relax, I know how to make cement (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
telesilla.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2004-11-01 06:15 pm
telesilla.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-11-01 06:15 pm
FIC: For A Price -- Viggo (Bean/Viggo, NC-17, bdsm)
Title: For a Price: Viggo
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
helens78 and telesilla
Fandom: LotRiPS
Series: For A Price
Pairing: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: NC-17, bdsm
Summary: Viggo wants a pretty heavy favor, and Sean's price is high.
Disclaimer: Not RL; didn't happen. If you think this has anything to do with the real actors involved, then you need to put down the crack pipe.
Warning: This one is heavier on the bdsm than the previous sections.
Notes: This part of a series centering around
Bean (though there will hopefully be some more Viggo fics in the same
universe as well) but can also be read as a stand-alone.
The prior stories are:
Orlando
Billy
* ~ * ~ *
Viggo likes Sean. He's a guy's guy, someone easy to joke with, laugh with, have a beer with, even tackle into the ground if the mood takes you. But he's also noticed that if people need a little something here or there, Sean's the man to go to for it. And hey, they're friends; maybe Sean can do him a favor.
Figuring that any request goes better if one's got a six-pack in hand, Viggo loads up on the beer he thinks Sean goes for and heads over to Sean's house. Viggo has no idea what time it is; the time of day is "dark" right now, so maybe it's 7 o'clock in the evening, maybe it's 2 o'clock in the morning. It doesn't occur to him until after he thumps on the door that maybe he should have called first; he fidgets on the doorstep, figuring if there's no answer, he'll just go home and try this again tomorrow. He'll call first next time.
Putting his sketchbook down, Sean pads to the door, wondering who in hell is knocking at his door at 11:30 at night. When he sees that it's Viggo, he can't help laughing. "Why am I not surprised?" he says, as he opens the door. "Come on in," he adds, trying not to smirk as he realizes that Viggo's shirt buttons are not lined up. And of course he's barefoot; pity he's not playing a Hobbit.
He can't help wondering what it is that Viggo wants, but whatever it is, Sean's determined to get it from him. I can't wait to see him bent over and inarticulate because he wants it so much, he thinks. He actually likes Viggo, but half the time he's not sure what Viggo means, and most of the time, he has the impression Viggo hides behind words. Maybe I'll just gag him.
"Hi," Viggo says, "hope it's not too late. Glad you're still up, um..." He follows Sean inside and deposits the beer on the nearest flat surface, a kitchen counter this time. "Thought you might like a beer. How are you?" There's an order of events here, a way this is supposed to work. If you're asking someone for a favor, you don't just come right out and ask, right? Right.
"I'm good," Sean says, amused at Viggo's vagueness. "And yeah, a beer'd be grand. You want one?" He's already opening two and he holds one out to Viggo before Viggo can reply.
"Thanks," Viggo says, leaning up against the counter. It seems like he ought to just know how to open up conversation about this, but the words are getting caught somewhere in between brain and teeth. And watching Sean move isn't helping. Christ. Out with it. "Have you heard from home lately? I got a call from Henry the other day that's making me wish I could head back for a while. It's strange being so far away for so long, you know? Not like any other job I've taken."
"Yeah, I miss the girls sometimes too, and you're here longer than I am," Sean replies, thinking he can guess what's coming up next. "What's your arrangement with the ex?" he asks and then realizes that that's a more clever play on words than he usually manages.
Viggo lets out a small chuckle. "Well, we share custody, so she's taking care of him out there while I'm gone, but when I'm not filming he's with me. I thought about bringing him out here in the first place, but she said he didn't need to be away from school and his friends for that long and that I wouldn't be able to spend that much time with him and..." He shrugs. "She had a point. But if I could get some time off, I'd really like to go home and see him." Viggo can feel himself tensing up just a little; he might need to be more obvious, depending on whether Sean gets the hint or not.
"Too bad you can't work something out so that he can come see you," Sean says, his expression neutral. "Perhaps he could come here during his hols ... sorry, summer vacation, I think you Yanks call it." Let's lead him on a bit, make it look like I'm just chatting with him.
"Yeah, maybe..." Viggo rubs at his cheek. The beard's itching again; he's not used to having one kept this uneven. "And he'd probably like it a lot. But it's not like I could expect everyone to let him hang around the set while I'm working, and I'd hate to have him out here and stuck at home all day..."
"Oh, I don't know," Sean says thoughtfully. He drinks more beer and runs his thumb across his chin. "I think I heard Pete talking about giving Philippa's boy a couple of lines, and I don't think he's much older than Henry."
Viggo's eyes light up. "Really? You think they might -- I mean, hell, he loves the series even more than I do, he's the whole reason I'm here. If you went to Pete and--" He stops himself; he came here to ask Sean for a favor, to ask him about getting time off. This is something else. This is bigger than a week to go home and visit Henry. A lot bigger.
"Oh, sure," Sean says easily. You'd think someone who fishes as much as Viggo does would know to avoid the bait, but no. "I can talk to Pete; he owes me a bit. And then you'll owe me." He doesn't smile when he says it, although he very much likes the idea of Viggo owing him something.
The nod's coming before Viggo even has a chance to think it over, and he winces inwardly. Fools rush in, damn it. But how bad could it be, owing Sean a favor? What could he ask for?
"Sure," Viggo says, finally capping off the nod with a word. "Sounds fair. And if he says yes, I owe you big."
"I could live with that," Sean says. This one's big enough that he wants to talk to Pete before extracting any payment from Viggo. "Will your ex go for it?"
"I think so. I should maybe call her, feel her out over it, and I definitely don't want to bring it up with Henry unless we know for sure. But yeah. Yeah, if you could do that for me, I'd love it. I know Henry would love it. Thank you."
"Sure," Sean replies. He's never said "no trouble" or "no problem" to a request before; he wants people to know it's an effort. "Meanwhile, I was just getting a snack, you want some crisps?"
"Yeah, something that goes good with the beer." Viggo grins. "Did I get the right kind? Because it was this or -- there was this one brand with a great label that I came this close to trying." Picking out beer down here by label has had mixed results, though, so since it wasn't just Viggo on his own, he thought better of it at the counter.
"Nah, this is good," Sean says, pulling a couple of bags of crisps out of a cupboard. As he puts them on the counter, his hand brushes Viggo's and Sean watches Viggo without appearing to.
Viggo's not as oblivious as he looks. It's useful having a reputation for being quirky and singleminded, though; it means he can pretend that touch didn't mean anything, that he can look at Sean's hands or feet and pass it off as something that might be interesting to photograph later. He leans on the counter, resting his forearms on it, actually taking a moment to feel how tired his body is; he's never been on such a demanding shoot, probably never will be.
Giving it up as a lost cause, Sean leads the way into the living room, bag of crisps and beer in hand. "So, other than missing your boy and being bloody fagged all the time, are you enjoying the shoot?" he asks. I can make do meaningless small talk all night, Viggo. I'll have you eventually.
* * * *
It's been a week and Sean has talked to Peter, emphasizing how tough it is for Viggo, how they owe Viggo's last minute presence to Henry and how Viggo is dragging ass already and them only a fourth of the way through the filming. It's an easy sell, and he knew it would be; after all, Astin's brought both his wife and daughter here and Allie's all over the set.
And even when he makes the second suggestion, he's not at all surprised that he doesn't have to play the "you know things are running smoothly because I'm seeing that they do" card. Which is good, as Sean would rather play that one for a more difficult favor than this one.
Evening after the day's shoot finds him on Viggo's porch with a six pack of beer that is both good and has an interesting label.
It takes Viggo a minute to get himself out from the pile of photographs he's been sorting; he's been putting them in so many piles that they surround him, blocking him in, and even when he manages to get to his feet he can't quite figure out how to get from this side of the piles to the other without kicking something over. In the end, he makes a leap for it, only knocking a few photographs out of place, and he jogs to the door before whoever's there gives up and heads away.
When the door opens and it's Sean, he's somehow not surprised. He grins, holds the door open. "Hey," he offers, "good to see you. What's going on?"
"Beer," Sean says, holding up the beer. "With Maori designs on the label. And it's pretty good stuff too."
Genuinely charmed, Viggo grins and takes the beer out of Sean's hand. "Hey, thanks -- this is great, I love the design. Come on in?"
"Sure," Sean replies easily, pleased with Viggo's smile. "God," he says, walking into the living room. "Is all this for the bus?"
"Most of it, probably," Viggo says. "Some of it's just for me, and then some of it's not really anything." He shrugs as he shoves a stack of papers to the side on the kitchen table and sets the beer down. "Can I offer you a beer?"
"Wouldn't say no," Sean says. "So," he continues once he has a beer in hand. "Think you have enough room for two here?"
"Um... probably, why?" Viggo asks, frowning as he tugs a pair of bottles out of the case. "Did your place spring a leak again?"
No one is really that clueless, are they? "For your boy, you git," Sean replies with a laugh. "He'll be here while you guys are filming Helm's Deep," he adds, watching almost eagerly for Viggo's reaction.
Viggo's mouth drops open for a minute; he'd put the whole idea out of his mind as much as possible, not wanting to get his hopes up. "You're kidding."
It's like that first hit of coke, Sean thinks, and remembers doing lines off Jason's back and arse. When they know you got them what they wanted. "It gets better," he says. "You know how Pete's talking about giving Callum some lines with you?" He grins. "He's gonna put Henry in armour and get him in that scene."
Viggo shakes his head, leaning against the table; he can't imagine Sean joking about this, but all the same... "You're kidding," he says again. "I didn't expect -- I thought -- shit, Sean, thank you." He tugs a chair out from behind the table and sits down heavily, trying to calculate the time difference. "I'm gonna have to call Ex, I'm gonna have to talk to Henry -- thank you. God."
"Well, I figured if I was going to badger Pete for something, might as well take full advantage of the situation," Sean says. Although "cute" is the last word he'd choose to describe Viggo, the man comes close to it now and once more Sean wonders how Viggo looks as he begs, wonders if Viggo's ever let anyone tie him down before fucking him. Look who he was married to, Sean thinks. I'd be damned surprised if she wasn't kinky in some way.
"Oh, yeah, yeah, no, I mean--" Viggo feels like his tongue's too thick for his mouth, and the last thing he wants to do is make Sean think he's not grateful or that Viggo doesn't know he owes him big. C'mon, just get words out. Get them out. "He's going to love it. And it's going to be great having him here." He gives Sean his best ear-to-ear grin, tipping his chin down just a little, and asks, "What do I owe you?"
A little surprised that Viggo's so easy about asking, Sean has to wonder if he's being played. But no, Viggo's grin shows no signs of being practiced or staged, and Sean is sure he's just that clueless. "Well," he says, sauntering over to stand in front of Viggo, leaning over and resting his hands on the high back of the chair. "I think we can work something out."
Oh, shit. Viggo's sure his temperature's gone up ten degrees, and the air goes out of his lungs in a rush. He reaches up and puts his hands on Sean's shoulders, squeezing just a little, wondering if Sean has any idea what kind of effect he's having on him. Jesus, not to mention the effect he's having on my cock. Sean's a guy, all confidence and muscle, and he's exactly the kind of guy Viggo would go for if Viggo went for anyone at all. "Some... thing?" Viggo manages.
For all his surprise, Viggo's response is encouraging and Sean smiles a rather predatory smile. "You ever let anyone tie you up?"
"...yeah," Viggo says, trying not to frown. If this is what Sean wants -- shit, he's gonna end up disappointed. OK, don't think about that. You owe him big.
"Trust me," Sean says, his voice too matter of fact to be a mere boast, "however disappointing it was before, it'll be better with me." Before Viggo can answer, Sean leans in and kisses him hard, one hand resting on the back of Viggo's neck.
"Uh--!" Anything more than a grunt is cut off, and the grunt leaves Viggo's mouth open. God. Both Viggo's hands tighten on Sean's shoulders, and he's kissing back, surprising himself with it, hungry as hell and not thinking about anything other than the warmth of Sean's body under his palms.
Damn, he's like Orli, Sean thinks, biting at Viggo's lips before he goes back to taking Viggo's mouth as hard as he intends to take his body. I could have had him without the favor.
Sean's so hungry Viggo's afraid he won't be able to keep up. But Christ, it feels good, Sean's body feels good, his mouth -- it's been years since he's had someone's mouth on him like this, and now the thoughts are starting to creep in -- going to disappoint him, going to fuck up, won't be able to give him what he wants. Shit.
"God," Sean growls when he finally tears his mouth away from Viggo's. "You want this, don't you? You're fucking starved for it."
Viggo swallows, uncertain how to answer. He can't say no; they'd both know he was a lying bastard. But fuck, he doesn't want to end up giving Sean the wrong idea, either. "Sean, listen -- I didn't realize you'd want this..." His voice is so low it's almost slurring. Christ.
"You know now," Sean says, a little impatiently. What's his problem all of a sudden? Two seconds ago he was fine with the idea. He lets his hand drop down, sliding easily under the amazingly soft flannel of Viggo's hideous green plaid shirt. He doesn't bother with anything subtle; his fingers move straight to one of Viggo's nipples and he toys with it, while watching Viggo's face.
"Shit. Sean, I haven't fucked anyone in three years," Viggo blurts out, both hands grabbing for Sean's arms, fingers digging into Sean's biceps in a way that won't stop him from moving his hands any damn way he pleases.
"Well, no wonder you're so fucking starved," Sean says, giving the nipple under his fingers a firm little tweak. "And who says I'm asking you to fuck me?"
Viggo's fingers only tighten as he jumps, leaning into Sean a little more. He's going to end up disappointed, says the voice on his left shoulder, and then fuck it, I owe him from the voice on his right shoulder, and the voice right in the center of his skull points out stop fucking around and tell him you want this, in a harsh annoyed tone that generally only comes out when Viggo's having to deal with the promotion circuit on two days of no sleep.
"Okay," is what makes it out of Viggo's mouth. "What do you want?"
"I want to tie you to a bed," Sean says, tweaking the nipple a little harder. "And then I want to see what it takes to get you to beg." He bends and speaks in Viggo's ear. "What it takes you to get inarticulate. And if you're lucky, what it takes to get you to scream." Fuck, Bean, don't push him so hard; he'll bolt if you're not careful.
"You want me to--" Viggo flinches. "Not like that. No, you're doing it wrong. Not that way." "Wouldn't have the first idea what I'm doing," he says, and then, not waiting for the voices in his head to start up again, adds, "hope that's okay." And he looks up at Sean, squeezing his arms tight, actually letting himself feel the muscle there and appreciate it. Damn, he feels good.
"Then it's a good thing I do," Sean says firmly. A pretense of ignorance is not going to get Viggo out of this. Hell, even the odd feeling that he's getting -- that Viggo's afraid of this and not because he's never done it before -- isn't going to stop Sean. "Just do what you're told and this will go along just fine."
It'd be easy to take Sean at face value, do what he's told because he owes Sean and not think about wanting it. Sean's obviously not going to object to doing it that way.
But Viggo would. He gives his head a hard shake, like he's surfacing from something, and then nods. "Okay. Here or do we need to go to your place?"
Although he's tempted, Sean doesn't say "good boy" to Viggo. That can come later, he thinks, hiding a smirk. "Here," he says, pulling his hand out of Viggo's shirt. "I need to run out to the car and grab a few things." He grips Viggo's chin and kisses him hard for a moment. "That should give you a chance to get to the bedroom and get naked ... no, not naked. Leave the shirt on." He delivers another hard, almost punishing, kiss and then turns and heads out of the kitchen without looking back.
"Shit," Viggo mutters as soon as Sean's out the door. "Shit," and he's heading for the bedroom, giving a rueful look to the bed and jerking the covers into a reasonable facsimile of order before stripping out of his jeans. Leave the shirt on. What's he want with the shirt?
Uncertain whether to stay on his feet, sit down, lie down, Viggo ends up kneeling in the middle of the bed, looking down at his cock. Oh, yeah, he's hard, and it's already starting to ache. He's nervous as hell. I'm going to fuck this up and then what? What's he going to do then?
Sean finds himself whistling as he pulls the duffel bag out of the boot of his car. Whatever it is that has Viggo so nervous and afraid intrigues the hell out of Sean, who is more than ready to exploit it just to see what happens. Viggo's more challenging than Orlando, and Sean is damn glad of it. Not that I wasn't glad to have Orlando drop into my hands like a ripe plum, he thinks as he moves back into the house. But it's nice to have to work for it sometimes too.
The sight of Viggo kneeling almost brings Sean up short in the doorway, but he covers it well, striding into the bedroom as if he owned it. "I like that," he says, thinking that if he were the kind of man who actually wanted to keep a submissive, he'd be doing his best to keep Viggo. "Unbutton the shirt."
Viggo swallows and starts undoing the buttons, feeling self-conscious as hell. He's not half as good-looking as Sean is, and the more exposed he is, the more he feels like he's all sharp angles and too much chest hair.
The shirt suits Viggo in some way, and Sean watches closely as Viggo unbuttons the few remaining buttons. He rather likes the idea that from now on what is obviously one of Viggo's favorite shirts will remind Viggo of Sean.
Once Viggo's got the shirt undone, Sean looks the bed over and frowns a little. The head and foot boards are too flimsy to tie a strong man like Viggo to and so he bends down at once corner and looks at the frame. "You know," he says conversationally as he ties a stout length of rope to one part of the frame. "It's rare that you find a bed that you simply can't tie a person to." With obviously practiced efficiency, he attaches lengths of rope to the rest of the bed and then looks in his bag, trying to decide if rope or leather or steel would look better on Viggo.
"Well, I didn't buy it to avoid--" Viggo makes a face, shaking his head. He's not going to bother Sean at all, and Sean's more than aware enough of how bothered he is, so it's probably best to shut up now.
"Didn't think you did," Sean says, deciding on leather. He tosses the dark brown leather cuffs on the bed and then sits down, holding out his hand. "Wrist."
Viggo's cock jerks. He rolls his eyes at himself but holds his wrist out anyway.
Oh yes, this session is definitely all about aesthetics, Sean thinks, admiring the look of the leather on Viggo's skin. Too bad the favor wasn't big enough to allow me to demand blood.
Once both wrists are cuffed, he gives Viggo a slight push on the chest. "On your back now," he says, reaching for one of the pieces of rope.
Viggo scoots into the center of the bed, raising his arms above his head and watching as Sean gets them tied to the bedframe. He's almost fascinated enough by the look of the cuffs against his skin that he forgets what they're there for, but that doesn't last long -- not once he tries to move his wrists.
And then Sean's hands are on his ankles, one at a time, getting them tied to the bedframe, too. The fascination disappears quickly, replaced by a sense of oh my God, what the fuck did I get myself into this time and a quick snort from that voice in his head that's been telling him stop fucking around and admit you want this. "Fuck," Viggo whispers, and it's more about astonishment than anything.
"You haven't made the right kinds of noise for that," Sean says. standing next to the bed and looking at Viggo. He opens his jeans with one tug -- thank God for well worn button flies -- and pulls his cock out, stroking it slowly while he thinks of what to do to get the sounds he wants from Viggo. "Not yet, at least."
"Jesus, Sean," Viggo moans, wrists twisting in the cuffs. "C'mon, I'm -- I'm--" Stop fucking around. "Okay. I fucking want it. Just... tell me what I have to do." He grits his teeth together, swallows hard. "Please."
"Well, that's the first part," Sean says with a cruel little smile. "You're doing great so far, but let's see if we can get to the bit where you scream. You want to scream for me, don't you, Viggo?"
Scream for me. Viggo closes his eyes and sinks back into the pillows. It's insane, but what part of this isn't? "How are you going to make me scream?" he whispers.
"I find pain usually does the trick," Sean says, reaching down casually to pinch Viggo's nipple between thumb and forefinger, twisting it hard.
"Ow, fuck!" Viggo yells, not trying to hold back the shout or the surprise in it at all. His eyes snap open, and he stares at Sean. "You're really into this," he mumbles.
"Look who's talking," Sean says, slapping carefully at Viggo's cock with two fingers. "This says otherwise," he adds, doing it again and watching Viggo's cock bob in response.
"Jesus, Sean--!" Viggo winces, tries to squirm away from Sean, but where's he going to go? "Fucking -- hurts, Christ, you don't want to use that later?"
"Relax," Sean says, smacking Viggo's cock again. "It's not like I'm strapping it or anything. It's not going to fall off." After a fourth smack, he steps back, rummages in his bag and comes up with a strap which he smacks hard against his hand.
"Oh, Christ," Viggo moans, so quiet it's almost under his breath. And he's trying not to notice that having his cock hurt didn't make him lose his erection at all; if anything, he's even harder now, dripping precome across the lower curve of his belly. And the first thing he thinks when he sees Sean with the strap is wonder how that'd feel across my shoulders. The second thing, much more in keeping with the halfhearted protests he's been giving Sean all night, is are you out of your goddamned mind?
Trailing the stiff edge of the strap along Viggo's equally stiff cock, Sean gives Viggo a moment to think that the first blow will land across his erection. And then he swings, shifting the aim at the last moment, so it lands high on the inside of Viggo's thigh, leaving a nice pink mark. Before Viggo can really react, Sean's landing another blow on the opposite thigh. Fuck, but he marks up well.
It's not quite a scream, the sound Viggo makes, but it's a high, sharp, barking cry. And while he sounds startled, while there's pain written all over his voice, Viggo's not squirming away from Sean or the strap.
Actually impressed with Viggo's ability to take pain, Sean doesn't show it as he lands another pair of blows and then more, working his way down Viggo's thighs. Once he reaches Viggo's knees, he moves to the outside of Viggo's thighs, working his way back up and watching the pink marks form up to match the earlier ones.
Viggo's struggling for something to compare the pain to, something he's had before or something he's done to himself, but there's really nothing. It hurts -- burns a little, stings some after the fact, and the trouble with being tied down is he can't really turn into the blows the way he'd like.
Don't think about it. "Hurts," he huffs out, "I--" He's not screaming. But he's starting to think he'd like to. He gives Sean an uncertain look and murmurs, "More?"
Without answering, Sean brings the strap down with a loud crack, landing the blow on the underside of Viggo's arm, right above the armpit. It's another place where Viggo's skin is pale, and suddenly Sean wants to see a real bruise there, one that will last beyond the evening.
Viggo jerks back into the pillows, teeth gritted together and body tightening. "Fuck. Sean--" He doesn't know what he wants to ask for. Not mercy, and not for Sean to stop. Just something. The burn's killing him.
Driven by the need to see Viggo bruised and by something in Viggo's voice, Sean leans down, grabs a bit of flesh just a little above Viggo's elbow. Pinching it tightly between his thumb and forefinger, he twists his hand hard and holds it, knowing it'll bring up a bruise that can be explained away as something that happened on set.
But whatever explanations they come up with are going to feel flat on Viggo's tongue. He's going to know the real answer is Sean hurt me. Sean hurt me and we both wanted to see him hurt me. And if he hadn't been willing to bruise me I'd have begged for it. He forces himself to unclench his jaw, his fists, let his body lose at least a fraction of its tension. This would all feel better if he could relax. Even just a little bit would help.
Sean's got a huge collection of sex toys, and even the small part of it he brought to New Zealand with him is still quite extensive, but for all that, he's enjoying this a great deal. There's just something much more intimate, more personal, about using your own hands to hurt a person. His gaze moves back and forth between the inside of Viggo's arm and his fingers moving up it, pinching up mark after mark, and Viggo's face, not wanting to miss the moment when he finds the right bundle of nerves and Viggo screams for him.
Viggo's biting at his lips trying to hold back the scream. He's got this idea in his head that when he screams, it's all going to be over, and he's not ready to see it end. Not yet. He blunts the sound behind his teeth, but the cries are getting louder, and one of them's going to be a scream. He won't be able to stop himself.
Sean's not sure why Viggo's holding out on him, but he takes it as a challenge and twists particularly hard when he reaches the sensitive skin right below Viggo's armpit. Give it to me, he thinks. Give me the scream you're holding back.
"Fuck--" And Viggo's jaw drops open as he screams; he's got no more chance at blunting anything. The pain's too intense, whole body centered on Sean's fingers and what they're doing to him, the bruises they're going to leave. "Sean, fuck, hurts..." Not that Sean doesn't know it hurts, but at this point Viggo can't hold back the words any more than he could hold back the groaning, growling sounds coming from the center of his chest.
Viggo's scream gets in deep, Sean can feel it in his gut the same way he feels really low bass notes from a loud sound system. "Fuck," he mutters. "That's good, Viggo, really fucking good." Now let's see about getting him inarticulate, Sean thinks, reaching down to stroke Viggo's cock as he licks the most recent bruise.
"Aah -- fuck, God," Viggo moans, trying to arch his hips up against Sean's hand. Sean's tongue, Christ, Viggo's not sure if it's the look of it or the feel of it or if he's simply incoherent because it's all too much at once, but the best he's doing now are small, soft grunts, sounds that are -- if he's being honest -- a lot closer to whimpers than he'd like.
"Come on," Sean says, keeping his touch light. "Surely you can tell me what you want." He goes back to licking, taking in the clean sharp smell of Viggo's sweat. This ... yes, this is what he wanted. The poet king reduced to whimpers and moans, just like any other man. He deliberately pushes the thought of Billy out of his mind. Later. I'll get this from him later.
"Anything," Viggo blurts out, "everything, fuck, make me come, please, want it so bad, Sean." His hands tighten into fists, and he wishes he could hold Sean's head in place, hold him there while Sean's lips and tongue and teeth work his skin over inch by inch. What he really wants is more, any way he can get it.
"You think I'm gonna let you come before I do?" Sean asks, his hand going still on Viggo's cock. "Although I don't know that you'll be able to help it unless I do something about that." He sits up and then rummages in his bag, pulling out a simple snapping cock strap. "Here, this'll keep you out of trouble," he says, snapping it on. Standing up, he looks at the bed. "Fuck, you're a sight," he says as he strips off his clothes. "Can't wait to have my cock buried in you."
So much for any leftover pride Viggo might have been holding onto. Sean's gorgeous. And right there. And he's going to fuck Viggo, probably straight through the mattress and into the floor. "Please," he whispers. Shit, that strap around his cock hurts already. It's probably only going to get worse, too. "Sean, please, fuck me, fuck, I need it so much..."
After quickly unbuckling the ankle cuffs, Sean gets on the bed and rolls a condom on quickly. Grabbing the lube, he looks down at Viggo before slicking some over his cock and then tossing the tube aside. "Don't think I'll need more than that," he mutters as he shoves Viggo's legs apart and then up hard.
Viggo's first thought is are you fucking kidding me? It's been years... But then he realizes that he wants it to hurt. He wants it to burn so much he'll feel it for days. "C'mon," he whispers, "please, Sean, c'mon, hurt me..."
"Good boy," Sean says, reaching out and pinching Viggo's calf as he moves into position. He thinks about just shoving in and pounding Viggo into the mattress but instead, he goes slowly. Viggo's so damn tight, and Sean wants to feel every last inch of him. "So fucking tight," he groans, when he's finally buried inside Viggo.
By the time Sean's in deep, Viggo's hands are straining so hard against the cuffs he's afraid he'll give himself bruises. He wants -- just wants, wants to get his hands on Sean, wants Sean to go in deeper, harder, faster. Breaking a three-year dry spell was bound to be good; the fact that it's better than he expected, and so different it's blowing his mind -- that's something Viggo's stunned by.
Viggo's hunger is almost tangible and Sean grins down at him. "Been a long dry spell, hasn't it? So long since anyone fucked you the way you need to be fucked." And with that, he is fucking Viggo the way he can tell Viggo wants it, shoving into him with hard, but short, almost stabbing thrusts.
"Fuck, fuck -- Sean--" Viggo jerks at the cuffs again, and still he doesn't go anywhere. "God, yeah, needed this so bad, hurt me, please, fuck me, hurt me, Christ." The strap around his cock's feeling tighter every second, but now he's grateful for it; he doesn't know how long he'd last without it.
Turning his head, Sean bites Viggo hard, catching him right above the knee. This is actually better than he expected, and he wonders if Viggo will be like Jason, wonders if Viggo's next request for a favour will simply be an excuse so he can get more of what he really wants. And what a fucking tragedy that would be. Be nice to have someone like this around for the rest of the time I'm here.
The bite's not what Viggo expected, and it draws a scream out of him that he's got no hope of holding back. "Sean, Sean, yes, fuck, more, oh God, please, more, fucking hell, don't stop, just don't stop, fuck." He's babbling, and even if he were aware of it he wouldn't give a damn.
The sheer desperation in Viggo's voice combined with the scream is enough for Sean; he comes hard, his strangled yell muffled only by Viggo's skin. "Fuck," he groans, when he can finally speak again. "Bloody fucking hell." He pulls back, stripping off the condom and tossing it somewhat carelessly in the direction of a trash bin he saw earlier. Grabbing up the tube of lube, he slicks up his fingers and shoves three of them hard into Viggo. "Bet you thought I was done, didn't you?"
Wonder if I'd be in trouble if I said I hoped not. Viggo tries hard to squirm down against Sean's fingers, groaning. "Please, fuck, please let me come, Sean. God, I need it so fucking much, please."
It's good, bloody fucking good, to hear Viggo like this, but Sean wants just a little more. He wants Viggo desperate, wants to see the wildness in Viggo's eyes that they've all seen when Aragorn fights orcs. "You just think you need it," he says, twisting his fingers roughly. "You don't know what need is."
"Had... fuck... three fucking years to need it," Viggo pants, struggling against his cuffs, trying to shove his body down onto Sean's hand. "Please, Sean. Please. Christ, please, let me have it." He bites his lower lip hard enough he's afraid he'll break skin if it goes on much longer, and he wonders if Sean wants to see that. If he'd like seeing bloodstained lips and know he's the one who drew that much need out of Viggo, the first one to make him feel need like this in longer than Viggo can remember.
Although Sean's tempted to push, to keep Viggo on edge longer, he decides that for this first time -- and yes, it's a first time, not an only time -- he should give Viggo what he wants. He tugs off the strap, twisting his fingers up inside Viggo's arse as he does. "Come for me," he demands.
Viggo thought he'd screamed before; this time it's a sound that feels like it starts at the pit of his stomach and rings through his entire body. There's three years of need in the sound, a sense of outright surrender that leaves him shaking and gasping. He doesn't think he could have stopped himself from coming if he'd tried, and he can't remember why he resisted this, even for a second, back in the beginning.
I want more of that, Sean thinks as he watches and listens to Viggo come. It's a rare thought; usually Sean's more interested in what other people want, but this ... knowing that he's responsible for this and that Viggo will want more of it. Fuck. If he could get hard again, he would.
Viggo's throat feels unbearably dry; he licks his lips as his breath comes back to him, tries to focus. "Nauthannen i ned ol reiannien." It's a whisper, just audible, and he blinks his eyes open, looking up at Sean. By the feel of it, Sean's been watching him for a while.
For a minute Sean wonders if Viggo's lapsing into Danish -- I thought he was born a Yank? -- and then he realizes that no, the man is speaking elvish. "That's never happened to me before," he says, still watching Viggo intently. "Why'd you wait for three years when you obviously need this kind of thing?"
Still trying to catch his breath, Viggo licks his lips and exhales hard, sinking further into the bed. It almost doesn't matter that he's still tied down; he could sleep this way if he needed to. "A lot of reasons," he mumbles. "You get told you're bad at something enough times, you start believing it."
"Bad at it?" Sean laughs as he finally stirs himself to unbuckle the cuffs from around Viggo's wrists. "Whoever said you were bad at it didn't have a bleedin' clue as to what they were talking about." He leaves the cuffs tied to the bed frame and sits down, running a hand down Viggo's arms, admiring the bruises. "You need anything? Glass of water? A beer?"
"Fuck," Viggo mutters, stretching his arms above his head and exhaling softly. "Yeah, I'd like some water, please." He looks up at Sean, tries to figure out something to say. Thanks for breaking my three-year dry spell by getting me to owe you sex? Somehow that doesn't sound right.
"Be back in a tick," Sean says, making his way to the kitchen. Now's when he makes his decision. Now's when he either tries to justify what just happend as him owing me a favor, or he admits that he liked it enough to want more. It's easy enough for Sean to admit to himself that he hopes Viggo chooses the latter option. Who the fuck wouldn't want that? And if he's got confidence problems, he's going to be bloody grateful to me for wanting him again.
Back in the bedroom, Viggo sits up and stretches more, bringing his arms in front of him and lacing his fingers together, exhaling softly as he shifts his weight, trying not to squirm. Sex never used to ache this much, or not that he remembers. He'll be feeling it all day tomorrow, maybe the day after, and he's damn glad he's not riding.
Not riding, just getting rode hard. The thought strikes him as funny, and he ends up chuckling to himself, running a hand down the underside of his arm and pressing his fingertips into bruises, hissing softly. They're going to be around a while. Not nearly long enough, though.
"Like those?" Sean asks, coming into the bedroom silently enough to catch Viggo playing with the bruises. He sets the glass of water down on the nightstand and then looks at down at Viggo. "You want me to go?" he finally asks.
"I hadn't thought that far ahead," Viggo murmurs. He glances down at his bed, wondering if Sean would even want to stay someplace where the sheets are rumpled and sweat-stained and mismatched. "I've got room..."
Sean's not sure if Viggo is deliberately matching Sean's own careful lack of expression or if he's always like this after sex. "Well, shove over then," he says, not minding the state of the bed. When Viggo does so, Sean sits down and sips his water. "You realize that we're on late call tomorrow? And that I'm fond of symmetry?" He lets his hand rest on Viggo's arm, the one not marked by bruises.
The first thing Viggo thinks when Sean says symmetry is Is he asking me to do this to him? And then he realizes where Sean's hand is, and somewhere along the line he stopped breathing and his stomach went hot, and if he could get hard again this fast, he would. "Jesus, Sean," Viggo says softly, "all you have to do is ask." And so much for three years of celibacy.
"Yeah?" Sean says, frowning just a little. "What if I'd rather tell?"
"Then can you do me a favor?" Viggo asks, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth he looks a little shell-shocked; asking for a favor's what got him into all this.
The request is so unexpected that Sean can't help laughing. "You must be daft," he says, shaking his head. "You know favors from me come with a rather steep price."
"I wasn't thinking," Viggo groans, shaking his head, but at the same time he wonders can it really be worse? and if it is, doesn't he think I might want it? "I just meant... if you want to tell me. I was hoping you could try not to do it in public. Not in front of everybody."
"Oh, that's not a favor," Sean replies. "Or if it is, it's one to me as well. You'll find I'm not the least bit interested in being the source of gossip on the set." Not the least bit interested in people thinking I want something this hard from everyone who asks a favor.
"OK, then," Viggo says, nodding. "If you want to tell me... tell me."
"Oh, believe me," Sean says, settling in beside Viggo and catching Viggo's wrist in a loose grip. "I will."
-end-
Authors:
helens78 and telesillaFandom: LotRiPS
Series: For A Price
Pairing: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: NC-17, bdsm
Summary: Viggo wants a pretty heavy favor, and Sean's price is high.
Disclaimer: Not RL; didn't happen. If you think this has anything to do with the real actors involved, then you need to put down the crack pipe.
Warning: This one is heavier on the bdsm than the previous sections.
Notes: This part of a series centering around
Bean (though there will hopefully be some more Viggo fics in the same
universe as well) but can also be read as a stand-alone.
The prior stories are:
Orlando
Billy
* ~ * ~ *
Viggo likes Sean. He's a guy's guy, someone easy to joke with, laugh with, have a beer with, even tackle into the ground if the mood takes you. But he's also noticed that if people need a little something here or there, Sean's the man to go to for it. And hey, they're friends; maybe Sean can do him a favor.
Figuring that any request goes better if one's got a six-pack in hand, Viggo loads up on the beer he thinks Sean goes for and heads over to Sean's house. Viggo has no idea what time it is; the time of day is "dark" right now, so maybe it's 7 o'clock in the evening, maybe it's 2 o'clock in the morning. It doesn't occur to him until after he thumps on the door that maybe he should have called first; he fidgets on the doorstep, figuring if there's no answer, he'll just go home and try this again tomorrow. He'll call first next time.
Putting his sketchbook down, Sean pads to the door, wondering who in hell is knocking at his door at 11:30 at night. When he sees that it's Viggo, he can't help laughing. "Why am I not surprised?" he says, as he opens the door. "Come on in," he adds, trying not to smirk as he realizes that Viggo's shirt buttons are not lined up. And of course he's barefoot; pity he's not playing a Hobbit.
He can't help wondering what it is that Viggo wants, but whatever it is, Sean's determined to get it from him. I can't wait to see him bent over and inarticulate because he wants it so much, he thinks. He actually likes Viggo, but half the time he's not sure what Viggo means, and most of the time, he has the impression Viggo hides behind words. Maybe I'll just gag him.
"Hi," Viggo says, "hope it's not too late. Glad you're still up, um..." He follows Sean inside and deposits the beer on the nearest flat surface, a kitchen counter this time. "Thought you might like a beer. How are you?" There's an order of events here, a way this is supposed to work. If you're asking someone for a favor, you don't just come right out and ask, right? Right.
"I'm good," Sean says, amused at Viggo's vagueness. "And yeah, a beer'd be grand. You want one?" He's already opening two and he holds one out to Viggo before Viggo can reply.
"Thanks," Viggo says, leaning up against the counter. It seems like he ought to just know how to open up conversation about this, but the words are getting caught somewhere in between brain and teeth. And watching Sean move isn't helping. Christ. Out with it. "Have you heard from home lately? I got a call from Henry the other day that's making me wish I could head back for a while. It's strange being so far away for so long, you know? Not like any other job I've taken."
"Yeah, I miss the girls sometimes too, and you're here longer than I am," Sean replies, thinking he can guess what's coming up next. "What's your arrangement with the ex?" he asks and then realizes that that's a more clever play on words than he usually manages.
Viggo lets out a small chuckle. "Well, we share custody, so she's taking care of him out there while I'm gone, but when I'm not filming he's with me. I thought about bringing him out here in the first place, but she said he didn't need to be away from school and his friends for that long and that I wouldn't be able to spend that much time with him and..." He shrugs. "She had a point. But if I could get some time off, I'd really like to go home and see him." Viggo can feel himself tensing up just a little; he might need to be more obvious, depending on whether Sean gets the hint or not.
"Too bad you can't work something out so that he can come see you," Sean says, his expression neutral. "Perhaps he could come here during his hols ... sorry, summer vacation, I think you Yanks call it." Let's lead him on a bit, make it look like I'm just chatting with him.
"Yeah, maybe..." Viggo rubs at his cheek. The beard's itching again; he's not used to having one kept this uneven. "And he'd probably like it a lot. But it's not like I could expect everyone to let him hang around the set while I'm working, and I'd hate to have him out here and stuck at home all day..."
"Oh, I don't know," Sean says thoughtfully. He drinks more beer and runs his thumb across his chin. "I think I heard Pete talking about giving Philippa's boy a couple of lines, and I don't think he's much older than Henry."
Viggo's eyes light up. "Really? You think they might -- I mean, hell, he loves the series even more than I do, he's the whole reason I'm here. If you went to Pete and--" He stops himself; he came here to ask Sean for a favor, to ask him about getting time off. This is something else. This is bigger than a week to go home and visit Henry. A lot bigger.
"Oh, sure," Sean says easily. You'd think someone who fishes as much as Viggo does would know to avoid the bait, but no. "I can talk to Pete; he owes me a bit. And then you'll owe me." He doesn't smile when he says it, although he very much likes the idea of Viggo owing him something.
The nod's coming before Viggo even has a chance to think it over, and he winces inwardly. Fools rush in, damn it. But how bad could it be, owing Sean a favor? What could he ask for?
"Sure," Viggo says, finally capping off the nod with a word. "Sounds fair. And if he says yes, I owe you big."
"I could live with that," Sean says. This one's big enough that he wants to talk to Pete before extracting any payment from Viggo. "Will your ex go for it?"
"I think so. I should maybe call her, feel her out over it, and I definitely don't want to bring it up with Henry unless we know for sure. But yeah. Yeah, if you could do that for me, I'd love it. I know Henry would love it. Thank you."
"Sure," Sean replies. He's never said "no trouble" or "no problem" to a request before; he wants people to know it's an effort. "Meanwhile, I was just getting a snack, you want some crisps?"
"Yeah, something that goes good with the beer." Viggo grins. "Did I get the right kind? Because it was this or -- there was this one brand with a great label that I came this close to trying." Picking out beer down here by label has had mixed results, though, so since it wasn't just Viggo on his own, he thought better of it at the counter.
"Nah, this is good," Sean says, pulling a couple of bags of crisps out of a cupboard. As he puts them on the counter, his hand brushes Viggo's and Sean watches Viggo without appearing to.
Viggo's not as oblivious as he looks. It's useful having a reputation for being quirky and singleminded, though; it means he can pretend that touch didn't mean anything, that he can look at Sean's hands or feet and pass it off as something that might be interesting to photograph later. He leans on the counter, resting his forearms on it, actually taking a moment to feel how tired his body is; he's never been on such a demanding shoot, probably never will be.
Giving it up as a lost cause, Sean leads the way into the living room, bag of crisps and beer in hand. "So, other than missing your boy and being bloody fagged all the time, are you enjoying the shoot?" he asks. I can make do meaningless small talk all night, Viggo. I'll have you eventually.
* * * *
It's been a week and Sean has talked to Peter, emphasizing how tough it is for Viggo, how they owe Viggo's last minute presence to Henry and how Viggo is dragging ass already and them only a fourth of the way through the filming. It's an easy sell, and he knew it would be; after all, Astin's brought both his wife and daughter here and Allie's all over the set.
And even when he makes the second suggestion, he's not at all surprised that he doesn't have to play the "you know things are running smoothly because I'm seeing that they do" card. Which is good, as Sean would rather play that one for a more difficult favor than this one.
Evening after the day's shoot finds him on Viggo's porch with a six pack of beer that is both good and has an interesting label.
It takes Viggo a minute to get himself out from the pile of photographs he's been sorting; he's been putting them in so many piles that they surround him, blocking him in, and even when he manages to get to his feet he can't quite figure out how to get from this side of the piles to the other without kicking something over. In the end, he makes a leap for it, only knocking a few photographs out of place, and he jogs to the door before whoever's there gives up and heads away.
When the door opens and it's Sean, he's somehow not surprised. He grins, holds the door open. "Hey," he offers, "good to see you. What's going on?"
"Beer," Sean says, holding up the beer. "With Maori designs on the label. And it's pretty good stuff too."
Genuinely charmed, Viggo grins and takes the beer out of Sean's hand. "Hey, thanks -- this is great, I love the design. Come on in?"
"Sure," Sean replies easily, pleased with Viggo's smile. "God," he says, walking into the living room. "Is all this for the bus?"
"Most of it, probably," Viggo says. "Some of it's just for me, and then some of it's not really anything." He shrugs as he shoves a stack of papers to the side on the kitchen table and sets the beer down. "Can I offer you a beer?"
"Wouldn't say no," Sean says. "So," he continues once he has a beer in hand. "Think you have enough room for two here?"
"Um... probably, why?" Viggo asks, frowning as he tugs a pair of bottles out of the case. "Did your place spring a leak again?"
No one is really that clueless, are they? "For your boy, you git," Sean replies with a laugh. "He'll be here while you guys are filming Helm's Deep," he adds, watching almost eagerly for Viggo's reaction.
Viggo's mouth drops open for a minute; he'd put the whole idea out of his mind as much as possible, not wanting to get his hopes up. "You're kidding."
It's like that first hit of coke, Sean thinks, and remembers doing lines off Jason's back and arse. When they know you got them what they wanted. "It gets better," he says. "You know how Pete's talking about giving Callum some lines with you?" He grins. "He's gonna put Henry in armour and get him in that scene."
Viggo shakes his head, leaning against the table; he can't imagine Sean joking about this, but all the same... "You're kidding," he says again. "I didn't expect -- I thought -- shit, Sean, thank you." He tugs a chair out from behind the table and sits down heavily, trying to calculate the time difference. "I'm gonna have to call Ex, I'm gonna have to talk to Henry -- thank you. God."
"Well, I figured if I was going to badger Pete for something, might as well take full advantage of the situation," Sean says. Although "cute" is the last word he'd choose to describe Viggo, the man comes close to it now and once more Sean wonders how Viggo looks as he begs, wonders if Viggo's ever let anyone tie him down before fucking him. Look who he was married to, Sean thinks. I'd be damned surprised if she wasn't kinky in some way.
"Oh, yeah, yeah, no, I mean--" Viggo feels like his tongue's too thick for his mouth, and the last thing he wants to do is make Sean think he's not grateful or that Viggo doesn't know he owes him big. C'mon, just get words out. Get them out. "He's going to love it. And it's going to be great having him here." He gives Sean his best ear-to-ear grin, tipping his chin down just a little, and asks, "What do I owe you?"
A little surprised that Viggo's so easy about asking, Sean has to wonder if he's being played. But no, Viggo's grin shows no signs of being practiced or staged, and Sean is sure he's just that clueless. "Well," he says, sauntering over to stand in front of Viggo, leaning over and resting his hands on the high back of the chair. "I think we can work something out."
Oh, shit. Viggo's sure his temperature's gone up ten degrees, and the air goes out of his lungs in a rush. He reaches up and puts his hands on Sean's shoulders, squeezing just a little, wondering if Sean has any idea what kind of effect he's having on him. Jesus, not to mention the effect he's having on my cock. Sean's a guy, all confidence and muscle, and he's exactly the kind of guy Viggo would go for if Viggo went for anyone at all. "Some... thing?" Viggo manages.
For all his surprise, Viggo's response is encouraging and Sean smiles a rather predatory smile. "You ever let anyone tie you up?"
"...yeah," Viggo says, trying not to frown. If this is what Sean wants -- shit, he's gonna end up disappointed. OK, don't think about that. You owe him big.
"Trust me," Sean says, his voice too matter of fact to be a mere boast, "however disappointing it was before, it'll be better with me." Before Viggo can answer, Sean leans in and kisses him hard, one hand resting on the back of Viggo's neck.
"Uh--!" Anything more than a grunt is cut off, and the grunt leaves Viggo's mouth open. God. Both Viggo's hands tighten on Sean's shoulders, and he's kissing back, surprising himself with it, hungry as hell and not thinking about anything other than the warmth of Sean's body under his palms.
Damn, he's like Orli, Sean thinks, biting at Viggo's lips before he goes back to taking Viggo's mouth as hard as he intends to take his body. I could have had him without the favor.
Sean's so hungry Viggo's afraid he won't be able to keep up. But Christ, it feels good, Sean's body feels good, his mouth -- it's been years since he's had someone's mouth on him like this, and now the thoughts are starting to creep in -- going to disappoint him, going to fuck up, won't be able to give him what he wants. Shit.
"God," Sean growls when he finally tears his mouth away from Viggo's. "You want this, don't you? You're fucking starved for it."
Viggo swallows, uncertain how to answer. He can't say no; they'd both know he was a lying bastard. But fuck, he doesn't want to end up giving Sean the wrong idea, either. "Sean, listen -- I didn't realize you'd want this..." His voice is so low it's almost slurring. Christ.
"You know now," Sean says, a little impatiently. What's his problem all of a sudden? Two seconds ago he was fine with the idea. He lets his hand drop down, sliding easily under the amazingly soft flannel of Viggo's hideous green plaid shirt. He doesn't bother with anything subtle; his fingers move straight to one of Viggo's nipples and he toys with it, while watching Viggo's face.
"Shit. Sean, I haven't fucked anyone in three years," Viggo blurts out, both hands grabbing for Sean's arms, fingers digging into Sean's biceps in a way that won't stop him from moving his hands any damn way he pleases.
"Well, no wonder you're so fucking starved," Sean says, giving the nipple under his fingers a firm little tweak. "And who says I'm asking you to fuck me?"
Viggo's fingers only tighten as he jumps, leaning into Sean a little more. He's going to end up disappointed, says the voice on his left shoulder, and then fuck it, I owe him from the voice on his right shoulder, and the voice right in the center of his skull points out stop fucking around and tell him you want this, in a harsh annoyed tone that generally only comes out when Viggo's having to deal with the promotion circuit on two days of no sleep.
"Okay," is what makes it out of Viggo's mouth. "What do you want?"
"I want to tie you to a bed," Sean says, tweaking the nipple a little harder. "And then I want to see what it takes to get you to beg." He bends and speaks in Viggo's ear. "What it takes you to get inarticulate. And if you're lucky, what it takes to get you to scream." Fuck, Bean, don't push him so hard; he'll bolt if you're not careful.
"You want me to--" Viggo flinches. "Not like that. No, you're doing it wrong. Not that way." "Wouldn't have the first idea what I'm doing," he says, and then, not waiting for the voices in his head to start up again, adds, "hope that's okay." And he looks up at Sean, squeezing his arms tight, actually letting himself feel the muscle there and appreciate it. Damn, he feels good.
"Then it's a good thing I do," Sean says firmly. A pretense of ignorance is not going to get Viggo out of this. Hell, even the odd feeling that he's getting -- that Viggo's afraid of this and not because he's never done it before -- isn't going to stop Sean. "Just do what you're told and this will go along just fine."
It'd be easy to take Sean at face value, do what he's told because he owes Sean and not think about wanting it. Sean's obviously not going to object to doing it that way.
But Viggo would. He gives his head a hard shake, like he's surfacing from something, and then nods. "Okay. Here or do we need to go to your place?"
Although he's tempted, Sean doesn't say "good boy" to Viggo. That can come later, he thinks, hiding a smirk. "Here," he says, pulling his hand out of Viggo's shirt. "I need to run out to the car and grab a few things." He grips Viggo's chin and kisses him hard for a moment. "That should give you a chance to get to the bedroom and get naked ... no, not naked. Leave the shirt on." He delivers another hard, almost punishing, kiss and then turns and heads out of the kitchen without looking back.
"Shit," Viggo mutters as soon as Sean's out the door. "Shit," and he's heading for the bedroom, giving a rueful look to the bed and jerking the covers into a reasonable facsimile of order before stripping out of his jeans. Leave the shirt on. What's he want with the shirt?
Uncertain whether to stay on his feet, sit down, lie down, Viggo ends up kneeling in the middle of the bed, looking down at his cock. Oh, yeah, he's hard, and it's already starting to ache. He's nervous as hell. I'm going to fuck this up and then what? What's he going to do then?
Sean finds himself whistling as he pulls the duffel bag out of the boot of his car. Whatever it is that has Viggo so nervous and afraid intrigues the hell out of Sean, who is more than ready to exploit it just to see what happens. Viggo's more challenging than Orlando, and Sean is damn glad of it. Not that I wasn't glad to have Orlando drop into my hands like a ripe plum, he thinks as he moves back into the house. But it's nice to have to work for it sometimes too.
The sight of Viggo kneeling almost brings Sean up short in the doorway, but he covers it well, striding into the bedroom as if he owned it. "I like that," he says, thinking that if he were the kind of man who actually wanted to keep a submissive, he'd be doing his best to keep Viggo. "Unbutton the shirt."
Viggo swallows and starts undoing the buttons, feeling self-conscious as hell. He's not half as good-looking as Sean is, and the more exposed he is, the more he feels like he's all sharp angles and too much chest hair.
The shirt suits Viggo in some way, and Sean watches closely as Viggo unbuttons the few remaining buttons. He rather likes the idea that from now on what is obviously one of Viggo's favorite shirts will remind Viggo of Sean.
Once Viggo's got the shirt undone, Sean looks the bed over and frowns a little. The head and foot boards are too flimsy to tie a strong man like Viggo to and so he bends down at once corner and looks at the frame. "You know," he says conversationally as he ties a stout length of rope to one part of the frame. "It's rare that you find a bed that you simply can't tie a person to." With obviously practiced efficiency, he attaches lengths of rope to the rest of the bed and then looks in his bag, trying to decide if rope or leather or steel would look better on Viggo.
"Well, I didn't buy it to avoid--" Viggo makes a face, shaking his head. He's not going to bother Sean at all, and Sean's more than aware enough of how bothered he is, so it's probably best to shut up now.
"Didn't think you did," Sean says, deciding on leather. He tosses the dark brown leather cuffs on the bed and then sits down, holding out his hand. "Wrist."
Viggo's cock jerks. He rolls his eyes at himself but holds his wrist out anyway.
Oh yes, this session is definitely all about aesthetics, Sean thinks, admiring the look of the leather on Viggo's skin. Too bad the favor wasn't big enough to allow me to demand blood.
Once both wrists are cuffed, he gives Viggo a slight push on the chest. "On your back now," he says, reaching for one of the pieces of rope.
Viggo scoots into the center of the bed, raising his arms above his head and watching as Sean gets them tied to the bedframe. He's almost fascinated enough by the look of the cuffs against his skin that he forgets what they're there for, but that doesn't last long -- not once he tries to move his wrists.
And then Sean's hands are on his ankles, one at a time, getting them tied to the bedframe, too. The fascination disappears quickly, replaced by a sense of oh my God, what the fuck did I get myself into this time and a quick snort from that voice in his head that's been telling him stop fucking around and admit you want this. "Fuck," Viggo whispers, and it's more about astonishment than anything.
"You haven't made the right kinds of noise for that," Sean says. standing next to the bed and looking at Viggo. He opens his jeans with one tug -- thank God for well worn button flies -- and pulls his cock out, stroking it slowly while he thinks of what to do to get the sounds he wants from Viggo. "Not yet, at least."
"Jesus, Sean," Viggo moans, wrists twisting in the cuffs. "C'mon, I'm -- I'm--" Stop fucking around. "Okay. I fucking want it. Just... tell me what I have to do." He grits his teeth together, swallows hard. "Please."
"Well, that's the first part," Sean says with a cruel little smile. "You're doing great so far, but let's see if we can get to the bit where you scream. You want to scream for me, don't you, Viggo?"
Scream for me. Viggo closes his eyes and sinks back into the pillows. It's insane, but what part of this isn't? "How are you going to make me scream?" he whispers.
"I find pain usually does the trick," Sean says, reaching down casually to pinch Viggo's nipple between thumb and forefinger, twisting it hard.
"Ow, fuck!" Viggo yells, not trying to hold back the shout or the surprise in it at all. His eyes snap open, and he stares at Sean. "You're really into this," he mumbles.
"Look who's talking," Sean says, slapping carefully at Viggo's cock with two fingers. "This says otherwise," he adds, doing it again and watching Viggo's cock bob in response.
"Jesus, Sean--!" Viggo winces, tries to squirm away from Sean, but where's he going to go? "Fucking -- hurts, Christ, you don't want to use that later?"
"Relax," Sean says, smacking Viggo's cock again. "It's not like I'm strapping it or anything. It's not going to fall off." After a fourth smack, he steps back, rummages in his bag and comes up with a strap which he smacks hard against his hand.
"Oh, Christ," Viggo moans, so quiet it's almost under his breath. And he's trying not to notice that having his cock hurt didn't make him lose his erection at all; if anything, he's even harder now, dripping precome across the lower curve of his belly. And the first thing he thinks when he sees Sean with the strap is wonder how that'd feel across my shoulders. The second thing, much more in keeping with the halfhearted protests he's been giving Sean all night, is are you out of your goddamned mind?
Trailing the stiff edge of the strap along Viggo's equally stiff cock, Sean gives Viggo a moment to think that the first blow will land across his erection. And then he swings, shifting the aim at the last moment, so it lands high on the inside of Viggo's thigh, leaving a nice pink mark. Before Viggo can really react, Sean's landing another blow on the opposite thigh. Fuck, but he marks up well.
It's not quite a scream, the sound Viggo makes, but it's a high, sharp, barking cry. And while he sounds startled, while there's pain written all over his voice, Viggo's not squirming away from Sean or the strap.
Actually impressed with Viggo's ability to take pain, Sean doesn't show it as he lands another pair of blows and then more, working his way down Viggo's thighs. Once he reaches Viggo's knees, he moves to the outside of Viggo's thighs, working his way back up and watching the pink marks form up to match the earlier ones.
Viggo's struggling for something to compare the pain to, something he's had before or something he's done to himself, but there's really nothing. It hurts -- burns a little, stings some after the fact, and the trouble with being tied down is he can't really turn into the blows the way he'd like.
Don't think about it. "Hurts," he huffs out, "I--" He's not screaming. But he's starting to think he'd like to. He gives Sean an uncertain look and murmurs, "More?"
Without answering, Sean brings the strap down with a loud crack, landing the blow on the underside of Viggo's arm, right above the armpit. It's another place where Viggo's skin is pale, and suddenly Sean wants to see a real bruise there, one that will last beyond the evening.
Viggo jerks back into the pillows, teeth gritted together and body tightening. "Fuck. Sean--" He doesn't know what he wants to ask for. Not mercy, and not for Sean to stop. Just something. The burn's killing him.
Driven by the need to see Viggo bruised and by something in Viggo's voice, Sean leans down, grabs a bit of flesh just a little above Viggo's elbow. Pinching it tightly between his thumb and forefinger, he twists his hand hard and holds it, knowing it'll bring up a bruise that can be explained away as something that happened on set.
But whatever explanations they come up with are going to feel flat on Viggo's tongue. He's going to know the real answer is Sean hurt me. Sean hurt me and we both wanted to see him hurt me. And if he hadn't been willing to bruise me I'd have begged for it. He forces himself to unclench his jaw, his fists, let his body lose at least a fraction of its tension. This would all feel better if he could relax. Even just a little bit would help.
Sean's got a huge collection of sex toys, and even the small part of it he brought to New Zealand with him is still quite extensive, but for all that, he's enjoying this a great deal. There's just something much more intimate, more personal, about using your own hands to hurt a person. His gaze moves back and forth between the inside of Viggo's arm and his fingers moving up it, pinching up mark after mark, and Viggo's face, not wanting to miss the moment when he finds the right bundle of nerves and Viggo screams for him.
Viggo's biting at his lips trying to hold back the scream. He's got this idea in his head that when he screams, it's all going to be over, and he's not ready to see it end. Not yet. He blunts the sound behind his teeth, but the cries are getting louder, and one of them's going to be a scream. He won't be able to stop himself.
Sean's not sure why Viggo's holding out on him, but he takes it as a challenge and twists particularly hard when he reaches the sensitive skin right below Viggo's armpit. Give it to me, he thinks. Give me the scream you're holding back.
"Fuck--" And Viggo's jaw drops open as he screams; he's got no more chance at blunting anything. The pain's too intense, whole body centered on Sean's fingers and what they're doing to him, the bruises they're going to leave. "Sean, fuck, hurts..." Not that Sean doesn't know it hurts, but at this point Viggo can't hold back the words any more than he could hold back the groaning, growling sounds coming from the center of his chest.
Viggo's scream gets in deep, Sean can feel it in his gut the same way he feels really low bass notes from a loud sound system. "Fuck," he mutters. "That's good, Viggo, really fucking good." Now let's see about getting him inarticulate, Sean thinks, reaching down to stroke Viggo's cock as he licks the most recent bruise.
"Aah -- fuck, God," Viggo moans, trying to arch his hips up against Sean's hand. Sean's tongue, Christ, Viggo's not sure if it's the look of it or the feel of it or if he's simply incoherent because it's all too much at once, but the best he's doing now are small, soft grunts, sounds that are -- if he's being honest -- a lot closer to whimpers than he'd like.
"Come on," Sean says, keeping his touch light. "Surely you can tell me what you want." He goes back to licking, taking in the clean sharp smell of Viggo's sweat. This ... yes, this is what he wanted. The poet king reduced to whimpers and moans, just like any other man. He deliberately pushes the thought of Billy out of his mind. Later. I'll get this from him later.
"Anything," Viggo blurts out, "everything, fuck, make me come, please, want it so bad, Sean." His hands tighten into fists, and he wishes he could hold Sean's head in place, hold him there while Sean's lips and tongue and teeth work his skin over inch by inch. What he really wants is more, any way he can get it.
"You think I'm gonna let you come before I do?" Sean asks, his hand going still on Viggo's cock. "Although I don't know that you'll be able to help it unless I do something about that." He sits up and then rummages in his bag, pulling out a simple snapping cock strap. "Here, this'll keep you out of trouble," he says, snapping it on. Standing up, he looks at the bed. "Fuck, you're a sight," he says as he strips off his clothes. "Can't wait to have my cock buried in you."
So much for any leftover pride Viggo might have been holding onto. Sean's gorgeous. And right there. And he's going to fuck Viggo, probably straight through the mattress and into the floor. "Please," he whispers. Shit, that strap around his cock hurts already. It's probably only going to get worse, too. "Sean, please, fuck me, fuck, I need it so much..."
After quickly unbuckling the ankle cuffs, Sean gets on the bed and rolls a condom on quickly. Grabbing the lube, he looks down at Viggo before slicking some over his cock and then tossing the tube aside. "Don't think I'll need more than that," he mutters as he shoves Viggo's legs apart and then up hard.
Viggo's first thought is are you fucking kidding me? It's been years... But then he realizes that he wants it to hurt. He wants it to burn so much he'll feel it for days. "C'mon," he whispers, "please, Sean, c'mon, hurt me..."
"Good boy," Sean says, reaching out and pinching Viggo's calf as he moves into position. He thinks about just shoving in and pounding Viggo into the mattress but instead, he goes slowly. Viggo's so damn tight, and Sean wants to feel every last inch of him. "So fucking tight," he groans, when he's finally buried inside Viggo.
By the time Sean's in deep, Viggo's hands are straining so hard against the cuffs he's afraid he'll give himself bruises. He wants -- just wants, wants to get his hands on Sean, wants Sean to go in deeper, harder, faster. Breaking a three-year dry spell was bound to be good; the fact that it's better than he expected, and so different it's blowing his mind -- that's something Viggo's stunned by.
Viggo's hunger is almost tangible and Sean grins down at him. "Been a long dry spell, hasn't it? So long since anyone fucked you the way you need to be fucked." And with that, he is fucking Viggo the way he can tell Viggo wants it, shoving into him with hard, but short, almost stabbing thrusts.
"Fuck, fuck -- Sean--" Viggo jerks at the cuffs again, and still he doesn't go anywhere. "God, yeah, needed this so bad, hurt me, please, fuck me, hurt me, Christ." The strap around his cock's feeling tighter every second, but now he's grateful for it; he doesn't know how long he'd last without it.
Turning his head, Sean bites Viggo hard, catching him right above the knee. This is actually better than he expected, and he wonders if Viggo will be like Jason, wonders if Viggo's next request for a favour will simply be an excuse so he can get more of what he really wants. And what a fucking tragedy that would be. Be nice to have someone like this around for the rest of the time I'm here.
The bite's not what Viggo expected, and it draws a scream out of him that he's got no hope of holding back. "Sean, Sean, yes, fuck, more, oh God, please, more, fucking hell, don't stop, just don't stop, fuck." He's babbling, and even if he were aware of it he wouldn't give a damn.
The sheer desperation in Viggo's voice combined with the scream is enough for Sean; he comes hard, his strangled yell muffled only by Viggo's skin. "Fuck," he groans, when he can finally speak again. "Bloody fucking hell." He pulls back, stripping off the condom and tossing it somewhat carelessly in the direction of a trash bin he saw earlier. Grabbing up the tube of lube, he slicks up his fingers and shoves three of them hard into Viggo. "Bet you thought I was done, didn't you?"
Wonder if I'd be in trouble if I said I hoped not. Viggo tries hard to squirm down against Sean's fingers, groaning. "Please, fuck, please let me come, Sean. God, I need it so fucking much, please."
It's good, bloody fucking good, to hear Viggo like this, but Sean wants just a little more. He wants Viggo desperate, wants to see the wildness in Viggo's eyes that they've all seen when Aragorn fights orcs. "You just think you need it," he says, twisting his fingers roughly. "You don't know what need is."
"Had... fuck... three fucking years to need it," Viggo pants, struggling against his cuffs, trying to shove his body down onto Sean's hand. "Please, Sean. Please. Christ, please, let me have it." He bites his lower lip hard enough he's afraid he'll break skin if it goes on much longer, and he wonders if Sean wants to see that. If he'd like seeing bloodstained lips and know he's the one who drew that much need out of Viggo, the first one to make him feel need like this in longer than Viggo can remember.
Although Sean's tempted to push, to keep Viggo on edge longer, he decides that for this first time -- and yes, it's a first time, not an only time -- he should give Viggo what he wants. He tugs off the strap, twisting his fingers up inside Viggo's arse as he does. "Come for me," he demands.
Viggo thought he'd screamed before; this time it's a sound that feels like it starts at the pit of his stomach and rings through his entire body. There's three years of need in the sound, a sense of outright surrender that leaves him shaking and gasping. He doesn't think he could have stopped himself from coming if he'd tried, and he can't remember why he resisted this, even for a second, back in the beginning.
I want more of that, Sean thinks as he watches and listens to Viggo come. It's a rare thought; usually Sean's more interested in what other people want, but this ... knowing that he's responsible for this and that Viggo will want more of it. Fuck. If he could get hard again, he would.
Viggo's throat feels unbearably dry; he licks his lips as his breath comes back to him, tries to focus. "Nauthannen i ned ol reiannien." It's a whisper, just audible, and he blinks his eyes open, looking up at Sean. By the feel of it, Sean's been watching him for a while.
For a minute Sean wonders if Viggo's lapsing into Danish -- I thought he was born a Yank? -- and then he realizes that no, the man is speaking elvish. "That's never happened to me before," he says, still watching Viggo intently. "Why'd you wait for three years when you obviously need this kind of thing?"
Still trying to catch his breath, Viggo licks his lips and exhales hard, sinking further into the bed. It almost doesn't matter that he's still tied down; he could sleep this way if he needed to. "A lot of reasons," he mumbles. "You get told you're bad at something enough times, you start believing it."
"Bad at it?" Sean laughs as he finally stirs himself to unbuckle the cuffs from around Viggo's wrists. "Whoever said you were bad at it didn't have a bleedin' clue as to what they were talking about." He leaves the cuffs tied to the bed frame and sits down, running a hand down Viggo's arms, admiring the bruises. "You need anything? Glass of water? A beer?"
"Fuck," Viggo mutters, stretching his arms above his head and exhaling softly. "Yeah, I'd like some water, please." He looks up at Sean, tries to figure out something to say. Thanks for breaking my three-year dry spell by getting me to owe you sex? Somehow that doesn't sound right.
"Be back in a tick," Sean says, making his way to the kitchen. Now's when he makes his decision. Now's when he either tries to justify what just happend as him owing me a favor, or he admits that he liked it enough to want more. It's easy enough for Sean to admit to himself that he hopes Viggo chooses the latter option. Who the fuck wouldn't want that? And if he's got confidence problems, he's going to be bloody grateful to me for wanting him again.
Back in the bedroom, Viggo sits up and stretches more, bringing his arms in front of him and lacing his fingers together, exhaling softly as he shifts his weight, trying not to squirm. Sex never used to ache this much, or not that he remembers. He'll be feeling it all day tomorrow, maybe the day after, and he's damn glad he's not riding.
Not riding, just getting rode hard. The thought strikes him as funny, and he ends up chuckling to himself, running a hand down the underside of his arm and pressing his fingertips into bruises, hissing softly. They're going to be around a while. Not nearly long enough, though.
"Like those?" Sean asks, coming into the bedroom silently enough to catch Viggo playing with the bruises. He sets the glass of water down on the nightstand and then looks at down at Viggo. "You want me to go?" he finally asks.
"I hadn't thought that far ahead," Viggo murmurs. He glances down at his bed, wondering if Sean would even want to stay someplace where the sheets are rumpled and sweat-stained and mismatched. "I've got room..."
Sean's not sure if Viggo is deliberately matching Sean's own careful lack of expression or if he's always like this after sex. "Well, shove over then," he says, not minding the state of the bed. When Viggo does so, Sean sits down and sips his water. "You realize that we're on late call tomorrow? And that I'm fond of symmetry?" He lets his hand rest on Viggo's arm, the one not marked by bruises.
The first thing Viggo thinks when Sean says symmetry is Is he asking me to do this to him? And then he realizes where Sean's hand is, and somewhere along the line he stopped breathing and his stomach went hot, and if he could get hard again this fast, he would. "Jesus, Sean," Viggo says softly, "all you have to do is ask." And so much for three years of celibacy.
"Yeah?" Sean says, frowning just a little. "What if I'd rather tell?"
"Then can you do me a favor?" Viggo asks, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth he looks a little shell-shocked; asking for a favor's what got him into all this.
The request is so unexpected that Sean can't help laughing. "You must be daft," he says, shaking his head. "You know favors from me come with a rather steep price."
"I wasn't thinking," Viggo groans, shaking his head, but at the same time he wonders can it really be worse? and if it is, doesn't he think I might want it? "I just meant... if you want to tell me. I was hoping you could try not to do it in public. Not in front of everybody."
"Oh, that's not a favor," Sean replies. "Or if it is, it's one to me as well. You'll find I'm not the least bit interested in being the source of gossip on the set." Not the least bit interested in people thinking I want something this hard from everyone who asks a favor.
"OK, then," Viggo says, nodding. "If you want to tell me... tell me."
"Oh, believe me," Sean says, settling in beside Viggo and catching Viggo's wrist in a loose grip. "I will."
-end-
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You have inarticulate!Viggo down to a T. So perfect!
I am adoring this series.
*lovesalloveryou*
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*dies*
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Been loving this series but I think this is the best chapter yet. Very very hot...