"Hey. Come on in." Sean's smile was easy and genuine. Viggo shoved his hands in his pockets and wondered if his friend would laugh first, then hit him, or just hit him. He followed Sean into the living room.
"Want some tea? Or a beer?" Sean clicked off the TV.
"I'm okay. Thanks."
"Sit down, mate. You okay? You look like you've got the world on your shoulders."
Viggo opened his mouth. Shut it again. Sean was eyeing him, his smile faltering a little at Viggo's continued silence.
"Vig?"
"Sorry." He cleared his throat. Tugged at his hair. "Um." He knew Sean was used to his babbling, but it was clear the Brit wasn't used to his uneasy silences. Sean was looking increasingly concerned, his green eyes steady on his.
"Viggo, what's wrong? Is it Henry?"
"No. No. He's fine. I'm okay." Shit. Out with it, damn it. "I need... " Argh. "Don't wig out on me, okay?"
Sean blinked. "Okay."
He stood up, paced over to the window. "So here's the thing. I need to kiss you."
Silence. He felt his shoulders hunching, forced them down. Turned around to look at Sean. Sean was blinking. He wasn't balling up his fist or looking for anything to use as a bludgeon, which was a good sign.
"What?" Sean finally said with a crooked smile. "Did I just hear what I think I heard?"
"I need to kiss you." Viggo stuck his hands back in his pockets. His palms were sweating. "For the scene, Boromir's death scene. I have to kiss you. And I thought, I thought... " He stumbled, struck by the clearness of Sean's eyes, by the curve of his upper lip. "I thought it would help if I kissed you. Just us. Not Aragorn and Boromir."
"Mate, it's just a peck on the forehead," Sean reminded him. "Peter's not going to have us swapping spit." He blinked again. "Is he?"
Viggo snorted at the mental image of Peter directing such a scene. "No."
"Are you talking about a kiss on the mouth, then?"
Viggo could only nod. His voice was gone, locked in his dry throat.
Sean was still staring at him, but he didn't look angry, nor did he look disgusted. He just looked like Sean, sturdy and calm and pensive.
And beautiful.
And Viggo realized he was full of shit, that this wasn't about the goddamn scene or his motivation or any of that. This was about wanting to find out what Sean's mouth would taste like, feel like.
He should leave. Or laugh and tell Sean he was just taking the piss out of him.
But he didn't do either. He just stood there, warm sunlight at his back, Sean on the couch in front of him, his fair brows knitted, his elbows on his knees.
"Okay," Sean said, and it took Viggo a few seconds to realize he'd just said. "Come over here, then. Or shall I come to you?" When Viggo didn't answer right away, he snorted and got to his feet. "Mate, you're killing me," he growled, but he was smiling. "Pucker up, buttercup."
Viggo snorted. He was beginning to feel stupid. Maybe the spell was broken, if that's what it had been, this crazy idea, this obsession. He hadn't been sleeping enough, or eating enough fiber, or... something. But Sean was in front of him now, looking at him closely, and Viggo's gaze caught on the soft worn neck of his t-shirt, stretched and a little faded, Sean's lying-around-and-watching-tv t-shirt. He could see a pulse beating steadily in the smooth skin just above the material.
And his mouth actually watered.
"Well?" Sean prompted him.
Viggo reached out and cupped Sean's face. Warm skin, prickly fair stubble. Sean licked his lips, and Viggo was entranced by the flash of pink tongue. Christ, his eyes were beautiful, green as glass, twice as clear. Sean didn't blink as Viggo leaned in, bridged the distance between them. Sean's lips were softer than they looked, warmer than his own. Stubble pricked his skin. Viggo kept his eyes open, drinking in the sight of Sean this close, reduced to an impressionistic blur of fair skin and goldish-red hair. He kept his tongue to himself, but he could taste Sean anyway, a mix of bitter cigarettes and sweeter tea.
Viggo broke the kiss, and it was like breaking, giving up the warmth of Sean's lips. He let his hands fall, let his eyes close. Licked his lips once, swallowed the taste left behind.
"Christ," Sean said, low and soft, and Viggo's eyes flew open when Sean's mouth closed over his, hard, his tongue pushing past Viggo's lips and between his teeth. He staggered backwards, but Sean held him steady, one hand pressing against the small of his back, the other in his hair, long fingers cradling his skull. There was no hesitation in Sean's kiss, in the movement of his tongue against Viggo's, and Viggo drank him in and wondered if he would humiliate himself by coming in his jeans, just from this kiss, just from the feel of Sean's tongue curling around his, wet and hot and bittersweet with Earl Grey. One last lick, and Sean broke the kiss, and Viggo could hear his own panting breath.
"There," Sean said. "Did that help with your research, mate?" His voice sounded normal, just like sturdy, patient Sean, but his eyes sent another message entirely.
"Fuck," Viggo breathed, and Sean's bright smile told him everything he needed to know.
Summary: "I thought it would help if I kissed you. Just us. Not Aragorn and Boromir."
Rated: PG-13
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 920 Read: 869
Published: 31 Jul 2009 Updated: 31 Jul 2009