Prize
"He can take it. Caution is for the weak, and he's strong, fit: he can take this prize, bend it to his will. He knows he can."
Viggo watches Philippa discuss Boromir with Sean, and sees Boromir before his eyes, no need of rings or costumes: Sean's back is straight, his head held high; no question in his eyes.
Sean knows he can do it.
Viggo takes a step, brushes against him: sees the pale flush on Sean's cheekbones, the shy grin as he ducks his head.
Viggo smiles.
Knows.
He can take this prize, no question.
So he will.
Imperfect
He didn't want more, he'd told himself that first afternoon, sharing tips about swordplay, their fingers brushing.
He didn't want more, he'd thought that first time their eyes met in the dressing mirror and didn't look away--nothing more than a little fun, drunken snogging after a party, fooling around in between takes.
He didn't want more, he'd assured Viggo after that first night, dressing in the dark, Viggo's come drying on his belly.
And he doesn't, Sean realises now, fingers sticky, a name echoing in his empty bedroom. Taunting him.
He doesn't want more of Viggo.
He wants all.
Tomorrow
This is good, Sean muses in the dark, content, boneless. This is great—Viggo fucking him through the mattress. Perfect.
He knows that Viggo's not happy about them, though; knows that he should try harder if he wants their relationship to work--and he does. He cares about Viggo, wants him happy.
It's not that difficult, he thinks: just turn over, kiss him. Ask him to stay.
He'll do that, of course; as soon as he catches his breath. Soon, he thinks, listening as the covers are turned back.
Soon.
The door creaks a bit when it opens.
Maybe tomorrow.
Lost
When Viggo looks in the mirror all he sees are the cold blue eyes, the bloodstained mouth, the tear-streaked face.
He can still feel Sean's warm forehead under his lips, the fake arrows in the way when Sean had tried to hold him; when Viggo had cried.
Aragorn's looking back at him, wearing the same expression he'd worn when crushing Boromir's hope beside the Anduin.
Boromir. Lost. Forever.
Because hope had deserted him.
Viggo picks up one of the tubes lying about--it's lipstick. Blood-red.
With one simple, firm stroke he draws a line on the mirror.
Across Aragorn's throat.
Summary: Sean, Viggo, four deadly sins in four drabbles.
Rated: PG
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 401 Read: 698
Published: 01 Aug 2009 Updated: 01 Aug 2009