Stay

Stay

Posted: August 2005
Title: Stay
Author: Helena Snow-Renn
Type: RPS
Characters: Sean/Viggo
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: As always, this is fiction. It never happened.
Summary: Viggo comes home. Now who can't talk?
Author's Notes: Written for rotpunkt, at her request for a continuation of her story "Windy Excuse." She was writing for nevanoon's pic- challenge.

*****

"Would you stay?"

Regretfully, Viggo replied, "Wish you'd asked me earlier. Can't. But... you wait for me, and when I come back..." His eyes moved downwards to Sean's groin, the shadow of what had earlier risen long and proud at the juncture of his thighs. The blond blushed in embarrassment, having never been looked at so carefully in his soft state.

Viggo raised violet-tinged blue irises up to the British man's face. "There is no shame between us... not ever. Not for any reason. Alright?"

Sean pulled in a breath and stepped back, into the running water. The clear liquid gilded his form, making Viggo envious of the individual streamlets and droplets caressing every inch of his lover. Heavy lids dropped modestly over the other man's eyes, even as he took up the soap and forthrightly passed it over his chest, where his nipples tightened into points less than the diameter of a finger.

Rousing himself from his brief interlude of gawping, Viggo grasped the shutters, and, with a nod, closed and latched them, lest anyone else glancing carelessly in see his lover's honey-and-pink body. He would kiss those tender, swollen lips again, and re-stake his claim... just not this minute. Playing house was something to return to. Working was a means to that end.

It was nearly dark with a few faint stars pricking the cyan-midnight sky, when Viggo's long legs at last carried him home. The door was unlocked, but there was no response when he called out. Searching the darkened rooms of their little abode, flicking switches as he went, Viggo found Sean at last in the bedroom, curled up on his side, sound asleep. Dead to the world, in fact.

For many minutes, Viggo's artist's eyes drank in the shell of flesh and bone that houses the spirit of his lover. It seemed like almost a sin in itself, not that he believed in sin, how he had chosen someone who made millions drool and yearn from just the sight of him. In a semi-fetal position, the long back is accentuated, from the bowed head tilted toward the chest, all the way down a good meter past waist and tailbone to rounded buttocks. With his legs tucked up, Viggo cannot see anything of Sean's genitals, but he can see the slightly spread cleft in the back, with its secret dusting of darker hairs, and just barely the dusky entrance that's still a little swollen from his recent use of it.

Viggo shook his head at himself. Here he was, rock-hard and leaking, when he needed to be thinking of how to appeal to Sean's brain. Prying any sort of admission of feelings from the laconic Northerner was always a careful sort of trickery. Perhaps, if he'd been a woman... Viggo wonders if, even now, his beautifully louche ami has ever revealed his true self except for in tiny pieces. Probably him being of the opposite gender would have mattered not, on that subject. But that was unimportant speculation. He could have stood there in the shadows and breathed in the luminous, shallowly-breathing body all night, but what he desired, craved, needed, now that they were joined, was that stubborn consciousness to inhabit the body, for the man that Sean was inside to look at him and want him in return.

Somewhere, unaware, in the midst of his thoughts, Viggo had dropped his clothes. Moving onto the bed, he noticed in passing how the slightly cooler night air kissed his skin. He felt fevered, but Sean was warmer yet as Viggo insinuated himself stealthily into the sleep-heavy limbs' embrace. Sean stiffened, hissing in a breath; his senses registered the sight, scent, and texture of Viggo before the blond's defenses had time to kick in.

"Hello," Viggo smiled toothily.

"Yer back," Sean answered croakily. He twined his legs into Viggo's and pushed a warm erection, iron-hard, against Viggo's belly. A minute later, he was met length for length. The men, ultra-aware of the state of themselves, stared at each other.

"You always crawl into bed with people when they're asleep?" Sean asked in a low voice.

"No, Sean, only ones I promised I'd return to... That I have unfinished business with."

"So, that's wot yer after... t'finish yer business?" One fine blond eyebrow raised; the Brit made to turn over but Viggo grasped Sean's ass cheek in his right hand and the side of his face that had been on the pillow in the other.

"No, Sean, or at least, not yet."

"What, then?" Again, the short, straight lashes dipped in squirmy awkwardness.

"Kiss me," Viggo answered before the words had barely left Sean's lips. The long vowel sound was cut off by insistent lips pressed to his. Just that at first, than a curious little sucking sensation as Sean pursed his lips. Stillness. Viggo tilted his head, and arched for more contact with the smooth front of Sean's body. As if he were preparing to dive, the Brit sucked in a large breath that expanded his chest. One arm slid under Viggo's ribs and the other around, under his arm, and up to the back of his neck. Central to this, he possessed the Dane's mouth in that state of breathlessness, searing nerves as they sucked wetly at each other, tongues flicking at teeth and gums, twining and gliding. Sean bore down, the sweet-coppery taste of him almost like blood in Viggo's mouth.

The vertigo hit him hard, even there, lying down... Sean's slick tongue twirled inside his oral cave, alongside his; Sean's hand fisted in his hair, holding his head for the repeated assault of damp, mobile kisses that left them both gasping for air.

Little by little, Sean pushed till he was half on top of the darker man. Even pinned so, Viggo's head was still spinning. "Stop! You gotta... stop... or I'll cum... been hard for hours... since I saw you through the window... please!" The long, golden body stopped its skin-on-skin stroking at the last possible moment, just when Viggo had resigned himself to his fate and was gritting his teeth against the slashing cum that would escape with his lost control. But no... Long, deft fingers slid between their sweaty loins to grasp his balls, not to hurt him but to keep him from his unwanted release.

Sean, however, surprised him with a different take, as well. "You've always got me by the bollocks," he whispered harshly. "Yeh want things from meh... I don't possess. I let yeh take me body... that's what I have to give... that's wha' you can have." His thumb circled insistently over the hardened glands in tight sacs. Viggo had to close his eyes against it; just a minute amount of pressure away from hurting him, the sensation was so, so erotic, but did not allow him to cum.

"I'll be happy... with whatever you feel you can offer," he rasped in return. "I don't mean to demand. You... you're... the best I ever had..." It sounded cheap, but he could do no better at the moment. Sean met his eyes, green, black-rimmed, flashing emerald-topaz in his state of arousal. The knowing look on his face, mere inches from Viggo's, revealed that he knew the depths of that which Viggo was drowning in and speaking from, but he could speak no more plainly.

His lips took ownership this time, not just obeisance. Sean kissed without fear, without restraint, searching with his tongue for things that never sounded right, spoken. When he finally broke, when they were both trembling, he lifted his head abruptly. "I offer you..." He pinned Viggo down and slid atop him fully, his knee between Viggo's thighs, his hands, coaxing the Dane's legs up around his flanks. "This is what I offer you. Meself again, in a different way, yeah? 'S wha' I wan' this time." He was there, pressing himself against the closed entrance. "Open to me; and that might do, yeah, next time yeh need this 'more' from me."

Viggo thought it a strange trade-off, but one he'd done already. They stopped only for lube, so that the inevitable friction would not hurt Viggo too much. This was not his thing; he'd not let anyone do that in a long, long time, but then, what could he say in light of the fact that Sean had not, ever? More than the fucking though, even with the gliding pressure that made Viggo lose it and spurt between them so fast, they were bound in the moment, even if that's all it was, eye to eye, mouth to mouth, heart in hand.

*****

THE END

Go to the sequel to this story: Stay II

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