Fic: Wanton Viggo (NC-17)
Mar. 26th, 2006 02:12 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rugbytackleTitle: Wanton Viggo
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: VM/SB
Author: jenolas
Summary: Viggo wants Sean… basically a PWP.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, written for fun and making no claim about the lifestyle choices of these lovely men.
Wanton Viggo
Every fibre of Viggo’s being was alive with the feeling of pure bliss and contentment because Sean wanted him in his life forever. They were committed lifetime partners, sharing everything, and one of the less important advantages of living together was the fact that aside from a few favourite items of clothing, the full closets and drawers in the bedrooms of both houses meant that there was no need to carry much luggage when they travelled between LA and London. This was a good thing, especially when it meant a much quicker passing through customs checks, Viggo decided as he shouldered his backpack, the sole bag he carried, and headed for the taxi stand.
Viggo had arrived in England a day earlier than he was expected and rather than tell Sean he was coming, he wanted to surprise his lover. In fact he was trembling with anticipation at the welcome he imagined he would receive when Sean came home from filming to find a very naked, and very aroused Viggo sprawled across their bed.
That thought, and the almost constant erection it evoked, had kept Viggo on a very needy edge during the long flight, and was the reason he had chosen to wear his loosest fitting sweatpants and longest tee shirt, regardless of how unkempt the frayed hem and paint spatters made him look to the general public. After all, comfort came first (or he definitely would if he wore his tight jeans, his usual choice of apparel, Viggo secretly smirked at the lewd thought) and only one man’s opinion truly mattered anyway. Sean loved him just as he was, had never been embarrassed by his admittedly eccentric ways, and would certainly never ask him to change.
The taxi driver eyed the shabbily clad man with no luggage warily, but when he saw the full wallet his would be passenger pulled from a pocket in the backpack, along with a set of keys, he was more than willing to take the fare.
Viggo smiled at the driver’s initial reticence, and raised eyebrow when he gave the address.
“Are you sure you have the right address? That’s the actor, Sean Bean’s place,” the driver informed him in manner that made it obvious he thought Viggo had no business visiting a person of such celebrity.
“Yeah, he’s a good friend of mine.” Viggo could have pointed out that it was his place too, but both he and Sean were fiercely protective of their privacy, and worldly wise enough to know they did not want rumour and innuendo to tarnish the beauty of the love they shared. They had agreed from the start not to discuss their true relationship with strangers, reporters or in casual conversation at the many promotional functions they attended in the line of duty. It was enough that they could be freely affectionate amongst friends and family and that both separately and as a couple, they had the love and support of those closest to them.
“That so? Are you a fan of the Blades, too?” the driver asked, conversationally apparently convinced Viggo was speaking the truth. Wriggling a little to get more comfortable as his cock hardened, tenting his sweatpants as it twitched with interest at the unspoken response of, ‘Christ yeah, especially when they win, the victory sex is mind-blowing!’ that Viggo could not help thinking. Just as well the driver could not read his mind, or see below the level of the back of the front seat in the rear view mirror!
“Well, only when Sean drags me to the games,” Viggo replied innocently, trying to ignore the memories of some very intimate methods Sean had of scoring goals on those days as he subtly adjusted his sweatpants once more.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I can’t convince my sons that Manchester United is not my favourite team, but they make me go with them to the games anyway,” the driver laughed in response to what his passenger had actually said.
A friendly discussion of football and the trials and tribulations of being the father of teenaged sons lasted the rest of the journey, the small talk allowing Viggo to regain a little composure. After paying his fare, Viggo waved goodbye to his temporary friend and turned to the wrought iron gate that was the first obstacle he needed to overcome to gain entry to the fortress Sean had turned their home into since it was burgled some time ago.
Locking the gate behind him, Viggo headed for the front door and rolled up his sleeve to make sure he could read the security code he had written on his forearm. Not only because he didn’t trust his memory but also because, as he had told a highly amused Sean when he had called to say goodnight, he was less likely to lose his arm than the scrap of paper he had written the numbers on.
The last time he had come home, Viggo had not discovered that the security company’s card bearing the code that Sean had sent him had mysteriously disappeared from his wallet until he had already set off the alarm.
Fortunately Sean had driven up just in time to verify the intruder’s identity to the police who had arrived in response to the call from the security firm, or Viggo would have been able to add the experience of time in an English prison cell to his resume.
As it was, as soon as they had left, Sean had deemed it necessary to make a citizen’s arrest. He had handcuffed the very willing Viggo to the bed, and spent the next few hours mercilessly torturing him for information in the most wicked and unbelievably pleasurable ways imaginable. Viggo had then ‘atoned’ for his crime in a manner of Sean’s choosing and both men had spent the next day in bed recovering from their ‘ordeal’.
Several days later during Sean’s routine check of shirt pockets before he did the laundry, the card reappeared with a line of poetry obscuring the code.
Pleased to find that he managed to enter the house this time without raising all hell, Viggo headed upstairs, definitely not needing to worry about the arousal part of his plan he realised as he stripped off and headed for the shower. His cock had hardened in response to memories of that particularly erotic weekend.
There was nothing better than the feel of those soft lips on his skin, the exchange of passionate kisses, being seduced by the silky voice whispering and moaning nonsense words while eyes glittering and darkened with love and desire for his man locked with his, unashamedly reflecting the desperate need to share not only their bodies, but as always, their hearts and souls as well.
No, his real problem would be resisting the temptation to bring himself off as the hot water trickled along his erection and dripped off the end, sending a delicious tingling sensation throughout his body. Fuck, he needed Sean right now! It had been over a month since he had last felt that deliciously tight heat engulf him, or tasted the bittersweet mix of sweat and seed when Sean came down his throat, and as good as his own hand felt when they had phone sex it was Sean’s loving touch he craved.
“Hurry, Sean!” Viggo moaned needily when he heard the unmistakeable click of the front door being unlocked followed by footsteps on the stairs. Flinging aside the towel he had wrapped around his hips he laid on the bed, and wantonly spread his legs in eager anticipation.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: VM/SB
Author: jenolas
Summary: Viggo wants Sean… basically a PWP.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, written for fun and making no claim about the lifestyle choices of these lovely men.
Wanton Viggo
Every fibre of Viggo’s being was alive with the feeling of pure bliss and contentment because Sean wanted him in his life forever. They were committed lifetime partners, sharing everything, and one of the less important advantages of living together was the fact that aside from a few favourite items of clothing, the full closets and drawers in the bedrooms of both houses meant that there was no need to carry much luggage when they travelled between LA and London. This was a good thing, especially when it meant a much quicker passing through customs checks, Viggo decided as he shouldered his backpack, the sole bag he carried, and headed for the taxi stand.
Viggo had arrived in England a day earlier than he was expected and rather than tell Sean he was coming, he wanted to surprise his lover. In fact he was trembling with anticipation at the welcome he imagined he would receive when Sean came home from filming to find a very naked, and very aroused Viggo sprawled across their bed.
That thought, and the almost constant erection it evoked, had kept Viggo on a very needy edge during the long flight, and was the reason he had chosen to wear his loosest fitting sweatpants and longest tee shirt, regardless of how unkempt the frayed hem and paint spatters made him look to the general public. After all, comfort came first (or he definitely would if he wore his tight jeans, his usual choice of apparel, Viggo secretly smirked at the lewd thought) and only one man’s opinion truly mattered anyway. Sean loved him just as he was, had never been embarrassed by his admittedly eccentric ways, and would certainly never ask him to change.
The taxi driver eyed the shabbily clad man with no luggage warily, but when he saw the full wallet his would be passenger pulled from a pocket in the backpack, along with a set of keys, he was more than willing to take the fare.
Viggo smiled at the driver’s initial reticence, and raised eyebrow when he gave the address.
“Are you sure you have the right address? That’s the actor, Sean Bean’s place,” the driver informed him in manner that made it obvious he thought Viggo had no business visiting a person of such celebrity.
“Yeah, he’s a good friend of mine.” Viggo could have pointed out that it was his place too, but both he and Sean were fiercely protective of their privacy, and worldly wise enough to know they did not want rumour and innuendo to tarnish the beauty of the love they shared. They had agreed from the start not to discuss their true relationship with strangers, reporters or in casual conversation at the many promotional functions they attended in the line of duty. It was enough that they could be freely affectionate amongst friends and family and that both separately and as a couple, they had the love and support of those closest to them.
“That so? Are you a fan of the Blades, too?” the driver asked, conversationally apparently convinced Viggo was speaking the truth. Wriggling a little to get more comfortable as his cock hardened, tenting his sweatpants as it twitched with interest at the unspoken response of, ‘Christ yeah, especially when they win, the victory sex is mind-blowing!’ that Viggo could not help thinking. Just as well the driver could not read his mind, or see below the level of the back of the front seat in the rear view mirror!
“Well, only when Sean drags me to the games,” Viggo replied innocently, trying to ignore the memories of some very intimate methods Sean had of scoring goals on those days as he subtly adjusted his sweatpants once more.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I can’t convince my sons that Manchester United is not my favourite team, but they make me go with them to the games anyway,” the driver laughed in response to what his passenger had actually said.
A friendly discussion of football and the trials and tribulations of being the father of teenaged sons lasted the rest of the journey, the small talk allowing Viggo to regain a little composure. After paying his fare, Viggo waved goodbye to his temporary friend and turned to the wrought iron gate that was the first obstacle he needed to overcome to gain entry to the fortress Sean had turned their home into since it was burgled some time ago.
Locking the gate behind him, Viggo headed for the front door and rolled up his sleeve to make sure he could read the security code he had written on his forearm. Not only because he didn’t trust his memory but also because, as he had told a highly amused Sean when he had called to say goodnight, he was less likely to lose his arm than the scrap of paper he had written the numbers on.
The last time he had come home, Viggo had not discovered that the security company’s card bearing the code that Sean had sent him had mysteriously disappeared from his wallet until he had already set off the alarm.
Fortunately Sean had driven up just in time to verify the intruder’s identity to the police who had arrived in response to the call from the security firm, or Viggo would have been able to add the experience of time in an English prison cell to his resume.
As it was, as soon as they had left, Sean had deemed it necessary to make a citizen’s arrest. He had handcuffed the very willing Viggo to the bed, and spent the next few hours mercilessly torturing him for information in the most wicked and unbelievably pleasurable ways imaginable. Viggo had then ‘atoned’ for his crime in a manner of Sean’s choosing and both men had spent the next day in bed recovering from their ‘ordeal’.
Several days later during Sean’s routine check of shirt pockets before he did the laundry, the card reappeared with a line of poetry obscuring the code.
Pleased to find that he managed to enter the house this time without raising all hell, Viggo headed upstairs, definitely not needing to worry about the arousal part of his plan he realised as he stripped off and headed for the shower. His cock had hardened in response to memories of that particularly erotic weekend.
There was nothing better than the feel of those soft lips on his skin, the exchange of passionate kisses, being seduced by the silky voice whispering and moaning nonsense words while eyes glittering and darkened with love and desire for his man locked with his, unashamedly reflecting the desperate need to share not only their bodies, but as always, their hearts and souls as well.
No, his real problem would be resisting the temptation to bring himself off as the hot water trickled along his erection and dripped off the end, sending a delicious tingling sensation throughout his body. Fuck, he needed Sean right now! It had been over a month since he had last felt that deliciously tight heat engulf him, or tasted the bittersweet mix of sweat and seed when Sean came down his throat, and as good as his own hand felt when they had phone sex it was Sean’s loving touch he craved.
“Hurry, Sean!” Viggo moaned needily when he heard the unmistakeable click of the front door being unlocked followed by footsteps on the stairs. Flinging aside the towel he had wrapped around his hips he laid on the bed, and wantonly spread his legs in eager anticipation.
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Date: 2006-03-26 10:26 am (UTC)I hope so too, not Little Miss Latex !!
Another sweet story ! Love the fact that Viggo has the code written on his arm ! I can really imagine that !
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