Contrasts 3, Part 3
Sep. 23rd, 2006 01:08 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
irrlicht74.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rugbytackleTitle: Contrasts 3, Part 3
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
afra_schatz & irrlicht74
Pairing: VigBean, of course
Rating: Erm...hard R?
Disclaimer: All made up. Not making money with it. Yaddayadda...
Warning: AU!! Plus this was written as a roleplay.
Summary: Sean’s a tax consultant and Vig’s a book illustrator. They meet at a party and like each other instantly, but aren’t sure what to make out of it. Yet. ;) Hell, I do SO suck at summaries! I promise it’s far more interesting than it sounds like.
Author’s Note: Well, I tried to NOT let months pass again...
Beta: The lightning-fasthelena_s_renn Thank you so much! *snugglehugs*
Archive: Rugbytackling. All others, please ask.
“Hey,” Viggo murmured, complaining, but the slightly absentminded tone of his voice gave him away. He freed himself from the blanket, looking up at Sean against the sun. “And? Did you have a successful hunt?”
Sean grinned and presented a kind of picnic basket, if Vig wasn’t mistaken.
“Very. Outta the way. We need the blanket to sit it on.”
With that he shushed Viggo away and spread the blanket properly.
“There,” the Brit said with audible contentment. “And now...” he put the basket in the middle, “help yourself.”
Viggo tilted his head. No way. That was Sean. Sean, the neat, careful, order-loving, absolutely non-chaotic tax consultant. Okay, he might have loosened up a bit the past few hours, but there was no way he’d loosened so much up that they would be eating without knife, fork, and plates. Vig watched Sean taking a seat, so to speak, and carefully set foot on the blanket.
“It won’t bite, you know?” Sean’s amusement was audible in his voice.
“Nooo,” Vig replied slowly, “but you might. Do you feel well?”
“Better than ever. What’s your problem?”
“Don’t have any.” Vig sat down. “Are you sure you wanna eat the cheese without...?”
He watched the piece of cheese disappear between the Brit’s lips and blinked. Sean chewed enthusiastically, swallowed and looked at Viggo. “You were saying?”
“Oh, never mind.”
Viggo kept looking at Sean oddly, but he sat down. There was a sort of rustling sound; Viggo half rose again to fish the Brit's slightly rumpled sports mag out from under the blanket, which lead to Sean summarize all the important parts, namely the current statistics of the premiere league. Viggo, munching on a piece of cake, informed him that he was scary.
Eventually they drifted to sharing childhood memories, so different from one another. Where Sean’s had been rather boring, but pretty stable, Viggo had moved with his parents from town to town, changing schools like other people changed underwear and trying to find new friends at least every year. It explained why “home” for him had nothing to do with a particular place but a particular person. Home was where Sean lived.
Sean looked at Viggo for a moment, digesting what the other man had told him about his childhood, a man, who’d seen so much more of the world than Sean and was now fixing up some kind of weird abstract art project out of some blades of grass on the blue blanket. All it had taken Sean to be happy was a football (and he admitted that he'd actually had fun doing his math homework, however uncool that might've been), a bit of sunny weather, and his mates.
Maybe he should've felt inferior or narrow-minded, but he just didn't. He reached out and rearranged some of the blades of grass that had gone astray so they formed a smiling face, all symmetric, and then grinned when Viggo altered it again, making the picture's smirk crooked.
"Home, mate,” Sean said, straightening the smilie face again, "is the place where you store your socks." He glanced at Viggo from under lowered eyelashes and added with amusement in his voice, "Though that might not be the best of examples for you, I guess."
Viggo changed the grass-smilie again, so it stuck out its tongue at Sean. “Maybe not. But as long as I have you to tell me that I’ll always have a place to store my socks should I ever have some, everything’s fine.”
Vig held his breath for a moment when Sean leaned closer, totally convinced the other man would just forget about his fears and the awkwardness of it all and just kiss him. But the Brit only picked some blades of grass from his jeans.
“I liked them where they were, thank you,” Vig murmured, trying to sound insulted, but the half chuckle he couldn’t help over Sean’s neatness gave him away. Sure enough, the other man scowled at him playfully.
“You’re such a nutcase, Mortensen.”
“Sue me.”
“Watch it, or I will.”
“I’m trembling with fear, Bean.”
Sean put on his definitely-not-amused face now and fixed his eyes on Viggo.
"I wouldn't be so flippant about a serious matter like this one, Mortensen. Violating the laws of orderliness and neatness is a breach of act of Pleasing-Sean-Bean and will be punished severely. You could be forced to do something humiliating and disgusting as brushing your hair or buttoning up your shirt correctly if you're not careful..."
Viggo merely managed to gasp a disbelieving, “What?” before he collapsed into giggles. No, that was wrong. He laughed so hard his belly started to hurt. If he hadn’t been sure already, he would’ve known now that he was totally in love with that man. Even under the worst circumstances possible, Sean was perfect. That he was able to make fun of himself, too, and to not take everything too seriously was an added bonus.
Vig wiped tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. “My shirt _is_ buttoned up correctly, thank you. That aside, I’ll accept any punishment you have in mind. Sir.”
He winked playfully at the Brit.
Sean nodded as if Viggo's obedience, submission even, was the most natural thing ever and reached out to straighten the other man's shirt. Viggo lifted his arm to give him better access. Sean could see he was trying unsuccessfully to suppress his grin as the Brit tugged at the shirt so he could check if the buttons truly were in the correct order. To Sean's mild surprise, they were indeed; Viggo had only bothered with three buttons in the first place, leaving two or three at the bottom and the upper two open. Sean silently and with mock displeasure commented on the loose buttons by letting his index and middle finger follow the rim of the open shirt, only stopping when they reached the slightly frayed collar. He stroked over the soft fabric with what could've been lazy idleness. The moment he realised that he could be stroking Viggo's skin instead, his heart started to pound faster
He looked up to see whether Viggo had noticed. He found the other man's eyes cast down, watching Sean's fingers intently. Viggo inhaled and exhaled slowly and if Sean hadn't been so close he might've missed his friend's breath hitching ever so lightly with every intake of breath, giving away that he was not as calm as he was trying to appear. If there had been an airplane landing right next to them on the lawn Sean wouldn't have heard it because of his heartbeat increasing even more, his pulse thumping vigorously in his ears. His fingers trembled almost unnoticeably when they finally left Viggo's shirt. Viggo's breath hitched a little more when Sean touched him again, pressing his fingertips ever so lightly against the hollow of the American's throat.
Viggo's skin was soft and warm. The second Sean's fingers had gotten of contact with it wasn't enough. Not by far. The moment Sean had touched that tiny bit of Viggo's skin he knew that not even pressing his whole body against Viggo's could be enough to fulfill that sudden and intense craving this slight touch had awoken in him. Sean stared at his own fingertips as if he couldn't believe it to be real, such small a contact already too much for his senses. One or a thousand heartbeats later, he felt Viggo's eyes on him. He looked up.
Viggo didn’t know what to say. Actually he didn’t _want_ to say anything. He wanted to do something. Desperately. But he didn’t want to scare Sean away by doing probably way more than the Brit could handle at yet. Practically moving on its own, one of his hands carefully took Sean’s and gently pressed it down to the point where the V of his shirt. There was enough space left for Sean’s fingers to touch him, so that now Sean’s whole hand was in contact with his bare skin.
It wasn’t that they hadn’t done this before. That one night at the zoo they’d been touching like that, too. Yet it had been different. They’d been “at home.” Not on a trip out to the country. And Vig had been dressed properly. Well, at least more properly. No shirt gaping open so wide one could almost see down to his navel. He’d settled with mere friendship that night and he still would. Even though it was almost painfully hard to _not_ touch Sean back the way he was touching him, he would not react to the dream he’d had last night of which images sprang vividly into his mind now, and he would not try to find out in which way Sean would respond to his caresses.
Viggo closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He forced himself to release the Brit’s hand he’d been holding in place and tried to calm down. It was Sean’s decision. Vig must leave it to him.
Sean moved his hand a little so it rested over Viggo's heart now. It thumped strongly against his palm, a pace that seemed to increase slightly when Sean added a bit more pressure to his touch.
Viggo had closed his eyes and let go of Sean's wrist. A small frown of confusion furrowed the Brit's brows. He didn't know what to make of the other man's unusual and uncharacteristic passiveness. Was he overstepping an invisible line right this very moment? Was he making Viggo feel uncomfortable and the other man just didn't want to confront him with that? Unfamiliar insecurity began to creep up in Sean like a winter's chill; his first instinct told him to withdraw. But… he couldn't. Couldn't bring his hand to move away, couldn't find anything light and joking to say to ease the tension.
Viggo still refused to look at him, but now Sean was looking closer despite it, and saw the effort it took the other man to breathe calmly. Saw Viggo's tongue darting out and moistening his lips with deliberate slowness. And Sean smiled to himself.
Sean's hand slid down until it reached the rim of Viggo's shirt that he gripped now. Sean leaned closer and Viggo's breath ghosted over his lips and chin. Viggo must've felt the same because he finally opened his eyes again. Steel blue looked at Sean in wonderment and Sean's lips were almost touching Viggo's before he whispered a questioning, "Okay?"
“Fuck, yes.”
The answer was out before Vig could hold it back. It just short-circuited his brain and popped out of his mouth. Not that Vig wanted to hold it back. He wanted to let Sean know that he was absolutely, by all means, one hundred percent okay with this. As long as Sean was completely sure that that was what he really wanted. But the Brit must’ve really wanted that, because he’d smiled when Vig opened his eyes, hadn’t he? He still was. And Sean wouldn’t smile a fucking brilliant, breathtakingly smug smile like that if he was uncomfortable with the situation, right? Vig even had the time to notice the Brit’s delighted amusement about Vig’s surprised expression and genuine wonder before finally, finally Sean’s warm lips touched his.
Vig opened his mouth instantly under the slight probing of Sean’s tongue, responding eagerly to the gentle, almost careful kiss. What started out as a kind of cautious “test-kiss” quickly became a deep and hungry smooching. Vig just couldn’t get enough of Sean fast enough. He wanted to taste Sean, smell Sean, feel Sean all over him, within him, and all at once… Now!
Viggo opened his eyes again and blinked. One arm was wrapped around his waist and strong fingers kneaded the back of his neck. He blinked again and looked down at Sean, who’d stared back up at him, partly puzzled, partly content, with a crooked but by no means frightened smile. Wait. Down? When did he...?
He realised that he was pressing Sean down onto the blanket with his whole bodyweight, propped on his elbows, framing the Brit’s head, both hands buried deep in the soft blond strands. Viggo swallowed hard.
“S...Sorry,” he finally managed to gasp. He was alarmingly short of breath. “I got...seemingly carried away.” And his voice sounded way huskier than it should have.
"Well, that figures,” Sean said and despite his teasingly indignant tone of voice made sure that Viggo didn't move by holding him close. "I'm, like, desperately trying to keep up and doing a mental catalogue of how you taste, how you can twist your tongue and how strange I sound when you make me whimper with it and all important minutiae and you," Sean let go of Viggo's neck to stroke some strands of Viggo's blond hair out of the other man's face, "you just switch your brain off completely. Tsk, tsk."
"Sorry,” Viggo mumbled without meaning it in the least. Sean didn't think he'd been that close to Viggo's smile before; his heart did one of those ridiculously happy somersaults when he saw tiny dimples appearing at the corners of Viggo's mouth.
"Never mind,” Sean murmured back and gently closed his fingers over Viggo's neck again. "I shall give you a heads up then: you taste like coffee and cherry pie and - have you secretly been eating some of that grass, Smilie?"
Viggo chuckled and shook his head, willingly letting himself be pulled further down, closer to Sean's face again. Sean dragged his mouth over Viggo's lower lip, trusting the other man's tongue to not be able to resist. Indeed it came out and its tip poked Sean's upper lip ever so lightly, making him smile.
"And your tongue," Sean whispered, perfectly aware that he wouldn't be able to resist the urge to kiss Viggo for much longer, "is almost scarily acrobatic. Just as twisted as your mind, I suppose."
He got growled at and pressed his lips against Viggo's again and murmured, "I like what its tip does to my palate... Do it again?"
They kissed again. Slowly. Leisurely. And Vig did everything with the tip of his tongue he could currently think of. He explored the Brit’s hot mouth inch by delicious inch, licked over the perfect line of teeth, the velvety skin of his cheeks, caressed the questing tongue and yes, of course, stroked oh-so-lightly over Sean’s palate. Vig sucked softly on one of the corners of the other man’s mouth and enjoyed the feeling of Sean’s fingers digging deeper into his hips.
“You know,” he murmured softly into Sean’s mouth, “one would think you want to punish me for kissing you like that.”
“Sorry,” the Brit murmured back, trying to get more of Vig’s tongue back into his mouth, and released his grip a little.
“Nah…” Viggo said softly, stroked down Sean’s arm, closed his hand over the Brit’s and applied the same pressure as before. “Like it like that. Don’t worry, I won’t break.”
He finally gave in to Sean’s silent urging and sneaked his tongue back between the other man’s lips. Vig was rewarded with a contented hum and with Sean’s body arching upwards against his.
’So right,’ Sean's mind said. ’So right,’ Sean's heart said. ’So right,’ Sean's body said. Two so small and simple words. Sean would never have thought they could feel so true, could fill him with such - peace. Kissing Viggo was rediscovering simplicity. Sean wrapped his tongue around Viggo's, and when the other man purred deep in his throat, Sean answered it with a quiet grunt. There was no urgency inside him, no insecurity left this very moment. He just had to close his eyes and all he wanted to concentrate on was how Viggo's hair flowed between his fingers and how Viggo's fingertips pressed against his scalp.
Viggo revelled in the kiss. The way Sean’s tongue curled around his own, the way he was holding Vig’s thighs, not with almost bruising intensity any longer but lighter now, gentle, more like a caress. He loved how the Brit’s body felt beneath him, warm and calm, trembling slightly from time to time when he deepened the kiss or shifted a bit or just sighing contentedly. The sun was still warm on his back, there was not a soul in sight – not that he’d checked, but anyway – and he was kissing Sean. Could life get any better?
Vig didn’t know how long they’d lain there kissing, touching, learning the other’s body a bit...Well, pretty much in fact, but only was far as they could without offending public decency, in case somebody would ever come along here, in the middle of no-where. At least Vig hoped it wouldn’t. The last thing he wanted was Sean getting in trouble because of him. Not now and not ever.
Viggo, Sean noticed with high amusement, wasn't even stopped from talking to himself by a second tongue inside his mouth. The Brit could practically feel thoughts on Viggo's tongue, on the edge of being formed just then and there, and he chuckled and broke the kiss when Viggo's purring changed into something close to a nonverbal conversation with himself.
Viggo didn't seem to have noticed any of that because his blue eyes looked down at Sean in confusion when the kiss ended.
"What've you been pondering about?" Sean asked with curious amusement; Viggo arched an eyebrow.
"Public decency."
"Really? You?" Sean tucked one of Viggo's too-long blond strands behind his ear. "Now, that's a surprise."
Viggo clearly had no idea what gave Sean the idea to ask him something like that just now, but good naturedly played along by replying, "'M full of those, you know that."
"Is that why you're lying on top of me and are not kissing me? In that case I don't like surprises any more."
"You broke the kiss, you nutcase," Viggo defended himself and pressed an open mouthed kiss onto Sean's lips. The Brit laughed when Viggo, having proven his point, drew back a little again. He licked his lips and hummed
contentedly when he could taste Viggo on them, but before the American could repeat the gesture Sean asked nonchalantly, "Did you know that you talk during kissing?"
Viggo blinked.
“I do not!” He sure would’ve noticed some time before, if he’d had, wouldn’t he?
“Yes, you do. Your lips and tongue are only shy away from forming the words. All that’s left is that last conscious thought to really allow them to get out. And your voice, of course.”
The Brit’s dark green eyes were sparkling with amusement, and Viggo tilted his head.
“Is that so? Well, then let’s see, if you could decipher this.”
With that, he kissed Sean long and slow, almost like the second time they kissed. No rush, no pressure, just tasting and feeling each other. Either Sean was the most attentive lover he’d ever had, or all the other ones never dared to tell him about that “speaking during kissing” thingy. Vig liked the first theory best.
And he wasn’t really trying to “tell” Sean anything. Vig had just wanted kiss him again.
Sean was happy with letting Viggo lead. Underneath that soft cushion of contentment he was a bit surprised about that because Viggo had never struck him to be a leader. Viggo was too much of a loner, too eager to let himself be distracted by whatever took his fancy from second to second to seem to care much for any kind of 'joint project,' so to speak. This was completely opposite from Sean, who not only loved organising stuff just for the sake of it but who'd always had people taking exactly that for granted and letting him give the orders as long as he shouldered the responsibilities with them.
Still, Viggo's kisses felt so good, so fucking focused, as if every lick of his tongue, every gentle suckle, every light scratch of his teeth were part of some secret grand scheme. Sean was more than okay with that, to let the kisses wash over him like the ocean's gentle tide, trusting that Viggo would do the guiding. Sun warming, Viggo warming, grass smelling rich, Viggo smelling tasty… stuff like that drifted unconnectedly through Sean's mind as he held on to Viggo with gentle touches and hummed in response to the laziness of the kiss.
Vig found that he could be content with just lying here kissing Sean. At least until the sun came down. Or up again tomorrow. Or maybe even forever. It felt right. Perfectly right. And at the moment, he didn’t want anything more than that. Just making out was extremely satisfying. Plus he didn’t want to push Sean. As long as he had no sign from the Brit that he desired to take their...yeah, what? Friendship? Relationship? Hardly. They’d just started all this... _them_ to another level, he’d leave it at just that. Kissing and touching and feeling great.
Sean chuckled softly and Vig smiled against his friend’s lips. As it seemed he’d been “talking” again. Vig rubbed the tip of his nose playfully against Sean’s and murmured, “You better learn to live with that, ‘cause I don’t intent to change it.”
“Wouldn’t want you to,” Sean murmured in response and nibbled gently on his lower lip. “’S nice.”
“Happy to hear that.”
Sean kept himself from asking what exactly Viggo's mind had thought so important this time that it made the American kiss-talk again. Not because he wasn't curious, but because occupying himself with kissing Viggo again and thinking this as a just as good way of learning how the other man's mind worked sounded far more appealing. Viggo, too, didn't need much time to be convinced. It seemed they broke the kiss only once after that, when a movement of Viggo on top of him made Sean wince. He had to admit that the ground was kind of hard and Viggo was kind of heavy. Viggo remedied that inconvenience by rolling over and dragging Sean with him and on top of him before they resumed kissing.
Viggo put up one leg and only barely resisted the urge to wrap it around Sean’s waist. But he let Sean take control of the kiss. He wasn’t sure whether Sean would...well, “know” what to do, since Vig had taken the lead before. Which, coming to think of it, was ridiculous, because kissing a man was exactly like kissing a woman – technically speaking – and he was sure Sean had done that before. Anyway...
He loved the way Sean’s tongue curled around his, and hummed appreciatively. Vig threaded one hand into the Brit’s blond strands and moved the other into the small of his back, stroking it gently. Sean seemed to like it if the way he was pressing down onto Viggo’s still outstretched leg was any indication.
When Sean felt Viggo smiling against his lips he drew back a little. It seemed he just couldn't get enough of this openly shown joy, so why should he pretend to? He let his gaze linger on Viggo's face with the same caress his lips and tongue had shown only moments before. The American didn't seem to mind, because under Sean's watchful eyes his smile broadened even further. The Brit felt his own lips curving upwards in an instinctive response, and they lay there in the summer grass, grinning at one another with eyes locked.
Sometimes kissing someone made you fear the moment when the lip-lock ended. Because then you had to open your eyes again and sometimes you couldn't be sure of who you'd be seeing. Was a friend you kissed now your lover? Did that end your friendship or was the first step to deepening it? Would that certain someone you lay eyes on now be so different; would you be so different that you suddenly looked into a stranger's eyes? Sometimes you were glad and thankful that it was dark, that kissing was too pleasant a pastime to simply end it, just because you were afraid of what was next.
Sean wasn't this time. He looked into Viggo's eyes and saw Viggo. Saw his steadiness and lunacy, his creativity and seriousness, all the things he felt he'd always known about the other man, all the things he'd hoped to see in them always.
"Y'know," Viggo said conversationally, "I might not be able to keep my thoughts from forming on my tongue, but your thoughts are always visible right there." He reached out and let his thumb straighten the furrow between Sean's brows.
"As long as there's not written when I'm lying through my teeth when I'm in court, I guess I can live with that."
Viggo continued to gently rub the spot between Sean’s brows until the furrow was definitely gone. He then let his fingertips trace the outline of the Brit’s face, his brows, his nose, his warm lips...Vig watched the other man’s tongue dart out to lick the tip of his index before Sean’s teeth playfully bit down on it. Viggo gazed up into the sparkling green eyes and got a bit distracted when Sean’s eyes fluttered shut, his lashes now resting lightly on the pale skin, amazed by how long they actually were. He followed the perfectly curved line with his eyes and stored it away in his memory for later.
He still couldn’t believe that he was really doing this. That they were really lying there. Sean opened his eyes again and gave his index one last lick before he released it.
“If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re concerned.”
The soft British vowels danced around and into Vig’s ear, but it took them a moment to register.
“’M not,” Vig replied and kissed Sean gently. “Just seizing the moment.”
“Liar,” Sean chided softly and returned the kiss.
“Am I that transparent?”
“Yes, you are.”
Viggo absentmindedly stroked the Brit’s cheek. “Really, I’m not concerned. When I’m concerned I look like this...” He furrowed his brows, pressed his lips together and looked at Sean the way he looked when he was in his darkest, brooding-mood. The Brit chuckled and Viggo relaxed. “And I’m sure I wasn’t looking like that,” he finished.
"No, you weren't,” Sean affirmed before adding, "You looked more like this..."
Sean opened his eyes wide and let his eyelashes clap down once, twice in idle slow motion; he parted his lips and brought his index finger up to his mouth to tap his lower lip contemplatively. All of that effort earned him a slap on the back of his head and an indignant giggle from Viggo.
"So," Sean asked curiously, "what were you not-really-concerned about then?" He leaned down so the tips of their noses were touching and said with a low but business-like voice, "And no lies, mate. I can and will tease the truth out of you, be warned."
“Well, now I’m scared,” Viggo murmured.
He stroked down the Brit’s cheek and noticed how much he really liked the five-o’clock-shadow there, let his gaze linger for a moment on Sean’s lips before he replied, “I only thought for a moment I might be dreaming or such. But then I noticed that we’re still dressed. In my dreams we’re always naked when we kiss, so I must be awake. See? I wasn’t concerned. Only confused.”
“As always,” Sean nodded.
“Hey.” Viggo pinched him. “Don’t you go all cheeky on me, Bean. That’s unfair, what with you being way smarter than me and all.”
Sean rolled his eyes. "Sure, whatever."
His tone of voice had changed when he spoke again a few moments later. Humorous bantering had turned into tentative curiosity and he kept his eyes locked with Viggo's.
"So, in your dreams we've been kissing? Naked?"
Viggo blinked once and his blue eyes glinted with affirmation and anticipation, letting Sean see inside, before he nodded silently. Sean arched an eyebrow in surprise and - well, mostly in surprise, but that good sort that makes your body produce bucketfuls of endorphins in a nanosecond. His heart seemed to have swollen to at least double of its size; it felt far too big for his chest. Sean felt like singing and dancing and a bunch of other things that would make him look like an utter fool and lunatic. But what he did, all he did, was trace the lines on Viggo's forehead with his fingertips, and caress the laugh lines around the other man's eyes.
"As I've said,” Sean said with a low voice that despite the happiness couldn't fully hide the regret, "I've always been a bit slow." He leaned his forehead against Viggo's so his nose was lightly pressed against the other man's cheek, letting him smell Viggo every time he inhaled. "'M sorry."
Viggo gently cupped the back of the other man’s head, sneaked his other arm around Sean’s waist, and pulled the Brit closer.
“Don’t be,” he whispered and breathed a soft kiss onto his friend’s slightly parted lips. “As _I_ said, it’s not bad a thing to consider at least _some_ things before you take a giant step. Or should I say leap?” He ran his fingers tenderly through the silky blond hair. Not that it was long enough to play properly with it or such, but still it was nice. Felt great.
“You needed time,” Vig continued after a moment of silence. “I would’ve waited, no matter how long it took you to figure things out.”
He allowed himself to drown in the green depths that were Sean’s eyes for a second and almost missed the Brit’s, “What if I’d never figured things out?” His nearly inaudible voice a gentle caress in Viggo’s ears.
“Then we would’ve been best friends forever.”
Sean shifted a little and felt Viggo's hard muscles flexing under the change of pressure. He cupped Viggo's cheek with his palm and let his thumb grace over the other man's cheekbone.
"I like how that sounds,” he murmured into Viggo's ear. He pressed his fingertips lightly against the other man's skull and kissed his earlobe. Viggo tilted his head, a silent plea for the caress to continue. Sean placed one tiny kiss close to the previous onto the smooth skin of Viggo's neck and hummed softly when Viggo's embrace tightened a little with each touch of Sean's lips. Only when Viggo started to taste like him was Sean momentarily satisfied. Following his own tracks back he eventually reached Viggo's ear again.
"I like how that sounds," he repeated, "forever."
Viggo caught his breath. Sean’s lips and tongue on his ear and on his neck were distracting, and for a second he wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. But Sean’s eyes gazing down at him with such warmth and admiration told him silently that he’d had. Viggo continued breathing and rose a tiny bit to be able to kiss Sean again.
“Yeah?” he murmured, his breath reflected off the Brit’s skin. “Me, too.”
He felt Sean’s mouth on his and his lips parted oh-so-willingly under the soft, seductive stroke of Sean’s tongue. The kiss was deep and hungry and passionate, and Viggo relished it with every fibre of his body. Where Sean was concerned, Viggo reacted with his whole body. Always. And now that he didn’t have to control himself any longer...Well, only up to a certain extent, but not when Sean and he were alone together...
Vig shifted a little, wrapped his legs around one of Sean’s and arched upwards, making as much body contact as possible. Not so much as a sheet of paper would’ve fit between them at the moment, but anyway…
Sean grunted when Viggo drew him closer to his body, wrapping himself around the Brit as much as possible. Viggo misunderstood for a moment and attempted to loosen his embrace, causing Sean to growl and press his body hard against the man trapped under him. Viggo's grasp on him tightened again, hard muscles flexing against Sean's own. Something switched inside Sean's head; he distractedly thought this same thing had been happening to Viggo earlier--an electric jolt seemingly coming from nowhere ran through him and through Viggo like they were an inseparable circuit of energy. Their kiss and their touches lost sweetness and tenderness for a moment because both of them were frantic for more, whatever 'more' would be in the end didn't matter.
Viggo moaned deep in his throat when Sean’s body tried to press him down on the ground so hard it would leave an imprint, but not out of pain. The Brit’s weight felt close to unbearably good on him. Vig returned the passionate kiss with equal fervour and rubbed himself against Sean as best he could manage.
One hand still at the back of the other man’s head, Vig slid the other one downwards to cup Sean’s butt with it. Well, at least one of the firm globes. Sean groaned and pressed closer still, so Vig was almost crushed between him and the ground, but he didn’t mind at all. He arched upwards and started to suck on the Brit’s tongue, loving the small needy noises he could draw out of Sean with it.
All this was confusing. It shouldn't be confusing. Should it? Sean wasn't sure, found it kinda difficult to get his scattered mind back together much so he could think about it properly. And every touch, every motion made it worse and worse. Sean's entire world was spinning, spinning and making him dizzy. At the same time it was all so perfectly right and in the best order possible because it was spinning around Viggo.
"Gods!” Sean's lips finally separated from Viggo's and he licked them for they felt so strangely numb and a little lonesome all of a sudden. "You - Gods - clothes – inside,” he stuttered breathlessly and Viggo laughed, never stopping to rub every part of his body that was in contact with Sean's against the Brit.
"You thank God for the invention of clothes because one can wear them inside out?"
It took Sean two seconds to realise that Viggo was making fun of him, and that only because by now he knew that teasing tone of Viggo's. He growled and Viggo arched up against him as a response, no, request, really, that brought Sean's mind back on track.
"What I was trying to establish, my dear friend,” he said with a low voice, "was that your subconscious manifesting itself in your dreams does have a point when it pictures us without clothing rather than dressed. Furthermore, I would like to add to that the suggestion that we might also consider taking this inside the house."
TBC
A/N: All other parts can be found atdas_moor or there.
Authors:
afra_schatz & irrlicht74Pairing: VigBean, of course
Rating: Erm...hard R?
Disclaimer: All made up. Not making money with it. Yaddayadda...
Warning: AU!! Plus this was written as a roleplay.
Summary: Sean’s a tax consultant and Vig’s a book illustrator. They meet at a party and like each other instantly, but aren’t sure what to make out of it. Yet. ;) Hell, I do SO suck at summaries! I promise it’s far more interesting than it sounds like.
Author’s Note: Well, I tried to NOT let months pass again...
Beta: The lightning-fast
helena_s_renn Thank you so much! *snugglehugs* Archive: Rugbytackling. All others, please ask.
“Hey,” Viggo murmured, complaining, but the slightly absentminded tone of his voice gave him away. He freed himself from the blanket, looking up at Sean against the sun. “And? Did you have a successful hunt?”
Sean grinned and presented a kind of picnic basket, if Vig wasn’t mistaken.
“Very. Outta the way. We need the blanket to sit it on.”
With that he shushed Viggo away and spread the blanket properly.
“There,” the Brit said with audible contentment. “And now...” he put the basket in the middle, “help yourself.”
Viggo tilted his head. No way. That was Sean. Sean, the neat, careful, order-loving, absolutely non-chaotic tax consultant. Okay, he might have loosened up a bit the past few hours, but there was no way he’d loosened so much up that they would be eating without knife, fork, and plates. Vig watched Sean taking a seat, so to speak, and carefully set foot on the blanket.
“It won’t bite, you know?” Sean’s amusement was audible in his voice.
“Nooo,” Vig replied slowly, “but you might. Do you feel well?”
“Better than ever. What’s your problem?”
“Don’t have any.” Vig sat down. “Are you sure you wanna eat the cheese without...?”
He watched the piece of cheese disappear between the Brit’s lips and blinked. Sean chewed enthusiastically, swallowed and looked at Viggo. “You were saying?”
“Oh, never mind.”
Viggo kept looking at Sean oddly, but he sat down. There was a sort of rustling sound; Viggo half rose again to fish the Brit's slightly rumpled sports mag out from under the blanket, which lead to Sean summarize all the important parts, namely the current statistics of the premiere league. Viggo, munching on a piece of cake, informed him that he was scary.
Eventually they drifted to sharing childhood memories, so different from one another. Where Sean’s had been rather boring, but pretty stable, Viggo had moved with his parents from town to town, changing schools like other people changed underwear and trying to find new friends at least every year. It explained why “home” for him had nothing to do with a particular place but a particular person. Home was where Sean lived.
Sean looked at Viggo for a moment, digesting what the other man had told him about his childhood, a man, who’d seen so much more of the world than Sean and was now fixing up some kind of weird abstract art project out of some blades of grass on the blue blanket. All it had taken Sean to be happy was a football (and he admitted that he'd actually had fun doing his math homework, however uncool that might've been), a bit of sunny weather, and his mates.
Maybe he should've felt inferior or narrow-minded, but he just didn't. He reached out and rearranged some of the blades of grass that had gone astray so they formed a smiling face, all symmetric, and then grinned when Viggo altered it again, making the picture's smirk crooked.
"Home, mate,” Sean said, straightening the smilie face again, "is the place where you store your socks." He glanced at Viggo from under lowered eyelashes and added with amusement in his voice, "Though that might not be the best of examples for you, I guess."
Viggo changed the grass-smilie again, so it stuck out its tongue at Sean. “Maybe not. But as long as I have you to tell me that I’ll always have a place to store my socks should I ever have some, everything’s fine.”
Vig held his breath for a moment when Sean leaned closer, totally convinced the other man would just forget about his fears and the awkwardness of it all and just kiss him. But the Brit only picked some blades of grass from his jeans.
“I liked them where they were, thank you,” Vig murmured, trying to sound insulted, but the half chuckle he couldn’t help over Sean’s neatness gave him away. Sure enough, the other man scowled at him playfully.
“You’re such a nutcase, Mortensen.”
“Sue me.”
“Watch it, or I will.”
“I’m trembling with fear, Bean.”
Sean put on his definitely-not-amused face now and fixed his eyes on Viggo.
"I wouldn't be so flippant about a serious matter like this one, Mortensen. Violating the laws of orderliness and neatness is a breach of act of Pleasing-Sean-Bean and will be punished severely. You could be forced to do something humiliating and disgusting as brushing your hair or buttoning up your shirt correctly if you're not careful..."
Viggo merely managed to gasp a disbelieving, “What?” before he collapsed into giggles. No, that was wrong. He laughed so hard his belly started to hurt. If he hadn’t been sure already, he would’ve known now that he was totally in love with that man. Even under the worst circumstances possible, Sean was perfect. That he was able to make fun of himself, too, and to not take everything too seriously was an added bonus.
Vig wiped tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. “My shirt _is_ buttoned up correctly, thank you. That aside, I’ll accept any punishment you have in mind. Sir.”
He winked playfully at the Brit.
Sean nodded as if Viggo's obedience, submission even, was the most natural thing ever and reached out to straighten the other man's shirt. Viggo lifted his arm to give him better access. Sean could see he was trying unsuccessfully to suppress his grin as the Brit tugged at the shirt so he could check if the buttons truly were in the correct order. To Sean's mild surprise, they were indeed; Viggo had only bothered with three buttons in the first place, leaving two or three at the bottom and the upper two open. Sean silently and with mock displeasure commented on the loose buttons by letting his index and middle finger follow the rim of the open shirt, only stopping when they reached the slightly frayed collar. He stroked over the soft fabric with what could've been lazy idleness. The moment he realised that he could be stroking Viggo's skin instead, his heart started to pound faster
He looked up to see whether Viggo had noticed. He found the other man's eyes cast down, watching Sean's fingers intently. Viggo inhaled and exhaled slowly and if Sean hadn't been so close he might've missed his friend's breath hitching ever so lightly with every intake of breath, giving away that he was not as calm as he was trying to appear. If there had been an airplane landing right next to them on the lawn Sean wouldn't have heard it because of his heartbeat increasing even more, his pulse thumping vigorously in his ears. His fingers trembled almost unnoticeably when they finally left Viggo's shirt. Viggo's breath hitched a little more when Sean touched him again, pressing his fingertips ever so lightly against the hollow of the American's throat.
Viggo's skin was soft and warm. The second Sean's fingers had gotten of contact with it wasn't enough. Not by far. The moment Sean had touched that tiny bit of Viggo's skin he knew that not even pressing his whole body against Viggo's could be enough to fulfill that sudden and intense craving this slight touch had awoken in him. Sean stared at his own fingertips as if he couldn't believe it to be real, such small a contact already too much for his senses. One or a thousand heartbeats later, he felt Viggo's eyes on him. He looked up.
Viggo didn’t know what to say. Actually he didn’t _want_ to say anything. He wanted to do something. Desperately. But he didn’t want to scare Sean away by doing probably way more than the Brit could handle at yet. Practically moving on its own, one of his hands carefully took Sean’s and gently pressed it down to the point where the V of his shirt. There was enough space left for Sean’s fingers to touch him, so that now Sean’s whole hand was in contact with his bare skin.
It wasn’t that they hadn’t done this before. That one night at the zoo they’d been touching like that, too. Yet it had been different. They’d been “at home.” Not on a trip out to the country. And Vig had been dressed properly. Well, at least more properly. No shirt gaping open so wide one could almost see down to his navel. He’d settled with mere friendship that night and he still would. Even though it was almost painfully hard to _not_ touch Sean back the way he was touching him, he would not react to the dream he’d had last night of which images sprang vividly into his mind now, and he would not try to find out in which way Sean would respond to his caresses.
Viggo closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He forced himself to release the Brit’s hand he’d been holding in place and tried to calm down. It was Sean’s decision. Vig must leave it to him.
Sean moved his hand a little so it rested over Viggo's heart now. It thumped strongly against his palm, a pace that seemed to increase slightly when Sean added a bit more pressure to his touch.
Viggo had closed his eyes and let go of Sean's wrist. A small frown of confusion furrowed the Brit's brows. He didn't know what to make of the other man's unusual and uncharacteristic passiveness. Was he overstepping an invisible line right this very moment? Was he making Viggo feel uncomfortable and the other man just didn't want to confront him with that? Unfamiliar insecurity began to creep up in Sean like a winter's chill; his first instinct told him to withdraw. But… he couldn't. Couldn't bring his hand to move away, couldn't find anything light and joking to say to ease the tension.
Viggo still refused to look at him, but now Sean was looking closer despite it, and saw the effort it took the other man to breathe calmly. Saw Viggo's tongue darting out and moistening his lips with deliberate slowness. And Sean smiled to himself.
Sean's hand slid down until it reached the rim of Viggo's shirt that he gripped now. Sean leaned closer and Viggo's breath ghosted over his lips and chin. Viggo must've felt the same because he finally opened his eyes again. Steel blue looked at Sean in wonderment and Sean's lips were almost touching Viggo's before he whispered a questioning, "Okay?"
“Fuck, yes.”
The answer was out before Vig could hold it back. It just short-circuited his brain and popped out of his mouth. Not that Vig wanted to hold it back. He wanted to let Sean know that he was absolutely, by all means, one hundred percent okay with this. As long as Sean was completely sure that that was what he really wanted. But the Brit must’ve really wanted that, because he’d smiled when Vig opened his eyes, hadn’t he? He still was. And Sean wouldn’t smile a fucking brilliant, breathtakingly smug smile like that if he was uncomfortable with the situation, right? Vig even had the time to notice the Brit’s delighted amusement about Vig’s surprised expression and genuine wonder before finally, finally Sean’s warm lips touched his.
Vig opened his mouth instantly under the slight probing of Sean’s tongue, responding eagerly to the gentle, almost careful kiss. What started out as a kind of cautious “test-kiss” quickly became a deep and hungry smooching. Vig just couldn’t get enough of Sean fast enough. He wanted to taste Sean, smell Sean, feel Sean all over him, within him, and all at once… Now!
Viggo opened his eyes again and blinked. One arm was wrapped around his waist and strong fingers kneaded the back of his neck. He blinked again and looked down at Sean, who’d stared back up at him, partly puzzled, partly content, with a crooked but by no means frightened smile. Wait. Down? When did he...?
He realised that he was pressing Sean down onto the blanket with his whole bodyweight, propped on his elbows, framing the Brit’s head, both hands buried deep in the soft blond strands. Viggo swallowed hard.
“S...Sorry,” he finally managed to gasp. He was alarmingly short of breath. “I got...seemingly carried away.” And his voice sounded way huskier than it should have.
"Well, that figures,” Sean said and despite his teasingly indignant tone of voice made sure that Viggo didn't move by holding him close. "I'm, like, desperately trying to keep up and doing a mental catalogue of how you taste, how you can twist your tongue and how strange I sound when you make me whimper with it and all important minutiae and you," Sean let go of Viggo's neck to stroke some strands of Viggo's blond hair out of the other man's face, "you just switch your brain off completely. Tsk, tsk."
"Sorry,” Viggo mumbled without meaning it in the least. Sean didn't think he'd been that close to Viggo's smile before; his heart did one of those ridiculously happy somersaults when he saw tiny dimples appearing at the corners of Viggo's mouth.
"Never mind,” Sean murmured back and gently closed his fingers over Viggo's neck again. "I shall give you a heads up then: you taste like coffee and cherry pie and - have you secretly been eating some of that grass, Smilie?"
Viggo chuckled and shook his head, willingly letting himself be pulled further down, closer to Sean's face again. Sean dragged his mouth over Viggo's lower lip, trusting the other man's tongue to not be able to resist. Indeed it came out and its tip poked Sean's upper lip ever so lightly, making him smile.
"And your tongue," Sean whispered, perfectly aware that he wouldn't be able to resist the urge to kiss Viggo for much longer, "is almost scarily acrobatic. Just as twisted as your mind, I suppose."
He got growled at and pressed his lips against Viggo's again and murmured, "I like what its tip does to my palate... Do it again?"
They kissed again. Slowly. Leisurely. And Vig did everything with the tip of his tongue he could currently think of. He explored the Brit’s hot mouth inch by delicious inch, licked over the perfect line of teeth, the velvety skin of his cheeks, caressed the questing tongue and yes, of course, stroked oh-so-lightly over Sean’s palate. Vig sucked softly on one of the corners of the other man’s mouth and enjoyed the feeling of Sean’s fingers digging deeper into his hips.
“You know,” he murmured softly into Sean’s mouth, “one would think you want to punish me for kissing you like that.”
“Sorry,” the Brit murmured back, trying to get more of Vig’s tongue back into his mouth, and released his grip a little.
“Nah…” Viggo said softly, stroked down Sean’s arm, closed his hand over the Brit’s and applied the same pressure as before. “Like it like that. Don’t worry, I won’t break.”
He finally gave in to Sean’s silent urging and sneaked his tongue back between the other man’s lips. Vig was rewarded with a contented hum and with Sean’s body arching upwards against his.
’So right,’ Sean's mind said. ’So right,’ Sean's heart said. ’So right,’ Sean's body said. Two so small and simple words. Sean would never have thought they could feel so true, could fill him with such - peace. Kissing Viggo was rediscovering simplicity. Sean wrapped his tongue around Viggo's, and when the other man purred deep in his throat, Sean answered it with a quiet grunt. There was no urgency inside him, no insecurity left this very moment. He just had to close his eyes and all he wanted to concentrate on was how Viggo's hair flowed between his fingers and how Viggo's fingertips pressed against his scalp.
Viggo revelled in the kiss. The way Sean’s tongue curled around his own, the way he was holding Vig’s thighs, not with almost bruising intensity any longer but lighter now, gentle, more like a caress. He loved how the Brit’s body felt beneath him, warm and calm, trembling slightly from time to time when he deepened the kiss or shifted a bit or just sighing contentedly. The sun was still warm on his back, there was not a soul in sight – not that he’d checked, but anyway – and he was kissing Sean. Could life get any better?
Vig didn’t know how long they’d lain there kissing, touching, learning the other’s body a bit...Well, pretty much in fact, but only was far as they could without offending public decency, in case somebody would ever come along here, in the middle of no-where. At least Vig hoped it wouldn’t. The last thing he wanted was Sean getting in trouble because of him. Not now and not ever.
Viggo, Sean noticed with high amusement, wasn't even stopped from talking to himself by a second tongue inside his mouth. The Brit could practically feel thoughts on Viggo's tongue, on the edge of being formed just then and there, and he chuckled and broke the kiss when Viggo's purring changed into something close to a nonverbal conversation with himself.
Viggo didn't seem to have noticed any of that because his blue eyes looked down at Sean in confusion when the kiss ended.
"What've you been pondering about?" Sean asked with curious amusement; Viggo arched an eyebrow.
"Public decency."
"Really? You?" Sean tucked one of Viggo's too-long blond strands behind his ear. "Now, that's a surprise."
Viggo clearly had no idea what gave Sean the idea to ask him something like that just now, but good naturedly played along by replying, "'M full of those, you know that."
"Is that why you're lying on top of me and are not kissing me? In that case I don't like surprises any more."
"You broke the kiss, you nutcase," Viggo defended himself and pressed an open mouthed kiss onto Sean's lips. The Brit laughed when Viggo, having proven his point, drew back a little again. He licked his lips and hummed
contentedly when he could taste Viggo on them, but before the American could repeat the gesture Sean asked nonchalantly, "Did you know that you talk during kissing?"
Viggo blinked.
“I do not!” He sure would’ve noticed some time before, if he’d had, wouldn’t he?
“Yes, you do. Your lips and tongue are only shy away from forming the words. All that’s left is that last conscious thought to really allow them to get out. And your voice, of course.”
The Brit’s dark green eyes were sparkling with amusement, and Viggo tilted his head.
“Is that so? Well, then let’s see, if you could decipher this.”
With that, he kissed Sean long and slow, almost like the second time they kissed. No rush, no pressure, just tasting and feeling each other. Either Sean was the most attentive lover he’d ever had, or all the other ones never dared to tell him about that “speaking during kissing” thingy. Vig liked the first theory best.
And he wasn’t really trying to “tell” Sean anything. Vig had just wanted kiss him again.
Sean was happy with letting Viggo lead. Underneath that soft cushion of contentment he was a bit surprised about that because Viggo had never struck him to be a leader. Viggo was too much of a loner, too eager to let himself be distracted by whatever took his fancy from second to second to seem to care much for any kind of 'joint project,' so to speak. This was completely opposite from Sean, who not only loved organising stuff just for the sake of it but who'd always had people taking exactly that for granted and letting him give the orders as long as he shouldered the responsibilities with them.
Still, Viggo's kisses felt so good, so fucking focused, as if every lick of his tongue, every gentle suckle, every light scratch of his teeth were part of some secret grand scheme. Sean was more than okay with that, to let the kisses wash over him like the ocean's gentle tide, trusting that Viggo would do the guiding. Sun warming, Viggo warming, grass smelling rich, Viggo smelling tasty… stuff like that drifted unconnectedly through Sean's mind as he held on to Viggo with gentle touches and hummed in response to the laziness of the kiss.
Vig found that he could be content with just lying here kissing Sean. At least until the sun came down. Or up again tomorrow. Or maybe even forever. It felt right. Perfectly right. And at the moment, he didn’t want anything more than that. Just making out was extremely satisfying. Plus he didn’t want to push Sean. As long as he had no sign from the Brit that he desired to take their...yeah, what? Friendship? Relationship? Hardly. They’d just started all this... _them_ to another level, he’d leave it at just that. Kissing and touching and feeling great.
Sean chuckled softly and Vig smiled against his friend’s lips. As it seemed he’d been “talking” again. Vig rubbed the tip of his nose playfully against Sean’s and murmured, “You better learn to live with that, ‘cause I don’t intent to change it.”
“Wouldn’t want you to,” Sean murmured in response and nibbled gently on his lower lip. “’S nice.”
“Happy to hear that.”
Sean kept himself from asking what exactly Viggo's mind had thought so important this time that it made the American kiss-talk again. Not because he wasn't curious, but because occupying himself with kissing Viggo again and thinking this as a just as good way of learning how the other man's mind worked sounded far more appealing. Viggo, too, didn't need much time to be convinced. It seemed they broke the kiss only once after that, when a movement of Viggo on top of him made Sean wince. He had to admit that the ground was kind of hard and Viggo was kind of heavy. Viggo remedied that inconvenience by rolling over and dragging Sean with him and on top of him before they resumed kissing.
Viggo put up one leg and only barely resisted the urge to wrap it around Sean’s waist. But he let Sean take control of the kiss. He wasn’t sure whether Sean would...well, “know” what to do, since Vig had taken the lead before. Which, coming to think of it, was ridiculous, because kissing a man was exactly like kissing a woman – technically speaking – and he was sure Sean had done that before. Anyway...
He loved the way Sean’s tongue curled around his, and hummed appreciatively. Vig threaded one hand into the Brit’s blond strands and moved the other into the small of his back, stroking it gently. Sean seemed to like it if the way he was pressing down onto Viggo’s still outstretched leg was any indication.
When Sean felt Viggo smiling against his lips he drew back a little. It seemed he just couldn't get enough of this openly shown joy, so why should he pretend to? He let his gaze linger on Viggo's face with the same caress his lips and tongue had shown only moments before. The American didn't seem to mind, because under Sean's watchful eyes his smile broadened even further. The Brit felt his own lips curving upwards in an instinctive response, and they lay there in the summer grass, grinning at one another with eyes locked.
Sometimes kissing someone made you fear the moment when the lip-lock ended. Because then you had to open your eyes again and sometimes you couldn't be sure of who you'd be seeing. Was a friend you kissed now your lover? Did that end your friendship or was the first step to deepening it? Would that certain someone you lay eyes on now be so different; would you be so different that you suddenly looked into a stranger's eyes? Sometimes you were glad and thankful that it was dark, that kissing was too pleasant a pastime to simply end it, just because you were afraid of what was next.
Sean wasn't this time. He looked into Viggo's eyes and saw Viggo. Saw his steadiness and lunacy, his creativity and seriousness, all the things he felt he'd always known about the other man, all the things he'd hoped to see in them always.
"Y'know," Viggo said conversationally, "I might not be able to keep my thoughts from forming on my tongue, but your thoughts are always visible right there." He reached out and let his thumb straighten the furrow between Sean's brows.
"As long as there's not written when I'm lying through my teeth when I'm in court, I guess I can live with that."
Viggo continued to gently rub the spot between Sean’s brows until the furrow was definitely gone. He then let his fingertips trace the outline of the Brit’s face, his brows, his nose, his warm lips...Vig watched the other man’s tongue dart out to lick the tip of his index before Sean’s teeth playfully bit down on it. Viggo gazed up into the sparkling green eyes and got a bit distracted when Sean’s eyes fluttered shut, his lashes now resting lightly on the pale skin, amazed by how long they actually were. He followed the perfectly curved line with his eyes and stored it away in his memory for later.
He still couldn’t believe that he was really doing this. That they were really lying there. Sean opened his eyes again and gave his index one last lick before he released it.
“If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re concerned.”
The soft British vowels danced around and into Vig’s ear, but it took them a moment to register.
“’M not,” Vig replied and kissed Sean gently. “Just seizing the moment.”
“Liar,” Sean chided softly and returned the kiss.
“Am I that transparent?”
“Yes, you are.”
Viggo absentmindedly stroked the Brit’s cheek. “Really, I’m not concerned. When I’m concerned I look like this...” He furrowed his brows, pressed his lips together and looked at Sean the way he looked when he was in his darkest, brooding-mood. The Brit chuckled and Viggo relaxed. “And I’m sure I wasn’t looking like that,” he finished.
"No, you weren't,” Sean affirmed before adding, "You looked more like this..."
Sean opened his eyes wide and let his eyelashes clap down once, twice in idle slow motion; he parted his lips and brought his index finger up to his mouth to tap his lower lip contemplatively. All of that effort earned him a slap on the back of his head and an indignant giggle from Viggo.
"So," Sean asked curiously, "what were you not-really-concerned about then?" He leaned down so the tips of their noses were touching and said with a low but business-like voice, "And no lies, mate. I can and will tease the truth out of you, be warned."
“Well, now I’m scared,” Viggo murmured.
He stroked down the Brit’s cheek and noticed how much he really liked the five-o’clock-shadow there, let his gaze linger for a moment on Sean’s lips before he replied, “I only thought for a moment I might be dreaming or such. But then I noticed that we’re still dressed. In my dreams we’re always naked when we kiss, so I must be awake. See? I wasn’t concerned. Only confused.”
“As always,” Sean nodded.
“Hey.” Viggo pinched him. “Don’t you go all cheeky on me, Bean. That’s unfair, what with you being way smarter than me and all.”
Sean rolled his eyes. "Sure, whatever."
His tone of voice had changed when he spoke again a few moments later. Humorous bantering had turned into tentative curiosity and he kept his eyes locked with Viggo's.
"So, in your dreams we've been kissing? Naked?"
Viggo blinked once and his blue eyes glinted with affirmation and anticipation, letting Sean see inside, before he nodded silently. Sean arched an eyebrow in surprise and - well, mostly in surprise, but that good sort that makes your body produce bucketfuls of endorphins in a nanosecond. His heart seemed to have swollen to at least double of its size; it felt far too big for his chest. Sean felt like singing and dancing and a bunch of other things that would make him look like an utter fool and lunatic. But what he did, all he did, was trace the lines on Viggo's forehead with his fingertips, and caress the laugh lines around the other man's eyes.
"As I've said,” Sean said with a low voice that despite the happiness couldn't fully hide the regret, "I've always been a bit slow." He leaned his forehead against Viggo's so his nose was lightly pressed against the other man's cheek, letting him smell Viggo every time he inhaled. "'M sorry."
Viggo gently cupped the back of the other man’s head, sneaked his other arm around Sean’s waist, and pulled the Brit closer.
“Don’t be,” he whispered and breathed a soft kiss onto his friend’s slightly parted lips. “As _I_ said, it’s not bad a thing to consider at least _some_ things before you take a giant step. Or should I say leap?” He ran his fingers tenderly through the silky blond hair. Not that it was long enough to play properly with it or such, but still it was nice. Felt great.
“You needed time,” Vig continued after a moment of silence. “I would’ve waited, no matter how long it took you to figure things out.”
He allowed himself to drown in the green depths that were Sean’s eyes for a second and almost missed the Brit’s, “What if I’d never figured things out?” His nearly inaudible voice a gentle caress in Viggo’s ears.
“Then we would’ve been best friends forever.”
Sean shifted a little and felt Viggo's hard muscles flexing under the change of pressure. He cupped Viggo's cheek with his palm and let his thumb grace over the other man's cheekbone.
"I like how that sounds,” he murmured into Viggo's ear. He pressed his fingertips lightly against the other man's skull and kissed his earlobe. Viggo tilted his head, a silent plea for the caress to continue. Sean placed one tiny kiss close to the previous onto the smooth skin of Viggo's neck and hummed softly when Viggo's embrace tightened a little with each touch of Sean's lips. Only when Viggo started to taste like him was Sean momentarily satisfied. Following his own tracks back he eventually reached Viggo's ear again.
"I like how that sounds," he repeated, "forever."
Viggo caught his breath. Sean’s lips and tongue on his ear and on his neck were distracting, and for a second he wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. But Sean’s eyes gazing down at him with such warmth and admiration told him silently that he’d had. Viggo continued breathing and rose a tiny bit to be able to kiss Sean again.
“Yeah?” he murmured, his breath reflected off the Brit’s skin. “Me, too.”
He felt Sean’s mouth on his and his lips parted oh-so-willingly under the soft, seductive stroke of Sean’s tongue. The kiss was deep and hungry and passionate, and Viggo relished it with every fibre of his body. Where Sean was concerned, Viggo reacted with his whole body. Always. And now that he didn’t have to control himself any longer...Well, only up to a certain extent, but not when Sean and he were alone together...
Vig shifted a little, wrapped his legs around one of Sean’s and arched upwards, making as much body contact as possible. Not so much as a sheet of paper would’ve fit between them at the moment, but anyway…
Sean grunted when Viggo drew him closer to his body, wrapping himself around the Brit as much as possible. Viggo misunderstood for a moment and attempted to loosen his embrace, causing Sean to growl and press his body hard against the man trapped under him. Viggo's grasp on him tightened again, hard muscles flexing against Sean's own. Something switched inside Sean's head; he distractedly thought this same thing had been happening to Viggo earlier--an electric jolt seemingly coming from nowhere ran through him and through Viggo like they were an inseparable circuit of energy. Their kiss and their touches lost sweetness and tenderness for a moment because both of them were frantic for more, whatever 'more' would be in the end didn't matter.
Viggo moaned deep in his throat when Sean’s body tried to press him down on the ground so hard it would leave an imprint, but not out of pain. The Brit’s weight felt close to unbearably good on him. Vig returned the passionate kiss with equal fervour and rubbed himself against Sean as best he could manage.
One hand still at the back of the other man’s head, Vig slid the other one downwards to cup Sean’s butt with it. Well, at least one of the firm globes. Sean groaned and pressed closer still, so Vig was almost crushed between him and the ground, but he didn’t mind at all. He arched upwards and started to suck on the Brit’s tongue, loving the small needy noises he could draw out of Sean with it.
All this was confusing. It shouldn't be confusing. Should it? Sean wasn't sure, found it kinda difficult to get his scattered mind back together much so he could think about it properly. And every touch, every motion made it worse and worse. Sean's entire world was spinning, spinning and making him dizzy. At the same time it was all so perfectly right and in the best order possible because it was spinning around Viggo.
"Gods!” Sean's lips finally separated from Viggo's and he licked them for they felt so strangely numb and a little lonesome all of a sudden. "You - Gods - clothes – inside,” he stuttered breathlessly and Viggo laughed, never stopping to rub every part of his body that was in contact with Sean's against the Brit.
"You thank God for the invention of clothes because one can wear them inside out?"
It took Sean two seconds to realise that Viggo was making fun of him, and that only because by now he knew that teasing tone of Viggo's. He growled and Viggo arched up against him as a response, no, request, really, that brought Sean's mind back on track.
"What I was trying to establish, my dear friend,” he said with a low voice, "was that your subconscious manifesting itself in your dreams does have a point when it pictures us without clothing rather than dressed. Furthermore, I would like to add to that the suggestion that we might also consider taking this inside the house."
TBC
A/N: All other parts can be found at
das_moor or there.
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Date: 2006-09-23 04:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-23 05:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-23 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-23 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-23 07:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-23 10:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-24 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-24 05:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-24 02:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-24 05:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 07:06 am (UTC)"Kissing Viggo was rediscovering simplicity."
" ’So right,’ Sean's mind said. ’So right,’ Sean's heart said. ’So right,’ Sean's body said."
What a delightful, delicious scene! YOu described each perfect little touch, little taste, little movement so well; it was almost possible to feel it, taste it, touch it with them. That "circuit of energy" was certainly there.
The most arousing chapter yet.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 03:11 pm (UTC)*blinks*
Wow. Thank you very much. Actually we were a tad worried that it could be a littel "over descriptive", so to say, so we're delighted to hear that you loved that part so much. Not to mention very, very flattered. *beams*
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Date: 2006-09-25 07:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 03:15 pm (UTC)But no worries. It's practically ready. :)
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Date: 2006-09-25 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 03:19 pm (UTC)*blushes* Yeah...Seems like we have a weakness for kisses. :)
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Date: 2006-09-25 10:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-26 04:03 pm (UTC)