Nights

Nights

Posted: July 28, 2006
Title: Nights
Author: Helena Snow-Renn
Type: RPS
Characters: Viggo Mortensen/Sean Bean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: As always, this is fiction. It never happened
WARNING: Just slash. First times.
Author's Notes: Written for ladybluelove.

Summary: Another first time in New Zealand story… because god knows we need another. Sean never planned on kissing Viggo, but…

*****

I.

He’d never planned on kissing Viggo. But late one night, slightly drunk, tired, needing just ‘someone’ to lay his body beside as they fell asleep, his friend’s lips made sense. He could still taste the imprint five days later. Viggo had a spicy, crisp taste. Jalapeño, chives, licorice, lime; he couldn’t quite pin it down. It had aroused him, which in turned had embarrassed him, the one reaction feeding off of and into the other all at once.

Viggo, he thought, looking sideways at the scruffy ranger, made him think he’d never grasped the basis of the act till now. Okay, so Viggo liked men. He’d known enough gay actors before, that part didn’t faze him. What did was how the man’s fingertips had burned him as he’d cupped Sean’s face between his palms as if what they were doing was some precious treasure. The thought of them on his body awakened a kind of craving he’d long since thought was dead in him.

The man’s tongue spoke a language of its own: little lazy licks, a gentle getting-you-used-to-me probing… then a quirky but somehow cautiously forceful mouth-taking. Sean let himself be thoroughly gone-over. He should’ve known, should’ve sensed that Viggo would kiss like that, but he’d never thought about it before, what another bloke might kiss like. Not to mention, two men kissing each other. That was what you did with birds--it was expected. He’d of course practiced the art many, many times, but before, it had usually been just a way of marking time before the good stuff.

Since then, by unspoken agreement, they’d gone to sleep together each night. Each brought new adventures. On the second night, Viggo not only kissed his mouth, but his ears, his neck, his chest, his nipples. Hot breath and the mingled cooler air blown across wet trails left on him by the other man’s explorations raised gooseflesh, making him shiver and throb. Never before had anyone sucked on his tiny tits like that; when the nipping began, the iron control he kept over his vocalizations slipped. Sean lay there, biting his lips to keep silent, and tacitly participated in the searing sensuality until he realized he was that close to cumming. His whole lower body pounded with endorphins and heat.

Was he supposed to be returning the favor, he wondered? Viggo didn’t seem to expect anything. He stopped the other man because he didn’t know if he could cross that line without hurting them… their easy friendship and/or working relationship… individually or together.

It made him feel adolescent, in a way. He had once stopped an early girlfriend bent on sliding her hand into his pants; this felt the same: fear of the unknown.

“Well, good night, then.” Not sure what else to do, Sean put his back to Viggo and feigned sleep. It seemed to take forever, but at last the other man relaxed, his breathing evened and he slept.

Stealthy as a thief in the night, Sean reached for his unabated arousal. It wasn’t going to take much. He didn’t want to jostle the other man and chance waking him. With his thumb, he pressed firmly against the most sensitive spot, the thread of frenulum under the head. He gave himself a squeeze, and concentrated on rubbing the spot while sliding what little excess ‘skin was allowed him in this state—not much. More or less simply from knowing he was free to achieve ejaculation, his body took over without much help from his hand.

As his own warm, sticky fluid squirted through his fingers, Sean exhaled and tried to still his shudders of release. He’d have gone to sleep immediately if he had not, on the very edge of consciousness, sensed movement in the man whose back was still lined up against his.

Either Viggo thought him asleep, didn’t care, or couldn’t wait any longer. The rhythm of him milking his own cock was blunt and obvious, just like the suppressed but still audible little growls he made. The very minute of his climax was easily discernable. He sounded… starved… deprived, relief or no relief. It he’d not been THAT exhausted, Sean was sure he’d have gotten hard all over again.

The next night, Sean did moan audibly and almost continually when Viggo brought their aroused bodies into full contact. Though he usually wore boxers, like the rest of them, that day he’d chosen black silk bikini underpants that clung to him obscenely in his very apparent tumescence.

“Oh Jesus fuck, Sean, can I touch it… please…?” Viggo, surprisingly, pleaded.

But Sean grunted negatively, so instead the Dane made some twisting, thrusting movement with his pelvis and Sean felt him--just as long and hard as he was himself. On some instinct, Viggo grabbed Sean’s silk-covered ass at the same time the blond man threaded their legs together and moved forward against Viggo’s naked cock. Silky briefs between them, they stimulated each other with the friction and contact. The thin material stretched tight over Sean’s erection grew damp with the secretions of two helplessly leaking rigid cocks. Between their four hands, moist skin of backs and arms beneath the light sheets they sheltered under was explored covertly, accompanied by two separate registers of needy sex-noises.

After a while, it was no longer enough. Feeling again like he was young and giving something away, Sean hissed, “Tooch meh!”

“Hmmm?” Viggo rumbled back at him. “I am touching you.”

“No…! I mean…Please, Viggo!” He waited till the other man’s roughened hand slid between them. The whole idea dominated Sean’s existence, that this was another man he was “asking” to satisfy him sexually, to the point where he was panting, sweating, trembling, as much from distress as from need. Viggo’s hand was moving toward his cock, closer, closer, any second now he’d have it… “Oh!”

He’d known it was going to happen; still, he jumped at the sensation of his hard, swollen penis being handled by a hand as large, rough as his own. But the surprise only lasted half a second. From there, all he cared was how incredible it felt. Viggo knew the correct pressure to use, the most sensitive areas, how to tease the foreskin, exactly how to roll his bollocks for heightened stimulation. And all this he did with the underwear still on, so as not to violate Sean’s earlier wishes. Without hurting him.

Closing his eyes, the blond man could hear all the anxious little mewls he was making. He couldn’t stand that layer of annoying cloth between them any longer; he needed full skin-on-skin contact. In that, it was he, not Viggo, who took the initiative to get his knickers pushed down to the base of his shaft. Viggo looked at him and gripped him; he reached out and mirrored the act. From Viggo, a hissed, “Yesssssss… oh fuck, Seanie, yesssss…!” was pressed against his lips, along with a wet tongue.

He writhed as the sensations took him higher and higher, till his balls were so pressurized the pain of swelling was nearly excruciating. Too, Sean was overcome by a strange need to lie on his back and allow the other man to cover him, but before he could move, Viggo removed the hand from around him. Sean cringed, but all that happened was fingertips lightly petting the hair on his defenseless sac after burrowing down into the pouch holding it. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, Viggo pulled the clammy silk down his legs. Sean thought he’d leave it at that, but didn’t like being trussed up in his own pants, so he took the extra two seconds to skin them off.

Then he and Viggo, luminous eyes glowing in the dark, reached out for the centers of their male sexuality: stiff and uncut demanding erections and bodies that strove to dominate and spread their seed. The simple action of Viggo flexing the fingers of his sword hand and wrapping it around his bare, ultra-sensitive organ brought Sean close. The calluses both tickled and abraded him. Sean’s mouth opened; he panted through it, his tongue did a twirling dance of exhilaration. He came out of a momentary fog in the knowledge that he and Viggo were stroking each other’s cocks. ‘We’re… we’re wanking off… together…each other.’ His mind convulsed, but his body wanted more and more. Muscled legs twined together again, they pumped with tightened fists, hips jumpy in desperate attempts not to thrust and end it too fast.

Viggo bit him, marking his biceps, shoulders, and throat. Every pinch of teeth made Sean more frantic. He was seeping all over Viggo’s hand; his digits too were smeared in slick pre-cum. They wanked faster, forehead to forehead, eyes locked. “I… I can’t…” Sean groaned. He needed to come so badly. The finest hand job of his life, coupled with the new experience of touching another man’s cock, made him want to share orgasms with that man but… “I can’t.”

“Oh yeah, you can… wanna see you, Sean. Let me feel you come… I wanna see it in your face.” Though he was desperate, almost distraught by then, by how much it hurt NOT to cum, he seemed to have something like stage fright. “It’s hard to let go, isn’t, your first time,” Viggo whispered, not dropping eye contact. His fist squeezed Sean’s distended shaft more tightly. “Do you want me to go first?”

Sean swallowed, and deliberated about it. He allowed himself to keep fucking Viggo’s fist. That, he could do. Thoughts of what it must feel like to the other man ratcheted his excitement up another notch; it surprised the hell out of him that he was also getting off on an unfamiliar… well, at first… hard-on to enclose in his fingers. He was dazzled, over-powered by the cycle-effect of it all; it seemed like the very stimuli also restrained him. He couldn’t find release this way he was sure, but what could he do? Insult Viggo by knocking his hand away and finishing the job himself, or saying ‘piss off’ and then trying to sleep, still hard? No, they’d already proven that ineffective.

Finally, the Dane gave him a significant dark-lusted stare. “Bite me… whatever you want. Just cum.” He groaned, “Follow my lead.” Warm wetness spurted onto Sean’s belly. It took him half a second to realize what it was, and then he completely lost control. Orgasm hit him in mind-numbing force; his seed exploded from him and sprayed all over the front of Viggo’s chest and stomach; tears welled up and fell from his green eyes that had nothing to do with crying, just such intense, heightened release.

Unaware of when exactly he’d shifted, he found that he was clinging to the other man, teeth set stubbornly in the muscle above Viggo’s collarbone. Salty sweat stained coppery with droplets of blood as he broke skin. Never, ever, had Sean been this vulnerable with another human being. He wanted to bite all the way through the flesh in his mouth, he wanted to take the man, to fuck him. And, for the first time ever, he thought about what it might be like to allow someone to penetrate him. Not just someone though. This someone.

They held each other through their aftershocks. When the rush subsided, Viggo drew out some damp cloths from somewhere for them to clean themselves with. Sean felt inexplicably shy, and kept his eyelids lowered. Now that they’d crossed this line, would Viggo toss him out on his arse? It really made no sense, that thought. It was only wanking… not blowjobs or, god forbid, sex.

Throwing the cloths in the general direction of his laundry basket, Viggo quickly drew Sean down, pressed firm lips to the Brit’s lighter pinkish ones, and wrapped them together for sleep. There was a moment where Sean considered bolting, the reverse of just minutes ago when he’d feared being pushed away after this was over. Well, it wasn’t over. There was more he wanted, and he was positive Viggo, for all he was going so slowly with him, wanted to eventually do… everything. Even post-orgasmic, the thought of that made his face and ears burn. Could he really do that? All of that?

The stirring of his body told him yes.

II.

Over the next few nights, Viggo taught him the uses of his hole.

One thing he could handle almost right away was touching. Oh, Viggo led up to it, with a spider-fingers walk down his spine and especial attention to the area on his lower back right above the shallow twin dimples and the highly ticklish divide of his cleft. All his life Sean had considered himself a breast-man when it came to women, but when it came to himself, he was an arse-man through and through. It deemed to delight Viggo to discover this. His eyes glittered colorlessly in the dark for an instant before his hands skittered lower. He responded to every squirm and every little strangled gasp to recklessly palm and pat at Sean’s ass cheeks. Fingers stole closer and closer to his cleft, then into. Sean felt himself clench, and Viggo chuckled at him, “Let go of my finger!”

“Make me!” Sean laughed and relaxed. “Ok… never mind. What’re yeh doin’, yeh loon?”

The tip of Viggo’s finger spoke for him. There was no penetration, just a light touching, massaging. Sean could tell how his eyes opened wide; the corners of them pulled and the muscles controlling his eyebrows went straight up. “Oh…fuck…!” escaped his half-opened lips. He tried to wiggle away, but the finger was insistent upon following the contour of his tiny opening. When he held totally still, he found he could better accept it; he could concentrate on the course Viggo’s fingertip was taking.

It seemed so forbidden to him. Even beyond the realm of dirty. One just didn’t touch that. But Viggo was, and he studied Sean keenly while he explored. After he’d passed around the circumference several times, he stopped and placed the pad of his finger against the very center of the tight pucker. Again, the blond tensed. Those blue eyes never wavered as Viggo did nothing but press in so lightly, Sean felt himself give just a little before he ever felt the finger actually enter. The introverted Dane must have seen something in the Brit’s expression, a single flash of fear; just as gently as he’d moved in, he did the opposite, mere millimeters that meant everything. Still, the black-ringed emerald eyes staring back at him filled with relief.

“Interestingly,” Viggo mentioned as if in passing, “you’re hard.”

Sean breathed in sharply through his nostrils. The other man’s hand trailed up over the curve of his left buttock, then up his back till he could weave a fist into short dark-honey hair. “Thank you, Sean,” he whispered. “Now… will you let me take care of you?”

“Er…” Sean wasn’t sure if Viggo meant what he thought he meant. Guiding the blond’s head, Viggo brought his soft, mobile lips to his costar’s firm mouth, caressing with every motion. He sucked on Sean’s lower lip just a little, slipped his tongue forward into dangerous territory between large blunt teeth.

Some internal trigger was tapped; Sean launched into that kiss like it was a personal vendetta. He felt like he was inhaling Viggo, or eating him alive. No matter how he licked and breathed and held the other man hard against his body, he just couldn’t get enough of his taste or his scent. Panting hard, he could feel his ribcage contracting and expanding with the effort, but somehow he couldn’t get enough air. It had to be the atmosphere here, thinner than the pea soup they often breathed in London.

“Sean… It’s ok,” Viggo soothed him, drawing back a fraction of an inch. Their lips still touched, but barely. “Easy, Sean…” Another second, and then Viggo slithered downwards. He marked his path with a series of nips down Sean’s toned torso. At his navel, the Dane’s pink tongue unfurled and fucked the little indent, slurping crudely.

Sean thought he’d fly off the bed, but no--Viggo pinned him down and moved lower again. Even being on his side was too upright now, too hard to balance. Sean flopped onto his back about the time Viggo’s teeth found his David muscle, the diagonal ridge under his hip, and assaulted it. It was going to leave a huge hickey, but the stinging also felt so good Sean could have cared less. He gasped out, “Viggo… goddammit…” Almost on their own, his fingers found soft, dark hair and guided… and the other hand wrapped around the familiar hardness of his own straining member that lay against his belly. He ineptly tried to get the two things under his hands to fit together properly, but with no immediate success. The foreskin covering half of his sensitive cockhead brushed against Viggo’s beard, abrading him.

A chance look down made him jerk in surprise. Viggo was staring at him keenly, waiting for his cue. There was full knowledge of what Sean wanted, which was what he was going to get anyway, but Sean felt utterly unavoidably compelled to vocalize at least a few words. “Will yeh… would yeh…” his cheeks pinked, “put it in yer mouth?” He choked in embarrassment. He needn’t have. A split second later, the head of his cock was enclosed in hot, wet suction. He lay back and let his legs be pushed apart while Viggo settled himself between them.

Bucking upwards, Sean thrust hard enough to trigger most people’s gag reflex, but not Viggo’s. The man’s throat opened till Sean was all the way in, the tip of him squeezed by a smooth vice. Viggo’s plush tongue cradled the throbbing vein running the length of the British man’s dusky-red erection. Though Sean couldn’t see now with his eyes tightly closed, he could envision Viggo’s scarred upper lip and deceptively carved lower one—so soft and silky, stretched around the base of him. That the other man would do this for him was beyond anything he’d anticipated.

Warm, confident hands stroked the thin skin on the insides of his shaking thighs; every small tightening of his bollocks was counteracted by a small nudge downwards, or a compression at the top of his sac to prevent them rising too quickly. Each time, Sean experienced the second of shocky vertigo that every man feels over a potential threat to his maleness. Far from making him lose his erection, it made him even harder. He swelled and ran like a sieve inside the talented mouth sliding up and down on him, which continually swallowed him whole.

Sean felt his release roaring up on him after only a few minutes. His little cries gave him away; not in words, for he had none, but in the proximity of his climax. Clever fingers had taken up where they’d left off. At first, it had been an unwanted disruption, but as they advanced, Sean himself measured his progress in those steady touches to his most intimate opening; it reminded him of a wood-flute player’s fingers covering and uncovering the key-holes.

He heard his own voice, gone strident over Viggo’s medley of sucking noises. Like lightening it hit him; he poured his orgasm down Viggo’s throat. Abs crunching tight, he half sat up while supporting his torso on his elbows. The other man looked up into his face while Sean emptied himself, eyes bright, short lashes somehow calling attention to themselves, shoulders shifting bunched muscle while they moved together.

Even with--or maybe because--of his mouth stretched wide and his nose buried in Sean’s light-brown fuzz of pubic curls, Sean held his gaze through the hazy opaque wave of his waning orgasm and his attraction to Viggo came crashing in on him. It was so exquisitely physical. He was sexually spellbound, and he knew Viggo’s wanting of him was no less. Like a punch to the gut came the revelation of something else. He didn’t know what; he wasn’t prepared to be in ‘a relationship.’ That, he’d have to worry about later, much later.

Even as he serviced Viggo with his hand, unprompted, he regretted in a way that he was not yet ready to do more. How odd… Sean Bean, alpha male and sex symbol, a nervous virgin. He had to admit it to himself—not for much longer.

The next night started as almost a repeat. Sean was pushed onto his back a little more forcefully this time. Before Viggo slid down between his knees wordlessly asked him to endure the spreading of his legs and the research-of-his-hole, ala Viggo, the Dane was up on top of him for a little while, grinding at him. Never passive even when challenged, Sean ended up liking the rough-and-tumble so much he almost stopped the downward wiggle. That was, until he was once again coaxed and sucked into another full-throttle explosion.

When it was over that time, he was able to pay attention to the fact that Viggo was on his knees, kneeling still and tending to Sean’s needs. As soon as the blond man’s softened cock was eased from between swollen lips, Sean caught sight of Viggo’s untouched manhood. The tip dripped shiny pre-cum, and as a whole it stood up purple and was gracefully swinging with every movement. Below, thick curls partially hid heavy balls. “D-do yeh wan’ meh t-t’ do somethin’…?” Sean stuttered, looking from Viggo’s crotch to his face.

The other man was as patiently controlled as ever, only the flashing of his jaw muscles and a passing wild glint in his eyes giving away his hunger. “Whatever you want, Seanie…”

“Lay… lie down now.” His brain was not connected to his mouth. On top of a fourteen-hour day, he’d just barely come down from the endorphin high of his orgasm; perhaps it lent him a bit of self-assurance when he reached out and tugged Viggo down beside him and got them turned face-to-face, then moved his sluggish body downwards, wondering how the fuck he was going to satisfy the other man. He had no clue what to do beyond the basic mechanics. Still planning as best he could, Sean twisted around till he was facing that quivering organ. This was Viggo’s cock now, just like his own, well, individual as a fingerprint, but a cock was a cock, right?

Out of sheer nervousness, his tongue darted out to lick at his suddenly dry lips. Viggo watched minutely. “My god, Sean… just lick… that’s all you’re gonna have to do… I’m so close…” Laying a hand on Viggo’s hip near the crescent moon tattoo, Sean did it; he lapped up the bitter-sweet pre-cum beading from Viggo’s slit, then all around the crown. More clear liquid beads, and then he ran a slick circle all the way around the underside ridge of the heart-shaped head. This last made Viggo hiss and shove his face away. “Ssssstop…or I’ll cum…!”

Why that was a bad thing, Sean didn’t know. Viggo had waited longer than he had, surely that was enough. He began again, a little sloppier, with puppy licks to the whole head and halfway up the shaft. “Oh fuck…. More! ¡Mierda!” Viggo babbled, his voice tense and urgent. Sean went to the base, flicked his tongue as far around as he could reach from one side then the other. “The head!” Viggo cried. “Oh my god… please!” So Sean busily cleaned the slit of pre-cum again. He was getting addicted to the taste. “I’m close… so fucking close… wanna blow my load on yer face, Sean… move if you want… ‘ll warn yah, jus’… keep licking.”

Every extension, curl, swipe of his tongue, he understood, was power to make Viggo lose it. Tentatively, he gripped the base of the shaft to hold it at optimal angle. Lick… lick… more fluid slid onto his tongue. “Gonna cum,” Viggo groaned. There was a hard pulse against his palm. Shots of white hit his fluttering little tongue. Sean jumped, and some got on his cheek, dripping down to his jaw. He licked at the creamy cum Viggo ejaculated; more droplets smeared around his mouth, another jet caught in his eyelashes.

“Bloody fookin’ ‘ell!” he exclaimed.

“Aye,” Viggo mimicked him, visibly more stoned than Sean had been moments before over his release. Still, he was there to lick away most of the semen from Sean’s skin and beard. The Brit didn’t know what to say to that. Words played through his mind; none seemed right. Viggo interrupted his reaching, though, by calling his attention elsewhere.

If they were awake much longer, they’d both pay dearly for it the next day, and he knew it, but Sean’s cock wasn’t listening. For some while, it had been trying valiantly to rise, and now that Viggo was done, of course he was hard as stone, dammit all. “Never mind,” he tried to keep the frustration from his voice when Viggo reached out.

But he wasn’t listened to. “Do you trust me?” Viggo asked, point blank.

“What’re yeh gonna do t’meh?” Sean inquired.

“Bring you off,” said the Dane as mildly as if he were asking for his eggs cooked a certain way. Sean gave a passing thought to hard-boiled eggs… or maybe they were more like poached runny, anyway.

“’Ow?”

Sighing, then snorting, Viggo tackled him. “I’m gonna stick my finger up your stunning ass, find your sweet spot, and then I’m gonna stimulate it till you blow your brains out your dick along with the biggest load of our life.”

Sean gaped.

“Okay, I exaggerate,” Viggo continued, “but I promise, it’ll feel fucking good.”

Sean didn’t say anything, then, but that also meant he didn’t say no. So, pausing to rummage in a cabinet next to the bed, Viggo retrieved what had to be a bottle of lube from amongst messy piles of papers and tubes of paint and old socks. “Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Sean growled, eyes widening. This was true profanity, not the blessing-cursing they did in the throes of aroused play.

“No… I’m not gonna fuck you, Sean.” No qualifier about maybe, no timeframe, just, “I’m not.” It was enough of a safety net to allow the Brit to relax. Viggo settled himself again, his breath fanning the downy hairs on Sean’s legs and the thicker, coarser ones at his groin. Gooseflesh stood up, each hair follicle a small erection. Viggo braced Sean’s taut thighs wide apart, using his pointy elbows and forearms. The room had gone dead silent, and into that Viggo tipped the bottle, slicked his fingers, then likewise slicked a lot into Sean’s crack. “How’s that?” he questioned.

It felt weird to Sean, all slippery between his cheeks. More went onto him, the initial coolness of it warming to skin temperature. Viggo’s forefinger sank into him before he had time to think about it. Sean nearly bit his lip through to keep from squealing. “Mmmph!” gruff from under his tightened throat, came out instead.

Below, out of his field of vision, the Dane was already working in another finger. Feeling himself stretch and give, Sean closed his eyes and panted through his mouth. “Giving birth, love, huh?” Sean could hear the smirk in his voice, but also a careful respect. Once again, it calmed him, even though he had to glare just a little to assuage his manly pride.

“Vig-goh… I gotta say this… an’ don’ laugh.”

“What, baby?”

“Er…” It was hard to think clearly in this state; he wanted to say how odd it was, how disturbing. He wanted use words like “violate” and “sully;” on the flip side, he was very near to telling Viggo he loved him.

He didn’t. Life had taught him not to trust virgins and he could be no better. Two fingers were up in his arse now, wiggling away and moving apart to make him widen out. His muscle was beginning to hurt. In fact, “It ruddy well burns!”

“I’m sorry, babe, just a little more…” He touched… something… that shocked Sean’s whole pelvis into spontaneous movement. His hole clenched hard, trying to force out the intrusion, but Viggo’s fingers were so oiled they were back in with one push. Deep inside, rough but still sensitive fingertips stroked firmly at the spongy gland.

There was no thought given to waiting or drawing out the release this time. Sexual electricity jolted from Sean’s prostate to every corner of his body. He sensed somehow what a pretzel he was making of himself—one arm overhead to grab the headboard, the other’s fist wrapped around the first wrist and digging his nails in, in some attempt to hold onto reality; both legs were flat out to the sides, bent at the knees. In the center, Sean pushed down against Viggo’s digits and hoped to god the other man would read his mind before he made a mess all over himself. The friction in his passage overwhelmed his sense of propriety and of ‘heterosexual-male’ behavior. To say the stimulation of his sweet spot overruled it was a vast understatement. It mesmerized him, threw him into a trance of clawing, out-of-control, testosterone driven heat.

Sean was trembling all over, his own erupting sweat making him clammy upon the sheet. “Ohh… Veeeeg-goh…” The low groan was pure sin. Lips enfolded the head of his cock and he immediately shot. He’d been sucked dry of seed before in his life, and rather savored the sweet hurt of it. It had always been from hard sucking and having his balls played with. Viggo had not forgotten about those things, but the additional pressure from his implacable fingers against Sean’s pleasure gland, the very organ that produced much of the fluid for the conveyance of his precious seed, sped things up till his cream spurted forth with a power he’d honestly not experienced since his late teens. If the soft, cotton-candy mouth with its lashing whip of a tongue hadn’t surrounded his frantically throbbing, spraying organ, he thought he’d probably have covered his chest and face and beyond in spunk.

The orgasm utterly wrung him out. He just lay there, depleted, till the completely disconcerting feeling of fingers sliding out of his stretched arsehole broke into his haze. He was still trembling, he realized, though it had reduced to intermittent little tremors.

“Sean… are you alright?”

It took three or four long, deep breaths before he could answer. “Aye… I’m tired… knackered.”

Viggo petted the silky hairs on his thighs still, the motion gone from a sensual intent to something almost comforting. “Are you alright?” Viggo asked again, inflection slightly changed to indicate the blond’s mental health.

“Mm-hm… Never knew about that spot b’fore… well, I’d heard talk, but... to try it…? It were too embarrassin’ to even think of askin’ someone…”

“Never feel that way with me, Sean.”

The blond man struggled to sit, for all the unspoken implications of that burned in to his sense of privacy and shame like a brand. A kiss was dropped onto his inside hip joint, one to the swell of his left bollock, then that crazy Yank extended his long, pointed, Devil-may-care tongue and made for…

“No!” Sean jumped backwards and snapped his legs together. Viggo cackled. “You ever gone down on a woman, Sean?”

“Of course I have, you twat!” He tried his best to throw an indignant stare, funny considering how muzzy he still was, and dead tired.

Viggo flipped his eyebrows. “Well, it’s not much different…”

“The hell it is… that’s disgoostin’!”

“Your ass,” Viggo crossed himself, “is anything but disgusting.”

“Wanker!” Warily, Sean settled back on the bed and didn’t protest when the Dane forthrightly snuggled up to him and pulled the sheet up.

“Well, you think about it, then,” he rumbled with a suppressed yawn. He was half-hard against Sean’s thigh, but when the blond tried to draw himself away, muttered, “Never mind that. Sometimes, I really do find being a man an annoyance. Thing has a mind of its own.”

Sean snorted. He didn’t know about the ‘being a man’ part, but could admit to the sometimes love/hate relationship with his own genitals.

“You’re quiet, Sean.”

The Brit shrugged. “Tired.”

“Yah, I hear yah… does your ass hurt? Was I too rough?” This was a squirm-worthy subject, but so like Viggo to just blat it out anyway.

“To the first… a bit. To the second… no… no yeh weren’t. I’m just…” the accented voice, unguarded for sleep, trailed off softly.

“I know, Sean. And… no matter how much I want… things… you never have to…”

Sean turned over and shut him up with a lengthy kiss. Despite comments that had been made, and what they might look like to the outside observers, Sean’s lips were pliant but firm; his tongue, subversive little slip that it was, tickled and teased and quite frankly, shut Viggo up as nothing else could. Had they been any less exhausted, they’d probably not have stopped for anything less than full consummation. The ironic fact/truth that neither one of them could get beyond half-erect right then made them giggle like little boys while they called each other old men, and then they really did fall asleep, entangled, hips barely pulsing for simple ‘it feels good’ creature comfort.

The last thing Sean heard was Viggo’s mumbling something about ‘lick your hole, make you cream... Remember that tomorrow... All day…”

Damned if he didn’t, too. Damn that Viggo for subliminally sabotaging him! Damn him for putting… that… in Sean’s head, to make him think about such things when they were trying to work. Damn his raging-hard cock, so uncomfortable inside his tight, lace-up breeches that he had to go wank in the port-a-john. Torture to play doubtful, uppity Boromir all day while Viggo waggled his ass or his tongue at Sean whenever he thought no one else was looking.

Slowly, random fantasy flashes coalesced in his brain. He would give Viggo what he wanted, at least as far as that tongue thing was concerned. But he would be asking for some things as well.

Viggo had given him much, un-asked-for, that was absolutely true…and he had also taught Sean much. How to touch a man, for starters. How to want him, or maybe Sean had gotten there on his own. But not everything, not yet. He would have that, too.

III.

By the time he got home, well, to Viggo’s cabin to be exact, Sean’s bravado had left him. He was back to horny but anxious, a most annoying combination. He nearly went home—to his. Circling the block a few times, he finally parked in his customary spot and let himself in. Viggo was already there, sitting slouched low on the couch in the dark. If not for the smell of cigarette smoke and the periodic orange glow and faint crackle when Viggo dragged on it, Sean might not have noticed him. “Wotcha doin’?” he finally got up the nerve to ask.

It took Viggo a good while to respond. “Thinking,” was eventual reply.

After another short hesitation, Sean crossed the room and sat next to him. “Been doing plenny of tha’ meself t’day,” he announced to the room at large. “Yeh got meh more’n a little worked up over wot yeh said last night.”

Viggo dragged, exhaled, and offered the half a cigarette to Sean. “Which bit?” he wanted to know.

“Where y’said… what yeh wanted me to be thinking about all day…”

Viggo grinned and looked straight at him. “You’re saying, it worked?”

“I were ‘ard all day.”

The Dane guffawed. “Well… at least I wasn’t the only one.”

Sean sucked in a huge lungful of the really-too-potent smoke from Viggo’s hand-rolled. “What’re we gonna do?”

“Do? Like, to make it go away?” Sean heard just… something in the other man’s voice to tell him Viggo was trying very hard not to let disappointment encroach. He worded his next thoughts carefully. “Not ‘go away,’ but ‘ow do we get through a day without... say, getting caught wanking or… y’know… end up sixty-nine-ing out in the woods or summat…?”

Viggo made a little interested noise at that. Sean continued, speeding up, “I admit it… there’s been days when me bits don’t always cooperate… but to’day… it felt like bein’

a randy fookin’ lad again… were embarrassin’! Worried all day ‘bout someone noticing.”

Viggo turned his head to the side. In the near darkness, Sean could feel the force of the other man’s stare. “How old are you, Sean?” he asked, rather one of the last questions Sean had expected.

“Erm…Forty.”

The gap-toothed wolf-smile appeared. “Forty-one. When’s the last time you felt like this, even in as simplistic of terms as your dick not staying down?”

“Shit… I dunno…” the Brit smiled with half his mouth. “Prolly don’ wanna think ‘bout tha’…” Viggo nodded, and they sat there in the dimness for some time longer. Finally, Sean ventured, “If you thought I was sayin’ Ah wan’ out of it, that weren’t it.”

“Wouldn’t really wanna cut off something that’s barely begun,” Viggo paraphrased.

“Aye. I seem to be at a something of a fork in the road, you know?”

“Believe it or not,” the glittering eyes fixed on him, “it was hard for me to go over that line, too. Very difficult. And I’ve never stayed all the way over… I think you should know that, Sean.”

“You?” the blond wondered.

“Yeah, me. How’d you think I had a kid? I have a girlfriend, you know.”

Sean snorted, “Beard?”

One eyebrow rose, but Viggo disagreed. “No, really. I rarely see her, this one. It’s a bit… Lolita-esque.” Sean said nothing. “So… I’ve been thinking, too. Besides just plain telling you this doesn’t have to make you automatically one way or the other, I can offer you something… that might make this easier.”

“Offer… what??” What did he mean this time? Something simple, a ‘gift’ of twenty-year-old scotch or some particularly fine cooking oils? Did he mean, get them stoned—weed, cocaine, muscle relaxers…? Something kinky—extra-slick lube or a variety pack of vibrators? “Not sure what yeh mean, mate.” A second later, Viggo had bounced to his feet, and was peeling off layers of Aragorn’s costume. Piece by piece, leather, wool, linen, and velvet dropped to the couch and the floor. Knotted ties, belt buckles, tight lace-up elf-cut trousers with nothing underneath…

If he still wasn’t sure what Viggo was getting at, the sight of the darker man’s nude body none-the-less started a fresh fire of arousal. Sean leaned against the back of the couch, taking in the sinewy but tough limbs, flat muscles in his furred chest and abdomen, pert nipples, his smallish feet with long toes, his angular face with grown-out auburn hair somewhat softening the sharp bone structure…

“Jesus, Sean… I feel like you’re fucking me with your eyes!” Viggo dropped to his knees, close enough to Sean’s right leg to make his hairs stand up, but not touching.

“Sorry!” the Brit countered automatically. Shrugging one-shouldered-ly, Viggo draped his body over the seat, extending his hands all the way to the back. His right forefinger, Sean noticed, was banded in the silver ring of Barahir. The little emerald snake-eyes glittered at him.

It hit him then, what Viggo was doing. His pants had already grown too tight just from watching the other man strip off. Another rush of blood flooded into his groin. He tried futility to adjust himself, blushing because his every move was being observed, the bulge in his pants duly noted. Nearly choking, Sean managed, “So… you would let me…?” His voice broke ridiculously, and he cleared his throat.

Before he could speak, Viggo’s higher voice cut in, “Sean, don’t freak out on me; don’t give it any more significance than what it is. Look at me.”

Sean forced himself to focus on Viggo’s face, rather than the rest of him… lithe and masculine, hard, fucking aroused Viggo. “Huh?”

“Get down here, Sean. Get behind me, put your hands on me and fuckin’ take me. Don’t get squeamish…” and he passed Sean a small bottle of lube he’d dug out from between the couch cushions, an altogether different one from the other in his bedroom, “… and keep in mind… whatever you’re doing to me, I’m gonna do to you. Tonight, or another night.”

So Sean considered that, all of it. It materialized to him, impression after impression, rapid-fire. He saw himself naked, behind Viggo, touching him, using his mouth on him, and somehow, being inside him. Right along, just as erotic, was the imagery of Viggo responding… totally helpless under Sean’s hands, just like Sean had been with him. Standing, the Brit shed his clothes, easy enough with just a white tee-shirt and navy track pants. He did kneel directly behind the other man, who bent slightly at the waist but looked back at him, observing. Sean admired the whole length of his back, from well-formed shoulders to narrow hips to the compact buttocks between which he knew hid...

“Hand meh that lube, mate…” the blond whispered, a little shaky. Viggo’s pupils jumped, but he did so immediately. Sean took it and set it on the floor by one of his knees. Then, he repositioned his own between Viggo’s, widened their spread, and brought himself into full contact with the Dane’s body. Wordlessly, Viggo hissed through his teeth and pressed backwards. Making sure his full erection was felt, Sean slid one arm around Viggo’s chest, combing through the crisp hair till he found the tiny beaded nipple. He rolled and pinched, rolled and pinched and pulled; Viggo moaned and urgently wiggled against the rigid staff prodding his cheek. Sean’s other hand ran over the smooth-skinned lines of Viggo’s arm, shoulder, over the side of his hip; and down to his groin where he curled his long fingers tightly around the silky-hard cock that waited for him.

Up till then, Viggo had been quite still. When his organ was grasped, his body lurched, then settled into an excited rocking. Sean had thought about Viggo being ‘responsive’ and it had aroused him; this was something else again. A glowing knot of primitive sexual aching caught like a hook under his sternum. Giving the stiff nipple a last hard tweak, he reached for the large balls hanging between Viggo’s legs, squeezing gently. Supremely conscious of the other man’s pleasure, he rolled the round glands on his palm. The Dane’s head landed on his shoulder, where he tossed it from side to side, jaw jutting forward from clenching his teeth. “Christ, Sean… hurry… you gotta prepare me... hurry…!”

He relocated the bottle and flipped the cap. Then, he squirted some on his first two fingers like he’d seen Viggo do.

He’d touched Viggo’s arse before during their previous night as they held tightly to each other. Many other parts as well; when the man accepted him as lover, it had been with the unspoken agreement that Sean could and was more or less expected to reciprocate as he was able. So, he’d become familiar with the shape and texture of Viggo’s body… and his arse. That was all well and good. For some reason, it had not occurred to him till that instant that he would be required to put his fingers in the man’s arsehole. He couldn’t bring himself to come near it. ‘Deep breath, Sean.’ His fingers got going in the right direction; at the last second, they skittered away. “Fuck, Sean… Stop teasing!” Viggo bleated.

“Ah’m tryin’!” Sean insisted. “Ah… Viggo, do I really hafta…?”

Long wisps of reddish-streaked hair hung over Viggo’s face which he kept forward, arching a bit so that Sean caught a glimpse of his goal. “Yeah, Seanie… you do if you want me this way.”

Surely it was an out-of-body experience. Sean felt every sensation anyway, dipping his slicked fingers into Viggo’s cleft, finding the slight change in skin texture, the line of coarse hairs, the radiating, moister puckers protective of their underlying tightly-ringed opening. He closed his eyes, but from inside his head he still ‘watched’ the proceedings. He might’ve even had a split screen view—one was the entirety of them—blond man with forehead lowered to the back of the other, who bent forward, anticipating; the other view was of just his hand and Viggo’s arse and what he was doing there. At last, he nudged the hole with the tip of his index finger. There was little resistance, so he kept going. Inside, the passage was smooth and hot, snugging his digit.

Viggo grunted impatiently, startling him. “More!”

A higher-pitched moan cut fiery tendrils up under his ribs. It was a moment before he understood: more fingers. Sean pulled the first out carefully and added his middle finger, which wasn’t quite as simple—he finally shoved it in under the ring and pulled down slightly to make room for the first. “’S that alright?” When Viggo had done this to him, there’d been no fumbling about or hesitation—the only delays had been those due to Sean’s own reservations. Trying this on his own, he felt so inept. Still, the heat and pressure around his fingers was slowly filtering into an impression of how that might feel around his cock. He was so stiff and hard, trickles of pre-cum ran from his slit. Remembering the bottle of lube, he pulled halfway out and dribbled some more on, then slid in deep, as far as he could reach. Viggo stiffened.

“Sorry!” he burst out again.

“Don’t be sorry… Move!” The blond started to pull back, but the other man reached back and grabbed his wrist. “No you don’t! Remember how I found your sweet spot, Sean?”

Even though Viggo couldn’t see his face, Sean blushed over the memories of himself writhing like a slut, on his back. “Aye,” he whispered.

“Do it to me.” Direct as always.

Turning his hand slightly, Sean reached here and there with his fingers… there was a small protrusion underneath, like the top portion of a sphere, with some give to it. He pressed. “Fuck yeah!” Viggo pitched sharply, once front, once back. His cheeks bunched, the stretched opening between clenching around Sean’s fingers.

“Oh my god…” the Brit moaned. He had to get that around his cock, had to get in there! As best he could, he oiled his purpled erection which even responded to his own hand, throbbing eagerly for any touch. Seemed like Viggo always managed to reduce him to a shaking, trembling mess and here he was again. Thank god they’d been getting off together the last few days or he’d never last more than five seconds. “Viggo…” he licked at the tanned hide before his face, “C’n I…?” He lined the tip of himself up with that hot little hole, just craving to push himself inside.

“Do it, Sean,” Viggo gritted, low and dirty.

It was so tight he had to push hard, first the head, then more. He felt like a battering ram. Even grabbing Viggo’s hips for leverage, he had to wait, gather himself, push some more. When he was maybe one-third of the way in, Viggo flinched and hissed at him to stop. If he’d thought the pressure around him was intense before, it suddenly tripled, painfully constricting Panting, Sean tried to control himself. He’d nearly reached that part of his shaft with his inward slides that told him, ‘Yes, Sean, you are fucking!’

“Fuck!” he blurted out. “Viggo, what’s wrong?” There was no answer. Not sure what to do, he held still. He noticed that Viggo was trembling too and his skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat. For sure, he didn’t want to withdraw now, now that he was so close… Sean loosened his grip on Viggo’s hipbones and went instead to stealing over his stomach. One hand went up, one down. Knowing from experience at least some of his friend’s hot spots, he ran the pads of his fingers up over the subtle ridges of abs, then ribs, pectorals, finding a dusky-rose aureole with its taut center.

Appreciation hummed in Viggo’s chest, more-so as he rolled it between firmly pinching thumb and forefinger. His other hand reached between Viggo’s legs to fondle the plump sacs there. It was then that he noticed the Dean’s erection was seriously flagging. Taking the nearly-soft organ into his hand, he caressed the flexible, re-awakening flesh till it rose and jutted upward again. Slowly, the pressure eased. Some of the tension left the bunched muscles of the long back pressed against his chest.

When Viggo at last gave a small backwards wiggle, Sean took it as permission to move. He slammed his hips forward with all his coiled-up lust. Viggo howled. The noise simply added to the raging testosterone thundering in his veins. He drew back and thrust.

Replacing his earlier grip on Viggo’s hip, Sean utterly lost himself. He took it for granted that this man who matched him so evenly in physical size and strength could take his rabid pounding. Their sex was more like a wrestling match than the slowly accelerating glide into ecstasy he’d always experienced with women. It seemed like Viggo was fighting him. On the other hand, they quickly found a rhythm of thrust and counter-thrust, Sean riding Viggo’s ass and Viggo fucking Sean’s hand. Their groans came out harsh and primitive. Despite nearly suffocating from pure breathlessness, Sean had a sudden need to take Viggo’s mouth in addition to the way he was already taking the man’s body. Leaning sideways and forward as far as he dared, Sean moved so his mouth was near the other man’s ear. As he’d hoped, Viggo followed his cue and turned his head to the side. Their mouths brushed together, both of them reaching with needy lips and flicking tongues.

“Just come, baby.” Viggo pressed the words into his mouth and Sean couldn’t stop himself.

“Oh! Oh!” His little yelps sounded pained, even to his own ears. Their bodies smacked together, Viggo’s bare ass against Sean’s groin.

“Want you to fill me up, Sean… Want to feel your cream.” For the first time, Sean, listening to Viggo talk so forthrightly, imagined himself as the one ‘under.’ What would it be like? He loved sex, always had. From Viggo’s reactions, he understood implicitly that it would hurt, at least at first. This last fortnight, Viggo had taught him a whole new gamut of sensation. The long-legged man wanted him, wanted him so badly that he waited on Sean’s time and guided him through all this newness with dignity. He wanted Sean so badly that just a few touches or licks had been enough to make him cum on more than one occasion. And now he let Sean take him first, just to allow him to see that it could be done, and that it could be more than satisfying.

Wrapping his long fingers tightly over the crests of Viggo’s narrow hips once again, Sean gave him all he had, responding to that need in both of them. His balls had draw up tight against his body. They stung from swinging, so full of dammed-up fluid. The hardened glands within and his cock tingled with impending orgasm; the rush began. He finally let it go and the first powerful jet of cum burst from the tip of him.

“Yes, Sean…! Oh Christ, so fucking good… it’s so hot…” Viggo was babbling like a lunatic, lapsing into Spanish, then back out. “Pucha! Santa Maria et Jesu…Por Dios…fucking fill me up, Sean... love your cum… oh my god oh my god oh my god!”

Sean’s hips stuttered through the few final thrusts while his cream spurted forth. Buried deep, he released the last of his load. Viggo was tiling his pelvis at angles to his, pumping forcefully against him. He bent far forward, arched his back; a keening wail of frustration tore from him.

Collapsing onto the slippery back, Sean reached for the dripping, nearly-bursting prick he knew he’d find, conscious enough to know the other man needed more than his sex—this time, anyway—to get off. But not much more. Three or four strokes and Viggo began to cum, first all over side of the couch, but as his frantic bucking and spurting died down to a weak oozing, Sean got the idea of how between the friction of his cock against Viggo’s prostate, his last-minute hand job, and whatever tension they’d worked up between them all this time, Viggo must feel like he was pumping gallons. The yell he let out and the hoarse, raspy breaths that followed seemed to confirm.

Sean wanted that… it shocked the hell out of him, but… he wanted the same for himself. When they finally came back to their own heads, he said, at least, when he could gather the strength just to speak, “I wanna give it up to yeh, Viggo.”

There was a muted “mmph!” and an eventual retort, “I think you killed me,” and then the spent cock in his hand twitched. Sean didn’t remember taking it into his palm again; the intimacy of him touching Viggo in his soft state jolted him. “Okay, maybe not,” Viggo reconsidered his last statement. Slowly, they pulled apart.

“Could we clean up a bit first?” Sean wondered, shy now that he’d gone and announced it.

“God, yeah. I intent to make good on my threat before we do anything else.” Viggo winked lecherously; the blond’s fair skin turned red.

“Veeeeg-goh…” he moaned. “Stop it! That’s just…”

“Shut up, Sean. It’s not either disgusting!” Of course, Viggo had anticipated his exact word. How typical that was getting to be. “You don’t think so either. Look at yourself.” The blue eyes, still nearly black from sex and the already-dark room, flicked downward.

The Brit’s own maleness struggled to rise. He had to snort at the pathetic attempt. “Dunno whether to laugh or cry,” he admitted.

Shrugging, Viggo told him, “Whatever you need, Sean.”

IV.

As candidly as ever, Viggo made good on his promise. Not quite believing how readily he cooperated, Sean gave himself over to have his body washed and rinsed, then licked.

Viggo went slow and easy. Soap. Wash cloth. Tongue. His hair was cleaned, his sticky groin, his hands, very carefully. And the rest of him. At last, Viggo turned him around. Thankful to turn his face away while it was happened, he allowed himself to be edged into position. His forearms braced against the tile wall, legs spread apart, shivering from gusts of breath against his back, then lower. Viggo knelt down. Not surprisingly, Sean felt his cheeks seized by calloused fingers and separated. Prodding his pulsing hole was a tongue wetter and slipperier than any water the shower could produce. First he swiped at it in circles; then he wiggled in just the tip. Sean would have sworn he could feel each individual taste bud.

Before Viggo was done with him, he was shaking on all fours on the tub floor, a good four inches of tongue up his arse, said tongue wiggling excitedly till he itched and moaned, trying to keep still. It was embarrassingly erotic. He shouldn’t like it, but how could he not?

Damn bastard wouldn’t let him cum there, no matter that his cockhead was dragging on the cool porcelain because his knees had slipped or spread that far on their own. If Viggo would just touch his balls, he knew he could shoot off. They were so sensitive, and so very full. Amazing, considering they’d barely gotten started again after their earlier experiences.

“Please, Vig, yeh can’t leave me like this…” he complained when the other man stood and got out.

“I’m not leaving you… you’re just being a stubborn ass. You know the bed will be much more comfortable. Get out. You can resume that position in the bedroom.” The smirk was firmly in place in his voice.

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Sean grumped. He’d never let on, but all of a sudden he was nervous as hell again.

So there he was, naked, on his knees with his arse in the air, totally exposed. The position had been Viggo’s suggestion, though once more he followed direction. Not only could the slightly old man rim Sean for a while longer, but he said that it would make it easier on them both when they got around to more.

Maybe that was true in theory—it would give Viggo better access and control--but Sean found he suddenly hated it. He couldn’t see a damn thing, he lost the contact of Viggo’s warm and reassuring body, and the expectation of him to open up his virgin hole to accommodate something as large as Viggo’s fully erect size in the spotlight, as it were, was all bothering him too much for him to stay calm and relaxed.

The slippery fingers delving into his entrance were fine… to a point. However, the noises that came out of him when his prostate was touched were more out of panic than any real pleasure. While he knew by now it was different with men, he considered how he’d handle things if it were he as the experienced one. The best he could do was imagine himself with a virgin girl… it had been a long, long time, and there’d only been two of them to the best of his knowledge. Still, he’d have never taken a woman doggy style her first time, not unless she absolutely wanted it that way.

For himself, he didn’t. The decision arrived in his brain just in time. Viggo’s position had changed, and Sean could feel the tip of the other man’s erection just touching, ready to begin to breach him. The Brit wrenched his body away, or tried; amazingly strong fingers gripped tightly over his hipbones. “No, don’t…” he snarled.

“Wha--? What’s wrong? It’ll all be over in a minute.”

“No!” he bleated. This time, he threw his whole body forward and landed out of Viggo’s cock’s range. “I’m sorry, Viggo… I can’t. I’m…I’m not ready.” Never in his life had Sean imagined saying such a thing. He was a brave, strong bloke, always willing to take a dare. ‘Yer a fuckin’ pussy, Sean.’

Several seconds passed. He could sense the tension in Viggo’s body and hear the heavy, ragged panting that showed his struggle to keep himself in check. Sean didn’t move.

“Don’t be sorry, Sean. Maybe it’s too soon, if it’s ever going to happen at all.” Very gentle hands touched the backs of his thighs and slid up over the curves of his bum. “Love that ass, Sean. Just want you so much. I never meant to force you… I’m sorry.” Viggo clambered off and lay down on his side, facing the blond man.

“Don’ beh. Guess this makes me a bloody coward.”

Viggo reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, patting just a bit. “Well, even without that, there’s a lot we can still do, y’know. Still wanna get off with you, Sean. When I cum, I want it to be at your hands.” The other hand alighted in Sean’s hair, combing through it, touching his sensitive ear tip.

Truth be told, he didn’t need much convincing. Maybe he’d said no to that one thing, but he was still riled up and aroused despite his misgivings. He too rolled to his side, a gesture of acceptance. In a half a second, he and Viggo were plastered together, their four hands fumbling and grabbing. The Dane’s mouth closed over his, hot, moist, invading him and dominating. Sean threw a leg over his hip to get better friction; help came too in the form of a palm and fingers taking his ass in hand, roughly pulling at him till their cocks aligned.

Sean groaned from deep in his belly, pushing the other man onto his back and straddling him, crawling on top. Oh, this felt fucking good, the perfect combination of being on top and opening his legs. He even got daring enough to press the little ubiquitous bottle of lube into Viggo’s hand. “Would yeh…?”

A small smile played on Viggo’s lips. “Say it, Sean.”

Running a hand over Viggo’s chest, the blond steadied himself. The darker man’s tiny, dusky nips were impossibly hard, but they stood up even more pointedly when Sean touched. “Put yer fingers in me arse,” rolled off his tongue so easily, like it wasn’t even him talking. Holding Viggo’s stare, he slowly lowered his torso.

Soon, after the click of the lid, lubed fingers slipped inside him, and this time, it was untainted, gratifying lust. He ground his hips, nearly insane over the eroticism in their hard, leaking cocks rubbing together, all sticky and hot, and their bollocks brushing, swollen pouches they had to take care not to get smashed between their deprived bodies. Sean wiggled in sinful pleasure. Inside, he was probed, stretched. Unable to help it, he reached between them and curled his fist around both cocks.

Viggo bucked into his hand, hissing, “Ssssssean….stroke me.”

At that minute, his forefinger found Sean’s prostate; the blond went utterly still. Several drops of clear wetness fell from his slit and onto Viggo’s stomach. “Uuugh…my fucking god.” Sean swallowed hard. Viggo could see from his expression that he was both testing, savoring this, and trying very hard at the same time to control his orgasm reflex. There was something else Sean wanted; whether he’d act on in… “I’ll do yeh one better… I dunno how t’say it…” he gulped. “Put some-a that slippery shite on yerself. I’m gonna… I wanna…” He blushed and looked away.

“You gonna ride me, Sean?” Viggo asked softly, keen interest worn openly on his face. in record time he slicked his cock, a slick layer especially on the fat head and the upper half of his shaft, which he knew would take the most punishment. “Okay,” he nodded when satisfied.

Sean reached behind himself, which surprised the hell out of Viggo. The Brit lowered his body more and more till he felt, once again, Viggo’s eager cock touching his ring muscle. “Hold it up for me, please, Vig.” Pink crept up his neck, but Sean was determined.

Holding his breath, Viggo did it; he also wrapped his other first around the blond’s shiny-hard shaft and squeezed, just a little. Closing his eyes, Sean slowly lowered himself. While the wet little slit and very tip felt like a kiss, another half inch down the head flared out and Sean’s forehead furrowed. Still he let his own body weight bear him down. He snarled, bared his teeth, moaning in pain but determined. “This fucking burns!”

“You’ll get used to it.” One eyelid cracked; a flash of emerald jolted Viggo. Trapped under the Brit albeit by choice he lay, sweating and twitching, while the tightest orifice he’d ever been into painstakingly fitted down over his painfully throbbing cock.

Sean was carrying on like a wounded animal… Well, maybe he was, at that. Viggo was quickly growing desperate to thrust. His bottom position allowed him the appraisal every inch of his cock being forced inside, of Sean breaking his own virginity upon him. His legs had spread wide on the bed, heels digging in. By now he was grateful for the grip of his own fist around the base of himself. Watching this… god, he was already at the point where orgasm could happen within two or three breaths if he wasn’t careful.

Practically sparkling with the sweat of his effort and pain, Sean’s golden skin gleamed with an almost supernatural light. The blond was a mess of nerves. His thighs strained, and within the borders of his abdominal muscles, his secret little cup of a navel trembled. A harsh cry tore from his throat when he finally reached bottom.

Below, Viggo stabbed upwards and buried himself as far as he could go. He couldn’t just hang there, either. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he wrapped his arms around his lover. “Oooooohhhhhh…” he moaned, from the feel of Sean’s body and their skin sliding together that much more significant now that they were joined. “Oooohh… Sssseanie…” He nuzzled into the surface in front of him, Sean’s neck, nipping and licking salt. Sean tipped his head back to give more access to his throat. “Oh fuck, Sean… I wanna mark you, baby…” Viggo’s breathing sounded labored.

“Mm-mmmm,” was the rumbled agreement. “Right here.” The Brit’s long, slender fingers flew up to show exactly where he wanted it; Viggo surged upwards when the squeeze around the base of him tightened further.

The area Sean indicated lay off-center to the hollow of his throat. Viggo would get there… in his own good time. For the moment, he was too preoccupied with covering Sean’s nearly hairless chest in attentive swipes of his tongue. He lavished special attention on the taut, reactive nipples, which made the blond coil his long torso into slow writhes. Moving his hands lower, Viggo kept their bodies close but reached to cradle the muscular cheeks on his lap. He was probably splitting Sean wide open right now, or that’s what it would feel like, and he wanted to keep the pleasure levels high with excessive touch and contact. Moans just fell from him, one after the other, over the silky-suede feel of Sean body, all his for the touching.

“Aw, gawd… yeah…” Sean almost sobbed. “For fook’s sake, bite meh…tooch meh, jes’ fook meh…!” He thrust with strong hips, forward, back, before remembering the mechanics were other than what his usual instincts knew. Something nagged at him to start the motion. He didn’t know how, though he needed it badly. Needed something.

Unrepentant wide-spaced teeth sank into the side of his neck, further confusing and arousing him. While it was true his throbbing erection begged for friction, the men’s bodies were pressed too tightly together for Viggo’s hand to do much for him. He had to find some other way before he went entirely insane. Sill in a squatting position, feet under him, he rose up on his toes, let himself back down. It still hurt but…There! Fuck! Now the sweet friction was inside. A random sway of his hips made the cock inside him nudge his prostate, and he went wild for more. Maybe he wasn’t the most graceful, but once he got his roll and bounce going, there was no stopping. This was going to end only when his cream was forced from him savagely, one work and grind at a time.

The wolf-like biting at his neck almost scared him. Viggo was totally out of control, teeth set and growling. It fucking excited him to see the other man lose his grip into animalistic marking, but it was also mighty close to hitting his carotid artery.

In the split second it took to connect these random impressions, Viggo dumped them over on their sides, crushing his leg. Next thing Sean knew, he was flat on his back, legs wrapped around Viggo’s hips. He stared up into the other man’s inquisitive slate-blue eyes. “We c’n do it this way??” The question was rather ridiculous, considering they practically already were.

“Unngh,” Viggo lowed, beseeching. “Please baby… please let me fuck you, please…” A shift of his posture, and Sean’s pleasure gland thrummed in the shock of Viggo’s hard shaft and then the ridge of the head playing it like a primitive percussive instrument.

“Yah… oh yah… uh… meep!” Sean squeaked at the bottom of another longish slide in. “Shite..! That feels…!” The other man’s substantial body pressed him down, opening him more yet.

“Does it feel good, Sean?” Viggo whispered.

“Fook yeah!” Sean’s right hand whipped up to pull Viggo’s head down and firm lips against his mouth. “Ah don’ care,” lick, “’bout bein’,” lick, “on th’ bo’um.” He thrust his tongue into the Dane’s half-open mouth.

“Dammit, Sean,” Viggo swore a little while later. “I’m not gonna be able to control myself much longer if you don’t stop that--” His mouth was filled with a flippant British tongue once again. A counter echo, his lower body moved in sinuous, accelerating thrusts. At first, Sean struggled to mach the pace. He tried to pull at his partner’s body with his feet and calves. Breaking their kiss, Viggo urged, panting, into his neck, “Move with me... c’mon, Sean…just love me.”

If it hadn’t felt so much like what already, Sean’s defenses would’ve kicked in something fierce. He supposed he could’ve fought free, but he really didn’t want to. The burn of his hole being stretched to new limits around the whole of Viggo’s cock faded little by little replaced by the ecstasy of the act itself, of the matched bodies pumping in rhythm, their sighs and grunts, Viggo’s dark chest and belly fur tickling him, softened now with their combined sweat, slick skin with hard muscle below… It was all new again, kissing this man, twining tongues with him.

Sean’s fingers had been playing up and down Viggo’s spine, over his arse, but the Dane was getting closer to his peak and he wanted another form of togetherness. “Your hands, Sean…” he panted.

Not sure what he was being asked, Sean removed them from Viggo’s pitching back and dropped them, palms up, to the mattress near his shoulders. “Mmm, yeah,” Viggo affirmed. He quickly twined all his fingers, both hands, into Sean’s and pulled his arms overhead.

While his brain tried to catch up along with his ability to speak, he studied Viggo’s perspiring face. It seemed to grow even more angular and spare the more aroused he got. Sean had never been pinned like that, in a sexual manner, by someone his own size and strength. His balls tightened, condensed, and hardened in readiness. Regardless of how close he was, his belly wet with his own pre-cum leaking all over it, so very close, closer every time Viggo’s powerful hips slammed into him, it occurred to Sean that he didn’t know how he was supposed to cum. Was there some kind of man-on-man etiquette he wasn’t privy to? “Vig, mate, is it, can I, can you, how…” he stuttered, groaning because his cum was rising now to where he could taste that tang in his mouth. A little advance trickle worked its way up the tube inside his cock.

Viggo’s warm, demanding kiss swallowed his insecurities, and e answered, not bothering to pull back to speak, “Do you want to? ‘Cause I’d be more than happy to make you…” The protest about needing no help died unspoken.

Viggo bore down on him, ground his rigid length across Sean’s sweet spot, unerringly accurate. “Fuck… fuck…” they chanted, not intending to do it in chorus, but doing it anyway. Before, they’d worked together, trying out this new thing and testing responses. No more. Now Sean experienced being taken, what willing physical submission really was. He’d never found it in marriage; this was not so much found as detonated into his consciousness. Viggo took him hard enough in that freezeframe/stillframe moment to make Sean lose all his emotional baggage and preconceived notions for just a little while. While Sean writhed below him, Viggo joined sex and love, himself and Sean, and beginning to what would be only the first end and not the last.

The impression that he could do the same for his lover if he was allowed to practice made him rabid to try just that. Swollen to capacity and more, Sean’s arousal hurt from the congestion of blood, and so did his balls from not cumming yet. Those last few strokes were punishing, yet Sean met them, vaguely proud of himself for taking it all.One thrust at a time, they primed their release.

Viggo got there first. Forcing his slick tongue keep into Sean’s mouth, he ravaged till the pale pink lips puffed up, dark rose and bruised. Simultaneously, Viggo tore his mouth away and reared up, cried out hoarsely, buried himself inside the blond’s body and went stiff and still.

Of course he knew why, but Sean’s mind reeled in the half second before Viggo’s release manifested itself physically, that the Dane’s orgasm would be like his—outward. Another first, the sensation of being cum in, washed over him: a series of rhythmic twitches inside his hole, hot wet spurting, being filled with Viggo’s very essence. Provoked by the utterly sexy sensation and the look etched on the Dane’s sharp features before he threw his head back in ecstasy, Sean’s orgasm roared up from under his balls, which imploded and spewed his seed all over him; sparkles of relieve and whirpooling emotions almost sucked him under the periphery of consciousness.

Sean wouldn’t have said he’d never come that hard before, that it was the best orgasm of his life, or anything like that; it was a differing, unique sort of response. The direct simulation to his prostate added an element of coercion that went far beyond the common and easily explained sexual-excuses like premature ejaculation, for example. Viggo knew exactly how to play up his weak spots and make him like this, the bugger.

Shite. Fucking shite. Sean had to shake his head at himself. A vague wave of sickening shame washed over him, centering in his guts. He’d just been buggered. He’d allowed it… even liked it. Ah hell, he’d practically fucked himself with Viggo’s cock. Despite the high percentage of gay actors in the profession, he’d never, ever imagined experimenting with one of them, and now he’d gone and done the whole run, hadn’t he? Viggo was still on top of him, still inside him, though not for long, by the feel of things.

“What were you thinking about?” Viggo asked quietly, dead serious. He never asked questions like that or how things were going for pat answers like, “nothing,” or “fine;” Sean wasn’t inclined to answer in that manner anyway, not now.

“Erm… I don’t know. Something like… Maybe that I should run out, find the nearest woman, and drag ‘er into the next hedge for a good slag.”

Raising up, the Dane cocked his head and beaded some kind of semi-dangerous look at him. “What? I didn’t shag your ass good enough… is that what you’re telling me?” That was maybe a bit too literal for Sean, said halfway between joking and hurt though it was.

The other man didn’t know how to take him; Sean could see easily that. “No… I dunno,” he repeated. “Maybeh… I’ll know later… Oh! And not about whether it were good or not. Yes it were good. Really… good. God…!” He looked away and eased out from underneath. “Jes’ not sure… that I should’ve done that.”

Viggo was quiet. He let Sean settle, then snugged up behind him. “Are you gonna be alright?”

A few breaths went by. Sean tensed, then loosened up again. “Aye. It’s jes’ fuckin’. A right different kind than I’m used to but… It’s good t’try new things, innit?”

Viggo took his time answering, careful not to let his roiling emotions cloud his face or his words. He stopped on the verge of speaking a couple times, before he did finally. “Sean, maybe you don’t want to hear this right now, what with being on the rebound…”

“Rebound? My divorce hasn’t even come through yet.”

“Well, there you go, then.”

Sean waited. And waited. “’There you go, then,’ what?

“Don’t you know, Sean?” Viggo hedged.

“No, I don’ know. Know what, anyway? What’re yeh sayin’…?”

Viggo burst out, “Dammit, I think I’m in love with you!”

“Wait a minute… You ‘think’ you are? And since when?” Sean made to turn around; Viggo, thinking he was leaving, tightened his hold.

“Please, Sean, you don’t have to leave.”

“Not leaving.” When they faced eye to eye, Sean began with, “Whatever y’think yeh feel, I think it’s fair to warn you… I would only say ‘be careful.’ I’m one of those people who loves the idea of bein’ in love. Been that way since I were in school. Always have to have someone, don’t feel right any other way.” He gave a self-mocking little snigger. “Yeah, someone, and probably someone on the side. Easy to be in love with two… sometimes more. It’s so…” His shoulders slumped. “It’s not worth it, Viggo, the pain it causes people.” He searched the angular feature for some hint of agreement. “Yeh were me first; that’s no big secret. Hell, yeh knew tha’ before we started. For all I know, that is why we started. Of course I’d fall in love with yeh, unless you were a bloody wanker about it, which y’weren’t.”

Viggo’s eyebrows crept upwards. “You think—No, let me start over. So, me being your first male lover is what makes you love me. That and some insatiable compulsion to not be alone. Am I hearing you right?” His eyelids lowered, leaving Sean utterly taken, mesmerized, by the view of the Dane’s sharp bone structure, the lines around his eyes and across his forehead, the smooth slant of his nose and scruffy long whiskers, without his sky-colored irises alive in the sere landscape.

“Ah… I guess it sounds harsh, really harsh and… I’m sorry. I’ve been confronted with the same thing I’m doling out on you… the same reaction. When it happened to me, it wasn’t very welcome. Yer too good a mate to go mucking things up like that, jes’ ‘cause of those things we done…” He’d have gone rambling on and on, trying to find words without doing more than coming semi-close to what he meant.

When he paused for breath, Viggo cut in. “It’s mutual, you daft sod.” He picked one of the phrases he’d heard from Sean over and over again to break into his awareness. “All of it, or enough…”

An indrawn breath, stopped in mid-inhale, showed that the Brit had heard, and comprehended, correctly. “Bloody Christ… why didn’t yeh tell meh? Jesus, Viggo…!”

“I’m telling you now.”

“But…”

Viggo cut across him again. “Would you have… could you even have done it if you’d known?”

“I reckon bloody well not!”

“Alright, then. That’s what I thought,” Viggo nodded.

“Jesus, Viggo,” Sean repeated, mentally flailing. In retrospect, he knew he’d been too rough, and it somehow made that memory even hotter. “Jes’ don’t pull any of tha’ kinda shite again. You ‘bout gave meh a coronary, jes’ now.”

Viggo smiled, finally. He’d been entirely too serious the last few moments. “Your heart’s stronger than that, Sean. So, do you love me?”

‘Point blank or nothing, that one,’ Sean thought to himself. Almost grudgingly, the blond man allowed it past his lips. “Just like that, eh? Yeh know the answer. Dunno why yer makin’ meh say it. But, aye… I love yeh.” Awkwardly, he brought his lips to Viggo’s. “C’mon,” he urged. “We don’ have to get all sappy just ‘cause our feelings are a bit mushy right now.”

Viggo leaned into him and opened his mouth to receive Sean’s probing tongue. “Aw, hell,” he groaned. They lay together in warmth and pleasantly weighty limbs, enmeshed. Viggo let go of whatever self-protective instincts had restrained him before to deliberately explore every plane of Sean’s rugged, beloved face. Their bodies throbbed with a quiet but no less intense desperation for each other’s sex, and more kisses and rubbing cock against cock in minute shifts became the groping of hands, and finally teasing stroking of tight skin till they sweated, quivering and flexing, in their nest. “Sean….” Viggo breathed. “I wanna fuck you…” His mouth was half open, nostrils flared, pupils dilated wide, all his senses programmed to overdose on his lover’s chemistry.

“Ah…” Sean looked away. “C’n I beg off this time, if I tell yeh ‘m too sore?”

Viggo made some odd noise, half chuckle, half giggle. “I’m in no position to argue with that… got the same problem.”

“Oh, no!” Sean returned. “Then I can’t ask yeh t’gimme yer arse then, either, eh?”

“No!”

Sparkling eyes meeting, they spent a moment for laughter.

At the next shift, tight bodies already pressed together, their need rose viable, demanding. Viggo’s little squawk signaled renewed attention to his cock. He pushed his pelvis forward; Sean answered likewise. Under the covers, they pushed for a slow culmination. Two-handed, each of them, balls rolled, solid erections stroked with utmost concentration, foreskins minutely slipped back and forth across nerve-invested crowns, clear fluids undammed at last in twin jets of frothy white. With two hoarse cries, “Cum on me!” and “Just fill my hand!” beautiful release, eyes rolling back, clenching, spurting, growling, aching.

Near the end, their mouths clashed. Lips sought and sucked, teeth rent, words of deep sexual love fell into the silence that was breathing and panting for many moments of afterglow. Uncaring of the sticky mess now their bedmate, Viggo embraced Sean for the night and followed the dazed blond into sleep.

Tomorrow--they’d talk more tomorrow, in the light of day. But they loved… and the night knew it.

*****

THE END

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