"Philistine."
"I heard that." Viggo took a deep, self-satisfied swig of the iced tea, enjoying the cool sensation of it sliding down his throat.
"You should at least put lemon and sugar in it."
"The English only invented tea. The Southern USA perfected it."
Sean snorted, ripping an old towel apart for polishing rags. "That shows how much you know about where tea comes from." He gleamed, his muscles highlighted with a sheen of sweat already, his skin pale, but soaking up the rare early-summer English sun. Viggo leaned back and touched the tea glass to his throat, never taking his eyes off Sean as he unscrewed the cap of the tin of wax and dipped a rag in. He bent and lovingly circled the wax over the gleaming finish of his car, an old Bentley he drove in between working on plays and movies.
Ohhh, yeah. Viggo shifted, letting his legs spread, giving himself room to breathe. This was going to be good. Sean's ass was already starting to wriggle as he got into the rhythm of rubbing wax onto the car; his elbow worked vigorously and his whole body shimmied in rhythm. Viggo licked tea off his upper lip and luxuriated in watching. He was gaining a whole new appreciation for cut-off shorts, one that he hadn't cultivated since his college girlie (and not so girlie) magazine days.
If only the cut-offs were about three inches shorter, the way they used to be in those magazines, Sean's ass would show, the lower curve of his hips peeking out obscenely beneath the fringe of the fabric. The Southern USA could teach him a lot about that kind of thing, as well as about tea, Viggo judged. But this was good enough. The cut-offs were worn almost paper-thin, soft and white, and they clung to Sean's ass with sweet comfortable grace, outlining his assets well enough to satisfy the most discriminating onlooker.
Viggo smiled and stroked the glass over his forehead. And if you looked between Sean's legs, oh yes, that was even better. You could tell Sean dressed left, at least this morning. And the shorts were short enough that if... just maybe, if one of the neighbor girls came out to work on the lawn wearing a halter top, Sean might get interested enough that the tip of his cock would creep down the leg of the shorts, and peek out to have a look for itself...
Viggo took another swallow of tea and crunched an ice cube between his teeth; he needed it.
Sean leaned over the hood of the car-- it was a wide car, and tall, and he had to stretch to reach-- and started waxing at the peak of the hood, working earnestly. The pressure of his body against the metal pushed his cock and balls out of place, making them even more prominent, and Viggo closed his eyes; if he didn't, he might just stand up. And if he stood up, he might just walk over. And if he walked over, he might just slide his hand up the inside of Sean's thigh, hairy and slick with sweat, and up under the hem of those shorts.
He swallowed and set the glass of tea against his crotch. Down, boy. A man deserved the right to polish his car in peace, after all, and he didn't want to lose his dearest friend over a fucking stupid mistake and a too-eager dick.
"Fuck, it's hot," Sean muttered, and Viggo opened his eyes slowly, unwilling to release the picture imagination had conjured on the screen of his closed eyelids-- of Sean laid out over the hood of the Bentley, hands opening and closing, dropping the polishing rag and moving to brace himself as Viggo's fingers found his cock and his thumb pushed into the dark, secret cleft of Sean's body to find the opening that waited there.
"Are you just going to lie there, you fucking wanker, and let me do all the work?"
Viggo smiled lazily. "Yes. After all, you invited me. I'm company."
"Then have the decency to pour me some of that hell-brew you're having." Sean wiped his forehead. "I'm so thirsty I could drink from a mud puddle."
Viggo decided the request was reasonable and poured-- he added lemon and sugar, and carried the glass.
"Thanks." Sean accepted and gulped deeply, made a face, and then drank again. "Tastes foul."
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it." Sean grinned, wide and easy, and handed him the empty glass, resuming his work. Viggo looked into its depths, considering, and fished out an ice cube with two fingers. Sean yowled when it touched his back, right on his spine, between his shoulder blades.
"Viggo, you bastard!" He glared over his shoulder. "Warn a bloke, next time."
He'd jerked pretty violently when the ice first touched him, but Viggo judged he didn't mind, so he did it again, trailing the cube all the way down the ridged curve of his spine to the waistband of the shorts.
Sean shuddered. "Christ, that felt good. Do it again."
Viggo obeyed, watching the ice shrink as the heat of Sean's body melted it; the droplets stained the pale waistband dark. Sean shivered once, leaning forward, and Viggo considered laying the glass against his ribs, but thought better of it.
He set the glass on the table where Sean had laid the tin of wax, taking another cube in his left hand. His heart hammered; bravado led him on a fool's course, and as he slid the cube up Sean's back, from the hollow of his spine where golden hair tickled his palm to the broad smooth shoulders, he let his right hand slip around, and his cold fingers closed on Sean's nipple.
"What the--? FUCK!" Sean shuddered, but he didn't smack Viggo's hand away, and Viggo swallowed, almost dizzy with daring. There was still ice in his left hand, so he put it in his mouth, and licked his way up the prominent tendon that led from Sean's shoulder nearly to his ear.
Sean shivered, but again he stood still, his whole body taut under Viggo's mouth.
Viggo reached the top and slid down again-- and when he reached the tender place where shoulder and neck met, he closed his teeth there and worried it with his tongue. His heart was racing, and he felt clumsy; he reached for the glass again and tipped it over. Cubes scattered on the table top, and he fumbled two into his hand-- over Sean's belly now; over the washboard muscle, the line of wiry hair, the tight-flexed pectorals, the tight hard point of his nipple.
Sean shuddered against him, and his breath was very loud. Viggo sank his teeth deeper, wanting to force Sean to speak, to utter *some* sound, and Sean moaned, the softest whimper in the back of his throat.
Viggo made himself let go, licking the bite, tongue tickling the red ridges from his teeth. "Can I fuck you?" Breathless, very soft.
"May I." The correction as inevitable as the tide, and as British, the tone pure golden honey.
"All right," Viggo purred back, dizzy with wanting, exulting in Sean's failure to say no. "We'll argue semantics with my cock up your ass." He plunged his wet hand low, sliding under the waistband, his cold palm finding the hot, hard length of Sean's cock and pressing it against his thigh.
"FUCK!" Sean squirmed, agonized. "That's the... God, Viggo! The best way."
Viggo agreed, and slid his free hand down Sean's chest, outside his shorts; he felt the head of Sean's cock at the hem and smiled against Sean's flesh, picturing it there-- a perk of being an artist; he had a *very* vivid imagination.
He squeezed lightly, and hurried to fumble with the button-- Sean wouldn't like it if they scratched his car. Button open, zipper down, shorts falling, and Viggo resisted the temptation to mouth another ice cube and fall to his knees-- time for that later; time and time and time. His own button and zipper instead, and then he was pushing Sean forward, onto the black gleaming hood of the car, half-dull with wax swirls.
Sean gasped as his flesh touched the hot car, squirming and whimpering; Viggo showed no mercy. "Suck my fingers," he whispered, and thrust them in Sean's mouth. His cock lay tucked against the cleft of Sean's ass, chafing against him, and Sean sucked his fingers in eagerly, tongue curling around and between them.
"I don't think you'll win any arguments this way." Viggo tasted the line of sweat trickling down beneath Sean's ear, and scented the sharp herbal tang of shampoo in his hair. "But I'd better make sure."
He pulled his hand out of Sean's mouth and brought it to bear, teasing his index finger across the small opening, which flexed and tensed against it. "Now," he warned, and pushed inside, pausing to let Sean adjust, then pushing deep, till his knuckles touched Sean's perineum.
Sean groaned, low and quivering; a spasm shook his body. Viggo smiled, and slid his other hand between Sean's legs; with his left foot he nudged Sean's ankle, forcing him to move it, bringing all his weight down onto the hood of the car. His thumb tested Sean's perineum, then pressed, and he moved the finger inside Sean, seeking. Sean made the oddest strangled sound, and Viggo smiled, certain, and pressed again, finger then thumb, then both, and Sean shook.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Sean chanted, voice throttled. Viggo smiled benevolently down on him, watching his hands open and close, seeing the abandoned polishing rag, noting that he'd forgotten to anticipate the blinding sun-glare in the gleaming black lacquer.
Two fingers slid in, slow and easy, and Sean's trembling infected Viggo, his knees unsteady; he leaned harder against Sean, letting Sean feel his cock slide against one thigh. The car *was* too hot; it branded the tip of Viggo's cock with heat that made him hiss, but it felt good. "Now," he warned, and he lined himself up and paused, touching the slick tip of his cock to Sean's ass, watching it clench and loosen, anticipating him.
"Damn it," Sean cursed. "What the hell are you waiting for?"
Viggo pushed. Pushed and pushed, and jerked forward, then paused, listening to the near-silent aspirated whine Sean made, looking at his face, seeing how he lay with his left cheek on the hood, his breath making soft puffs of condensation on the paint that faded immediately in the heat of the sun. Then he pushed again, a stuttering pressure that finished with him seated deep inside Sean.
A door slammed, audible somewhere far in the distant recesses of Viggo's mind; he ignored it. Hot-fucking-tight-not-slick-enough, GOD. "Sean," the word escaped, a growl. His hips drew back; his dick led them forward again. Sean shuddered, mewling. "God damn you, Sean." In and out, getting easier. "Why?" Why. Why not before? Why not till now? Anger at Sean, but more at himself. Anger in the quickening shove of his hips, and lust, and years of denied need and want.
Sean groaned, raising himself to his elbows. Sweat ran glistening trails over his ribs; it dripped from his nose to make raindrop-spatters on the car. "Because."
No answer and enough, and Viggo laughed, sharp and half-broken, but his heart surged, exultant, and he fucked harder, forcing Sean back to his belly. "Fair enough." He set his own elbows on either side of Sean's ribs and laid his head on Sean's back, licking his spine, and stopped holding back, hips pistoning hard.
Sean keened, writhing under the punishment; his body tightened and tore orgasm from Viggo-- unexpected and abrupt and shattering. He cried out, hearing Sean whimper, and sagged. Sean's heartbeat skittered rapidly under his cheek, his lungs worked painfully under Viggo's weight.
After a long moment Viggo gathered himself and struggled to his feet; he tucked himself away and zipped up his jeans and helped Sean get his other foot back into the leg of his shorts and get them pulled up and zipped. Seah was flushed, glowing with embarrassment to the roots of his blond hair, but there was shy pleasure in his eyes too, when his testing glance found Viggo's smile.
"Now I have to wash the car again."
"I'll help," Viggo stepped forward and wiped a smear of pearl from Sean's belly. "We don't want this to take too long." He felt a crooked smile curve his mouth.
Sean's eyes heated; he nodded, his tongue flickering out to touch his lower lip.
Viggo returned the look in kind and went to turn the water on, taking a moment to right the overturned glass. Sean just laughed at him and went back to polishing his car, sunny as the summer.
Summary: Sean waxes his car and Viggo drinks tea.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 2140 Read: 856
Published: 08 Aug 2009 Updated: 08 Aug 2009
Story Notes:
Website: The Lair of the Evil Bitches