back as he wrapped his leg around him to pull him closer, knowing he was losing control – giving up control to him – drove him on eagerly. Hand met mouth over and over as he pumped and sucked, lost in a rhythm he wanted to feel forever.
“Sean…close…close…”
Sean growled his desire, increasing his pace and stealing a glance upward to see a look on Viggo’s face that was almost pleading. He looked at Sean quickly as though to ask for permission and Sean knew that he was struggling with his need to feel, to enjoy, to let go and still be safe. The Englishman closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, breathing in everything Viggo as he pushed him lovingly over the edge. Viggo’s hips bucked beneath him and Sean swallowed all that he had to offer, a few tears mixing with the beads of sweat on his face. He stood quickly to pull Viggo to him, holding his face between his hands and feeling like he was somehow seeing him for the first time. He was struck by how peaceful and open his face was and he found his lips with his own, kissing him with sweet passion.
“Viggo,” he whispered, fighting back more tears. “I love you so much. Thank you…thank you, love.”
The mix of the crooked grin and the red-rimmed blue eyes thrilled him completely and he chuckled softly as he brushed tears from the other man’s face.
“Come inside?”
Viggo nodded slowly, standing and looking down at Sean’s very obvious erection. His smile was lazy and hazy and beautiful as he looked up and said, “Wouldn’t be a problem to keep your shorts up now, would it?”
Sean laughed, cocking an eyebrow at the American.
“You may have noticed that I’m not wearing any.”
“He got a satiated smile in response and then a soft slap on the ass.
“No, you’re not. Thank God. Come inside and I’ll remind you why that’s such a good thing.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
They woke snuggled into a comfortable ball, the sleepy heaviness of another body soothing to them both. One woke another with light kisses scattered over neck and shoulder and they looked drowsily at each other, a hand stroking a cheek, another caressing a bicep.
The sweet realization struck them both at once and was acknowledged first with widened eyes and then with soft smiles and kisses.
The night had brought no dreams.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The phone rang as they got out of the shower and Sean answered it, smiling broadly at the sound of Orlando’s voice.
“Orlando! How are you, mate?”
He paused, listening, then looking at Viggo with a question in his eyes.
“Yeah, I think we can make it. Noon? At Ovo? That’s downtown, right? Yeah. Viggo says yeah, too. See you then, okay? Right. Bye.”
He hung up the phone just as he felt Viggo’s arms snake around him from behind, undoing his towel and turning him to face him all in one smooth motion.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“So you two seem incredibly happy. Obnoxiously happy in fact,” Orlando groused, mock annoyance a scowl on his handsome face.
Viggo nodded thoughtfully, squeezing Sean’s hand beneath the table. The other man smiled broadly at Orlando.
“So we are, Bloom. Want to make something of it?” he challenged.
“Not at all, old man. You’re making me happy, too, you mushy bastards.”
Orlando had caught all of the surreptitious handholding and the continual shared glances and he couldn’t be happier that the two finally seemed to have found what they needed in each other. Viggo was quiet but happy and Sean was nothing but smiles and good humor, his mood evident in their lighthearted banter.
They’d lingered over lunch, talking of everything and nothing, and Orlando finally took a breath, suddenly out of things to say and just happy to watch his friends. Viggo looked at Sean, brow crinkled. He got a reassuring nod in response and then drew a deep breath before starting to speak.
“Orlando…I want to try and explain about earlier. The cutting and all of that.”
“I’ve been worried,” said the younger man softly.
“I’m okay. Really. Finally, I’m finding out how to be all right again, I think. But I wanted you to know a bit about why I’ve done what I’ve done.”
“Do you want to tell me Vig? I want to know if you want to tell me, but you don’t owe me anything, mate. We’re okay.”
Orlando’s tone was soft and concerned and his brown eyes reflected nothing but warmth for his friend. When Viggo didn’t meet his gaze for a long moment, the younger man shot a glance at Sean. The other man didn’t see the look though; his attention was focused entirely on Viggo and he leaned over quickly to murmur “It’s okay” to him as he patted his shoulder, leaving his hand there as the American started to speak again.
“Something happened a long time ago, Orlando. And it was pretty bad and I didn’t know how to deal with it. Couldn’t deal with it and couldn’t make it go away. Henry was young and I needed to be there – be normal -- for him. So I guess I buried a lot of it.”
He stopped. His gaze was focused on his glass, his hands encircling it, his thumbs drawing stripes in the beaded water. He took another deep breath and then spoke in a long rush.
“It was a rape, Orlando. By someone I had a relationship with. Thought I knew. Fuck, thought I loved. I was stupid – so incredibly fucking stupid – and got tricked and what happened was ugly. Tied. Beaten. Raped.” He said the last three words all as one, his voice somber.
“You weren’t stupid, Vig. He was evil,” Sean growled, anger flashing in his eyes.
The other man continued as though he hadn’t heard him.
“The Last Resort, Bungalow 4. You’d think the fucking name of the place would have clued me in.” Viggo’s face was a cloak of humor over pain as he took one more shot at himself.
Orlando stared at him, not sure he was able to comprehend all that he was hearing. Imagining Viggo powerless and abused – it was too far removed from the man he knew – his irreverent and bold friend with a heart that welcomed everyone. To think of someone abusing that, of them hurting Viggo, was staggering and painful.
“I couldn’t stop him from doing what he did to me. Couldn’t stop him from threatening Henry. For fuck’s sake, I couldn’t have stopped him from hurting Henry if it had come to that.”
“Is that why…” Orlando’s words trailed off.
“Yeah,” said Viggo, a rueful smile on his face. “It’s why.”
He rolled up his sleeve, displaying his scarred arm. “It won’t make sense to you. Doesn’t really make sense to me, especially in the cold hard light of day. But somehow, cutting myself, burning myself – finding a way to feel something sharp and precise – kept me sane. Kept me connected. Kept me here and able to function. Distracted me…grounded me. It’s impossible to explain.”
Orlando laid his hand gently over Viggo’s forearm, tilting his head to catch Viggo’s downcast eyes.
“You’re done though, right Vig? No more, yeah?”
Viggo looked at him with a sad smile on his handsome face.
“Less, Orlando. I think I need it less.”
With that he turned and looked at Sean, holding his gaze for a long moment. Sean reached out to push his hair back, letting his hand rest on his cheek before pulling away as the younger man spoke again.
“Where is he now, Viggo? Tell me he’s locked away,” Orlando said with the heat of sudden anger.
Sean knew the answer would be as painful to the younger man as it had been to him so he watched Orlando’s face as he squeezed Viggo’s shoulder reassuringly.
“I don’t know, Orlando. I never pressed charges.”
“What?! Vig! Why not?”
The American shrugged and looked up to meet Orlando’s eyes.
“I didn’t, Orlando. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – pursue him. I knew what he’d do. Who he’d go after. It wasn’t an option I was willing to pursue given the risk. I had no proof even if I had.”
“But you went to the police didn’t you? Didn’t they document what he did to you?”
Viggo shook his head, never looking away from Orlando.
“No,” he said with finality.
Orlando took it in slowly, holding his breath and then letting it out in staccato bursts as he drummed his hands on the tabletop.
“Fuck,” he finally said, speaking quietly but then more vehemently. “Fuck that! He can’t just get away with this. We can’t let it happen like that!” Orlando stood up quickly, shoving the chair back and knocking it over in his fury.
Viggo and Sean looked up, both alarmed at the outburst.
“I mean it, Vig. Let’s at least make him face us – all of us. The fucker can’t just be allowed to get away with it. Look what he’s done to you! You know where he lives, yeah?”
“Orlando. It was a long time ago. No. Let it go.”
“Let it go? How can you say that, mate? Look at what “letting it go” did for you!”
With that, Orlando reached across the table and grabbed Viggo’s arm, turning it so that his scars were fully exposed.
“That is what letting it go did, Vig. It hurt you. It’s time someone hurt him somehow. Maybe being confronted with his past would do it, the fucking bastard.”
Viggo pulled his arm away, looking at his own scars before looking up at Orlando. Sean was seething and barked out his words.
“Shut the fuck up, Orlando. There’s no need to see him if nothing can be done. Let Viggo make up his own mind.”
The American was shaking his head back and forth but his face looked far less decisive.
“No, Orlando. It’s done. It’s over. There’s nothing to be gained. It’s all in the past.”
“Except that it’s not, mate. It’s not.”
Viggo looked at him silently, only breaking their locked gaze when Sean paid the bill and stood, waiting for the other two to join him. They walked out together, each silent and occupied with their own thoughts. It was only when the two men were alone in their car and ready to pull away that Viggo looked at Sean and said, “He’s right, you know.”
THIS IS A DARK RIDE -- Shegollum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Green Dark by shegollum -- Part 21/?
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean; includes Orlando, too.
Rating: R - NC17
Summary: Morning after the night before...where are they in this strange new space?
Warnings: Angst; mental cruelty/instability; possibly non-con; cutting; substance abuse -- you name it...we've probably got it.
Disclaimer: No truth in it at all.
Archive: Viggo-Cursive and rugbytackle eventually
Previous parts at: http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=shegollum&keyword=Green+Dark&filter=all
A/N: Not beta'd. All errors are completely mine and mine alone.
I ♥ feedback. :-D
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
legomyarrow). :-) Three days later, Sean and Viggo were working together in the yard, the Englishman finally unable to bear looking at dry grass and dead plants any longer. Bags of gravel and mulch had been ordered in and were stashed in the shed and the two men were starting off by weeding beds and removing long-dead sticks. The effort seemed to pain Sean and bore Viggo although his interest was caught by odd shadows and textures here and there. He’d long since gone in for his camera and had also long since given up pretending that those subjects interested him more than Sean.
The Englishman had thrown off his shirt early on and was wearing only an old pair of cargo shorts and leather flip-flops. The shorts dipped low front and back and Viggo was fascinated with how they might be staying up, tormenting the other man by staring first at the shorts and then at Sean’s face, shaking his head and making a tsk-ing sound every so often. Once he’d become bored with that, he’d taken to tickling him with a long, slender weed he poked down the back of the gapping shorts as Sean went about his work. Sean was amused at him despite mock protests to the contrary.
The days gone by had been good ones. Viggo was far more at ease in Sean’s company than he had been and they’d slipped back into old routines of talking and laughing and enjoying even their silences. Sean was disappointed though to realize that Viggo wasn’t ready for more of a physical relationship – he didn’t want Sean to pleasure him and he wouldn’t talk about it. He’d shake his head and distract Sean but wouldn’t explain. The Englishman knew there was guilt mixed with something else – not fear exactly -- certainly not physical ear of Sean …but a wariness that kept him slightly distant even still. Sean’s frustrations were nothing compared to his concerns and he wanted to give Viggo the time he needed so he contented himself with moving slowly, watching each day for a chance to modify their course.
The American’s nightmares had continued uninterrupted, each night a horrifying sameness that left him shaking and sweaty, too embarrassed – too exhausted – to tell Sean more than a few words. In a tired and resigned voice, he’d described dreams of being pinned, held while he could hear Henry calling for him, screaming for help. The nightmares almost always continued until he could no longer hear his son’s voice and he woke in terror. There were many variations on how he was confined – sometimes alone and tied, sometimes locked in a windowless room or isolated on a tall peak with no way down. It was rare now to dream specifically of the leather restraints or even of Alan. What remained constant was his powerlessness and fear.
He’d let Sean hold him and offer him comfort for the first time after their night together in the studio. He’d seemed uncomfortable about how to receive the caring, somehow unsure how to respond, but they’d wound around each other and talked until sleep finally caught them.
Now they worked side by side in the heat, rarely talking in more than short sentences as they focused on their tasks. Occasionally though, one or the other of them would stop to grab a drink of cool water from the hose and the other would catch them for a quick – or not so quick – kiss before returning to their work.
“Viggo, what was this poor beast anyway?” asked Sean, hacking away at the bleached bones of some long forsaken plant.
“I dunno.”
“Did you ever water it? Even once?”
“Dunno.”
“Viggo! How can you just ignore the poor things? Too busy taking pictures of cracked cement and empty swimming pools, I suppose…”
Viggo laughed – an easy, comfortable laugh that made Sean smile broadly. Seeing Viggo simply happy – not guarded or burdened in the bright sunshine – made his heart lurch and he reached out to pull the other man into a sweaty bear hug.
“God, I love you,” he whispered fiercely into Viggo’s ear, squeezing him tightly.
“Me, too,” was the immediate response. “I love you, too, Sean.”
Viggo’s warm hands moved up to Sean’s face, pulling his mouth down to meet his in a passionate kiss that made their hearts race.
Viggo laughed again as they broke apart and he reached out to pull Sean back to him via the waistband of his shorts. Kissing him, he started walking backwards, still pulling the other man along with him, each kiss a little more urgent than the one before. Sean willingly followed.
Stopping when his back brushed the door of the tool shed, Viggo leaned back, spreading his legs and pulling Sean between them, against him, needing him to feel his hardness and know how much he wanted him. Sean shoved back against him, allowing himself the pleasure of well placed friction, a long moan escaping his parted lips.
“Come on. The neighbors are gonna get jealous,” chuckled Viggo, pushing the door open and yanking Sean through it with him.
In the darkness of the small space, Sean pressed Viggo back until he was leaning against the far wall. Lovingly, he pushed his damp forelock back to better see his face, their eyes meeting in the dim light. Sean hungrily threw himself forward, growling a soft, “Viggo” as their lips met again.
He could feel Viggo’s hard cock through the thin layers of their clothes, could smell clean sweat and desire in the intimate confine of the shed. He pulled the American’s shirt up and over his head, allowing his hands to roam down his bare back and across his broad shoulders, his green eyes following their course as he noted each freckle, every muscle and sinew, a faint bruise just at the very top of his arm. He swallowed in sudden nervousness as he felt Viggo shudder slightly, saw him run his tongue over his full bottom lip. He watched his face, lost himself in blue eyes as he let his hands drop further, saddened only to realize that he could feel soft lines of scars. Stepping forward, he kissed Viggo lightly, lifting a hand – their fingers intertwined – to his lips for a solemn, eyes-closed kiss. He pulled the other man against him again, their mouths opening one against the other, encouraging…allowing, giving. Viggo’s hands were in his hair, his fingers pressed against his scalp, holding him close, his thumbs making loving caresses across his cheekbones.
“Vig,” he murmured, moving his foot between the American’s and pushing his legs wide apart, quickly stepping between them. A harsh, frenetic thrust of his hips brought him where he wanted to be and he moaned with his pleasure. Viggo reached for him and kissed him hard and deep and time either stood still or flew by. It didn’t matter except in that it was different than everything else. They’d found a measure of magic here in the near-darkness -- or so Sean thought – but then he felt Viggo pulling away to kneel before him, giving and refusing to take.
“Viggo, love,” he murmured. “No.”
There was only a kiss to his bare thigh in response and then his shorts were down. Talented lips and tongue teased at him, licking and sucking and offering him heaven. But he didn’t want to go there alone. Not again, not now, not like this.
“No,” he groaned, stepping back.
Viggo was startled and looked up, eyes widened.
“No, love. Together or not at all. Not just me again. I love you…need you.”
He knelt too, facing the other man and pulling him close before he could retreat. He didn’t wait for agreement or permission, just allowed his hands to do as they would while he kept his eyes locked on Viggo’s. He felt muscle and bone and sweat, hair-covered skin and smooth, all of it sparking his need.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful, Viggo.”
He brushed his thumbs over pale, pink nipples, feeling them tighten beneath his touch as he kissed Viggo’s lips, his cheek, then hungrily, his neck.
“Here,” he suddenly said, patting decisively at the stacked bags of mulch behind him.
“Sit here.’
“No, Sean.”
“Yeah, Vig,” he mumbled, distracted by the American’s muscular form as he stood, his cock erect and ready – for him, he knew. The man’s body was battle scarred and yet somehow perfect for it, a marble statue with an irregular vein of color marking it here and there, marring it and making it beautiful all at once. Putting out his hand, Sean steadily led Viggo where he wanted him, stepping close at the last moment, pushing him down to sit while distracting him with a kiss.
“I love you,” he whispered, bending to rest his forehead against Viggo’s shoulder, their skin damp with the heat.
The words weren’t returned and he waited, knowing.
“Sean…”
“Shhh, baby…let me, okay? Let me remind you. It can be okay, can be all about love. And us. Forever. Shhh.”
“No,” Viggo whispered finally, his face reflecting his turmoil. But even as his word trailed off, he tugged slowly and steadily on Sean’s arm, pulling him to him for another breathless kiss, a heady whirl of taste and touch that he greedily sank into. Sean’s hand found him, slowly squeezing and stroking his cock, long, leisurely motions that quickly escalated. Viggo broke from their kiss with a loud gasp and Sean gently pushed him back against the shed wall as he knelt before the bags to lick the long length of Viggo’s hard cock, appreciating the faint taste and scent as he drew back and fed it into his mouth, moaning as he felt the muscles in Viggo’s thighs contracting in response. He glanced quickly upward to be rewarded with the sight of the other man’s head as it dropped back, his expression one of pure rapture.
The Englishman moved his head back and forth, his lips sliding easily against wet skin, his tongue stroking patterns against the underside of Viggo’s cock. With one hand he cupped and caressed his balls; his other hand roamed from the flat and tight plane of his stomach to his thigh, stopping to linger over a newfound freckle at his hip. His own ardor kept increasing with the knowledge of what he was doing to the other man: hearing his name said in a raspy moan, feeling one of Viggo’s feet tap at the small of his back as he wrapped his leg around him to pull him closer, knowing he was losing control – giving up control to him – drove him on eagerly. Hand met mouth over and over as he pumped and sucked, lost in a rhythm he wanted to feel forever.
“Sean…close…close…”
Sean growled his desire, increasing his pace and stealing a glance upward to see a look on Viggo’s face that was almost pleading. He looked at Sean quickly as though to ask for permission and Sean knew that he was struggling with his need to feel, to enjoy, to let go and still be safe. The Englishman closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, breathing in everything Viggo as he pushed him lovingly over the edge. Viggo’s hips bucked beneath him and Sean swallowed all that he had to offer, a few tears mixing with the beads of sweat on his face. He stood quickly to pull Viggo to him, holding his face between his hands and feeling like he was somehow seeing him for the first time. He was struck by how peaceful and open his face was and he found his lips with his own, kissing him with sweet passion.
“Viggo,” he whispered, fighting back more tears. “I love you so much. Thank you…thank you, love.”
The mix of the crooked grin and the red-rimmed blue eyes thrilled him completely and he chuckled softly as he brushed tears from the other man’s face.
“Come inside?”
Viggo nodded slowly, standing and looking down at Sean’s very obvious erection. His smile was lazy and hazy and beautiful as he looked up and said, “Wouldn’t be a problem to keep your shorts up now, would it?”
Sean laughed, cocking an eyebrow at the American.
“You may have noticed that I’m not wearing any.”
“He got a satiated smile in response and then a soft slap on the ass.
“No, you’re not. Thank God. Come inside and I’ll remind you why that’s such a good thing.”
They woke snuggled into a comfortable ball, the sleepy heaviness of another body soothing to them both. One woke another with light kisses scattered over neck and shoulder and they looked drowsily at each other, a hand stroking a cheek, another caressing a bicep.
The sweet realization struck them both at once and was acknowledged first with widened eyes and then with soft smiles and kisses.
The night had brought no dreams.
The phone rang as they got out of the shower and Sean answered it, smiling broadly at the sound of Orlando’s voice.
“Orlando! How are you, mate?”
He paused, listening, then looking at Viggo with a question in his eyes.
“Yeah, I think we can make it. Noon? At Ovo? That’s downtown, right? Yeah. Viggo says yeah, too. See you then, okay? Right. Bye.”
He hung up the phone just as he felt Viggo’s arms snake around him from behind, undoing his towel and turning him to face him all in one smooth motion.
“So you two seem incredibly happy. Obnoxiously happy in fact,” Orlando groused, mock annoyance a scowl on his handsome face.
Viggo nodded thoughtfully, squeezing Sean’s hand beneath the table. The other man smiled broadly at Orlando.
“So we are, Bloom. Want to make something of it?” he challenged.
“Not at all, old man. You’re making me happy, too, you mushy bastards.”
Orlando had caught all of the surreptitious handholding and the continual shared glances and he couldn’t be happier that the two finally seemed to have found what they needed in each other. Viggo was quiet but happy and Sean was nothing but smiles and good humor, his mood evident in their lighthearted banter.
They’d lingered over lunch, talking of everything and nothing, and Orlando finally took a breath, suddenly out of things to say and just happy to watch his friends. Viggo looked at Sean, brow crinkled. He got a reassuring nod in response and then drew a deep breath before starting to speak.
“Orlando…I want to try and explain about earlier. The cutting and all of that.”
“I’ve been worried,” said the younger man softly.
“I’m okay. Really. Finally, I’m finding out how to be all right again, I think. But I wanted you to know a bit about why I’ve done what I’ve done.”
“Do you want to tell me Vig? I want to know if you want to tell me, but you don’t owe me anything, mate. We’re okay.”
Orlando’s tone was soft and concerned and his brown eyes reflected nothing but warmth for his friend. When Viggo didn’t meet his gaze for a long moment, the younger man shot a glance at Sean. The other man didn’t see the look though; his attention was focused entirely on Viggo and he leaned over quickly to murmur “It’s okay” to him as he patted his shoulder, leaving his hand there as the American started to speak again.
“Something happened a long time ago, Orlando. And it was pretty bad and I didn’t know how to deal with it. Couldn’t deal with it and couldn’t make it go away. Henry was young and I needed to be there – be normal -- for him. So I guess I buried a lot of it.”
He stopped. His gaze was focused on his glass, his hands encircling it, his thumbs drawing stripes in the beaded water. He took another deep breath and then spoke in a long rush.
“It was a rape, Orlando. By someone I had a relationship with. Thought I knew. Fuck, thought I loved. I was stupid – so incredibly fucking stupid – and got tricked and what happened was ugly. Tied. Beaten. Raped.” He said the last three words all as one, his voice somber.
“You weren’t stupid, Vig. He was evil,” Sean growled, anger flashing in his eyes.
The other man continued as though he hadn’t heard him.
“The Last Resort, Bungalow 4. You’d think the fucking name of the place would have clued me in.” Viggo’s face was a cloak of humor over pain as he took one more shot at himself.
Orlando stared at him, not sure he was able to comprehend all that he was hearing. Imagining Viggo powerless and abused – it was too far removed from the man he knew – his irreverent and bold friend with a heart that welcomed everyone. To think of someone abusing that, of them hurting Viggo, was staggering and painful.
“I couldn’t stop him from doing what he did to me. Couldn’t stop him from threatening Henry. For fuck’s sake, I couldn’t have stopped him from hurting Henry if it had come to that.”
“Is that why…” Orlando’s words trailed off.
“Yeah,” said Viggo, a rueful smile on his face. “It’s why.”
He rolled up his sleeve, displaying his scarred arm. “It won’t make sense to you. Doesn’t really make sense to me, especially in the cold hard light of day. But somehow, cutting myself, burning myself – finding a way to feel something sharp and precise – kept me sane. Kept me connected. Kept me here and able to function. Distracted me…grounded me. It’s impossible to explain.”
Orlando laid his hand gently over Viggo’s forearm, tilting his head to catch Viggo’s downcast eyes.
“You’re done though, right Vig? No more, yeah?”
Viggo looked at him with a sad smile on his handsome face.
“Less, Orlando. I think I need it less.”
With that he turned and looked at Sean, holding his gaze for a long moment. Sean reached out to push his hair back, letting his hand rest on his cheek before pulling away as the younger man spoke again.
“Where is he now, Viggo? Tell me he’s locked away,” Orlando said with the heat of sudden anger.
Sean knew the answer would be as painful to the younger man as it had been to him so he watched Orlando’s face as he squeezed Viggo’s shoulder reassuringly.
“I don’t know, Orlando. I never pressed charges.”
“What?! Vig! Why not?”
The American shrugged and looked up to meet Orlando’s eyes.
“I didn’t, Orlando. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – pursue him. I knew what he’d do. Who he’d go after. It wasn’t an option I was willing to pursue given the risk. I had no proof even if I had.”
“But you went to the police didn’t you? Didn’t they document what he did to you?”
Viggo shook his head, never looking away from Orlando.
“No,” he said with finality.
Orlando took it in slowly, holding his breath and then letting it out in staccato bursts as he drummed his hands on the tabletop.
“Fuck,” he finally said, speaking quietly but then more vehemently. “Fuck that! He can’t just get away with this. We can’t let it happen like that!” Orlando stood up quickly, shoving the chair back and knocking it over in his fury.
Viggo and Sean looked up, both alarmed at the outburst.
“I mean it, Vig. Let’s at least make him face us – all of us. The fucker can’t just be allowed to get away with it. Look what he’s done to you! You know where he lives, yeah?”
“Orlando. It was a long time ago. No. Let it go.”
“Let it go? How can you say that, mate? Look at what “letting it go” did for you!”
With that, Orlando reached across the table and grabbed Viggo’s arm, turning it so that his scars were fully exposed.
“That is what letting it go did, Vig. It hurt you. It’s time someone hurt him somehow. Maybe being confronted with his past would do it, the fucking bastard.”
Viggo pulled his arm away, looking at his own scars before looking up at Orlando. Sean was seething and barked out his words.
“Shut the fuck up, Orlando. There’s no need to see him if nothing can be done. Let Viggo make up his own mind.”
The American was shaking his head back and forth but his face looked far less decisive.
“No, Orlando. It’s done. It’s over. There’s nothing to be gained. It’s all in the past.”
“Except that it’s not, mate. It’s not.”
Viggo looked at him silently, only breaking their locked gaze when Sean paid the bill and stood, waiting for the other two to join him. They walked out together, each silent and occupied with their own thoughts. It was only when the two men were alone in their car and ready to pull away that Viggo looked at Sean and said, “He’s right, you know.”
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Date: 2005-12-17 04:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-18 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-17 07:20 pm (UTC)The only way for Viggo to get really rid of his nightmares I think.
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Date: 2005-12-18 10:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-17 11:04 pm (UTC)Never thought I'd like Elfboy, but your Orlando feels good. Lud, I hope that Viggo is strong enough to face this...
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Date: 2005-12-18 10:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-18 02:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-18 10:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-18 02:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-18 10:26 pm (UTC)