His house reeked of... vinegar. Vinegar and something familiar but unidentifiable. Maybe... tomatoes? But not tomatoes in any way he was familiar with. Sean wrinkled his nose and pushed through the door.
It had to be some stalker, maybe, a woman who'd seen him as Sharpe or 006 and broken in to prepare some horrible mess on the theory that the way to a man's heart was his stomach.
He thought about grabbing a chair and wrenching off the leg to use as a weapon, but decided it wouldn't look very manly in the tabloids the next day.
He settled for creeping down the hall instead, listening cautiously to the banging from the kitchen-- kettles and pans. The place must be a bloody wreck, to hear that racket.
Before he could work up the courage to round the corner and confront the intruder, tuneless whistling erupted-- Viggo's bloody Lay of Leithian.
"What the bleeding hell?" Soothed by the positive identification, Sean transformed caution into annoyance. "This place stinks like a school canteen."
"You know what the problem is with changing countries?" Viggo waved a spoon and Sean winced as red spattered everywhere, festooning his kitchen as though it had hosted a serial killing. "You can't get decent barbecue. Of course, that's true if you change regions in the US, too, but as a general rule, you get better barbecue anywhere in the USA than anywhere else."
Viggo smiled at him as warmly as though Sean had greeted him with eagerness, and vigorously stirred the pot he was tending; a fresh wave of eye-stinging vinegar made Sean reel.
"Viggo, my kitchen," Sean pointed out reasonably. "What happened to my kitchen?" You'd think he'd butchered a pig here-- and maybe he had; Sean wouldn't put it past him. He'd probably done it with his whacking great sword. The bloody bastard carried it everywhere, after all.
"Australians think they do a good barbecue, but they really don't." Viggo banged his spoon loudly on the edge of the pot. "Elijah begged me for some real barbecue. The hobbits will all be over later. They're bringing beer."
"They'd better bring real beer." Sean wasn't pacified at all; Elijah would buy Bud Light or the local equivalent, and Orli would nick from Sean's private stash of Guinness. "And why couldn't you cook this in your own kitchen?"
"It's still a wreck from when we cooked those fish."
"That was two months ago."
"I'm thinking of having the kitchen remodeled."
"The remodelers won't clean that."
Viggo looked at him reproachfully. "Here, have a taste." He dipped the spoon into his hellbrew and cupped his hand under it, advancing it towards Sean's lips. "It's good."
"No, thank you."
Viggo grimaced at him and tasted it himself. "It's good. Vinegar, onions, brown sugar, some hot pepper. Some other secret ingredients. It's my aunt's special recipe."
Sean made a face. "If it tastes anything like it smells...."
"It does smell great, doesn't it." Viggo beamed.
"Viggo, you're a psychopath." Sean shook his head decisively. "And you and those hobbits are cleaning this kitchen." He stomped out without giving Viggo time to respond to his ultimatum. He could almost escape from the pervasive stench in the bathroom, and the shower helped; he ducked his head and let cool water run through his hair and stream down his back. Delightful-- Boromir's outfit was hotter than hell. All that leather and velvet and brocade and chain mail. It was a wonder medieval heroes never died of heat stroke.
He was so tired and the water felt so good that he hardly noticed when the bathroom door opened; he was busily soaping his hair and when the shower door rattled back on its treads, his eyes snapped open in shock.
"Ow, fuck, what the fuck!?" he blinked furiously against the stinging pain and the sight of Viggo, stark naked, climbing peacefully into the shower with him.
"It's hot and sweaty in the kitchen. Move over."
"Shove over yourself!" Sean cupped his hands over his dick to hide it, eyes stinging with soap and face burning with embarrassment.
"You'd better wash that soap out of your eyes."
Sean decided to listen to that, sputtering as he shoved his head under the spray and rinsed the soap off his face. "Viggo, about sharing space. You know I don't mind the occasional party, and--" Viggo's hand fell on Sean's back, steadying him, and Sean lost his train of thought for a moment.
"And, well, the trailer is unavoidable, but this--" Sean scrabbled after his scattered wits. "Don't you think this is just a bit much?"
Viggo reached past him and turned the hot water up. "Well, there is a water shortage in Australia."
"This isn't Australia!"
"It's close to Australia."
"Ow!" Sean leaped back from the suddenly stinging spray. "That's hot!"
"Sorry." Viggo moderated it a bit. "MMMMMmmmmmmmm." He slithered past Sean and stood under the brunt of the water. "That's good. God, my shoulders ache."
Viggo worked his shoulders and Sean's planned remark fled; water gleamed on Viggo's chest, darkening the hair there, trickling down towards-- Sean gulped and yanked his eyes back up.
"Would you help me rub the kink out of my shoulder?" Viggo turned his gleaming wet back, and Sean could not resist the temptation to let his eyes travel down the curve of his spine till it disappeared into the cleft of his spare, hard-muscled ass. "I think Lawrence was trying to batter my arm off."
"Makes me glad he shot me," Sean mumbled. "I didn't have to cross swords with him."
"You should be glad he didn't throw that fucking knife at you, too." Viggo sighed as Sean's hands tentatively came to rest on his shoulders. "The right one. Yeah, that's it." He leaned forward against the cool tile. "He could've taken my head off with that."
"I heard you parried it on the first try."
"Barely." Sean tried to keep his voice level as he kneaded Viggo's wet skin-- he wasn't lying about the tension in his muscles.
"Pete was chuffed."
"So was I. I still had a whole skin."
Sean rubbed Viggo's shoulder. "Mostly."
"Yeah, mostly. Enough." Viggo sighed. "Harder."
Sean shifted his feet, trying to find a better angle; he inadvertently brushed against Viggo's ass and hissed apologetically. "Sorry, mate."
"Mmmmmmmmm." Viggo didn't sound annoyed. "That's good."
Sean didn't ask if he meant the shoulder rub or the touch, but he was starting to get suspicious. "You know what?"
"What?" Viggo sounded throaty and relaxed.
"A bloke might think you were hitting on him, climbing into his shower while he's still in it."
"You think?" Viggo was practically purring.
"If I didn't know the hobbits were coming, it would be the first thing in my mind."
"They're not coming till ten."
"I take it we'll be coming well before that."
"You're starting to get the picture." Viggo groaned as Sean's thumbs dug into the sore muscle. "God, that feels good."
"I'm not gay, you know." Sean watched a droplet of water trace its way down Viggo's neck from his ear, and struggled not to lean forward and lick it.
"'Sokay. Neither am I."
Sean shook his head, scattering water, and leaned in, resigned. He sank his teeth gently into the muscle between Viggo's shoulder and his throat, where his hands had worked hardest. Viggo groaned, pressing his hips against Sean's front.
"So, you just like a nice bit of cock now and again?" Sean muttered against Viggo's skin.
"Yeah." Viggo squirmed, gasping a little as Sean's erection started to fill, pressing against his cleft. "Giving and taking."
"I like to give a man a good fucking." Sean splayed his fingers against Viggo's face and tipped his head to the side, biting harder, moving along the curve of muscle and skin. "They can take it rougher than a bird can." He licked the path of bites back up to Viggo's ear. Just a hint of salt sweat remained to savor. "Do you like it rough?"
"As rough as you can give it." Viggo gasped when Sean's teeth sank again. "But I give as good as I get."
Sean felt unexpected heat flash through him at the thought. "Do you now." He reached for the shower basket and located his sliver of soap. "If you've got any left when I'm done with you, I'll take what you've got." He slid the soap down Viggo's front, palming it against his cock.
"You won't have much left," Sean promised, tightening his grip and speeding his strokes. Viggo gasped and his legs trembled; he braced his arms against the tile wall. "That's it." Sean stroked brutally, thrusting his cock leisurely against Viggo's ass and tightening his hand as the friction heated. He liked this; he liked mastering other men, and somewhere inside him Boromir loved having Aragorn at his mercy too. Sean smiled. "Give it up, mate."
Viggo moaned, writhing against Sean, and Sean kept up the relentless pace, arm working hard, and the moan thinned, rising to a whine; Sean brought his other hand around and squeezed Viggo's balls gently-- and Viggo shot, spattering the wall, a broken sound falling from his throat.
"You wanted that," Sean observed, his cock so hard it was almost painful. He reached to the wall and wiped his palm through the come splattered there. He brought his hand to Viggo's chest and rubbed it against his skin, spreading Viggo's come over his chest, onto his throat. He dragged his hand over Viggo's mouth and Viggo's hot tongue lapped out, tasting. "How long?"
"Always." Viggo mumbled against his hand, mouth hot and soft. "Fuck me."
"Bend over." Sean helped him turn; his knees were shaky and Sean himself felt light-headed with lust. Viggo bent, licking his lips, licking up the taste of his own come. There was a handrail, and Viggo caught it, leaning forward with his legs spread.
"How long have you wanted to fuck me?" Viggo dared. Sean laughed.
"Ever since Orli told me about the little noises you make in your throat when somebody blows you."
"That sonofabitch." Viggo turned as red as a sunburn. "He did that the first week I filmed, you know. Just walked into the trailer and went down on his knees and sucked me so hard I thought I must have shot about three major organs along with my load."
"Me too," Sean confessed. "And then he told me about the ones of you he'd had while I fucked him."
Viggo sighed, chuckling ruefully. "He's a hot fuck, but he doesn't do repeat business."
"Too bad." Sean hesitated. "You?"
"If you'd ever stop blathering and fuck me, I'd be able to decide."
Sean growled and slicked the vanishing soap along his cock. He dropped it and took Viggo's hips, holding him hard. "Hang on."
It was bliss to sink into Viggo-- hard and fast and fierce, knowing Viggo liked it rough, and Orli was right about the little noises; Viggo tossed his head back and keened, his body clenching Sean tight. Sean paused, worried he'd pushed too hard, and Viggo hissed, thrusting back against him, so he shoved through the resistance, his hands sliding slickly on Viggo's waist. Viggo took it, groaning; his body savagely tight around Sean.
"Fuck," Viggo grated between clenched teeth. "Hard, Sean. Hard, goddammit!" Sean sucked in a deep breath and obeyed, thrusting as hard as he could manage in the slick wet tub, using Viggo to keep himself upright.
Viggo's body finally eased, and the fight to thrust turned sweet; he slid in and out like a hand in a glove, arm tight around Viggo's waist.
"Yeah," Viggo husked. "That's it. Sean, God." Sean covered his mouth again, silencing him, liking the little strangled noises that resulted; he fucked steadily, hips pistoning, and let his eyes sink shut, savoring the thrumming of water on his back and the sweet hot clench of Viggo's ass.
Viggo's hands slipped, and he slid down, and the angle changed, making Sean gasp; he leaned into it, slowing his strokes, backing off as the pleasure thinned out and elongated, like honey. Viggo whimpered, barely able to stay upright, trapped, dependent on Sean's hard arm around his waist for his precarious balance.
The sweet spot was there, and he was in the groove, and it was good-- he rocked back and forth, crooning with pleasure-- this wasn't the hard fucking he'd promised but he could sense it shattering Viggo, not physically but somewhere deep inside. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure what it was doing to *him,* his nerves were glowing like he was an elf or something, the pleasure made of white, brilliant light, engulfing and devouring him.
"Viggo," he groaned, and grabbing Viggo's chin in one hand, he hauled him upright, managing to stay sheathed. He thrust upward, lifting Viggo onto his toes, hands biting into Viggo's jaw. Viggo's breath whistled through his nostrils; Sean could feel the groans vibrating in his throat. "God, Viggo."
He was already on the edge, even the cooling water felt like it sizzled against his overheated skin. He jabbed upward-- once, twice, again, feeling Viggo lurch against the slick wet tiles, and then he couldn't hold back any longer; he buried his head in Viggo's warm, wet neck and slammed in hard, letting the pleasure gush out of him in thick wet surges.
~~*~~
Viggo's heart raced against Sean's hand, slowing; the water was cold on Sean's side and his back and he could smell the barbecue sauce permeating the air; the combination of factors moved him from his resting point on the bottom of the tub, tangled with Viggo-- unable to tell who had curled into whom when they sagged to cuddle in the aftermath.
"The hobbits," he reminded Viggo blurrily. Sometime, he didn't know when, the window had darkened; it would be ten soon.
"My sauce," Viggo mumbled back, and started to scramble out; Sean ouched as Viggo's elbow caught his ribs, but he let him go, grumbling good-naturedly.
"Will you try some?" Viggo hesitated in the door, eyes bright, naked as the day he was born, dripping all over the linoleum.
"Yeah," Sean grumbled, faking annoyance. "I think I'd like a little bit of your sauce every day."
"That's a deal." Viggo grinned at him. "I'll give you a special serving as soon as the hobbits leave." He snagged his jeans and padded out wetly, and Sean considered pursuing him with a towel, but his insides felt warm and content and liquid, so he settled for patting himself dry.
He was looking forward to dinner after all.
Summary: All hail the mighty destroyers of kitchens.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 2438 Read: 838
Published: 08 Aug 2009 Updated: 08 Aug 2009
Story Notes:
Website: The Lair of the Evil Bitches