Invasion of Privacy 4/5

[govigmoombean.livejournal.com]

Title : Invasion of Privacy 4/5
Pairing : Viggo/Sean
Warning : AU, a bit of BDSM, nothing too heavy though
Rating : NC-17
Archiving : rugbytackling, viggo_cursive, switch_bottoms
Summary : Viggo is a paparazzi, and Sean is being more or less stalked. Sean decides to put an end to that in a extraordinairy way.
Authors : mooms    (Viggo) govi20    (Sean)

DISCLAIMER : written for fun, not for profit. All dirty lies !

Previous parts : here 

Invasion of Privacy

Part 4/5

Sean

It’s been almost four weeks since I was in Viggo’s apartment. The burning on my arse had disappeared soon enough, but I must say the images from that day lingered.

It had turned out to be quite a different experience from what I had expected. There had been no thought of sex on my mind as I set out for revenge, and I was more or less caught in my own trap. Who would have thought we would end up fucking? And that it would be that good?

I know it was only a one off and that’s probably for the best, but I can’t help revisiting it, when I am alone in bed at night. That guy is seriously hot, and on only one meeting, definitely wanking material.

I’ve met this girl, and she’s nice, nothing serious, but we get along pretty well. So far we’ve had sex twice, both times at her place. I am always a bit careful about taking new people over to my house; you never know what might happen. What happened after that party did teach me a lesson.

The girl in question, Suzy, does seem pretty smitten, but I am not really. As nice as she is, there’s no real spark between us as far as I am concerned and I haven’t called her since the last time I was there. Maybe I’ll do so today and put an end to it, it seems only fair.

While meeting up with some of the cast and crew for my new project two days ago, I ended up going home with Pete. I’ve known him for years, and not only as an excellent cameraman. Pete likes to play, just like I do, and it didn’t take long for us to lock eyes in silent agreement and leave together after the meeting.

He’s discreet, and I trust him completely. We had a nice evening, with some pretty hot and rough sex, but somehow I wasn’t fully into it. Pete is an intelligent guy. He tried talking with me, and then used some other methods to get it out of me, but didn’t succeed.

It was getting late when I left, but I decided not to take a cab and walk home instead. I needed to think. I couldn’t quite grasp what was wrong lately. Something had been bothering me, and I couldn’t really put a finger on it.

While walking on almost deserted streets, an image popped up in my head and it occurred to me that this was about Viggo. I should have forgotten the whole thing by now, but I hadn’t. Something about him had made an impact on me. I kept seeing those intense eyes staring into mine.

That night, when I finally fucked Pete and stared down at him, I looked away from him. I did not want to look at him, even though Pete keeps his body in a great shape and I didn’t know why. But now I realized why.

By the time I got home I had accepted that I had tried to replace his image by that pap guy, Viggo, the way he looked submitting to me, the way he had writhed beneath me. And I accepted I hadn't really stopped thinking about him ever since.

I have never seen him again since that time. As much as he was an annoyance before, a stalker more or less, he seems invisible now. I have to admit I have looked out for him every fucking time I left the house, but he is never there any more.

He could be embarrassed, or even sorry for what happened between us. I can’t believe he would actually be afraid of me. Or maybe he’s found someone else to stalk, someone more interesting? Anger flares up inside me thinking about that possibility.

I know where he lives of course, and I guess I could go there, but what good would that do? It seems clear enough he’s had it with me. I try to tell myself it’s all for the best, one press vulture less I have to be mindful of, but it doesn’t work. Somehow that meeting was extremely hot, and I want more of that. But that’s not going to happen.

I need to get him out of my system, he’s not the only one in town with a hot body, and maybe I just have to go out a bit more.

I grab the phone to call Suzy, determined to make a date, but I end up doing exactly what I planned earlier by telling her I can’t see her any more. She’s very cool and clearly pissed off, and I can’t blame her really.

What the fuck is wrong with me that I can’t get my mind off this guy?

Viggo

“Okay, sweetheart, watch the bunny rabbit now. You want to hold him?”

*Click, click, click.*

Doting mommy takes cute blonde toddler home, satisfied with the studio session and I sigh with relief that there are no more appointments today, until I remember that there are none tomorrow either and that means another trip to the mall.

When things are slow, we have to head for the mall with our little display and albums of cute kiddie pictures, to drum up some business and charm some besotted parents, talking them into a studio session.

I am not a vulture any longer, more of a parrot chained to his perch and repeating the same mantra,

“This way, honey. Look at mommy. See the bunny rabbit? Isn’t he cute?”

Sometimes I am not sure that this is ethically more acceptable than the paparazzi job and it sure as hell doesn’t pay as well. And all I wanted was to be an eagle and have the freedom for my creativity to soar.

I wander outside to smoke and contemplate the changes in my life since that night a month ago, when I met Sean.

Before that, I’d been virtually stalking him and now I realize that I really miss him. I miss tracking his movements on the net and through my contacts, miss the thrill of the chase, the tantalizing wait, the triumph of capturing the picture and the excitement of the dark room, waiting for those images to emerge.

That’s not all, though. He captured me and captivated me and I just can’t get that night out of my head. I’ve had one night stands before - never really have been a relationship person - and usually I can let them go with pleasant memories, but no regrets. No regrets, no involvement, no ties, no messy complications. I value my freedom.

But I can’t get those memories to lie down in my mental filing system, where they belong. I remember all of it, from the frisson of fear I first felt, relief, then fear again, then power, awe at his beauty and finally mind-blowing sex. I remember it when I wake, imagining waking to find him in my bed, remember in the shower, when I close my eyes and make believe that my hands are his, remember during the day, when I am trying to work or paint and my concentration is shot to pieces and remember most of all at night, when I feel more alone than I ever have I my life.

I have never really cared about anybody before, but I care about Sean. I care enough that I couldn’t go on taking pap pics of him or anybody else. He made me really understand about invasion of privacy. Now I would love for him to invade my privacy again.

It’s ironic that I did that job, because I wanted to build up a cushion of money to enable me to concentrate on my creativity and be a real artist, when I haven’t created a thing in a month.

I curse the fact that I let him walk away without giving him my contact number or getting his. This was meant to be for one night only and I never expected to feel this way.

What I should do is have a few more one nighters to wipe out the memory, but I find that I don’t really want anybody else. What I want is for Sean to come back and tie me up again. Weird that I never discovered the kinky side to myself before him.

I sigh as I take it out on my cigarette butt, dropping it and stamping it out with the toe of my boot, grinding it into the sidewalk, viciously. I don’t for a moment expect that he will be dwelling on our little fling. He has no doubt moved on and worked his way through a dozen conquests by now. He will still be stalked by paparazzi and he is unlikely to notice that I am no longer one of them. I don’t know why, but I would like him to notice.

I look up as a pretty young woman with adorable, photogenic twins in a double buggy approaches,

“Good morning, ma’am. What beautiful children you have. Have you ever thought of using them for modelling work?”

Sean

I curse when I try to make my silver tie look good. It’s one of the disadvantages of living alone. I never was able to do it myself.

“Fuck it,” I swear, and throw the tie on the bed. I hate those bloody things anyway. I know it’s a red carpet, and I know Tim has asked me to look ‘presentable’, but jeans, a white shirt and a blue jacket will have to do. I don’t feel like shaving either. In fact I don’t like going there at all, but it’s in the contract, so I’ll have to.

I’ve given up the idea of seeing Viggo again. I am now quite certain he has stopped stalking me, and I made him realize he was wrong doing that in the first place. I guess that’s good. It does mean of course that I won’t see him again, and that should be good too, but it doesn’t feel that way.

The issue of these ‘leather’ pictures hasn’t really done any harm to me or my career. It seems I never had this much fan mail, not that I ever read it. Bloody typical that it has raised my popularity, though. However, I think most people believe it was just, as we explained, a party and a laugh.

My assistant, Chris, taps on my door. “Sean, the limo is waiting.”

I grin while I look into the mirror to check if my teeth are clean and then I am off.

Thank God this is just a London premiere and I don’t have to fly to LA, Hamburg or Sydney, I think, while I sink back in the soft leather of the limo, I’ll be back home having a beer before I know it. Alone, like I’ve been for the last month or so.

Chris takes the seat next to the limo driver, probably glad to escape the bad mood I’ve been in lately. Well, that’s what he gets paid for, and not that badly either.

I take a deep breath when we arrive at the theatre and then I step out, slowly making my way over the red carpet, posing for pictures, and signing photos and DVD covers. Close to the entrance of the theatre is a secluded space for the paparazzi. I know I can’t avoid the press, and I prepare a few words to keep them happy, and hope they will let me escape as soon as possible.

I walk straight at them, and then I freeze when I see Viggo standing there. For a moment we stare at each other and then I turn my back on him. Luckily, I have done the routine a thousand times before, and I answer the questions automatically, until I can slip safely inside the theatre.

I manage to stay for the obligatory first half hour of the film and then I sign for Chris to lead me outside via the back door. When I am finally back in the limo, waiting for me behind the building – I’ve told Chris he can do whatever he pleases – I let my thoughts run free. So Viggo’s back, it seems. I am not sure how I feel, most of all disappointed, I guess, because with a big event like this he’s there making money again. Following me in normal daily life might have stopped, but he’s still there when he thinks it’s worth it.

I can’t deny it was good to see him, but that he’s doing the pap thing again doesn’t sit right with me. Maybe I wasn’t that clear after all. Maybe he wasn’t sorry at all. From the moment I saw him standing there, I’ve been hard though, and I still am.

Back home, I wait for two hours and then I take my car and drive to Viggo’s place. He will probably be home by now, developing tonight’s pictures.

I know I shouldn’t be here, but I’ve got get this man out of my system. I want to know where he’s been all this time and why he has suddenly turned up again, that’s all, I tell myself. I press a few buzzers at the same time, not Viggo’s though, and someone opens the door for me without even bothering to ask me who I am. I am not surprised at all, some people are like that.

I ring the bell by Viggo’s door, and it opens almost immediately. Taking advantage of his obvious shock to see me there, I step through the door, press Viggo to the wall, and close the door behind me.

He doesn’t seem capable of making a sound, he just stares at me. I press my body close to him, which feels great in all the ways you can imagine, and drop my voice.

“So what’s this Viggo, all of a sudden? Were you running out of money? Did you expect me to turn up wearing a dress this time?”

When he doesn’t reply I move even closer, and damned if he isn’t hard too. He seems to have found his tongue, though.

“It’s not what you think, Sean. I didn’t even have a camera with me.”

I look at his face in the dim light of the hall.

“You didn’t? Then why the fuck were you there?”

There’s a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Good question. I could ask you why the fuck you are here, Sean. But okay, I was there because I wanted to see you.”

For a moment I just stand there, and then I do something I have never done before to a man, I lean in and kiss him.

Viggo

After another couple of weeks of thinking about Sean in most of my waking hours and dreaming about him, when I am asleep, being distracted at work and being completely unable to create anything, I decide that enough is enough.

I have to do something to break this obsession. I’ve watched the boxed set of Sharpe movies over and over, plus as many of his other movies as I could get. What am I doing? I feel like a sixteen year old girl with an adolescent crush.

He knows where I live and I am sure he could get my phone number if he tried, which just confirms to me that he is not feeling the same way. I know where he lives too and I am pretty sure I could get his number from one of my old contacts, but that would just be insane and would really make me a stalker.

Maybe if I can just see him in the flesh again, even from a distance, I would get him out of my system. I know that he’s going to be at a premiere in two days time. Rebecca called me and asked me what had happened to me and told me to make sure I was there. I still have my press card and I could easily slip into the group of paps, most of whom I am on friendly terms with.

So the night of the premiere finds me in the crowd of paparazzi by the red carpet. I am greeted warmly by most, who are puzzled that I haven’t brought my camera. I didn’t want to be tempted to take any celebrity pictures. I have stopped doing that. Fortunately, I don’t have to explain myself, as the celebs have started to arrive.

Suddenly he is right there on the carpet and fuck, he is looking good and he is alone. My stomach flips right over. He looks relaxed and he works the crowd, smiling for pictures, signing autographs and exercising his considerable charm.

Now he is coming over to the press corner and the noise level goes up a couple of decibels as everybody shouts to get his attention. Flashes go off all around me and then he is staring straight at me and everything seems to freeze.

There is no sign of recognition and he pointedly turns his back on me, then smoothly runs the gauntlet of interviewers, before disappearing into the theatre.
Well that is that. I couldn’t have had a clearer indication that he doesn’t want to know me and really, what else did I expect? I am a fool and I go back to my apartment.

I have made my mind up that I have to forget about him and get on with my life, which is why I put on a DVD of Lady Chatterley as soon as I get in and watch him fucking that insipid blonde. Tomorrow I will ditch the lot, I think, pouring myself a double scotch. I will toss them in the trash and that will finish this once and for all.

Later, I am passing my front door on the way back from the bathroom, when I hear steps coming up to my floor and a second later, someone rings my bell.

Squinting through my spy hole, I am stunned to see Sean standing there and I yank the door open without thinking.

The next thing I know, Sean has stepped inside and I am being pressed against the wall, I am speechless and oh so hard, as he makes it clear that he saw me tonight. He growls at me, rather than speaks and grinds his erection against mine I try to explain that it’s not how it seems. I didn’t even have my camera.

When he asks me what the fuck I was doing there, it strikes me as funny, given that he has turned up here and I just about manage to reply, before he is kissing me, hard and possessively, his hands gripping my face and holding me in place.

I am so surprised that at first I just let him dominate, then I start to fight him, determined that he won’t have it all his own way.

Somehow, we wrestle our way down the hall and into my bedroom and arrive panting and struggling for breath.

“Sean, tie me up again, please.”

“Don’t have the cuffs with me. Do you have any neckties.”

I push him away and hold him at arms length.

“Do I look like the kind of man, who would wear neckties? Of course I don’t.”

That makes him laugh and he begins to tease me,

“Nylon stockings? Chiffon scarves?”

“Do I look like the kind of man, who would wear…..wait, don’t answer that.”

“I’ll improvise.”

He pulls my tee shirt up over my head and twists it around my wrists, ripping it and tying my hands.

“Hold on to the bed head.”

I grab the brass bars and hang on, as he quickly strips off my jeans and boxers, then swiftly sheds his own clothes.

“So no cuffs means no bag and no toys?” I can hear my disappointment in my voice.

He gives me a villainous grin.

“I’ll improvise!”

Sean

We kind of fight our way to his bedroom, and apart from it being hot, it’s also fun.

Obviously he must have enjoyed our games last time, because he asks me to tie him up. I had no real idea, when coming here, that we would wind up in bed again, and certainly didn’t expect to be using my toys again, so I have nothing with me.

I am not really surprised when Viggo confesses to not even owning a tie and I tease him a little. The fact that it’s not only hot and arousing to be with him, hits me just like the first time. He’s really funny, and we laugh a lot.

I use his tee shirt to tie his hands, and then take of his and my clothes. I tell him sternly to hold on to the headboard, and then make my way to the kitchen to prove to him I can improvise. Kitchens tend to be magical places, filled with wonderful toys if you know what to look for!

I grin when I make my way through his cluttered living room, and see five or six Sharpe films lying on the floor in front of the telly. An opened, empty DVD case lies on top of the coffee table. I pick it up and roll my eyes when I see the all too familiar Lady Chatterley picture. I chuckle, thankful for having more ammunition to tease him with.

Viggo’s kitchen provides more treasures than I expected. The extra long white shoe laces are ideal to tie up his ankles. I wonder why the fuck they are in the cutlery drawer, together with a balled up pair of yellow socks, but who wants to really know with this guy ?

Within a few minutes, I have a nice collection of tools which I throw into an empty plastic bag lying around. There’s not much in his fridge, but there are more than enough ice cubes to cool off a party in hell. I can’t find an ice bucket, but I guess a pan works just as well.

I find a red candle, a candlestick bottle and even a box of matches. I carry it all to the bedroom, putting the ice and the candle in the bottle on the night stand. Viggo is still clutching the headboard and doesn’t blink on seeing the candle. Perhaps he thinks I am in a romantic mood….

He allows me to spread his legs and tie his ankles to the bed and his eyes are as eager as his cock.

I sit down beside him on the bed, and simply turn out the plastic bag. His eyes widen as he looks at the pile of items I have brought with me.

I light the candle, watching the wax melt and slowly start pooling down.

“So Viggo,” I say, “were you wanking while watching Mellors tonight?”

“No, I like the girl, she has nice tits,” he replies. Cheeky bastard.

“And how about the Sharpe one? Whose tits did you admire on those?”

“Harper,” he says grinning, but yelps as I lash out with the fly swatter.

“Wrong answer, Viggo! Second chance; why were you watching those films?”

“Really Sean, I like Harper, he’s so… solid.”

“I’ll give you something solid, “I growl and let the fly swatter come down on his thigh again.

“Okay Sean, I confess I was drooling over your naked ass!”

“Good boy, that’s better,” I say and fish out an ice cube with the large tongs I found in the kitchen sink. I slowly drag the ice cube down his neck to his right nipple and hold it there until he shivers. I grab the candle, and slowly tip it until a perfect red drop of wax falls on his nipple.

“Fuck,” he cries out, and bucks up. Again I tip the candle, this time a bit closer to his body, he squirms, and I grab a cube from the pan with my hand and hold it against the cooling wax. I love how receptive he is to this, but I know I can’t keep it up too long, not with his amount of body hair. It will be hell to get the wax out later.

I slowly move down his body, letting the wax drip onto his belly. He swears and curses and I finally put the candle down. There’s a nice pink trail from his nipple down to just above his cock and I think that’s enough for now.

I pick up another ice cube, and close my hand around his throbbing cock, stroking him. This time he yells, until I lean in and close my mouth over his cock, taking him in deep. He moans deep in his throat, and I release his cock.

I sit up and we look at each other.

“There’s so much I want to do to you, and we’ve got all the time in the world, but right now I just want to fuck you again,” I say hungrily.

He smiles a coy smile, and his hands leave the headboard,

“I don’t think so Sean. Now it’s my turn to do the fucking”

Comments

[ex-warmfuzzi813.livejournal.com]

"I don’t think so Sean. Now it’s my turn to do the fucking"
So, how soon to chapter 5????

[govigmoombean.livejournal.com]

Wow, you are quick ! Thanks again for commenting. Part 5 tomorrow.

[rifleman-s.livejournal.com]

"“Really Sean, I like Harper, he’s so… solid.” " *grin*

It's great to see they were both trying to work out ways of "casually" getting to see the other again - obviously the 'kink' attraction is greater than they thought!!!