Decision: The Price Of Fame

Posted: October 2005
Title: Decision: The Price of Fame
Author: Klatschmohn and Ashlyn K. Toliver
Type: RPHet, RPS
Characters: Sean/Viggo/OFC's
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is a work of FICTION, created by two slashy women who simply adore Sean and Viggo and love playing with them (We wish!).
Warnings: Kinky sex in chapter 4
Author's Notes: This is the first collaboration for the both of us and we had a lot of fun, though we live on opposite ends of the world. Isn't the Internet wonderful? Thanks Anne for inviting me to play. Thanks to Ashlyn: I dreamed and she made the dream come true!

Summary: The price of fame is high...is Sean willing to pay it?

*****

Prologue

"Sean, it's good to see you..."

Viggo's powerful embrace was like a welcome home and it took everything Sean had not to just give in to it.

And Sean couldn't help but to hug him back, happy to see Viggo, who normally didn't do the Hollywood party circuit. He hugged him as if his life depended on it, held him a little too close, ignoring his agent, Trevor's expression of annoyance.

It was difficult not to devour Viggo at once, smother him with deep and passionate kisses, but Sean pulled away, regret in his eyes.

A faint shadow of hurt flickered across Viggo's face, but only for a split second, then those wicked blue eyes began to wander all over Sean's body, taking in every familiar inch of the man whose body he knew so well.

"Did I ever tell you that you look really good in Valentino," he whispered in that low teasing growl that sent a wave of sheer and merciless desire throughout his body. "You also look very good in me...and under me..."

Sean almost groaned from the hurricane force images that slammed through his mind - images from seemingly another life - images of him and Viggo and their halcyon days of wild passion.

"Why don't we get all this nonsense over with, shake hands and smile properly at all the self-important industry folks, then take off as soon as no one's looking and spend the night together...I've missed you."

His voice was a silken temptation, almost impossible to resist and Sean felt as if his heart was being torn to shreds. He wanted nothing more than to just throw caution to the winds and just leave with Viggo and never look back.

But he just couldn't. Not if he valued his career.

Unable to meet his lover's eyes, he murmured, "Viggo...I'm sorry, but..." and felt utterly sick and rotten as the apology stammered from his lips.

Within moments the aura of colorful happiness that danced and shimmered around Viggo was gone.

"I've got a previous engagement that I can't miss," he explained lamely, the excuse weak to his ears. "Studio and all that."

"Who is she?"

Viggo was a lot smarter than many people gave him credit for. He may be the absentminded artist, but very little escaped his notice.

Sean didn't lie and pointed to the dark-haired woman at the table behind them, sipping elegantly on a glass of wine, chatting animatedly with friends as the paparazzi captured every elegant gesture.

He looked at Sean shifting from one foot to the other in nervous embarrassment, his face unreadable.

"I see...obviously the studio doesn't want to deal with damage control if it should come to light their potential new star prefers men." Viggo deliberately lowered his voice, attempted to control the sharpness of his tone, though he couldn't suppress it entirely.

Sean wanted to say something - anything - anything that would take that look of pain from Viggo's eyes.

"At least they chose well. I like her."

Sean stared at Viggo in helpless bewilderment. "What?"

"Your date," and the venom in his voice almost caused Sean to flinch. "Diana Harlow. She was in that film with Stuart Townsend, 'An Alien Heat'.

Sean couldn't help but smile, even now, thinking how typically Viggo. The man had no idea who Jennifer Aniston was, since he cared very little for popular culture, but he'd always been a genius when it came to obscure talent.

"She's talented," Viggo said as matter-of-factly. "And she seems to have a lot more going for her than just her looks."

"Vig...you're not jealous, are you? That's my part, remember?"

Sean tried to joke, but the effort failed.

At the beginning of their relationship, Sean indeed was jealous as hell. He hid it well, but behind closed doors, he made certain that Viggo knew exactly who desired him more than anyone else in the world. Initially, that had been one of the reasons he allowed Viggo to take him beyond his limits during sex - so desperate he'd been not to lose this relationship the way he'd lost so many others in the past.

Back then he thought he would die from jealousy, especially because Viggo was the type of person who was freely affectionate with everyone - male or female. It hadn't helped matters much when Sean returned to London for three weeks, leaving Viggo alone with a raven-haired temptation named Karl Urban.

He remembered the feeling of black and hollow emptiness, of the jealousy poisoning his blood like acid, the lump in his throat nearly strangling him, the taste of bitterness on his tongue.

At first, Viggo had found it amusing, their lovemaking burning hotter with whispered fantasies of whom to bring into their bed. After awhile, it had become rather annoying and even insulting, because it seemed to him that Sean didn't trust him at all.

"You don't have to be jealous," Sean said softly. "I'm yours and you know it."

"I'm not jealous, Sean."

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit, Vig...talk to me." Sean so wanted to touch him, to comfort him, but Viggo withdrew to an arm's length, shrugging.

"Look Sean, it's okay. I understand, really."

"Vig, please... don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"Me?" Viggo snorted a short laugh of disbelief. "Hell, the only thing that was hard was my cock thinking about how good it would be to feel you beneath me... begging."

It took every ounce of willpower for Sean not to sink to his knees from the surge of white-hot lust that suffused throughout his body.

"Damn you, Mortensen..." And Sean's eyes glittered like cold emeralds, full of hunger and rage.

In other circumstances, Viggo would have loved to have seen that look on Sean's face, but the atmosphere between them was thick with tension.

"I wouldn't give me that look if I were you. I have the feeling that your handlers would shit a brick if they saw you right now." He pointed in the direction of Trevor and a few of his associates who were doing their best spin control. "And we don't want to risk that, now do we?" Viggo's voice was calm, but the sarcasm dripped like venom.

He patted Sean's shoulders, friendly-like, grinning at the scowling Trevor with vicious politeness.

"Never mind, Sean. I'll see you around, ok?"

Turning to leave, Sean pulled him back, gripping his wrist. "You're mad at me."

Viggo's expelled a sigh of exhaustion. "I'm not. I am frustrated as hell at this situation and I'm trying to be supportive because I know your career is important to you. I can't help the way I feel, and frankly I think it's bullshit that we have to pretend not to know each other for the sake of appearances."

Inwardly Sean agreed, but he'd already made his deal with the devil and now had to live with it.

"I want to be with you, Sean, always, and those kind of feelings can't be turned on and off like a light switch. Do you expect me not to care at all? Is that what you want?"

"No," Sean admitted quietly.

"I accept your decision, I accept the situation, but that does not mean I have to like it."

And Viggo finally walked away, instantly fading into the crowd like the ranger he once portrayed and all Sean could do was stare at a lingering afterimage, feeling as if he was the king of ruins.

With a leaden heart, he returned to the table where Diana, surrounded by intimates, didn't appear to have missed him at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Diana would have sold her favorite pair of Manolo Blahniks to have overheard the conversation between Sean and Viggo Mortensen, though from the look on his face, it most certainly had nothing to do with the weather in New Zealand.

As he made his way back to her, she watched amazed as the consummate actor in him rose to the occasion once again. He was jovial, shaking hands, pausing for a moment or two to share a joke or exchange information.

The smile on his lips did not meet his tortured green eyes as he took her hand in his and kissed it with gentlemanly flourish.

"Sorry luv...had to chat with my best mate, you know? Play catch up and all that."

She nodded with a practiced air. "Of course, sweetie," and she placed a perfect Hollywood kiss on his cheek. "I've had plenty of friends to keep me amused, darling."

Sean smiled artlessly, inwardly dismayed at just how easily he slipped into the role of devoted suitor when his heart was somewhere else...with someone else.

The taste of fame was like ashes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rang.

Sleep eluded Sean. His mouth was cotton-dry and his eyes felt like lead weights. A half-empty bottle of scotch rested beside him, the only company he sought for his bed last night.

"...Hello?"

"We need to talk about last night, Bean."

Trevor's voice was the last thing he wanted to hear, especially without sleep, and he sure as hell wasn't in the mood for any of the man's complaints. "As far as I'm concerned, the press got what they wanted. There's got to be at least a dozen pictures of me and Diana coming out of Eclipse."

"There are...but there's also people talking about that little tête-à-tête between you and Mortensen that I had to do my damdest to explain."

"And you obviously couldn't tell them the truth, right," Sean asked sarcastically.

Trevor sighed, exasperated, "Look Sean, on a personal Ievel I don't care what you and Mortensen had to say to each other for ten minutes. But as your agent, I'm the one who's got to sell you to the producers and directors, and I bloody well can't do that if you aren't willing to meet me halfway."

But Sean was hardly in the mood to be reasonable, considering a lack of sleep and even more pronounced, the lack of a certain moody Dane with a quirky smile lying next to him. "Maybe we need to establish some ground rules here Trev. I hired you to deal with all the unpleasantries that I simply don't have the time to deal with. Now, I've taken your advice as far as Diana's concerned, and frankly she's a really nice girl who deserves someone better than me. But that's it. Whatever conversation Viggo and I had last night has nothing to do with any of this, and you can tell everyone in this fucking world I said so."

And Sean hung up on him.

*****

Fame - fame makes a man take things over
Fame - fame lets him loose, hard to swallow
Fame - fame puts you there when things are hollow
Fame...
Fame - David Bowie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One

"Come on Vig, it won't be that bad."

"It's a party and it's black tie. It's bad."

Sean laughed, knowing full well his lover's aversion to anything that had to do with the industry. They'd been together for three years, and in that time, Viggo attended only a handful of premieres - for 'Rings and for Hidalgo - and the latter only because Sean took a cue from the play Lysistyrata and withheld sex for one week until the stubborn git agreed to go.

Viggo did go, unwillingly held captive by his libido, and when he returned home later that night, he fucked Sean to within an inch of his life.

"You know I'm just not into all that crap," Viggo said, gazing at the emerald-eyed man with soft eyes. "Besides, you're the king of schmoozing with all the beautiful people."

"I prefer the term 'networking' meself," Sean replied breezily, easily lapsing back into his working-class Sheffield cant. "If anything, you could at least go for the food."

Viggo rolled his eyes. "No one eats in Hollywood these days, you said that yourself when you came home from that last party and you raided the fridge."

"Yeah, well I should have paid more attention to who was throwing the bash," he admitted amused. "By the time I figured out all they were serving was rabbit food, I was stuck keeping Orli somewhat sober."

"And we both know between him and Lija, that's a full-time job." Sean nodded at that, remembering too many nights in Wellington babysitting their blue-eyed ringbearer who thought his younger metabolism could withstand mixing Guinness and tequila.

"So luv, will you go with me? I promise if it gets too boring, we'll leave."

Viggo had planned to give in, but wanted to see just how far his lover was willing to go. "And what do I get if I say yes?"

Sean's eyes smouldered as an utterly licentious smile played on his lips. "I'll let you fuck me brains out when we get home. Now that's a deal you can't pass up, right?"

He leaned over to kiss Sean's seductive mouth. "Maybe I don't want to wait that long...maybe I'd like to give you something to keep you hot while you're dazzling your admirers with your looks..."

As Viggo dressed in one of the few nice suits he owned - courtesy of Sean who'd taken him to Savile Row in order to update a wardrobe that had completely lacked anything even remotely resembling a suit - he thought about their differing outlooks on fame.

Even though they were both extremely private as far as their personal lives were concerned - Sean even more so than Viggo, especially when it came to his three girls - there was also a part of Sean that enjoyed his new-found success.

Viggo himself was rather tired of the attention, tired of fawning sycophants attending gallery showings of his art looking for Aragorn son of Arathorn. He was tired of being told by his agents and the studio heads how to look, how to dress, how to just be, and the idea of just giving up acting altogether was beginning to sound like a good one.

He had his horses, his art, his publishing house, his son and of course, he had the love of his life - nothing else really mattered.

Of course he didn't begrudge Sean his needs or his space. More often than not, Sean did the party circuit while Viggo stayed home, working on a painting or writing poetry or just daydreaming barefoot on their redwood deck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are they?" A young woman and her friend, both tall and slender, sipped on white wine as they stood looking at the two men with their arms around each other, laughing and joking in front of the cameras.

"No dear," her companion's tone was full of amusement, "Everyone knows Viggo's rather the touchy-feely sort. You should have seen him at the premiere in London - I swear he and Dom Monaghan practically locked lips."

"Did he really, Anne? God I think that's so sexy."

Trevor Martyn did his best to ignore the conversation in front of him as he watched with growing dismay as Sean and Viggo played up to every rumour that circulated around their relationship.

He'd been Sean's agent for the last seven years, and through his diligence, the actor went from being a mainstay of Masterpiece Theatre to an almost international celebrity, having scored big playing the villainous Alec Trevelyan in Golden Eye, then with the role of a lifetime as Boromir of Gondor in Fellowship of the Ring.

And though Sean had landed another choice role as the wise Odysseus in Troy, Trevor was planning even bigger things for the Sheffield-born and bred actor, but all those dreams seemed to slowly drain away with each teasingly intimate look shared between the two men before him.

Trevor wasn't homophobic - in this town it wasn't exactly a wise business move, considering. However, he was a realist and he'd learned to adapt since he'd opened this branch of the agency here in Los Angeles. One of the things he'd understood about Hollywood was about the celluloid closet.

There were a lot of gay actors, directors, producers and the like, but they kept their sex lives private. Very few had the balls to come out, and doing so was always a dangerous proposition.

More so, he had come to understand the American temperament, its almost stifling puritanical atmosphere where homosexuality was concerned. He knew for a fact that most of the hate mail that came to Ian McKellen when it had been announced he would be Gandalf, came from the U.S. And though there were shows like 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy' and 'Will and Grace', those shows had a decidedly niche audience.

Trevor was a little more ambitious than that. He wanted Sean Bean to be as much a household name as was Brad or Tom or even Russell.

And none of it could possibly happen if the power-brokers at the studios assumed Sean was gay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So," the reporter drawled condescendingly. "Are you two a couple?"

The rude question was asked by the same self-styled entertainment guru who not only trashed the entire 'Rings trilogy, but who had also written scathing comments about Viggo's poetry collection and his art.

Usually he ignored such obnoxious people, but as he'd feared, the party had quickly spiraled downward into the same tedious crush, made up of air kisses and polite backstabbing and Viggo felt less than charitable.

Of course Sean was in his element, charming the pants off of just about everyone with his wry humor and his accent - which Viggo noticed had quite a few people of both genders hanging onto his every word.

And in the background like some malevolent Svengali was Sean's agent, Trevor Martyn who looked less than pleased to see him.

The two men were icily polite, as they acknowledged each other's existence with barely perceptible nods of their heads.

Between Trevor's attack-dog demeanor and the reporter's smarmy comments, Viggo snapped. As the cameras snapped pictures, he pulled Sean forcefully to him and planted a hugely passionate kiss on the surprised man's lips.

Eyes like blue daggers, he held the dumbstruck reporter speechless.

"What do you think," he retorted sweetly malicious as Sean looked rather dazed.

Jaws dropped. People gasped. Some tittered. And from somewhere behind him he heard a distinctly feminine voice say, "Now I see what you meant, Anne. Damn, lucky man that Sean."

He turned around and gave a warm and genuine smile to the young woman who made the comment. She returned it with a wink and raised her glass in a toast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trevor nearly lost it at that point.

He'd been prepared to tolerate Mortensen for the sake of keeping Sean happy, but this...

Already the vultures were circling him, asking him the kind of questions he simply didn't want to deal with right now.

"Is Sean Bean gay?"

"How long have Sean Bean and Viggo Mortensen been a couple?"

"How will this affect Sean's power at the box office?"

Giving his most professional smile, the one that tended to put people at ease, Trevor fielded the questions as best he could, when inwardly he wished Mortensen to whatever godforsaken part of Denmark he'd been spawned from.

"No, Sean Bean and Mr. Mortensen are not a couple. They are indeed close friends, and as everyone knows, Mr. Mortensen has always been rather effusive when it comes to public displays of affection." As the writers eagerly scribbled his words, he continued pleasantly, "Most of us were there during the Wellington and London premieres of Lord of the Rings, and as is his wont, Mr. Mortensen kisses everyone. Sometimes I think he's more European than most of us who were actually born there."

Everyone chuckled at this sally and he breathed a small sigh of relief as it appeared Mortensen's ill-timed gesture was being viewed through Trevor's lens. He hoped it would be enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What the bloody 'ell brought that on?"

Something was obviously bothering Viggo for he never asked to drive if he didn't have to, leaving Sean to navigate the torturous maze of freeways and streets.

Viggo didn't say a word at first, and Sean had been with the man long enough to not push for an immediate answer.

Sunset Boulevard at three a.m. was much like Las Vegas when the sun came up - almost taking on an air of harsh reality and as Viggo drove farther away from the Strip, he felt as if whatever weight sat on his chest was being lifted.

"I'm just tired of people like him intruding into our private life. What I'm even more tired of is attitudes like his as if what we have should be kept hidden away like dirty socks." He smiled thinly. "Maybe I'm just too much the idealist at heart, that's all."

"You take this stuff too personally, Vig. Unfortunately it's all a part of the game."

"Well, it's obviously a game you're better at than I am."

Sean knew Viggo was angry, but not at him. "In some respects, yes. But do we really want a bunch of people invading our space? Why else do you think I make it abundantly clear that my girls are off limits to the media? There are certain things the public is allowed to know about Sean Bean the actor. Sean Bean the man is not for public consumption."

"Trevor saw me kiss you."

Sean chuckled. "I bet that nearly gave him a coronary. Don't worry, luv, I'll straighten Trev out tomorrow. I've got to meet with him around eleven." Trailing a seductive finger up and down Viggo's arm, he purred, "I think I owe you one for being such a good sport. I did promise...remember?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But even the bliss of coupling couldn't take away the uncertainty each of them felt as they attempted to bury themselves inside the other as far as they could possibly be.

Afterwards, lost in their own thoughts, both tried desperately to understand what was happening to them.

A part of Viggo wished he hadn't allowed either that idiot reporter or the scowling Trevor to get under his skin that way. As Sean had said to him earlier, it was all a part of the fame game, and he'd been a part of it, albeit unwillingly, for a little longer than Sean.

His reaction, though partly satisfying, had also been rather juvenile.

Yet the more rebellious part of him was angry that such an action, no matter how juvenile, could be enough to set Sean's career back. It was a kiss, for god's sake, nothing more - and yet Trevor had reacted to it as if the two of them were actually fucking each other's brains out right there by the ice sculpture.

Nor was Trevor the only one.

It wasn't as if he was trying to make a statement, but if he were, why did it even matter that he and Sean were a couple? What did their personal lives have to do with the millions of unknown faces out there who watched and enjoyed their films?

Was it so wrong to love openly and honestly?

Sean's thoughts were not as convoluted as his lover's, but his mind was just as restless.

It was a kiss, more of a teasing joke than something passionate, and yet he could sense Trevor's thunderous rage.

He knew that Trev had taken the situation in hand, but he also knew that he'd hear about it in the most unflattering terms possible. His agent had never bothered to hide his antipathy for Viggo, though politesse kept him silent.

Sean loved his career, no - he loved acting. He loved breathing life into another's words and images, loved taking a role and making a character his, with all the complexities that were part and parcel of the human condition. His craft was what allowed him to take such risky parts as Ranuccio - though in Europe such roles didn't automatically confer homosexual status.

Acting he loved - the rest he could do without. As far as he was concerned it was also a job - and like a job, his private life began the minute the director yelled "that's a wrap, folks". Unfortunately, attending boring media circuses like last night's party was also part of the job, but he'd learned to deal with it as graciously as possible.

Sometimes he wished he could be as confident as his blue-eyed lover. He wished he had other areas to fall back on, the way Viggo had his art, his poetry and his publishing company. He wished that it didn't matter if he and Viggo were a couple - that people wouldn't assume the worst simply because he happened to be in love with a man.

Fame was a real bitch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I should apologize for last night," Viggo began later that morning as Sean readied himself for their meeting.

He loved watching Sean dress, just as much as he liked undressing him. Perhaps it was simply his artists' eye taking in the various and sundry elements and watching them be expertly put together with sartorial elegance. It was a casual yet tailored look - a powder blue mock turtleneck and jeans - but Sean always managed to look as if the cover of GQ was made just for him.

"Don't worry about it, Vig," Sean reassured him with a loving smile. "The old boy will rant and rave as he usually does then we'll get down to business."

Viggo's face darkened slightly. "I wasn't talking about Trevor. I was talking about you."

"Me?"

"You. What I did last night wasn't smart. Here I am always talking about supporting you and your career and I let my own issues with certain people cloud my judgment."

Sean's fingers skimmed the bristly stubble of his lover's cheek. "Ah Vig, ye're doin' it again, lad. Ye're overanalyzing things way too much." The soft Sheffield lilt was as gentle as the caress, and Sean's eyes were kind. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that in this town there's no such thing as bad publicity. That kiss probably landed me on the front page of practically every entertainment magazine out there. And for that matter, you too. Besides, it wasn't as if I didn't enjoy meself considering what your kisses usually do to me. I'm just grateful we were in a public place or I might have ripped your clothes right off and done unspeakably naughty things to you."

"Too bad you don't have time right now," Viggo teased, eyes grown heavy with newly awakened passion.

Sean ran his tongue over his upper lip, the one gesture that fueled millions of female fantasies around the world and pressed his body against the other man's, a slow burn coloring his eyes an even deeper green. Viggo's breath caught, once again amazed by the beauty and strength of his lover.

"What makes you think I don't?"

*****

Fame, it's not your brain, it's just the flame
That burns your change, to keep you insane - sane
Fame - David Bowie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Two

Sean looked at the dashboard clock of his BMW. Twelve-thirty.

The meeting with Trevor had been for eleven.

He'd have to pull off his best role yet - appearing contrite at his tardiness when the truth of the matter was he wanted to be back at home being practically devoured by Viggo.

Even more so because he wouldn´t see Viggo for three weeks, having to leave to Great Britain in the afternoon, after the meeting with Trevor. And when he would return, Viggo wouldn´t be at home for some days.

As he turned onto Pacific Coast Highway, his thoughts turned salacious as he reminisced the past hour spent in his lover's explosive arms. Outside of being extremely athletic, Viggo Mortensen probably possessed the most talented and the most wicked mouth imaginable.

It had taken almost superhuman willpower to extricate himself from the seductive charms of his lover. Sean had taken another shower - quickly this time - and dressed as hastily as possible, all the while doing his best to ignore the sight of a still naked Viggo with only a sheet covering his lower body that did nothing to disguise the thick erection tenting the Egyptian cotton.

Taking his cell phone from his pocket, he speed-dialled Trevor's number only to be greeted with his agent's voice-mail.

"Trev, it's Sean. Sorry to be running a little late, but I'm on my way."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trevor thought he could practically smell Mortensen all over Sean as the actor made his way into his offices, located on the top floors of the Century Plaza Towers, the windows wide and affording him and his small staff a breathtaking view of Beverly Hills, Bel Aire and even Santa Monica (on clear days), nor did his eyes miss the blossoming rose on the side of Sean's throat.

"A little late," Trevor sneered, mocking Sean's earlier message. "I would say almost two hours is more than a little late. I certainly hope that whatever it was that caused you to be a little late was worth it because your little escapade may have cost you a shot at Ridley Scott's upcoming film." And from the snide inflections in Trevor's pointed tone, he knew exactly what that something had been.

Sean's good mood quickly began to evaporate and he tensed. "I said I was sorry. These things happen."

"Would one of those things happen to bear the name of Viggo Peter Mortensen," his agent asked sweetly poisonous.

"My private life isn't anyone's business, Trevor. I thought you understood that."

It was hard to remain calm in the face of Sean Bean's simmering wrath, but Trevor was used to dealing with temperamental actors. He had some of the biggest names in Britain under his belt, and everyone knew he was the best. He knew the right people and those right people knew the right roles and he'd scored big when Bean had been tapped for the role of Boromir in Fellowship.

And his record wasn't about to be sidetracked because a certain man smitten with his former co-star refused to listen to reason.

"And I thought you understood that my job is to see you working as often as possible with the best directors and scripts possible. And I can't really do that if you don't prioritize."

Sean's green eyes glittered dangerously as he looked angrily at the other man.

"You know, you've been holding that whole Kingdom of Heaven thing over my head for the past year or so, and in case you forgot to take a good look at Daily Variety, everyone else knows by now that Irons has been tapped. I was a mere consideration, and truth is, I'm a just little tired running around swinging a sword and wearing armour. I'd like to do something completely different once in awhile."

Round one - Sean Bean. But the battle was far from over.

"And what the hell was that little scene last night about," Trevor continued as if he'd not spoken at all. "It's a damn good thing that I can be as good an actor as you or it would be all over the tabloids by now."

Sean looked far from apologetic now. "And that's why I pay you what I do, Trev. Or have you forgotten that fact in trying to lecture me like some schoolboy?"

Trevor sucked in a deep breath, refusing to be baited. "Listen Sean, you know how I feel about Mortensen and it's not personal. But when his ego starts interfering with your career, than I have to say something."

"He asked me to apologize to you."

Trevor dismissed it. "Pardon my prurient curiosity as someone who prefers breasts to bollocks, but I just have to know if the sex between you two is so incredible that you're willing to flush your entire career down the loo? I mean, is he hung like an effing horse or something?"

"Trevor..." and he heard the unmistakable ice frosting Sean's tone in warning.

"Look, I don't give a damn what you do, or for that matter, whom. However, your public - and they're the ones who can make you or break you - do care. It's one thing to have been divorced three times, name anyone in this town who hasn't been divorced even once. However, being gay is something else entirely, and well, I need not remind you that Americans aren't quite as tolerant as European audiences are. Do you honestly imagine that Ian McKellen or Stephen Fry would be as successful as they are now if they were Americans?"

Point taken - score one for the agent.

Sensing at least partial victory, Trevor continued reasonably, "I'm hardly asking you to give up Mortensen - that's your own business. What I am asking is that you think about your career a little more and ways to make a name for yourself. Sure, it was okay for you to have gotten the role of Odysseus in Troy, but who's to say you couldn't have played Achilles as well or even better than Pitt?"

"And you somehow think I wasn't offered the role because no one wanted a questionably gay man playing a role, which, if you knew anything about The Iliad, would have made far more sense because according to the legend, Achilles was at least bisexual. After all, Patroclus was more than just a friend."

Trevor rolled his eyes. "I hardly failed classical Greek literature, Sean, and I'm not saying that you didn't get the role because somebody thinks you're gay. What I am saying is that it could happen. You could get stuck playing minor roles, and certainly not any that call for you romancing the beautiful heroine, all because of what some people might perceive as your relationship with Mortensen. Like I said, Americans are rather odd that way. If you're a straight man, they could care less how many women you sleep with - the more the merrier as it were. If they find out you're queer, you suddenly become box office poison."

Sean sighed in resignation. There had to be a serious flaw in Trevor's logic, but he was too tired to think of any at the moment. Still, he was more than familiar with Hollywood's seemingly arbitrary rules of conduct, and if Trevor thought those rules could somehow be brought to bear against him, perhaps what Trevor suggested might help things. It would certainly keep the press from speculating too much on his private life, even Viggo would agree on that.

"Okay, just what or whom did you have in mind?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was too young.

Then again he should have expected that from Trevor, playing that whole May/December bit to the hilt. Still she would have been more suited to someone around Orlando's age, or even Christian's.

Incredulously, Sean shook his head. "She looks like she could be my daughter."

He could not deny her beauty - the long dark hair, fashionably pale skin with coal dark eyes - he could still appreciate that. She was slender, without that look of unhealthy thinness that seemed so de rigueur in certain circles. Dressed in the height of expensive casual, there was an air of sophistication that belied her youth.

But for all her beauty and style, she simply wasn't Viggo. The eyes did not mesmerize him, the lips did not beckon him for kisses. She was too perfect - no lines from life marring her features, no dimple to wreck havoc on the angular planes of her face. She seemed fragile somehow, as if the merest touch would bruise her translucent skin. Then again why worry about that, since the idea was to convince the public that something was going on - not for anything to actually happen.

Diana Harlow was beautiful, poised and talented and he didn't want her at all.

Trevor read those same thoughts in Sean's face. Pulling him out of Diana's earshot he whispered, "Just pretend to be fascinated by her, Sean. That's all the public and the movie people want, a pretty girl on your arm. Hell, I even fancy her myself, if you take my meaning."

A retort was poised on Sean's lips but he silenced it. Looking surreptitiously over his shoulder, he asked, "How old is she anyway?"

"Twenty-five."

Sean groaned. "Talk about robbing the fookin' cradle." Sean's working-class accent was quite prominent, as it usually was when his emotions ran high. "For fuck's sake Trevor, what on earth are we supposed to talk about, The Spice Girls? She probably thinks Sir Paul McCartney is a member of Parliament or something."

Trevor quickly became exasperated. "Unfortunately old chap Dame Judi Dench was unavailable," he retorted sarcastically. "Having a young thing like our Diana on your arm is guaranteed to keep you in the public eye. Having Mortensen attached to you constantly is to have everyone assume you're a poof, and that won't help your career at all. Besides, she's an actress, you two can talk about your days at RADA."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He's actually better looking in person, Diana thought to herself, feigning an interest in the Modigliani that adorned Trevor's wall.

The blonde hair was longer than she remembered, but no film nor photograph could do justice to those incredible green eyes.

The shade of green glass, they were in stark contrast to the lightness of his lashes and brows.

His lips were full, giving him a rakish yet charming look. The kind of man who could fit in anywhere - be it with royalty or with raucous football fans.

She'd seen enough of Sean Bean's movies to realize that he'd forgotten more about the craft of acting than she'd ever learn and she definitely respected that.

Still, couldn't Trevor have set her up with someone a little closer in age - like Orlando - and according to the gossip he and Kate were splitsville.

She sighed - oh hell, it was a job and she would be paid well for it, though she couldn't quite figure out why a good-looking man like Sean Bean even needed help in that area.

Of course there were rumors that he was queer - that he was heavily involved with his former co-star from Lord of the Rings. Then again, in this business, who wasn't gay these days?

At least all she had to do was make it look as if she and Sean were involved - if Trevor wanted or was hoping for more than that, he'd have to find someone with a lot less scruples.

Schooling her features into a mask of innocent politeness, Diana crashed the old boys' party with a jaunty wave of her hand.

"Well, aren't you going to formally introduce us?
It´s about time, she added, because if I got you right, Trev, we´re going out on a party tonight" (which is the prologue-party)

Sean didn´t feel quite comfortable with the prospective, because he hadn´t talked to Viggo yet, not wanting to explain the Diana-issue via phone. But he could do nothing about that right now; he would talk to Viggo as soon as possible when Viggo returned next day...

Sean didn´t know that Viggo wanted to surprise him... that he would meet Viggo that evening at the party, but wake up alone the other day...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"...This is the fabulously in style Misty Grey for Celebrity Watch. Sean Bean, the ruggedly handsome actor who played Boromir in the highly successful Lord of the Rings, Fellowship of the Rings, has been spotted around town at the trendiest eateries with hot young starlet Diana Harlow, who played opposite Stuart Townsend in the small budget film, 'An Alien Heat'. Sources close to the pair say that they're just good friends..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sean did a final check of himself in the mirror.

"You really don't have a problem with all this?"

Sean didn't know what to expect, though a part of him wanted Viggo to get angry and tell Trevor to go to hell.

"Should I?"

"I haven't seen you in almost three weeks, Trev keeps me and Diana out practically every night, and while she's obviously got the energy for it, I don't."

"I know, and believe me, I do miss you. But remember that we promised not to limit each other. As much as I hate to cede anything to your agent, Trev may be right on this one. The more you're seen with Diana, the less likely the press is to snoop further. Besides, call it penance for me behaving badly at the last party."

Sean sighed, ambivalent towards Viggo's assessment of the situation but unwilling to take it further. "I don't know what time I'll be home."

Viggo kissed Sean lightly on the lips. "Have a good time." He winked. "Better you than me."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"...Nick and Jessica? So yesterday. Brad and Angelina? So out...Sean and Diana? So very in! Who? This is your fabulously in style reporter Misty Grey with all the hot news on today's Celebrity Watch. And today's news is indeed sizzling...Sean Bean, that hunky green-eyed Brit who made us all wish we'd paid more attention to Greek literature with his toga-clad portrayal of Odysseus in 'Troy', has been quite co-zy with the beautiful Diana Harlow, who starred opposite Stuart Townsend in the small budget film, 'An Alien Heat', and whom rumor has it, is being considered for a role in Kenneth Branaugh's latest project. Ms. Harlow denies any romantic relationship with the 40-something Bean, but sources say the two have become ve-ry close within the past three months. Could it be that Bean, thrice-divorced, is looking to tread the matrimonial waters again, this time with a woman nearly half his age...Misty Grey will keep you posted on all the scandalous details..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the second party where Viggo met Sean when he was supposed to be with Diana. He had seriously considered not going at all, but had agreed to the invitation earlier and there was no reason to avoid Sean in public completely, especially now.

Maybe, though he was loathe to admit it, maybe it was easier to bear the situation when he was at least near to Sean. Though he wasn't really jealous he knew that being alone the whole evening and waiting could do bad things to a man's imagination, though deep inside he knew how Sean felt about their relationship. Still it wouldn't have surprised Viggo if Trevor planned to have Sean and Diana photographed naked in bed for good measure.

Now he leant over the banister of the terrace, staring into the darkness of the garden as if to figure out the flowers and blossoms he knew had to be there somewhere, the music and laughter and voices of the party only a faint soundtrack behind him.

"You love him, don't you?"

He didn't hear her emerge silently from the shadows, a clove cigarette in hand, reminding him of Audrey Hepburn from 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'.

"You seem a lot older than your years, Diana," Viggo replied offhandedly.

"My grandmother tells me that I've got the mind of a seventy-year old salon doyenne." He laughed, which was her intent. "Not to mention the way you both just light up when you see each other. I seldom see that kind of reaction from straight couples, especially in this town." She exhaled smoothly, while dangling the lit cigarette from dainty fingertips.

"I do." Two words, powerful enough to shimmer in the cool air of the autumn night, hover then dissipate. "I love him enough not to take away what he loves."

"Bugger that! And here I thought us women had that sacrifice-complex going on. Come on, this is Hollywood - everyone in this town is or either knows someone who's gay or bi or whatever. And to be perfectly frank, neither of you two are what anyone who matters consider 'A-list', in spite of the LOTR trilogy. Which, from the way I see it, means that your private life isn't of anyone's general interest."

Viggo grinned, disarmed by her openness but pleased that his initial assessment of Diana Harlow had been correct. Soon they were deep in conversation, feeling almost as if they were old friends and nearly forgetting their situation, until Diana softly reminded them both that she had to look for Sean.

"Could you just imagine the gossip, that Viggo Mortensen stole the girlfriend of his best friend and former co-star?" She kissed his cheek and walked away, leaving the warm and spicy scent of cloves behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After talking with Diana, Viggo felt a lot better than he had in a long time.

Perhaps the situation wasn't quite so unsalvageable after all. Sean still loved him that he knew without a doubt. Maybe the whole Diana thing would take the pressure off of them and people wouldn't be so intent on prying into their private lives. All three of them could become friends, who knows?

He smiled to himself as he made to return to the party when he heard the threatening voice from behind him...

"Stay away from him Mortensen."

He turned around slowly, arrogantly, as if Trevor were a hindrance to whatever thoughts he'd been having. Face to face, Viggo stared at him with cool disdain.

"Stay away from Sean if you care about his career," Trevor repeated with even more warning in his tone.

"Actually, I think it's your career we're talking about, right? Sean's just a convenient means to an end."

Trevor never thought it was possible to know someone even more intense than Sean Bean, but Viggo Mortensen was downright scary. His blue eyes were disconcerting at best and his body language was that of a hunter. The same powerful energy he'd brought to such diverse roles as a displaced Vietnam vet to the leader of the race of Men were brought to bear upon him and Trevor wished for a split second he'd kept his mouth shut.

Still it was his job to protect his investments and he'd be damned if he allowed anyone to get in the way of that.

Two, he thought to himself smugly, could play the intimidation game.

"Listen, Mortensen," Trevor growled as convincingly as he could, aware the blue eyes hadn't wavered an inch. "We both know that one lucky break doesn't make a career, and I've got connections in this town. I can do a hell of a lot more for Sean than you could."

Viggo's smile was as cold as ice. "I don't know about all that, Trev. You can't possibly imagine all the things I can do for Sean." His eyes glittered dangerously. "Or to him."

"Your sex life is of no interest to me Mortensen," Trevor snapped, "Though I have to wonder what the bloody hell Sean sees in you. The only thing I care about is his success, which is a damn sight more than I can say for you."

"Actually, Trevor, I was just thinking along those same lines when you so rudely interrupted me," Viggo replied with feigned sweetness. "I was actually thinking that having Sean date Diana was a good idea. Give the public something to focus on, that way if I should be affectionate towards him, say at a premiere or something, people won't freak out and assume the worst."

It was more of a concession than Trevor had hoped. "Are you sure?"

Viggo snorted. "Why would I lie to an insignificant little worm like you, Trev? Besides, I happen to like Diana Harlow quite a bit. She's a lot smarter than you give her credit for, and unlike most of those young starlets you have under your belt - and perhaps elsewhere - she's actually very talented."

"And you want what in return for this bit of generosity," Trevor asked sarcastically. "After all, everything has a price in this town."

"What I want," Viggo pondered thoughtfully, as if giving serious consideration of the matter. "What I want is for you and your ilk to stay the fuck out of Sean's private life. And I want you to make sure that nothing interferes with his career, since you claim to value it so highly. I'll do my part and behave, but if anything, even the smallest rumor gets out, you'd better make sure you quash it at the source."

"I can do that, to a point Mortensen. But we both know that it really all depends on you holding up your end of the deal."

"I never give my word lightly," Viggo said grimly.

"That might be, but can you guarantee that you won't fly into a jealous rage if, perhaps, Sean and Diana are caught in a 'private' moment?"

"I see...you're going to manufacture that story now. Go ahead, knock yourself out. We both know, " and Viggo used that same phrase against him, "We both know where Sean will really be spending his nights."

"Maybe I'll just keep him working enough to where he might not have any time for you at all." Trevor retorted venomously. "As they say, out of sight, out of mind."

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Trevor."

"What about that little conversation out on the terrace with Diana?"

"Private." Viggo's curt answer should have been the end of the conversation, but Trevor was determined to get in the last word.

"Goddammit Mortensen, you are sorely trying my patience."

"If you had tried my patience as much as you claim I'm trying yours, you wouldn't be standing right now. Now you listen," and Viggo brought his face so close to the other man's Trevor saw flashes of white lightning in the blue eyes and he shuddered. "Sean loves acting and I wouldn't dare take that from him. But what I think you're trying to do is take him away from me period, and I really don't know why. You're his agent, nothing else. Remember that."

Trevor backed away a step, eyes wide. It had been years since anyone had spoken to him with such disdain.

"And one more thing - Just in case you somehow forgot, I'm an actor. I also have an agent, and she would be more than willing to take Sean on as a client without hesitation. You're not the only game in this town, Martyn and it's time that you stopped acting as if you were."

With that, Viggo spun on his heel, eager to get as far away from Trevor as possible, leaving Trevor Martyn completely punch-drunk as if the tall man had knocked him flat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"As they say, out of sight, out of mind..."

Trevor's voiced mocked Viggo, echoed in his ears louder than noise of the crowd inside. And as if he needed further illustration, he couldn't find Sean amongst the sea of elegantly dressed bodies. When he finally saw him, holding court with Diana as they posed for interviews, he gave a sigh of both relief and rage.

*****

Is it any wonder I reject you first?
Fame - David Bowie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Three

"...This is your fabulously in style reporter Misty Grey with today's Celebrity Watch and the news just keeps steaming up the town with the latest news...earlier today, Sean Bean, that sexy green-eyed Brit who's been sighted all over town with his latest gal pal, the glamorous Diana Harlow, who looked positively incandescent in black matte jersey courtesy of Donna Karan, was spotted seen leaving the infamous Chateau Marmont with said Miss Harlow in tow. Sources say the two had spent a rather interesting evening at Sky Bar and The Viper Room..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Viggo had never been one to believe in rules and demands when it came to relationships. If there were any such rules, it was simply to be with someone who wanted to be with him.

He liked having the needed time and space to devote to his interests - outside of acting - and was willing to give his partner as much independence as they may have wanted.

He was definitely too old for sulking and waiting for a lover to call, nor was there any sense in melodrama, preferring to silently withdraw into himself when hurt.

Yes, he'd promised never to interfere with Sean's career and that wasn't a difficult promise to keep. There was a slight ego boost to know the man that many women fell all over themselves when he licked that delicious upper lip of his actually belonged to him. There wasn't even an issue with the whole manufactured relationship scenario Trevor had concocted, though anyone with any common sense would have seen right through it.

Diana certainly had but played along anyway.

But Viggo was far from calm now.

Even a staunch pacifist could be driven too far, and Trevor's parting shot had been the proverbial straw on the camel's back.

Someone here, he thought to himself grimly, needed to be taught a lesson.

He'd take his revenge, but it would be much more subtle and refined. Trevor would find to his cost that being in love with a man didn't make one any less of a man.

And Sean would find that there were some things a little more important than fame.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"...This is your fabulously in style reporter Misty Grey with my fabulous co-anchor Alexa Katerina and we're here live at MOMA in Los Angeles at one of the most fabulous parties of the year. Don't worry if your Prada didn't arrive in time, dahlings, because you can stay home in your fuzzy slippers and we'll bring you all the details and the delicious gossip right now. We'll tell you who wore what, or if they should have worn it at all. We'll tell you who was seen with whom...and why, and most of all we'll give you the scoop on what's hot on the runways this year and what you should have in your closet right now...Oh my, is that...oh yes ladies, be still my beating heart but that's Viggo Mortensen...my god Alexa, he looks good enough to EAT..."

Amazing how something he never thought about just came natural to him.

Being far from vain, it often puzzled him as to why so many women, of all ages, seemed to think him so sexy.

Normally he hated the whole Hollywood ideal of perfect teeth, fashionably-coiffed hair and expensive clothes. He was far more comfortable in old jeans and a t-shirt, his hair doing whatever the hell it felt like.

But now, he silently congratulated himself on having learned every trick of trade...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Viggo always dressed up nice when he chose and tonight was no exception.

Sean's eyes hungrily absorbed every inch of his lover, decked in Geoffrey Beene, the usually careless mop of dark hair, expertly coiffed, showcasing the distinguishing traces of white at the temples.

He couldn't help noticing the deliberately casual walk with those long slender legs - legs Sean missed having wrapped around him or even just brushing up against his own in slumber. The smooth rocking of those slender masculine hips - hips he knew could move him six ways from sideways. That dreamy look beneath lowered lashes, the bright charming smile, the low vibrating timbre of his voice as he spoke to everyone...

Somehow Viggo had turned into a walking sexual provocateur and once again it took every ounce of willpower not to launch himself into the arms of the man he missed.

The sound of Viggo's laughter travelled over the crowd, wounding him like a hail of arrows.

He stood frozen in place, eyes unable to tear themselves away, perhaps hoping that Viggo would look up and notice him. But it seemed as if Viggo's eyes were everywhere else.

Unfortunately, Diana had disappeared - perhaps to the ladies' room or for a smoke on the terrace - leaving Sean to his tumultuous thoughts.

He watched Viggo expertly manoeuvre through the crush, a casual smile on those lips Sean could never forget the taste and texture of.

His eyes seemed bluer, more intense. That dimple seemed to tantalize him, beckoning his tongue to lap at it like he always did when they kissed...or maybe that was just his fevered imaginings, so desperately did he miss Viggo.

A woman of indeterminate age in black silk shantung threw her arms around Viggo, who picked her up and spun her around, delight at seeing her clear on his features and the pang of jealousy that struck Sean almost immobilized him.

And at that moment, their eyes met and Sean was swallowed whole in that gaze.

Sean wrenched himself forcefully from the undeniable power in those eyes, making his way to the bar to fetch two glasses of Shiraz, a wine that Diana had introduced him to a month ago and one that he knew Viggo would enjoy.

Viggo - there was no escaping his presence, either in thought or in reality.

As he walked back to the table, a voice that would have belonged to the serpent in paradise caressed his ears, and he knew - even before he understood the words - "You can have me tonight, Sean... I'd spread my legs for you, let you fuck me as hard as you wanted...do anything you want..."

Sean almost spilled the wine, jolted by the images that sped through his mind and his body's treacherous reaction to them.

He turned around slowly, ready to demand what the hell the man thought he was doing, but Viggo had already passed by, strolling through clouds of people with his hands in his pockets, completely unaffected by his actions or his own words, as the crowd parted in front and behind him like the Red Sea did for Moses.

Sean muttered a curse and continued on his way, doing his best to balance the wine glasses and talk to people at the same time.

"Perhaps I should spank you first..." the wicked voice continued like aural masturbation. "...For making me want to do unspeakably naughty things to you." Sean's eyes fluttered, remembering the last time he himself used those exact words. "Tell me something, lover, do you like what you see? Just think, I could be yours right now...on my hands and knees...in our bedroom..."

Every time Viggo came near him, the blue eyes taunted him as they slowly caressed Sean´s body as he were completely naked. That sinful voice teased him, making him ache for everything Viggo promised.

Viggo´s powerful aura seemed to be all around Sean, wrapping him in an undeniable possessive embrace, Though the dark haired man was in the midst of a conversation with Ioan Gruyffyd, flush with his modest success from King Arthur, who seemed to literally drink in every word from the older man's lips like a baby-bird fed by its parents and Sean would be damned if he allowed Viggo to see just how disturbed by his actions he actually was.

He inhaled sharply and let out an angry exhalation of breath.

Finally Sean made it back to their table, finding Diana waiting for him, her dark hair held away from her heart-shaped face with a white crystal clip.

Her eyes lit up as she lightly brushed her lips over his.

"Oh daahling, thank you," she began with an artless toss of her head as she bestowed another careless kiss on his cheek. She took a small sip, sighing blissfully. "Ah, Shiraz. No one seems to sell it in this bloody town you know," Diana complained amusingly. "In fact, no one seems to be able to pronounce it."

Only Diana, Sean thought, happy to not be thinking about a certain Geoffrey Beene-clad tease.

As they laughed and talked, Sean began to feel better with each passing moment. Of course, the cameras were there to capture every laugh, every little flirtatious touch and he thought with satisfaction that Trevor would have no complaints now.

"Well Sean, aren't you going to introduce us?"

Sean hoped that the sound of his teeth grinding against themselves was only audible to him. He knew Viggo too well to think the son of a bitch hadn't planned this.

"Diana Harlow, my old mate Viggo Peter Mortensen," Sean replied skilfully, utilizing every theory of acting he possessed.

She held out her long, slender hand saying, "Well well, if it isn't the long-lost King of Men," she said teasingly. "I wondered when you'd ever deign to speak to us mere mortals."

The bastard gave her his most irresistible smile, while gallantly kissing the proffered hand.

"I apologize, but Ioan and I were discussing photography and I tend to get rather carried away." The words were innocuous, but Sean felt the undercurrent of desire running through them. He also felt stirrings of jealousy towards the young Welshman and wasn't certain at the moment whom he hated more.

Diana blithely indicated a vacant chair which he took without a word, brushing his knee against Sean's thigh and though he wanted to pull away, he didn't have the strength to do so.

It felt so damn good just being there.

"I was telling Sean some days ago that I'd seen you in 'An Alien Heat' with Stuart Townsend and that I thought you were quite good as Lady Charlottina."

"Really?" Diana trilled happily. "I'm glad you think so. The critics savaged the entire picture but I think that's because they didn't understand it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Diana sensed the powerful undercurrent of passion between the two men as she watched two sets of eyes, one indigo and the other sea green, though neither directly addressed the other.

Trevor was ten kinds of fool to think that he could tear these two apart for any given length of time, she thought as she kept up her steady stream of gossip and industry-talk. Right now, Viggo was hovering around Sean as if warning any interlopers that the green-eyed actor was his. And Sean looked as if he'd rather be in Viggo's arms doing whatever it was (and frankly the whole notion of the two handsome and virile men doing whatever it was turned Diana on to no end) than sitting here at a boring museum party pretending to be in love with her.

Trev my dear, you are going to be in for a very rude awakening, Diana said to herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even Diana wasn't immune to his charm, Sean thought, slightly disgusted at his lover who seemed to hang onto her every word.

Then again, when he chose, Viggo could be a completely shameless flirt, and tonight was no exception.

Still, his admiration seemed authentic, that he actually enjoyed talking to her and that confused Sean even more.

Viggo's fingers trailing along Sean's inner thigh under the table, tickling him with his fingernails did more than just confuse.

Sean gasped at the electricity his touch generated. He suddenly tightened his grip, and at Diana's look of concern feigned a coughing spell.

"Hope you're not catching a cold, Sean," Viggo purred smugly and Sean restrained the urge to kick him.

"I'm not," Sean replied, slowly emphasizing each syllable. "I think the wine went down the wrong pipe."

That had been the wrong thing to say for Viggo's decadent eyes lit up and Sean knew exactly what the man was thinking.

Diana, mollified by Sean's answer, went back to being her wonderful, ebullient self while Viggo, obviously bolstered by Sean's reaction, continued to fondle Sean under the table while pretending to ignore him.

Again his traitorous body took over rational thought, as he parted his legs wanting to feel his lover's expert caress, his cock making it known what it craved.

"Slut," Viggo mouthed silently in his direction with Diana none the wiser.

That jolted Sean out of the sense of erotic complacency he'd been feeling and he grabbed Viggo's hand, trying to halt the sensual assault.

Hands struggled beneath the table while both men pretended nothing was amiss, but soon Sean realized that Viggo didn't really care about discretion and gave up.

He saw no other choice save to retreat, even if for a moment.

"Ah Diana, darling, would you like me to fetch you something from the buffet?"

"Of course," and Diana waved him off theatrically. "I am positively famished. And could you bring me some of those little iced cakes as well and I don't give a damn that they're not low-carb. Oh and don't worry, daahling Viggo here will keep me company."

Viggo pretended not to notice the look of sheer hatred in Sean's eyes.

It didn't help his sour mood when he tripped over Viggo's foot, causing a slight chuckle from Diana's lips. But though feeling like a Tom cat chased off his territory, striding along the borderlines of his district trying to think of a way to return, Sean mustered as much dignity as he could as he strode away, head high, almost defiant.

Richard Sharpe would have been proud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Or mad as hell...or even confused.

Concentrating on filling Diana's plate - for a thin young woman, she definitely enjoyed food, Sean thought amused. The cacophony of voices covered Viggo's murmur as he leant his heated frame over Sean. "Sorry... may I...?", pretending to be looking for something appetizing amid the wide variety of delicacies.

"I thought you were keeping Diana company," Sean said sourly, doing his best to ignore the slow burn of their bodies so close to each other.

Viggo leant over even further, whispering huskily, "I would love to fuck you like this, Sean...bent over this table...right between all the antipasto and the canapés...just pull down those expensive trousers and fuck you right in front of all these people with your beautiful ass for all to see...and you'd let me..."

Sean jammed an elbow in Viggo's belly, forcing him to draw back.

"Stop it." Sean growled under clenched teeth. "Just stop it."

Viggo drew back, locking eyes with Sean. His gaze was deadly serious.

"Ok...For now..." and he walked away, leaving Sean fighting for balance, breathing heavily.

Suddenly the expensive delicacies before him held no interest and for a moment had forgotten why he was there.

It was no surprise really. His body had often refused to grasp the concept of dignity when it came to whatever Viggo wanted and his cock seemed to relish the idea of being fucked in the middle of a luxuriously catered buffet, reduced to a delicacy himself.

How many times at the beginning of their relationship did Viggo assert his dominance by taking him anywhere he felt like and whenever he felt like it. It was the seeming unpredictability that always kept Sean on the thin edge of arousal.

And how many times had he ever complained?

Just two words - "your ass," or "your mouth", and Sean quickly obeyed, seldom pausing to consider that the two of them could be caught at any time.

Sometimes a silent signal was all that would be needed and moments later Sean would be clinging to a tree, his ass thrust out proudly and shamelessly, his cheeks scraping against the rough bark as Viggo drove deep within him.

How often had he knelt in hidden corners of the set during a break, sucking Viggo off while in full Boromir costume within earshot of anyone who may have been looking for them?

The most surreal place had been the dusty backroom of an empty museum of art and technology, bent over heap of obscure exhibition-pieces. But Viggo's imagination had been as tireless as his libido. The man had fucked him in a graveyard, in the back of Orlando's jeep, on the beach, and even in the storeroom of a pub they had visited with other members of the fellowship.

It had been a bloody miracle that he could still walk straight.

Sometimes it seemed Viggo didn't even care whether Sean found release - what mattered was only fucking him fast and hard until he came in his mouth or his ass; later, when Sean was alone, the mere thought of that - of Viggo wanting him, desiring him, with such single-minded lust - could make him come. Once, twice, three times - as often as he thought of it.

Viggo made up for his seeming indifference in their nights of long, tender lovemaking, when Sean felt as if he were being bathed in milk and honey, Viggo's tenderness surrounding his skin like liquid sweetness.

There were also those times when he gave himself to Sean with unrestrained devotion. Though Viggo by choice was mainly the dominant partner in their relationship, he enjoyed surrendering to Sean when both felt in the mood. Viggo felt far too sure of his authority and power to anxiously cling to fixed roles.

Sean didn't know what aroused and satisfied him most - Viggo, using him as his whore whenever and wherever he wanted him, Viggo wrapping him in his endless tenderness and inventive love or Viggo, on his knees, serving him without question or condition.

What he did know was that Viggo could give him everything he needed, both as his friend and lover. They were bound to each other. No one else could ever be like him, taking possession of Sean completely as well as giving himself to Sean with the same absoluteness.

Heady, pungent memories and images from the past and the seductively indecent suggestions Viggo had been planting in Sean's head mixed and whirled around him like an avant-garde music-video.

Feelings he thought he'd conquered long ago - fears of losing Viggo, fears of becoming dependent, fears of disappointment and unworthiness - the whole family of fears with all their ugly nephews and mediocre uncles - and they danced with the nightmare-harpies howling round his head - yearning, longing, missing, guilt, shame and jealousy.

He had to concentrate on every move because his body appeared to disintegrate, his heart and stomach aching, breath unsteady and interrupted, limbs losing coordination, eyesight swimming, ears drumming, knees weak... he had no idea how to make it through the night.

When he made his way back to the table, only parts of Diana's conversation reached him, her voice rising and falling like waves.

And there was the man who caused such torment, laughing and joking as easy as you please, blatantly flirting with everyone in attendance, never sparing a single look at Sean and he knew it would stay this way the whole night from now on and hell couldn't be worse.

He saw Viggo talking with that thrice-damned Ioan Gruyffyd again, and the young man had begun to touch him, to punctuate some point or another, and Viggo simply allowed the contact to happen, smiling affectionately.

Sean needed a cigarette badly, anything to calm his nerves or to just get him away from the image of Viggo with someone else. Excusing himself to Diana again, he made his way towards the terrace.

Viggo and Ioan were right in front of him, blocking his retreat, and Sean refused to make a detour because of them.

His heart galloped as he passed behind Viggo´s back, his muscles stiffened in expectation, but... - nothing.

He passed by without any hindrance, Viggo didn´t take any notice of him. Sean had sworn to kill him if he teased him once more but now he wanted to murder him because he didn´t. To be ignored because of that little wanker was even worse.

He turned around and as he caught Viggo´s gaze for a moment, he gave a silent signal with his eyes for Viggo to follow him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sean felt as if he were being pulled in too many directions.

Why was it so important that he live up to someone else's idea of what Sean Bean should be? He was an actor, for chrissake - someone paid to pretend to be someone else.

When was his private life his own and why did it matter one way or another who he slept with? Considering his past history with women, being straight certainly had been no guarantee of happiness.

Viggo had at least shown him that he was worthy of being loved.

"Hiding from your adoring public?" The sardonic voice behind him jarred his slowly fraying nerves.

"No," Sean replied curtly, Trevor being the very last person he wanted to talk to. "I need a smoke, that's all."

"Well, Diana's in there alone, Sean. You really should be putting more of an effort."

"Look, how much more do you or they want from me? Half the reporters already have me married to her." He saw a greedy light go off in his agent's gray eyes. "Absolutely not. And that's the end of it."

Sean knew it wasn't. Trevor was planning to be difficult again.

"Worried about what Mortensen would say," he asked sarcastically.

"Leave Viggo out of it okay?"

"Maybe you're hiding from him? I can always have him discreetly escorted out."

Sean's eyes went black with rage. "You will do no such thing, understand? Viggo is my lover and I will deal with him, if I need to."

Sean could have smacked himself for allowing Trevor to bait him.

"He doesn't seem so lover-like to me. Right now he's rather thick with young Mr. Gruyffyd. Maybe he's just being a slut."

"Trev," Sean growled, his anger stretched on the thinnest leash possible. "Perhaps it's best you go back inside or I may forget you're my agent and kick your ass all the way back to Surrey."

Turning his back, he waited for Trevor's retreating footsteps and then counted to ten, taking deep breaths.

The evening was proving to be a disaster on all fronts.

He heard the familiar footsteps behind him. The ambient temperature of the outside rose, indicating Viggo was there. Sean immediately wheeled around to face him.

"Do you just want to torture me or was Trevor right when he said you're a slut," he hissed, finally nearing the breaking point.

He knew at once he'd gone too far.

There had been few opportunities where he let his temper get the best of him, and Viggo always reacted the same way. The more Sean spat fire and flames, the cooler and calmer Viggo became. It was happening again - within seconds icy indifference shielded his eyes and that stone-like face Sean feared so much became distant and closed.

"People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Sean. And you're one to talk - after all, I had my hand on your cock right underneath your girlfriend's nose and you loved it," Viggo replied dispassionately, almost bored. His posture betrayed no emotion at all.

They glared at each other for a long moment, Sean's eyes exploding in green flashes and Viggo's frosty with arctic boredom.

"This hasn't been easy for me either, Vig," Sean said, "You haven't made it easy for me."

"Because I want you? Because I want to spend some time with the man I love and not feel that I'm an impediment to his career?"

That made Sean's eyes widen. "You've been listening to Trev again."

"No, I've been watching you."

"For fuck's sake Viggo, you've spent the last few hours here practically seducing me with that damned voice of yours. I can't think, can barely breathe, and if Diana were to look down at my crotch, she'd get an eyeful."

"What makes you think she's that stupid, Sean? She and I have already talked and she thinks Trevor's insane trying to make a straight man out of you."

"Is that what you think this is all about? You think I haven't accepted that I like sucking cock and being fucked by a man?" Sean's eyes were tired. "My career is important to me, Viggo. You have your art, your horses, your poetry. All I have is acting. It's my passion. It's been the only thing to keep me sane and whatever it takes to keep it I'm willing to do."

"Even if it means the end of you and I?"

"Viggo, that's not fair..."

Stalemate...

Viggo shook his head. "Then I guess I know where things stand..."

A beast with claws tried to rip Sean's heart out of his breast. "You're not just going to...?"
He couldn´t say the word. Couldn´t even think of Viggo breaking up with him, leaving him adrift the way he´d been before. To speak his thoughts would be like of forbidden names of mythical creatures with frightening powers beyond limits of comprehension.

"I have to think it over, Sean," Viggo replied quietly. "It's not the right place or time to talk."

Sean's emotions were a maelstrom of dark thoughts as he watched his lover walk back into the bright lights and loud voices.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Viggo was going to walk out of Sean's life for the last time, but Sean wasn't about to let that happen again.

Not this time.

Not ever.

Fuck fame, he snarled to no one in particular, tossing the unlit cigarette aside. They'll just have to take me as is, I'm good enough.

Gazing over at Diana who met his eyes, he steeled himself for her reaction - of surprise, of embarrassment or even betrayal.

Instead her smile dazzled him with its warmth and its understanding. She walked over to him.

Standing on tiptoe she kissed him lightly on the lips, whispering, "Don't let him walk away, Sean."

He just stared at her, completely speechless, as she laughed quietly. "What part of 'for god's sake, don't let him walk away' do you not understand?"

"Diana...I'm sorry..."

"No, Sean. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you had to pretend to be someone you're not. Besides, truth to tell I was never really comfortable with any of this. I may be an actress, but there are some roles that are too much for me." Her blue eyes glimmered with emotion. "This was one of them."

Her words were like a shaft of sunlight illuminating the cold cell he'd built around his heart. Amazed he says, "You're an amazing woman, Diana Harlow, and you're certainly not one to be underestimated." He took both of her hands in his, squeezed them passionately. "I hope you find someone worthy of you someday, even in this business."

"I don't plan to look for quite awhile, Sean. I'm young, fairly well-off and just looking for adventure. Now stop talking and go get your man, else he's fair game."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Viggo was already stepping into the lobby, on his way to a waiting cab and Sean knew there were only a precious few moments before he walked out of his life.

"Wait!"

It was said that even whispering Sean Bean could make himself heard, even over the roar of a crowd at his beloved Blades games and this time was no different. He felt like the main character in some children's book who could instantly stop time with just the power of his voice, for everyone froze in their tracks.

Even Viggo.

"I'm coming with you." It was a simple statement of fact, and at that moment Sean didn't care who heard his declaration or what they made of it. Sean would deal with the repercussions later.

He ignored Trevor's hiss and walked towards the door where Viggo stood.

"Are you crazy, Sean?"

"As daft as they come, lad," he smiled. "And I will always be when it comes to you, you bloody Dane."

As they left together, Sean flashed a quick smile towards Diana, who rewarded him with a sympathetic chuckle and two thumbs up.

*****

Fame, bully for you, chilly for me
Got to get a rain check on - pain...
Fame - David Bowie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Four

"...Oh god, Viggo..." Sean's voice was ragged, gasping from the force of his want. Viggo stalked him, claimed his man in a kiss that was both forgiveness and punishment.

They shed their clothes carelessly, never once breaking the kiss as expensive fabrics were torn away from heated bodies eager to for touch, for taste, and for the scent of each other's lust.

Kissing, stumbling around the room, clinging to each other blindly, hands like flames seeking and burning, their passion beyond the edge of reason, each demanded assurance from minds and bodies that they would never allow themselves to be separated again.

"Make me yours," Sean growled hungrily against Viggo's mouth. "Make me feel that I'm yours..."

Whatever comes - will come on the morrow, but for now, nothing mattered.

Viggo forced Sean's head back, marking him for all to see and for none to forget - lips and teeth ravaging him, inflamed and incensed by his moans.

Viggo took Sean brutally, without mercy, and Sean neither expected nor wanted anything else. Each unyielding thrust inside branded him, reminding him that they belonged together...that what they had together was more important than any career.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening as they basked in the lingering afterglow of their savage loving, Sean's cell phone rang. "Time to face the firing squad," Viggo quipped, looking at him knowingly.

He picked it up and held as far away from him as possible, the way one would handle a poisonous snake. Before he could get out even a hello, Trevor's voice slammed him like a hurricane.

"...And you're bloody insane if you think, for one fucking minute, that I'm going to lift one finger to somehow clean up this huge cluster-fuck you've caused...there's not enough money in the fucking world that would make me want to even try to make some sense of this...And don't even bother to make that London trip, I've got enough headaches to deal with..."

Sean winked at Viggo. "Goodbye Trev, old man. Thanks for everything." And this time when he hung up on him, it was for the very last time.

"Looks like I'll be making that long-overdue call to Ian tomorrow."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For awhile they lay together in silence, deeply embracing, breathing in one rhythm as their hearts beat in synchronized harmony. Then their bodies began to move and touch again, as if by their own resolve.

Viggo often thought even if they ever decided to part, their bodies would not let them. That they would find back to each other like a beloved pet lost far away would find their way home by pure instinct.

"Never leave me again, Sean. Not that way."

"Aye love, I cannot. You're a much a part of me as my own heartbeat, Viggo."

"I'm sorry," and the apology needed no explanation.

"I will always have a career Viggo, and I guess until tonight I never realized that. I guess with so much loss in my life, I was afraid of that being taken away from me too. I just don't want to be held hostage to anyone else's opinion of my private life any longer."

He took another breath and turned an intense gaze on the blue-eyed man. "Mark me, Viggo."

Viggo didn't understand. "Take a good look in the mirror, Sean," he laughed. "People are going to ask what attacked you."

Sean shook his head. "These marks will vanish."

Silence.

"You're asking me to mark you permanently, Sean?" Viggo whispered, completely shocked, wondering if the events of the past few hours have finally caught up with his lover.

He nodded. "Brand me, Viggo."

There were very few times in his life where Viggo was rendered speechless. This was one of those times. "Sean...do you even have a clue what it is you're asking for? I don't want you to..."

"No." Sean sounded very sure of himself. "This is something I've wanted for a long time, Vig. We're often apart, weeks, sometimes months... I feel so lonely... I need something to touch, to look at when you're gone, to remind me I'm yours."

But Viggo was hardly mollified. "If it's about that, we can buy rings or a collar, maybe a tattoo."

"You can easily take off rings, Vig. I've done that a few times, remember?" Sean chuckled like someone who was offered a toy car instead of the real thing. "I know it's partly my fault, but my belief in that symbol has shattered. I have 100% Blades tattooed on my shoulder and the elvish nine from the film. And yes, those things are special to me, but my feelings for you go much deeper than that."

Viggo gathered Sean in his arms, murmuring, "Listen, Sean, you don't have to prove anything to me. I love you and that's enough for me."

"I know you do, but I really want...need this," Sean answered softly, casting down his eyes and when Viggo tenderly lifted his chin to make him look at him again he saw tears glittering like emerald rain.

"Sean..."

"It's just... perhaps you're not sure you want it forever..."

"Don't be daft, Sean..."

"Please, Viggo..."

"I don't need to tattoo or brand anything on my body to know what I feel for you is lasting," Viggo said, a little hurt that Sean might have thought his love fleeting.

"But I'm not you. You seem to be able to pick up the pieces of your life and go on. You still believe in happy endings. Me, sometimes I think I'm just dreaming all this...that I'll wake up alone in my flat with nothing but a bottle of Glenfiddich to keep me company."

"And you think this brand will somehow make it more real for you?"

"I'll know. I'll feel it."

"It's very painful," Viggo said seriously. "Much more painful than anything we've done together. I've whipped you... two or three times I've whipped you hard enough to break the skin, but what you're asking for...this is something different, Sean."

Sean simply nodded. "I learned something when my girls were born," he began, his eyes closing in recollection. "The pain of birth binds the mother to her child in an almost mystical way. One would think that pain as we know it would have the opposite effect, and if that were true no woman would ever want to be a mother or worse, would ever want to be around the being that caused such pain. But the laws of love are different, to suffer pain for someone you love binds you to them forever."

They locked eyes for a long moment. Viggo realized that Sean had thought it through. He also saw that shine in his eyes and knew he already drifted in what could be called the first stadium of the process that led to a certain trance Viggo knew well...

"I will brand you, Sean... you will know that you're mine from the core of your very being to the marrow of your bones..."

It sounded like threat and promise in one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They made love for the third time that night, slowly, gently, taking the time to worship at the altar of each other's bodies.

Sated, Sean curled up around Viggo, spoon-fashion and the sound of his deep breath signaled his gentle descent into the warm cocoon of sleep.

Viggo was still fully awake, the echoes of Sean's request revolving in his mind.

Brand me, Viggo...

A permanent mark inflicted upon living flesh - fire and flames seared on the skin to scream to the world "I am owned".

It would be painful, far more so than anything they'd ever done - it was for all intents and purposes, a third-degree burn that if properly carried out, became a work of art. He'd seen enough of them when he was still married to Christine and hanging out with mutual acquaintances who had been a part of the BDSM scene.

Brand me, Viggo...

And what would happen to the both of them afterwards? There was the bright and harsh glare of tomorrow and the next day and the days following. How would Sean feel then, especially now that he'd made his choice? Years down the road would Sean regret the impulse that had possessed him to scar his body for life?

Would he hate Viggo for giving in?

Or was it exactly what Sean had said earlier, a talisman of sorts, on a part of his body that no one would ever see (Viggo hoped), a link to the man he'd given his heart and soul to.

Something to comfort him when they were away from each other's physical presence.

A stylized V with an S embedded somewhere in the middle...perhaps a heart encasing both consonants...

His rational mind might have been torn, but Viggo's artistic impulse was quite intact.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Viggo awoke to a still-dark sky though the bedside clock read five-thirty. He'd slept fitfully off and on, dreaming of branding Sean...dreaming of fucking Sean while he did so...dreaming of the acrid stench of burning flesh and Sean's moans of pleasure metamorphosing into screams of pain...

Startled, he shot up, eyes wide, nearly gasping for air, sweat bathing his body as he tried to free himself from the vivid images. He felt the cool, soothing hand of Sean on his shoulder, and the tension eased.

"Nightmare, luv?" Sean's sleepy voice was filled with concern.

Running his hand through sweat-matted hair, he smiled wanly, "Yeah, I guess so. I haven't had one in years."

The blonde man regarded his lover quizzically. "Lucky you. Bad dreams used to turn into even worse reality for me."

Leave it to Sean, Viggo thought, chuckling to himself, as the last tendrils of the nightmare dissipated like mist. "Think I'm okay now."

"No, you're not."

"What?"

"I said, you're not all right and I think I know why. But I'm no masochist."

The man was far too astute by half, though Viggo couldn't help but to give his lover a funny look like a lopsided grin.

"Stop that," Sean said.

"Excuse me, Sean, but some people would seriously question that last statement considering the fact that you asked me to hold a piece of hot metal to your body for several seconds."

Sean gave his lover one of his 'no-kidding' looks that Viggo knew better than to ignore and the grin disappeared.

"I mean it, Viggo, this is important to me." His unswerving gaze bore into Viggo's. "I don't like pain for pain's sake and I wouldn't take it from anyone else but you and you should damn well know that by now."

Viggo didn't say a word, awed and not a little intimidated by Sean's determination.

The other man's eyes were so deep he felt disoriented just looking into them.

"It's just...just that every feeling has a physical manifestation - laughing symbolizes joy, tears can be for sadness or relief, whatever - every feeling needs to find release in some way. If these feelings are not made real, it divides body and soul." Now Sean ran his fingers through his own hair, smiling sheepishly, "God, I sound like a bloody guru or something, but trust me, I realize now that was a large part of my issues with my past relationships - that I never allowed myself to show feelings - it wasn't 'manly' and all that rot. I know better now, thanks to you. And what I feel for you..."

And here he paused, searching for the right words. He wasn't unsure about his feelings, nor was he shy to speak of them, but there just didn't seem anything in the entire language of mankind strong enough, powerful enough to convey them...

Not even the word 'love'.

He pulled Viggo into a tight embrace, lips poised just on the threshold. "It's just...beyond the limits I have ever known and I need to feel it with my body as strong as I feel it within my soul."

Viggo was humbled. He'd always been the philosopher, the wordsmith, able to craft emotions and images with a pithy phrase or two, but right now Sean left him near speechless and close to tears.

"Sean, love...you never fail to surprise me," and he meant every word. "Here I thought...I don't know what I thought. But you truly and honestly want this..."

The Brit nodded slowly, lips coming ever closer, "Yes, love. I do."

And as they kissed, Viggo softly gazed into the most famous green eyes of one of the best actors and worst liars in the world and admiration struck him in the face of Sean's brutal honesty which had led the man to a deeper knowledge of self than all the brooding and over-analyzing could ever achieve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A full moon bathed the open space of Viggo's studio in a luminously mystic radiance, the gentle silver light full of promise, illuminating the lowered massage table like an altar to some pagan god.

The haunting strains of Clannad whispered in the background as the scent of Nag Champa and the rising tide of expectation became a heady, intoxicating fog.

Viggo smiled at his lover who stood before him, defiantly naked, the moonlight bathing his golden skin in silvery luminescence. The blonde hair was transformed into shimmering strands of white starlight; the green eyes like precious glittering jewels set in a crown of pale, silky lashes.

It was an image that Viggo would never forget and realized that even attempting to capture it in pentameter or on canvas would never do this moment justice.

He breathed in the heady atmosphere, excitement warring with the smallest hint of trepidation.

It had taken weeks to prepare - weeks of detailed research - on the internet as well as contacting old acquaintances who were either branded or were trained as branders. He read even more than he usually did, from the pop culture articles to more obscure treatises on the subject, the pros and the cons.

He'd known the mixed history of branding, especially in America, where it had been used to deny the humanity of black slaves from Africa. He'd also read that some black fraternities were defiantly reclaiming the brand as a means to forge a link to a painful past.

He'd told Sean of his proposed design, of the 'V' and the 'S' intertwined and the heart encircling it.

"Do it," was Sean's reply, and there would be no argument. The Brit was steadfast - or stubborn.

The weeks of intensive study, of inner doubts and questions all culminated into this moment.

Sean walked into Viggo's protective embrace as they pulled each other close, content for now to savor the heat and the hardness of their naked bodies.

"I love you Sean," Viggo whispered into the soft silk of his hair. "And I am honored more than you could ever know."

"Then make me yours for life..."

For life...

Emotion welled in him, his chest swelled to bursting with love and pride, threatening to overflow, but now was not the time to shed tears. He needed all his faculties intact.

They kissed deeply, lips and tongues eloquently speaking the truth within their hearts.

Gently, Viggo laid Sean on the soft surface. Sean looked up at him, lips parted, trust and love in that gaze.

Gift or sacrifice...

Oh god...his bare feet made cold contact with the small propane blowtorch he'd placed on the floor along with the other supplies he would need.

Fourteen-hundred degrees on bare flesh...a nanosecond of excruciating agony...

He crushed his mouth roughly against Sean's, not wanting his lover to see the war he waged inside still.

Hands used to create beauty, not pain...at least, not this kind of pain.

But Sean read the indecision within the punishing kiss, and pushed Viggo away, holding him fast, his eyes darkening with anger.

"You promised me, Vig," Sean growled deep. "I want this, damn you."

"I can't..." came the anguished reply, and the blue-eyed man closed his eyes, looking away from the accusing stare.

"Of course not," Sean spat derisively. "You can only hurt me when you want to, when you feel like it. God forbid that I ever ask for something..."

Ask for something...ask for something...

"You don't understand, Sean..."

"The hell I don't! I thought we'd already gone through this. I know it's gonna hurt like a sonofabitch, but I'm ready for that. You're just being selfish because it's something I want. Something the oh-so sexually experienced Viggo Mortensen didn't come up with first!"

"Fuck you, Sean," Viggo snarled. "You think this is some game of one-upsmanship or something? We're talking about a third-fucking-degree burn on your body or have you forgotten that?"

"No you Danish bastard, I haven't. But you've obviously forgotten everything I said to you."

"...I don't like pain for pain's sake and I wouldn't allow anyone else to do to me the things that we do and that includes what I'm asking and you should damn well know that by now..."

"...It's just...beyond the limits I have ever known and I need to feel it with my body as strong as I feel it within my soul..."

Feel it within my soul...

Feel it...

A steely resolve came over Viggo; his eyes became cool blue flames. "You want to feel the fire then? Fine, Sean, I'll give you that and more..."

And this time the kiss was a ravishment, a taking and not an asking. He heard Sean whimper beneath him, but the cries only inflamed him as his hands shaped the nature and direction of his lover's desire.

Eyes glittering like star sapphires, he placed the piece of shaped metal into Sean's hands.

"It's real now, Sean. Not a textbook exercise, not research. Feel that, you son of a bitch. Let your mind wrap around the fact that it's going to glow orange-red and then I'm going to press that into your skin and hold it there..."

With a savage groan, Viggo took Sean's mouth again as he spread the man's legs wide, placing them over his shoulders, then bending them towards Sean's shoulders.

The bottle of lubricant was within reach and he flipped the cap open, and he coated his cock liberally, as well as two fingers. The fingers worked themselves inside of Sean, stretching his entrance, slicking the inner surface, stroking the explosive center as Sean tried to bring himself closer, to beg with his body.

Roughly removing his hand, Viggo's cock slowly sheathed itself deep inside Sean until he was fully seated.

And there time stopped...

"I'm going to brand you now, Sean Mark Bean," Viggo's voice was a rasp of dark desire. "I'm going to make you mine for the rest of your natural life, and goddammit you had better not ever regret it."

And Sean nodded as he watched Viggo prepare himself first - wiping his hands free of the slippery lube, then with cloths saturated in alcohol. Viggo put on latex gloves then began to clean the surface of Sean's upper thigh with antiseptic, still locked in their sensual embrace.

Sean's body was pliant before him, relaxed and ready, not even the smallest trace of fear in the beautiful green eyes.

"Give it to me..."

And Sean's palm opened, spilling the tiny shape into Viggo's hand, whispering, "'It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing. Such a little thing'..."

No, Sean, Viggo thought as he placed the design within the vice grips he held. This is far from just a little thing, something that Boromir himself did not understand until the end. Our initials intertwined within a heart forever embedded in your flesh...

Viggo slowly turned on the fuel a little and lit the trapped gas in the spark cup of the torch. He watched, fascinated as a bluish cone began to form in the center of the flame then solidify.

He brought the metal to the flame, watching it, watching Sean, who remained silent and still, almost frozen, though he could feel the man trembling inside.

"Breathe damn you," he growled as the V and the S began to glow bright orange. The heart turned into fire.

...And before any other thought could enter his mind, he quickly and firmly laid the brand upon Sean's flesh...

...And somehow they both screamed at the same time...

Sean was trapped between polar extremes - searing agony as his own flesh burned, a white hot wall of pain that encircled him, threatening to tear him asunder, the V and the S and the heart burning past muscle, bone and sinew scoring his vitals - and wild soaring ecstasy as he experienced two types of fire - the one that held him impaled between his legs and the one that marked him forever.

Viggo's scream was neither fear nor pain, but a perverse pride that his lover was willing to bear this for love. He screamed Sean's name, putting even heaven on notice that they would never be parted now...

Searing gazes met, as molten hot as the metal that burned into Sean's skin. Sean's whole body contracted with the explosion of heat rushing through him, tensing so hard Viggo felt drawn into him, deep, deep into his body, deep into that gaze... The rings of Sean's irises flashed, coronas of green suns pulsing in eruptions, pupils dilated to an almost fathomless black. Viggo´s eyes shone not only with triumph, pleasure and lust but something much more passionate... touching the secret of love.

Sean's eyes never wavered, though sweat bathed his skin and his body rebelled.

It was done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken mere seconds, but those seconds had been as a lifetime.

The metal rapidly cooled and Viggo removed it, tossing vice grips aside as he shut off the propane, denying the hungry flames sustenance in revenge for the pain it had been used to inflict upon the man he loved.

They were still joined, and remained so during Viggo's tender aftercare of the wound. Using a fresh glove, he applied a liberal amount of Neosporin in order to keep the brand from becoming infected. Then he bandaged it with gauze and secured it with surgical tape.

Sean's fingers reached up, entwined themselves in Viggo's hair and pulled him down for yet another kiss, this one filled with tenderness and understanding and relief.

"I'm yours forever, Viggo Peter Mortensen," he whispered softly against his lover's lips. "United in pain and pleasure."

And the dam of tears Viggo had held back broke with violent force as his mouth sealed itself to Sean's, each swipe of his tongue seeking solace, each sweet caress of his hands lavishly and lovingly praised the man beneath him.

In the wildness of their loving, the pain in Sean's body became a dull throb as they pledged themselves to the other over and over, extracting passionate promises with their lips, their hips, their eyes, their hearts and their souls.

And when Viggo finally spilled himself inside of Sean, the last of his tears drained away leaving him cleansed and whole.

*****

Fame - what's your name?
Fame - David Bowie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue

Shopping is always a sure cure for a break-up.

So Diana Harlow thought ironically as she dropped another four-hundred dollars, this time upon a pair of mint green Jimmy Choo mules that would look simply fetching with the green silk Stella McCartney sheath.

Of course, she had to play the part of the discarded, yet brave ex-girlfriend for most of her friends, who now regarded Sean Bean the same way they regarded the French. Her attempts at defending him only served to reinforce their hatred.

She could only imagine what their reactions would be if they ever found out the truth.

Frankly, she was glad the whole charade was done with. Sean belonged with Viggo and that was the end of it. Not to mention she was still very much in awe of the man who'd been acting almost as long as she'd been alive. He'd been more than a gentleman, but the chemistry had never been there and sooner or later, others would have figured that out.

Oh well, she smiled cheerfully to herself, at least I was paid very well for doing nothing really and can now get back to finding a real role. Hmm, there was that new film being directed by Kenneth Branaugh, what was it - Swordspoint? They were still looking for a Lady Helena Nevilleson, were they not?

After luncheon at The Ritz, she'd give Trevor a call and have him set it up. He still owed her one.

So intent upon these pleasant ruminations, Diana ran smack into a hard surface and almost fell when a pair of strong arms steadied her.

"Are you all right, Miss?"

And when Diana found her breath and composure, she spared a quick yet fervent prayer of thanksgiving to whatever god saw fit to reward her for doing the right thing.

She ran right into Orlando Bloom and was now being held solicitously by him.

Turning on her most winning smile, she straightened herself out. "Thank you, I'm fine really. My mum always warned me about daydreaming. Are you all right?"

Gods, he was even better looking all flushed and embarrassed, that mop of silken curls on top of his head just begging to have one sink their fingers into it.

"Of course. I guess that I wasn't quite watching where I was going either." He regarded her for a moment, then his eyes grew wide in recognition. "So you're the woman old Beanie was supposed to replace Viggo with. I could have told them it wouldn't have worked."

It was an interesting choice of words, but true nonetheless. "That's me. And frankly, I think he made the right choice."

"Vig and Beanie were the only two people in the world allowed to call me Orli, so far." He looked at her again, his smile growing. "So you're not angry or anything?"

"Hardly," and Diana dismissed the idea with a casual yet elegant wave of her hand. "Besides, I have to admit Sean Bean's a bit daunting."

There was a certain relief at being able to finally discuss her true feelings with someone who obviously understood the situation.

Not to mention it was Orlando Bloom.

A very unattached Orlando Bloom.

And before she could stop herself, she said, "I was on my way to The Ritz for luncheon. Perhaps if you don't have a prior engagement, I would love to finally talk to someone who knows a lot more about Sean Bean that I ever did."

"I hope you have an entire afternoon free, then," Orlando laughed. "I've got a lot of stories about that one."

And with that, Orlando carried her bags to an awaiting limo.

"So, did he ever mention when he and Vig kidnapped me out of my hotel room, dragging me down the stairs while I was screaming, actually screaming?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"...This is your fabulously in style reporter Misty Grey with today's Celebrity Watch and just know that you heard it here first! And today's dish is indeed hot as the beautiful Diana Harlow is being called the Queen of the Rebound as she was spotted earlier today entering The Ritz with her new fling, the drop-dead gorgeous Orlando Bloom on her arm. Sources say that Miss Harlow, who'd been linked with green-eyed hunk Sean Bean several weeks ago, looked positively radiant in a smart linen summer suit in peach by Yves Saint Laurent, as the two of them chatted away like old friends and ordered several bottles of expensive champagne to go along with their petit fours...is love finally in the cards for the young and talented actress? Stay tuned..."

*****

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Klatschmohn and Ashlyn

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