The big guy at the bar stood out like a sore thumb. This was a kids' bar-- college boys, art fags. He knew the crowd damned well; he was one himself, wasn't he? But this guy was a horse of a different color-- down to the beer in his hand, a dark brew with an evil looking head.
Viggo got up and sloped towards the bar, not much caring if he lost his table; there was a stool open next to the big guy and it had his ass's name all over it.
"A pint of Guinness." He addressed the bartender, earning a quick look from his neighbor. "You know what they say about American beer," he threw a pretty good Brit accent, though a native would know it was fake. "It's like sex in a canoe."
"It's fucking close to water." The stranger capped the joke neatly, and lifted his glass in mock salute before taking a healthy swig.
Ohhhh, yeah, the guy had the kind of voice Viggo liked-- a low tenor, full of rough silk, and his accent was the real article, not some cheap drama school fake, but the joke was a good line, and it had the guy's eyes crinkling with a genuine smile-- one that lifted his whole face. Amazing.
The bartender slid the beer in front of him silently, and Viggo handed him a few crumpled bills, took a sip, and had to fight the urge to gag. Disgusting shit, but he schooled his features to blandness.
The blond guy wasn't fooled; he could see amusement glinting in his eyes. "Cheers, then, eh?"
"Cheers," Viggo said agreeable, and drank down half the mug in one gulp, trying not to taste it as it went down.
He watched the blond's throat flex as he drank his own beer in long, deep swallows, and he finished with a sigh, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He glanced at Viggo again and caught him watching. A knife-edge moment, waiting, and he smiled again, a knowing curve to his lips. "Sean," he said, and Viggo was watching him so hard for a moment it was like a foreign language instead of a name.
The blonde -- Sean-- smiled wider, and Viggo shook himself mentally. It seemed all his questions had been answered with one word.
He set down his half-empty glass and smiled back. "Viggo."
"Pleased to meet you, Victor."
It was a noisy bar and a common mistake, so he didn't exert himself to correct the error, his smile never faltering. "Next round's on me?"
Sean licked his lips deliberately, looking into the bottom of his glass. "One more, for the road?"
"You've got it." Viggo held up two fingers and gestured, then tossed back the rest of the noxious brew, struggling to choke it down even as the next round was set up in front of him.
His new friend didn't have any such trouble with his beer and there was a dare visible in his eyes. "Whoever puts down an empty glass first, the other man pays?" Sean grinned at him with open challenge.
"Deal."
They lifted their glasses, glancing warily out of the corner of their eyes. "Say go," Sean instructed the bartender.
"Go!"
Viggo knocked back his head, chugging as hard as he could, but he already knew he was beaten. Half-gagged, he slammed his glass down a full heartbeat behind his new drinking buddy's.
"You got me fair and square." He tossed down some bills for the bartender. His stomach churned briefly in denial but was well accustomed to a variety of abuse and quickly settled. It was worth it for the look of approval he got.
Sean slid off the stool and stretched, making sure Viggo was watching as he raised his arms over his head. Yeah, sexy as hell and he knew it; there was a swagger in his walk that spoke of easy confidence and Viggo followed the tight ass in those jeans right out the door.
"You live near here?" Sean asked when they were outside, his breath a low puff of steam in the cold October nighttime.
Viggo nodded and turned up the collar on his coat. "Around the corner."
They walked in silence, and Viggo idly pondered the wisdom of this. Sean was only wearing a thin jacket, but he didn't seem to mind the chill, and the muscles in his arms and chest were clearly defined in it. Big fucking guy, which was definitely the appeal.
Viggo shivered a little and it had nothing to do with the cold. He wondered if the guy just wanted a blowjob, the type of guy who was adamantly NotGay and would prove it by generously donating a bloody nose to the faggot who'd just sucked him off before storming away. Or maybe he wasn't NotGay, but just liked to get sucked off by other guys, and maybe there would be a quick, rough handjob as a consolation prize.
Or maybe he wanted to fuck someone as badly as Viggo wanted to be fucked.
Viggo sincerely hoped he was getting the guy behind door number three.
The entryway to his apartment was coming up and when he started to turn, Sean wasn't ready for it and bumped into him. There was an awkward moment when they both almost fell in a sprawl of elbows and knees, wobbling together and then Sean grabbed Viggo's arms and steadied them.
Viggo blinked at him, his arms still caught firmly in Sean's hands, and Sean started laughing, brilliant and cheerful, and it made something in Viggo's stomach unclench. At the very least he'd bet a month's rent he wouldn't be getting a bloody nose. He started laughing too, both of them laughing like idiots before he jerked his head to the side, grinning as he said, "Come on."
Sean followed him up the stairs-- fucking elevator almost never worked, and when it did, it took half an hour to creak and rattle its way from the top floor to the lobby. He didn't pant or break a sweat; the muscle wasn't just for show.
Viggo turned the key in the lock, half-selfconscious about his shabby apartment-- there were paintbrushes and canvases and bottles and easels scattered everywhere, but there wasn't any dirty laundry or plates, because he fucking hated roaches. The worst was a palette of dried egg tempera on the rickety coffee table.
"Artist?"
"Yeah." He felt a little self-conscious, reluctant to turn around and face Sean now that they were here.
Sean's jacket flew past him in a graceful arc and landed on his lumpy naugahyde couch, and Viggo succumbed to temptation, turning and letting his eyes roam over Sean's broad chest, nicely defined by his tight tee-shirt. "You got a bed, or am I making a hell of a mistake, here?" Sean didn't look like he thought so; his mischievous grin was playing on his mouth again. He was preening, egotistical bastard, watching Viggo stare!
"Futon," Viggo managed to answer, his mouth dry.
"You top or bottom?"
Viggo blinked, feeling totally out of his depth, even though he was hardly a shrinking virgin. "I want you to fuck me."
"My pleasure." Sean crossed his arms, fingers curling under the hem of his tee shirt, and it joined the jacket, leaving him bare to the tops of his frayed jeans-- mildly tan, glowing with good health, his skin mostly unscarred. "Where's the bedroom?"
"First door down the hall."
"Perfect." He stepped closer, looming and tall in the dark, and caught Viggo's face in both hands before he kissed him.
It was weirder than anything else that had happened tonight; the guys he knew didn't really kiss, not anywhere above the belt anyway, and certainly not like this, hot and wet and messy, and Sean pushed his tongue into Viggo's mouth like he'd wanted to do it for ages. His lips were cold and he tasted like cheap cigarettes and nasty beer, and it was absolutely fucking wonderful.
Startled as he was, Viggo only hesitated a moment before diving in and kissing him back, wrapping his arms around Sean's shoulders and sucking on the tip of his tongue. His lips warmed quickly, rubbing softly against Viggo's before parting again, and he could get used to kissing other guys. Sean kissed like he walked, hot and confident, and then he was doing both, guiding Viggo backwards down the hall and towards the bedroom.
They stumbled and shuffled their way down, and for a second time that night they almost ended up in a pile on the ground. Viggo didn't think he would have minded that time, and they might have just stayed right there, pants around their ankles and Sean would push inside him dry or maybe with just a swab of spit, and he wouldn't have had a word of protest.
Sean had a better sense of balance than he gave him credit for, though, and they made it to the bedroom without falling. The room was as barren as the rest of his apartment, clean laundry stacked in baskets and dirty in color-coordinated piles near the wall, two milk crates stacked near the futon serving double duty as a nightstand/bookshelf. He didn't have a chance to feel any embarrassment. Sean pulled back long enough to give the room a cursory look that ended the moment he spotted the futon.
"Here," Sean whispered against Viggo's lips, tugging impatiently at Viggo's shirt. The buttons were almost too annoying to deal with but it was one of his few nice ones and between the two of them they managed to fumble them open. That was as far as Viggo got before Sean was pushing again, forcing him to step backwards and shoving him down on the futon.
His heart skipped; Sean was *strong,* and Viggo was easy for him-- his cock twitched hard inside his jeans as he thought of that strength taking him, and he made himself clumsy so Sean would have to work at subduing him-- square, hard hands moving his arms, heavy pelvis and legs pushing his thighs apart.
Viggo moaned and arched against the big body that covered him, and Sean pressed down in answer, a note of fiery pleasure in his smile. "You need it, mate," he whispered. "I'm just the bloke to give it to you, hard as you like it."
Viggo curled his heels around the back of Sean's thighs and bucked up hard, beyond finding words to answer. Sean grinned, then leaned in and bit his throat, sharp white teeth nipping a rosette of blood to the surface of his skin.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm," he purred, chest rumbling against Viggo's. His fingers quested between them, tugging at Viggo's fly-- without success, and Viggo panted with disappointment as Sean rolled out from between his legs to tug his jeans down.
His cock pushed through the fly of his boxers, and Sean touched the tip with one finger. "Always wondered if being cut changed things for you Americans," he murmured. "Not that I want to try it out." Viggo just moaned, the caress sizzling through his nerves like lightning.
Sean reached for his own jeans with one hand-- button fly, not a zip, and they gave way like machine-gun fire, revealing white briefs with an obscene bulge behind them. He sighed with contentment. "'s better," he informed Viggo, kicking clumsily out of the jeans and sending the briefs unceremoniously to follow them. He surveyed Viggo lazily, climbing back between his thighs, and ran the palms of his hands underneath them. "Lift up, luv."
Viggo obeyed, heart pounding; Sean helped him lift the weight and then just kept pushing, leaning forward. Viggo gasped, bent nearly in two, and Sean smiled, bracing his hands outside Viggo's legs. "Little further now." He leaned, crushing Viggo under his powerful body till his knees nearly touched his shoulders. "Mmmmm, like that."
Viggo gasped, speechless, his cock trapped against his belly by the hard weight of Sean's lean stomach.
Sean lifted his hand, the weight of his body holding Viggo's leg trapped in place, and spat in his hand; it slicked over his cock with a wet sound and Viggo took the deepest breath he could-- painfully shallow, his head spinning.
"Mmmmmmm. Hold it, like that," Sean purred, setting his cock in place, and shoved *hard,* breaching him and pushing deep. Air hissed out of Viggo's chest in a choked scream; his head swam and blood-red writhing spots danced in his eyes.
"Now breathe," Sean advised, not bothering to tell him how he might manage that when every bit of him was full to bursting and crushed flat by Sean's thick cock and heavy body.
Sean didn't wait for him to figure it out; he pulled out most of the way and rammed back in, catching Viggo's startled cry in his mouth as he kissed him viciously. Viggo buried his hands into Sean's hair, clenched hanks of it in his fists, and Sean didn't so much as wince, slamming his hips against Viggo's ass as he thrust again and again, stretching him open with his cock and taking whatever ground Viggo's body offered.
Eyes watering, Viggo tried to squirm under him, uselessly, and it was fucking incredible. Short, hard thrusts hammered inside him and the angle was perfect, hitting that one spot that sent heat to sizzle in his balls, bright and burning, and he thought he'd probably be bleeding afterward, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
"Ohhh, yeah," Sean groaned into his mouth, and Viggo mouthed agreement against his lips. He yelped aloud when Sean shuffled forward, maybe only an inch, but oh, what a fucking inch, tilting his hips up just a little more and ramming in, primal and dominating and he was making little noises deep in his throat, noises that went straight to Viggo's cock.
The metal frame of the futon was creaking madly and Viggo expected it to collapse beneath them any second; he could only hope that if it did that Sean wouldn't stop, would just keep fucking him right into the floor, and it was so incredibly good, blue-red blurts of heat behind his eyelids as he squeezed them shut.
"C'mon, Jesus, come on!" he croaked out, struggling a little just to feel Sean curse and hold him down, his hips jerking and shoving, and Viggo dug his fingers into Sean's shoulders, his nails sliding across sweaty skin.
God, he'd needed this, just like this, a layer of sweat between them making everything slippery and graceless. If he squinted, he could just see Sean's face, tight and oddly vulnerable, fucking sinful how sexy he looked just then. He managed to touch Sean's cheek with one shaky finger before another hard push made him scrabble for leverage before Sean screwed him right off the bed.
So fucking hot, heat rising between them and Viggo fumbled one hand between his legs and squeezed his cock, hard, Sean's sweat and his own slicking his hand as he jerked himself, trying to keep up and Sean was already swearing and shaking, a rush of wet heat in Viggo's ass as he came, unimaginably good and it was enough to get Viggo off. He came so hard his vision blurred, salt-sweat stinging in his eyes, and he choked on his own breath, tasted the murky flavor of their sex on the air.
"Mmmmmm," the big guy moaned, sliding off him, letting him unfold, then wrapping him in a tight bearhug that King Kong couldn't have squirmed out of. "Fuckin' hot." His eyes slid shut, and in seconds he was snoring.
Viggo blinked; they were pasted together and stuck to the sheets, and by morning it was going to be hell trying to peel themselves apart.
"Sean?"
More snoring greeted his inquiry, and Sean didn't stir even when Viggo shook him.
What the fuck. The guy would probably be out of here so fast in the morning it'd make Viggo's head spin, and he'd spent too many nights in a lonely bed lately.
He closed his eyes and let sleep take him.
Summary: Two men have a chance meeting in a bar.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: AUChallenges:
Series: Drinking GamesChapters: 4 Completed: Yes
Word count: 17375 Read: 4863
Published: 16 Aug 2009 Updated: 16 Aug 2009
Story Notes:
Website: The Lair of the Evil Bitches