WHITE HEAT, part3 - Fusion 1/6

[govi20.livejournal.com]

Title: White Heat, part 3 - Fusion 1/6
Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: AU, RPS
Rating:   PG-13
Archiving: Rugbytackling, viggo_cursive
Authors: mooms (Viggo) govi20 (Sean)
A.N. :  In this story Viggo is a photographer and Sean has taken over the welding company of his father.
Seguel to White Heat - Ignition and White Heat - Combustion

DISCLAIMER: we don't know these men, it never happened, it's all just in our heads!

1/6

~Sean~ 


I am in my office when he calls. He’s been gone for almost two weeks now, weeks which I seem to have lived through by phone calls.

“Vig, how are you?”

“I am good, but I miss you”

“I miss you too. Tonight I am going to that therapy thing, you know, about the flying. I am not so sure it’ll work, but at least I’ve tried then.”

“You should have more confidence Sean, be a little positive! Won’t it be great when you can come over here? I’ll show you the Big Sur: you’ll love it.”

“Yeah, I would like that. When are you coming back?”

“I haven’t booked a flight yet, but I think Saturday in two weeks. That ok with you?”

“Yes, fine.” 

“Sean, are you alone?”

“Yes: why?”

“You ever had any phone sex?”

“No… but wait Vig, let me lock the door before Sandra comes in.”

"Yeah.. we can't have that."

“I am back.”

“Are you sitting in that big leather chair of yours?”

“I am.”

“Undo your shirt Sean and squeeze your nipple. Pretend it’s me doing that.”

“God Vig, I..”

“You’re so receptive Sean, I love that. I bet your tongue is out already. Now open up your fly and stroke yourself, Sean. Let me hear you.”

“How about you Vig, is yours open too, tell me?”


~Viggo~

Two weeks and although we barely know each other, how I miss the bastard !

We have spoken daily on the ‘phone, but it doesn’t help satisfy the hunger  I feel for his taste, his touch.

He tells me that he is going to the therapy tonight, to try and beat his phobia about flying and I am so touched that he will do this for me. I suddenly have an inspiration for a little ‘phone sex, so I ask him to squeeze his nipple and then open up his fly and stroke himself.

He is eager and he asks me if my fly is open too.

“I’m popping the buttons now, Sean. I’m not wearing any underwear.”

I hear his startled, ‘Fuck !’ and I know I have his undivided attention.

“I’m stroking my length now , Sean, imagining it’s your hand on me. I want you to imagine it’s me. Are you doing that for me, Sean ? Are you thinking about my hand on you ? Let me hear you.”

He groans and I continue,

“Imagine I’m licking your nipples now, Sean, circling each one with my tongue, and now I’m biting. Does that feel good ?”

He groans again.

“Good, good !”

“I’m so hard for you, Sean, tell me how hard you are for me.”

“Oh god, Viggo, ah’m so hard. “

“Keep stroking, Sean, now my cock is leaking pearls of pre-cum. I’m close, Sean. Are you close too ?”

“Oh God, so close, Vig !”

“Then with me, now, Sean, come with me.”

“Fuckkkkk !”

“Fuckkkkk !”

I slump on my chair and imagine Sean doing the same, in his big leather office chair. Over the ‘phone I can hear a sharp rapping at his door, followed by the rattling of the handle and Sandra’s voice, shouting,

“Sean, Sean, are you all right in there ?”

~Sean~

I don’t know how he does it, but he’s got me hard in no time. I just imagine him, like he tells me with no underwear, his dirty voice in my ear and it’s enough to make me come. He even got me yelling there, I can hardly believe it myself.

Within a minute bloody Sandra is knocking on my door: “Sean, Sean, are you all right in there?” ‘Definitely no bonus this year’,  I think. But I manage to control my voice and call out to her. After all she’s probably genuinely worried.

“Yeah, I just stubbed my toe.”

She will be surprised my door is locked, but that’s none of her business. I pick up the phone again.

“Stubbed your toe, Sean?”

The bastard is laughing and he makes me laugh with him.

“I don’t know what it is Vig, but you make me feel young and wild again. I never imagined having phone sex.”

“I like that Sean,  and perhaps you can teach me some things too. Gotta go now. Call me tomorrow and tell me about the therapy!”

“I will Vig, call you tomorrow then.”

For a moment I managed to forget about the therapy. Fuck: I really don’t feel like it, but I will go anyway.  When I  have cleaned myself up and am dressed properly again I open the door. Sandra pops up immediately, her face worried.

“I hope you didn’t hurt yourself too much there Sean?”

“No, I am ok. I’ll be off now, I have a date tonight.”

I catch the look on her face when I walk out. She’s obviously not happy with me having “a date!” Well, perhaps she will leave me alone now and find herself some nice bloke. I get in my car and drive to the small building on the airport where my therapy will take place.

A the end of it you’re supposed to join a short flight to Holland. The thought of that makes me weak in the knees, and I would love to turn around and go home.

But I still go inside.

~Viggo~

Well, I’m back in the UK and I can’t wait to see him again !

The ‘phone sex was good, but no substitute for the real Sean ! God, his voice, though ! I am getting hard again just thinking about it !

This time my flight is to Manchester and he is picking me up. As I come through the gate into the Arrivals area, I see him immediately, the look of expectant anxiety, turning into a broad smile, as soon as he sees me.

The airport is crowded and although we can’t resist a hug, we make it the manly,’ meeting and greeting type’, allowed at airports and stations without raising any eyebrows.

He is clearly as pleased to see me as I am to see him, which is evident when  our crotches rub together ‘accidentally’ during the embrace.  I also detect an air of  smugness, which  puzzles me slightly.

Back at the car, he gets me strapped in and then he produces a certificate, with a flourish and one of his cocky grins.

I am thrilled and delighted. He has successfully completed his therapy. He finished the course just days ago and he actually took a flight to Amsterdam at the end of the 2 weeks.

Of course, he had told me about the therapy in the (short) parts of our telephone conversations, which weren’t about sex and said that it wasn’t the “pile of shite” he was expecting, but he kept this success a big secret, the devious bastard.

I want to grab him and kiss his face off, right there in the parking garage, but the seatbelt stops me.

"You never told me, you asshole ! Seems you are now certified ! I am so proud of you !”

“Me too, Vig ! You seem to be fighting your restraints there. Was there something you were wantin’ ?

TBC