As Yet, Untitled

As Yet, Untitled

Posted: May 19, 2006
Title: As Yet, Untitled
Author: Helena Snow-Renn
Type: RPS
Characters: Sean/Viggo
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: As always, this is fiction. It never happened. Boy, did it never happen!
Author's Notes: Yah, yah, never thought I'd write this...I understand if I only get 3 comments! I don't blame you. Warnings for hermaphro!Viggo and that kind of sex. And angst. Het relationships mentioned. If this squicks you, DON'T READ! Thanks to Bee, aka pippita who has worked in the medical profession, from whom I learned the plausibility of a natural regeneration of... you'll see.

Summary: An unexpected pregnancy is never easy. Especially when you're over forty, more or less single, and thought you'd taken precautions. And when you're male... basically.

*****

"No, Sean! No, no, no, no, no, no..." Every time Viggo said the word, he got louder, and indeed, he was rather screaming his head off. But he was stuck on the word, unable to stop till his brain had heard it a sufficient amount of times.

"Veeeee-goh..." Sean's voice carried that faintly exhausted note of a person who knows they're wrong, but will fight about it anyway.

"Don't you 'Viggo' me." The man was pacing like a caged wolf, where Sean stood parked against his kitchen counter, arms crossed, ankles crossed, hair and clothes all carefully immaculate today. The next outburst followed a noisily drawn breath. "What the fuck, Sean? You told me you were done with this shit... that you'd learned your lesson. For Christ's sake, you told me you were fixed!"

The blond shrugged, a gesture of regret. "Aye, I am... I was... something. Doctor said this happens sometimes. Nature will find a way."

"Well, apparently so." Viggo stopped stalking around and stared at his lover, his face crinkled with a combination of pain and amusement. Sean wondered briefly what was so funny, and he said as much.

"We're too old for this shite."

"Whaddayahmean, 'we?'"

"It's bad enough you're cheating on me, and with a woman yet..."

"We have an open relationship!" Sean's tone was very defensive.

"Not that open," Viggo cut him off short. "How dare you, goddammit!? 'Mrs. Bean the Fourth,' 'Another Beanie Baby.' What the fuck!" he was yelling again. "Without so much as a phone call. I'd say, 'or a by your leave,' but well... we don't own each other that way, do we?" Two watery slashes filled his lower eyelids, and tumbled down his cheeks. He brought his hand up to his face as if he hadn't even noticed, and was surprised by the water there, and then turned his back. He tottered over to the nearest counter, reaching blindly with both hands, and propped himself against it. "God, Sean." His voice had never sounded so broken.

After a long time, Sean came up behind his distraught... friend, boyfriend, lover... the man was... "You're everything to me," he blurted. Viggo shook his head, longish hair tickling Sean's nose. "I guess it's true what they say: 'You can't serve two masters.'"

"I only serve you... serve for you," Sean corrected himself. "She's under me. Always."

"Well, I suppose so!" Viggo snapped. "Younger, an unknown, and a woman... Of course she's under the great Sean Bean."

"Don't even go there. That's just foolish. You're being irrational. There's lots of women in the world who'd love to have it over on me, and maybe even could..."

"This one has it over on you."

The silence was deafening. Into it, Viggo demanded, "Well, does she or doesn't she? Is it true or not?"

Viggo could hear Sean trying to control his breathing, and he knew himself from younger days what it was about: he was trying to think of some half truth to cover the entirety of the lie. Finally, Sean pronounced, "It's half true. There was some talk and," he swallowed hard, "a ring, but...she's not pregnant."

"Oh thank god," Viggo exhaled.

"You're more concerned about a baby than a marriage?" Sean asked. "Why?"

Viggo would have laughed if he didn't know for a fact that Sean truly did not see things of this nature the same way he did. Underneath it all, the man still carried romantic ideals of a perfect union. How fucking ironic.

"Between the two of us, we've proved that relationships—marriages—can be impermanent and fleeting. But kids... I've done one... like I have. Broken home. Never again." Turning, he pushed past Sean and retreated to the other side of the room.

"What did you think, Viggo?" Sean boggled at him. "That suddenly it would become socially acceptable for us to get married, and we'd adopt and have this... American fucking dream of a family? What happy pills have you been taking? If nothing else, we're decades before our time."

Viggo clenched his fists and glared. "Gimme a fucking break! I'm a realist. Or, I was, until..." He broke off and shook his head. "Choose, Sean. I think you know what I mean. Not this second, but before you leave here in three or four days or whenever."

The blond snorted. He tried to use humor as an avoidance tactic. "I'll be sex-drugged; there'll be no choice in the matter. You know how it gets."

A small twitch moved Viggo's lips, but he made no comment.

"Ah, Vig," Sean sighed. "Why this; why now? We've been fine like this for years. What do you care what I do on the other side?"

"Because..." In that moment, the thought of being on edge for days and days, and of being too tense to really enjoy the sex was not appealing. So he came to a decision. "I have something I need to show you."

"Why don't you just let me take you to bed, and let's forget all this shite for a while?" It was rather paradoxical, Viggo noted, that Sean was now saying words that he had said to himself over and over again recently, while thinking the words in Sean's resonant accent: '... too old for this shite.' 'Can you show me in bed?" The British man made a small shift of his stance, subtlety more aggressive than he usually was.

It took a long time for Viggo to answer him. Eventually he shrugged, "It's as good a place as any, I suppose." He walked out of the room, leaving Sean to follow, or not. When he reached his bedroom, he paused long enough to assure himself that Sean was following behind before he began to unbutton his shirt. The fabric, as his fingers tugged at it, brushed his over-sensitive nipples. They stood up in blunt, reddened points. Despite the turmoil of emotions, his cock behaved as it always did in the presence of Sean's latent sexuality—hardened, lengthened, pushed at his fly. And there was his lover, echoing exactly the pace of his stripping. They studied each other as clothing fell away. This was so strange. Usually they would be all over each other with teeth, tongues, fingernails, their reunions take-no-prisoners skirmishes of frenzied lust.

"Put on a little weight, have you?" Dagger-sharp green eyes raked over Viggo's nakedness as it was slowly revealed. His belly seemed a bit soft, his navel deeper-set, a bit more flesh sticking to his ribs.

He retorted acidly, "Dropped some weight, then, yourself? That's a nice six-pack you've got going on, Sean, but I can see all your ribs. You weren't skinny enough for your young--"

"Just drop it, right?" Sean said angrily. "You don't like me keeping a bird on the side for the sake of appearances, then why don't you fucking stop sniping like one, yourself?!"

"Fuck you!" Viggo snarled. "There's no need to lump them all together and me with them, just because you're a damned coward!"

Sean's face went red. "Och, coward, eh, he says? Well, you know what you are then? A fucking hypocrite!"

If he expected another angry retort, he was disappointed. Viggo dropped his eyes and lay on the bed, on his back. He turned his head and looked at the golden man he'd loved for several years now. How the fuck had this happened? This wasn't even Fate. It was way beyond the realms of Karma. "Come here, Sean. Come gimme some." He put it in as plain of terms as he knew. "I'll even bottom for you. Want your cock to fill me up. Sean... wanna feel you stretch me open, wanna feel it when you cum, deep inside me."

Sean had not moved since he'd dropped his last garment, but he did now. "Where's the lube?" he asked in a choked voice.

"Honey, you ain't gonna need it."

At the last moment, Viggo rolled to his side, facing Sean. The Brit faced him in the same manner. He obviously wanted sex, but felt hesitant to touch the other man all of a sudden. He was acting so bizarrely, Viggo was, even for him... it was like he didn't even know the man. "Baby..." Their kisses felt strange, too. Viggo answered them; the intensity of his warm, mobile lips and tongue was nothing new, but he let Sean lead, something he rarely, if ever, did, even when he let Sean fuck him.

Letting his male instincts kick in full force, the Brit unfurled his tongue, licking all over Viggo's mouth, his face, the dimple in his chin, then under his firm jaw and down his neck. They arched together to drag more sensations from each other's bodies. Viggo threw a leg over Sean's hip and pressed against his groin. They ground down against each other, two stiff cocks making contact, hot and vein-to-vein. Then, the Dane did something he'd never done--led one of Sean's expressive hands to his furry chest, to a taut nipple, and the other between them to his erection.

"Get me off first, Sean... and then you can fuck me as many times as you want."

Of course he'd done this for Viggo before, mostly when they'd still been filming together, though, when they had to be quick and furtive. He'd always enjoyed doing this, even before Viggo; he could admit that now. The feel of throbbing manflesh in his palm, the responsiveness, the solidity and heat, the play of the foreskin... his hand was wetted by natural lubrication. Every time he pinched or twisted the tight buds on Viggo's chest, more leaked onto his fingers. The man kissed him between rasping little gasps, opening his mouth to Sean's continued licks and nips. "Baby..." Sean breathed again.

Viggo was rocking his hips in a deliberate pace so that he pushed and pulled his erection through the tight circle of Sean's fist. "Wha--?" he grunted, his eyelids half-mast.

"Cum, baby," Sean said against the thin skin on the side of the darker man's neck. He brought his second hand down a bit awkwardly to cup and very gently squeeze the large, eminently tender balls.

Viggo's body went stiff; he let go and spurted through Sean's fingers and in messy bursts between them. "Oh... ah... oh fuck!" he moaned, flopping onto his back and thrusting a few times more. "Uuuunghh...!"

Sean extracted a few more weak spurts. When there was no more, he held his hand up to Viggo's lips. "Lick it off for me," he whispered. While he'd done it before of his own volition, Sean had never asked it of the other man. A slightly raspy, wet organ licked him clean. Each tiny whip of slick tongue was fire. Just the simple act of Viggo lapping his own cum from his hand flooded his body with forbidden lust.

He couldn't quite understand why he was noticing it so much today, but Viggo smelled so fucking good; he just wanted to wallow in him, but then he wanted more, too. He always did. As soon as his hand was licked clean, Sean moved it downward, through the coarse hair of Viggo's chest, lining up his fingertips along the softer, denser treasure trail. He skirted the recently climaxed genitals, and sought Viggo's entrance, using his free hand and the movement of his own body to part the mostly relaxed thighs. Squirming around, he gave in to the first thought that crossed his mind, beyond first and foremost-- fucking the man hard and fast into the mattress—he wanted those balls in his mouth. He enclosed one side of the sac, and sucked on it gently. With a circling sweep, he completely laved the loose skin and hair enclosing the spongy gland inside. Then he opened his month wider and took the other testicle as well. With his mouth so full, it wasn't as simple to maneuver his tongue, so he relied on the swishing of his saliva to wash the sac clean.

Above him, Viggo whimpered helplessly. The dark-furred legs pulled up and out of their own accord and Sean let go of his mouthful with a slurp, blindly seeking lower with tongue extended. He slid into... What?? The ooze of moisture in the area he expected to be purely Viggo's perineum was more viscous than spit, tangier, and when his tongue slid into an unexpected crevasse...

"Holy shit! Vig... are you... what are you?"

"You know me. I'm who I always have been, just with a few extra parts." Viggo was breathing quickly, shallowly, his muscles tensed for a flight or fight response. Expecting perhaps to be pushed away or even physically attacked, he hissed when a finger was inserted shyly into the dripping orifice.

"So... yer a split-tail." Sean was teasing. There was a note of wonder underneath that as well.

"Mmmmm, no." This from Viggo was a moan, yet he dissented. "You've never thought of me as anything but a man before. No reason for you to feel any differently now."

"Yes, yes... 'with a just a few extra parts.'" Chuckling, the blond pulled slicked fingers from the wet slit and sniffed, then licked. "Hm... salty. And... it's almost like your saliva. Not like a woman." He thought of something else. "You said 'parts.' What other little goodies do you have up in there? Have you a clit?"

"No, but I have about three times as many nerves in my cock as the average man, or so I've been...EEP! Oh fuck!" Viggo meeped as he was invaded again. "You're going to give me the third degree with your fingers in my cunt?"

"Aye... no..." Sean swallowed. "Can I fuck your cunt?" The words were crude, but pronounced with a lingering sort of care. His face, when he looked up at his mate, was one big question mark.

"Are you a virgin here?" Sean asked quite seriously.

"No, I'm not..."

The Brit's mind was starting to spin. But he also added another finger into the wet-velvet tunnel and moved them slowly in and out. "I've licked, touched, or otherwise looked at every inch of your body. Why have I not... never noticed..."

The Dane laughed slightly, more of a cough than a laugh. "I don't exactly advertise it." He decided to take pity on the very 'blond moment' confusion of his lover. "You know how sometimes I just wanna get fucked? Well, I might anyway, who knows, but I tend to blame that on my... my female side." Long elegant fingers, three of them now, squelchily banged his slit. Viggo pushed his hips up to meet Sean's hand. His cock was beginning to plump up again, too.

"You can 'ave a 'ard-on when yer like this?"

A deep groan answered his half-insulting question. "It's so much fucking better that way." Sean bent down once again and fitted his mouth over the rapidly hardening prick. Viggo screamed and almost flew off the bed.

Sean pinned him down with a forearm, and his thigh thrown across one of Viggo's knees. For maybe sixty seconds, he double-assaulted his partner, till his hand was slicked to the wrist. "Aw, fuck... it's so fucking weird... but you've always been an odd bloke. Or whatever the fuck." When he started to speak, Sean moved up on top of Viggo; he felt protective of him, in some illogical way. Supposedly he'd had sex in this manner, but had he... could he... accommodate him, and find completion? "Can I... ?" Never one to mince his words, this seemed beyond the uncomplicated, 'I wanna fuck you,' or anything similar. Viggo had already given his consent, but not in light of this, of Sean knowing.

God knew, the blond man wanted this thing, everything in the lines of his body said as much. His perfectly formed shoulders seemed to be poised in mid-pounce. His lips were slightly open, pointed canines showing. He kept licking at his lips, soundlessly re-evaluating the acid base balance in Viggo's juices.

Taking a breath, Viggo got ready to say what he'd resolved to. "I need to tell you about..."

"Tell meh while I fook yeh." Sean was up on Viggo's supine body like a great cat springing on its supper. Yet there was a deliberateness, a lack of malice, so that Viggo could have stopped him any time he wanted. But the darker man didn't want to stop him. He wanted, as he'd invited before, the simplicity of opening his legs and being filled by a man, his man, the thick, rigid bone of his cock first and then his seed. Of course Viggo had been sopping wet before in his life. While not exactly the same as a young boy having to learn to deal with a trigger-happy erection, there had been times when it had been safer for certain questions not be given an opportunity to be asked. So, he rarely bottomed, and when he did, it was after he made damn sure there'd been enough lube smeared around to disguise any questionable moisture.

But the ache between his legs, when it happened, was always two-fold. It was just that he'd never given in to that other itch, not with a live person, till Sean. He'd taken Sean's virginity, and then he had given Sean his, such as it was...and still hadn't told. More than once since, he'd ridden his lover to a dual completion, his cunt spasming and those internal female parts on high-octane sizzle low in his abdomen, while his cock and balls pumped forth loads of musky essence. He was going to get that again, right now, with Sean fully aware...well, almost...

The rounded head of Sean's silky-hard shaft slid into him. It hurt in its way, but Viggo had taken plenty more punishment from the use of his other hole. He welcomed it, this entirely different feeling of being stretched. The thought that all that slickness was all him intoxicated him. He'd been with women, and had been just as thrilled with their abilities to be wet and softly throbbing on the inside as they'd been with his proffered male anatomy risen proudly erect for them.

That had been long ago, before he'd discovered the delights of men, of those big rough hands and tighter-than-tight little holes between muscular cheeks, of the whole idea of making them cum from what he did with his hands and mouth and, occasionally, what they took from him when he bent over for them. And he'd found Sean, his obstinate ass of a man, fucking sexier and more stubborn then anyone he'd ever met in his life, and he'd had to have him.

This thing, that Viggo had thought never to do with anyone but himself and his toys, for it was too risky, he'd done. They'd been quite drunk, which prevented Sean from knowing exactly why things went so differently that night, and prevented Viggo from feeling any pain. Why? Because he needed it, like he needed it now. His lover, inside him. In his pussy, spilling seed into his womb because yes, he had one of those, too. But Sean had told him he was fixed, had shown him the tiny scars when asked, and truth be told, Viggo had the same ones to match. He'd brought it up first, as a way of broaching the subject; he'd asked Sean if he'd feel any less of a man if he ever did it. As it was, he'd already done it, and no, he didn't. It was as much as relief to him as it had been to Viggo.

So there they were now, again, doing the primal dance with each other. Writhing torsos and pumping hips, their kissing and inevitable biting were accessories to what went into what between their legs--delicious friction and sliding. Viggo wrapped his long legs around Sean's back and locked him in. The blond man grinned in his face and slammed him vehemently, till his cries were mixed pleasure and pain and he exploded inside like a newborn galaxy.

In his current state, Sean was almost frightening. Viggo had never seen him like that before, and wasn't sure if it was due to Sean's responses to his stipulations or this new aspect of himself, or if he was seeing things in new perspectives. There was more than himself to think of...

They were of like size and strength. If he was on the verge of being scared, what had it been like for Sean's various women? He'd never kidded himself into thinking he was the only one Sean had ever felt passion for. Was it because he was relatively inexperienced in this? Or because he was no woman at all, and this was about as unnatural as legs on a fish?

The Brit's long hands cupped both sides of his f ace, his mouth and sweaty chest pressing down against Viggo's. Though well-known for the things his did unconsciously with his tongue, Sean had never really been that much for kissing—till today. Now it was like they were trying to drown in each other's breath. Tongues twisted, curled, uncurled; two pairs of lips sucked and caressed. "More Sean...! Don't come yet," Viggo pleaded with him before Sean's mouth could smother him till his lungs burned. "I wanna cum again first..."

"Again?" Sean panted, looking down at his lover's still-rampant organ. "Yeh didn't..." The light went on. "Oh fuck, yeah," he groaned. "I'll give yah more. Turn over!" With that, he pulled out suddenly, untangled himself from Viggo's gripping legs, rolled him over, and raised his hips. "Which one?" he queried breathlessly.

Not able to quite say it, Viggo equivocated, "Like you were before." His knees under him now were spread wider by Sean's own knees. He felt the tip of him like a slick glass knob probing along his taint, till it found the little slit. One vigorous push and Sean was in, reaming him in a steady rhythm till he climaxed again, then again, helpless to do anything else upon the cock impaling him but let the waves of the last inner eruption crash up to meet the next. They were both drenched in sweat, thighs shaking, by the time Sean finally had the sense to reach around under him and bring him off in the other manner by folding Viggo's dripping member into his fist and stroking him till his cum sprayed the sheets below them. Screams of completion tore from the Dane's throat.

Sean didn't allow him to collapse where he was. Pulling out again, his cock shiny from his lover's secretions, he flipped Viggo a second time, onto his back. The Brit's broad shoulders strained to move dead weight, now that his partner was post-orgasmic and limp. "Viggo...please... I wanna see yer face...

And he did, clasping the high, cut cheekbones between his open hands. Sean entered the more usual way, into the tiny puckered orifice, wedging and prying it open and pushing past the resistance of the ring muscle. He hoped the leftover juices dripping down his balls would be enough. He was so close... he needed to cum so badly. He lay his weight upon the firm torso, looked Viggo in the eyes, ratcheted his hips and spine, and let it go, emptying himself utterly, groaning from low in his chest till it was even loud to his own ears. Those blue eyes looked up at him, scary-intent, till the end.

And then he felt it. Something moved... something... KICKED. He'd felt that before; he knew what that was! A second later, it was there again, higher. His eyes went as round as saucers, and he dropped his jaw, even as his softening organ slid free. "Holy mother of god..." He had to ask. "Is that what I think it is? Viggo, are you pregnant?"

"I'm sorry, Sean..."

"Sorry? What are you talking about?"

Trying to slide out from under the blond's naked body, Viggo looked away. "Yeah, I know. I'm a freak. I swear, Sean, I never thought... Dammit! I should be fucking pissed about you... being un-fixed. But I can't. Don't worry, I will raise him myself if I have to. You don't need..."

Sean's brain grasped what he was hearing. His mouth wasn't quite as adept. "Shut up! Wait a minute! You're telling me this, and immediately telling me to piss off? No fucking way! You're saying... we have a son?" He eyed Viggo's belly like he expected something to come clawing its way out any second. "I've always wanted..." He broke off, shaking his head. "But... it kicked me! How far along are you?"

Quietly, Viggo told him. "Four, maybe four-and-a-half months."

"But...You're not even showing." The green eyes darted to points around the room, then back to Viggo's mid-section, then his face, which looked drawn despite the fact that he'd cum magnificently just minutes before.

"First pregnancy... you know. And... I suppose I have strong abdominal muscles, but they're starting to give. Beyond that, there are medical issues. The fetus...baby... is small for his gestational age, but otherwise seems normal so far. Or that's what my doctor tells me. I have to take it on faith."

"Then that's what I'll do, too."

Viggo's lips pressed together tightly for a moment. "What about 'the other side,' as you put it? You can't just drop... that... like a lead balloon, on account of this... me. For one thing, I won't let you."

With something between a cough and a dry chuckle, Sean reached out for the other man, but was disconcerted when he leaned away. "Are you insane? Did you really think I'd choose anything but you? I'm calling my agent, and telling her to put everything on hold... and then I'm calling my publicist, and... we'll just have to say that whole mess was a hoax, and..."

"... and you're calling the girl. Whether in my hearing or not, you're telling her before you do anything else. Better, and definitely more ethical, for her to hear it from you than third-hand. Don't you think?"

While Sean internally agreed, he also knew it was going to be one of the hardest calls of his life, details or not. He didn't want to. Those details would be 'not' for as long as possible, of course. He didn't want to do it, to have to go back on some of the things he'd said or inferred, but it was plainly one of the terms of his choice.

Closing his eyes, he let the enormity of it all crash in on him. Viggo, pregnant? His best mate, the man he'd sparred with, drank with, argued with both on and off camera, fucked and was fucked by in almost violent desperation on and off for the past six years? As Viggo'd pointed out, he was still that same man. Tonight had been utterly weird. And yet he'd felt things that were neither reminiscent of sex with a male nor with a female, but something else entirely. He knew he wanted more of that: to have his lover vulnerable to him in helpless, squirming ecstasy like an unworldly succubus on whom the tables had turned.

The tables had certainly turned for him. This changed everything. Viggo would grow round, heavy with the child; somehow, either naturally or surgically, he would give birth; knowing Viggo, he would nurse, as well. And that was just the beginning. How could this happen to him--to them? He wanted to weep for the loss of their turbulent, but somehow uncomplicated past. His tears might also be for joy, for the possibility of one last child, a son. Would Viggo really be able to give it life?

Looking over at Viggo again, he saw that he'd laid both of his hands against the right side of his stomach, slightly higher than his navel, near his dark treasure trail. "He's doing somersaults, I think, Sean." The blue eyes seemed to bore into him. "Do you want to feel?"

'Did he want to feel?' Did he ever feel, but when Viggo forced it out of him? He'd bottled everything he'd ever felt for most of his life, pouring it into his roles, often as angry, psychotic, criminal men. He wanted for... something. Viggo was asking him for something more, even though it had been by way of ultimatum, one of his personal non-favorites. Maybe they could find it in each other, somehow.

He eased over a bit and extended his hands, waiting for his acceptance to be acknowledged before actually touching. There were slight ripples under the tanned skin, and he could distinguish a tiny torso, a limb here or there under his palm. And that insistent little foot. He couldn't help but grin.

*****

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Helena Snow-Renn