Waiting turns out to be worse than pretending.
The shooting schedule has been revised, apparently by the devil. Peter apologizes with one breath, then tells them to forget about sleeping for a while with the next. There's an explanation about weather conditions and studio expectations, neither of which makes sense, but they all nod and stare at the photocopied sheets. Viggo blinks at all the typed VMs that mean he'll be spending too many days and nights in Aragorn's sweaty layers of leather and cotton and dirt. He runs his thumbnail down the page, noticing that the SBs are in different places and times than his initials. He glances up and sees that Sean is staring hard at the floor, and he knows that bracket on either side of Sean's thin lips means he's pissed at hell and trying not to show it.
It takes effort to get through the rest of the morning shots. Viggo's attention falters, and one of the stunt guys nearly slices his arm with a sword. Viggo brushes off his apologies as kindly as he can. Orlando frowns at him with Legolas' indigo eyes. "What?" Viggo mouths.
"Pay attention," Orlando scolds him gently when he passes. Viggo growls at him and tries not to sulk. One of the makeup techs swerves away after taking one look at his face.
"Grouch," a familiar voice mutters. He looks up to see Sean striding by in his heavy costume, Boromir's fine velvets and silks glimmering beneath his cloak. "Meet me for lunch, will you?"
But lunch comes and goes, and he can't get away. The unit director apologizes and has a runner fetch sandwiches from the catering truck at two o'clock because they're all snarling from low blood sugar and thirst. Viggo bums a cigarette from an extra and goes off to take a piss behind a tree. Mid-stream, he hears a short laugh.
"What's this?" Sean murmurs, close behind him. "A ranger, caught off his guard?"
"Sod off," Viggo mumbles around the cigarette. He finishes pissing hastily, fumbles with Aragorn's leather ties.
"Don't even think about touching that cigarette with your filthy hand," Sean says, and his own none-too-clean hand comes into view and plucks the cigarette from Viggo's mouth. Viggo turns and watches as Sean takes a drag, green eyes narrowing against the bitter smoke. A fresh bruise is turning into a faint blue smudge above his eyebrow. He offers Viggo his bottle of water, and Viggo has barely taken a sip and lowered the bottle before Sean leans in and kisses him. It's a brief kiss, but it's enough to make Viggo forget his empty stomach and aching back.
"I may kill Pete before it's all over," Sean tells him. "I checked the schedule, and the first full night we have off together is next Tuesday."
"Not much we can do about it," Viggo tells him. "How late do you shoot today?"
"Till 10. You?"
"Till midnight, I think. And then I have to be in makeup at 4:00."
Sean sighs out smoke, passes the cigarette back to him. "Come over when you can?" he asks softly, eyes trained on the ground between them. A faint blush stains his cheeks, and Viggo realizes that Sean is embarrassed. Embarrassed by pleading, by being willing to steal a few hours of exhausted sleep together? That's nearly all they've done since the night he woke up to find Sean in his bedroom. It's all they've had the time and energy to do.
But it's enough for Viggo, so he steps closer to Sean and brushes his lips against his jaw. "Leave your door unlocked for me, querido."
"What does queridomean?" Sean asks gruffly, his pronunciation not at all bad for an Englishman. "Is it dirty?"
"I'll tell you tonight."
"I'll be asleep."
"I'll whisper it in your ear."
Sean scrunches up his face while Viggo laughs. Sean has sensitive ears. Viggo has learned that much in the few hours they've been awake and in the same room together. Viggo tries to imagine learning other things about Sean's body and can't; it's too much for him to think about in daylight. He's used to fantasizing alone in his small rented house or in the car or in the shower, imagining intimacies with Sean the way he used to imagine intimacies with girls, and later, women. He has learned enough about his body and sex and relationships to know that sometimes the fantasies are better than reality, but he has a feeling that Sean and his odd mix of shyness and boisterousness may turn that belief on its ass where it belongs.
Viggo blinks and looks up, finds Sean's unwavering gaze on him, and there is nothing of Boromir's calculation in his stare, just Sean's steady warmth. Viggo feels his face flush, sees the way Sean glances down at his crotch, and turns an even brighter shade of red.
"Jesus," Sean croaks. "Adjust your costume, mate."
Voices startle them as Viggo hastily pulls the hem of his tunic down a little farther. Elijah's machine-gun giggle comes closer. Sean doesn't even look around to check for gawkers (that would be Dom, who has been giving them sidelong glances and furrowed-brow stares lately) before he pulls Viggo in and kisses him firmly on the mouth, then turns and strides away, leaving Viggo to lick greedily at his lower lip and count the hours till midnight.
**
He fully expects Sean to be asleep when he lets himself into the quiet house. Camera problems shot the night's schedule all to hell; it's already past one a.m. He aches in places he didn't know he could ache. Viggo undresses as he walks; he'd showered in the trailer so he could come straight to bed. He turns off the hall light Sean had left on for him and feels his way cautiously across the not-yet familiar bedroom.
"About damn time," Sean murmurs in the darkness, and Viggo jumps a little.
"Why are you up?"
"I was waiting to find out what the hell querido means."
Viggo finds the edge of the bed and lifts the covers. "It's an endearment. It can mean a lot of things: darling, dear, beloved."
"That's nice," Sean says softly. "Why are you way over there?"
"Give me a minute," Viggo laughs, and he's still laughing when Sean practically climbs atop him and finds his mouth in the darkness. Viggo wraps his arms around him. Sean's tongue is warm in his mouth and moves softly against his. Viggo manages to part his legs so Sean can settle against him. Sean's cotton boxers are soft against his inner thighs.
Viggo knows it's too late, that they're too tired, but he can't help himself. He's spent too many hours between set-ups fantasizing about moments like this, imagining how Sean's skin would feel under his fingertips, imagining how Sean would taste, the sounds he would make. He has a vague idea of the mechanics involved but knows they're not ready for anything more complicated than making out like a couple of crazed teenagers. He has an idea of what would feel good to Sean, of what he can do. He slides one hand up under Sean's t-shirt to stroke his back, wraps one leg around Sean's leg, raises his hips slowly.
"Oh," Sean groans against his cheek. He reaches between them to tug off his boxers, and Viggo hears the rustle of cotton against skin. When he raises his hips again, he feels bare skin against his, and soft hair, and a steady pulse that matches his. He can't stop the sharp sound that rises from his chest.
"Oh," Sean says again, and when he shifts to pull off his t-shirt, their cocks nudge against each other. "Your skin is so hot," Sean whispers. "What can I... d'you want me to... " His whisper melts into another groan when Viggo works his hand between them.
He thinks he's being clumsy and rough, but Sean's moans must mean he's doing something right. He strokes and squeezes, tries to figure out a rhythm. He yelps, surprised, when Sean's teeth sink into his shoulder. "Sorry, sorry," Sean murmurs, licking the bite. "Viggo. Wait," he whispers. "Wait." He shifts, and blunt short nails scrape against Viggo's hipbone before Sean wraps his long fingers around Viggo's cock and just holds on.
Viggo hears his own panting and realizes this is going to end far too soon. Sean is nuzzling his throat and crooning wordlessly and rocking into his hand. Viggo can feel the soft, heavy weight of Sean's balls against his own. The sensation makes him shudder. He finally remembers to move his hand up and down, his shoulders coming up off the pillow as he curves his body under Sean's.
Sean is gasping and shaking above him and making the most glorious sounds, husky grunts and sharp moans, his mouth open and hot against Viggo's neck. A familiar exhilaration fills Viggo---the rush of knowing he's giving pleasure. He tries to slow down so he can enjoy this, enjoy the heat and weight of Sean's body, enjoy the smell of his skin, but Sean's movements and the tension in his muscles keep Viggo's hand in constant motion. Viggo gasps at the sudden spurt of hot liquid against his belly. Sean howls and sucks hard on his neck, and Viggo turns his head, baring his throat to Sean's insistent mouth.
Sean mutters unintelligibly against Viggo's throat. Viggo cries out when the warm, dry grip on his cock disappears briefly, but then Sean's hand curves around him again, slippery now; he knows Sean is using his own semen as a lubricant. His hips surge up, and the sharp ribbon of pleasure tightens between his legs.
"Now you," Sean groans. "I want you to come all over me, Vig." He starts stroking, and it's perfect because his hand is big and warm and slick, and only a man could know how to give a good hand job, would know how to squeeze and tug and rub his thumb over the head. Viggo arches back into the pillows, bucks his hips, groans at Sean's throaty "That's it, come for me." He does just that, one long yell tearing out of his throat, oh too soon, too soon, but it's so good that he doesn't care. Sean kisses him, draws his tongue into his mouth and sucks on it while Viggo shudders and squirms through the aftershocks. He can't stop moving, can't stop clutching at Sean's hips and thighs and ass. Sean rumbles soothingly, eases back and kisses him softly, sweetly, his hand still between Viggo's legs.
"Okay?" Sean asks.
"Mmrm," is all Viggo can manage, and Sean chuckles. Viggo swallows a few times, finds that he can form words. "Made a mess, didn't I?"
"We both did. I've got come all over me belly." Sean chuckles again. "I must be turning into a right perverted bastard because I like the way it feels, all sticky-like."
"You're nuts."
"Mmmm." Sean makes an exaggerated slurping noise.
Viggo blinks in the warm, musky darkness. "Sean. Did you just lick your fingers?"
"Mmm-hmmm. Figured I need to get used to the taste, yeah?"
"Glurghk."
"Wot?" Sean nuzzles his ear. "You'd best get used to the taste too," he adds, and he slicks a damp finger across Viggo's lips, causing Viggo to howl-laugh in protest. "You daft eejit, that's not the hand I used on you. I'm just joking." He rolls away, snickering, and Viggo shivers at the sudden change in temperature. His body is already accustomed to Sean's heat.
"Come back here," Viggo mutters, reaching out and finding a bare thigh. The mattress shifts and bounces as he rolls over and slings a leg over Sean's.
"Ooof, you're hot. And you're sticky," Sean complains, but Viggo can hear the smile in his voice.
"I think you gave me a hickey," Viggo informs him.
"I did? Christ, the makeup people will have my balls." Sean shifts, and lamp light floods the bed. "Let me see," he says. "Where? Oooh, bloody hell, I did get you, didn't I? Sorry. Why didn't you stop me?"
"Because you were coming, and I was having too much fun," Viggo replied. "Turn the light out."
"Not yet." Sean looks down at something and grins. Viggo follows his gaze. They're both a mess, streaked with semen and sweat. Droplets of thick, pearly liquid are caught in the sparse, soft hair on Viggo's belly. "Is that mine or yours?" Sean asks.
"I don't know," Viggo replies. "Do you want to take a shower?"
"In the morning." But Sean doesn't turn out the light, and Viggo finds he doesn't mind because it's good to lie here like this, naked and sated and able to look his fill. Sean is still flushed pink, his nipples hard little points. Viggo reaches out and gently pinches one, then slides his hand down to lightly stroke Sean's belly. Sean makes a purring growly sound and butts his forehead against Viggo's like a cat. "We did okay, didn't we?" Sean asks.
"We did just fine," Viggo replies.
"You know what's weird?" Sean asks, and it's as if they're talking over beers, not lying naked and damp in bed together. "This doesn't feel weird. I thought it would, y'know, be strange since we're both blokes, but it felt... it felt right."
"Maybe that's how it's supposed to feel," Viggo replies.
"Maybe." Sean arches over, stretches his arm out for the lamp, and Viggo is transfixed by the long line of his torso, by the sheen of sweat on his skin, by the simple knowledge that even though the shooting schedule is hell and they will have to steal these hours together when they can, Sean is his.
"Ooof!" Sean laughs as Viggo clambers over him. "What are you doing?"
"Snuggling," Viggo replies, nosing his way into the warm space between Sean's jaw and shoulder. He cackles when Sean squeezes his ass and shifts him.
"You were squashing me nuts," Sean informs him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Stop giggling," he adds, and a yawn works its way between the words.
"Querido," Viggo murmurs, just because he can, just loud enough so that Sean can hear him. Sean doesn't say anything, and Viggo thinks he might have fallen asleep already. But then Sean sighs in the warm darkness and presses his palm against Viggo's back.
"Querido," Sean whispers. "My own."
Summary: Sean & Vig try to move to the next step in their relationship. (Follows "Pretending".)
Rated: R
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 2407 Read: 862
Published: 31 Jul 2009 Updated: 31 Jul 2009