Under

Under

Posted: March 2005
Title: Under
Author: Helena Snow-Renn and Klatschmohn
Type: RPS
Characters: Sean/Viggo
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: As always, this is fiction. It never happened. Not true.
Warnings: We explore certain psychological aspects of a D/s relationship here; though we think the Viggo we portray here is still "within the possibilities" of Viggo´s personality, we certainly don´t think the issues he has to deal with here come so much to the fore or are as strong as we show them.
Summary: Viggo has issues with his sub, himself.
Author's Notes: The quotes we use in the parts with Viggo´s insight are from his latest work "Linger" (page number in brackets).

*****

For more than ten days, Viggo had only used Sean´s mouth. He wanted it this way; he wanted to use Sean, to take his pleasure without allowing Sean to come, and it was easier this way, when no friction was available for Sean´s cock.

When he ordered Sean onto his knees, Sean would never know whether Viggo was going to fuck him or to beat him. Whatever Viggo did to him, it always started with these words: "On your knees."

In Viggo´s own eyes, Sean edged him slightly. In everything.

It was only the smallest part of the problem that Viggo didn´t believe he would win any voting polls against Sean when it came to fans deciding which of the two of them was the sexier and more attractive man.

And Viggo didn´t consider that unfair. For Viggo, there was absolutely no doubt that Sean was the sexiest and most beautiful person on Earth. He didn´t get it, how Sean managed that, but Sean was always sexy, in every unconscious movement and every random gesture, no matter what he did or what sort of condition or situation he was in.

Viggo let Sean kneel in front of him for hours. He liked to work at his desk with Sean kneeling at his feet, to give him release during a short break or serve him as soon as he wanted a cup of tea or anything. In every single moment of his life, Sean was either carrying out one of Viggo's orders, or he was naked on his knees in front of him.

It caused more of a sting that Viggo thought Sean was the better actor - and that he achieved that without obsessively "internalising" his characters like Viggo did all the time. Sean acted intuitively; it all came naturally to him, seemingly effortless, while Viggo took everything deadly serious.

It was not that Viggo envied Sean. He felt the utmost respect for Sean as an actor. It was just that this admiration for Sean´s acting skills added to Viggo´s general feeling of inferiority.

"Something´s been killed recently. You can feel it inside..." (13)

Sean had been down on the floor on his plush mat for a very long time, on all fours with his legs folded under him and arms crossed over his chest. Viggo allowed him to turn his head to the side so he could see the strong profile anytime he happened to glance down. The blond tresses had grown longer, sleeker, artfully streaked. It pleased him for Sean to fan those golden strands behind his head upon the floor. The glints caught the sun, just as the metallic embroidery on his costume had all those years ago. The patterns of breathing coming from near floor level revealed that Sean was not exactly sleeping, but he'd learned to relax despite the ridiculousness of his position.

Back when they'd been filming, there had been days and days where Viggo had fixated on the shape and hue of Sean's eyes, the exact angle of the fold of his eyelids, and the precise length of his light brown lashes, every single one of them tipped to match his hair. He'd done that without looking at the man once, except while shooting. In much the same way, Viggo virtually ignored him now, other than when he made demands as to his personal comfort. None-the-less, he was staring at the man almost constantly, in every unoccupied moment.

If Sean felt it, he ignored it. Certainly he was used to constant scrutiny. The man's poise was nearly flawless. And then there was Viggo, always on the edge of being caught out.

"Rest your head in my lap, boy." Viggo had meant to offer a gesture of solicitude; instead it came out as arrogant. It angered Viggo how his own self-loathing, self-aggrandizing attitude came out in his tone. "Lap dog," he sneered.

Without comment, without the slightest shift toward a glare, Sean straightened up slowly and laid his cheek upon Viggo's jeaned knee. Immediately the Dane's cock started to swell. He continued to read for a time, rapidly losing concentration. The urge to touch Sean was almost overpowering but he denied them both the connection. Instead, he spat out in rough commands, "Suck my cock, Sean! And don't you dare cum."

Maybe Viggo could have dealt with Sean´s beauty and acting genius, with all of Sean´s qualities that put him so high above everyone else in Viggo´s eyes - but the one thing that really nagged at him was, that somewhere deep inside, Viggo was sure Sean was the better man...without trying or really being conscious of it, and oh, did that sting.

Viggo highly strained his patience to be kind, a peaceful persona, true to his convictions and moral standards. He thought he should regard all human beings as his equal, and treat them like that. But sometimes he felt in truth his ego was beyond proportion - it was monstrous. All the average people crowding him disgusted him.

Maybe this misanthropic contempt was the real reason why he had been single for so long - no one seemed worthy of being with him. Even his longing for solitude and his urge to spend time in lonely nature had to do with his autocratic ego. He didn´t want to be vain and arrogant; he held all these megalomaniac impulses down violently, forcing himself to act modestly and speak softly. His shyness and calmness, mentioned in so many interviews and articles, were nothing more than - a false attitude? No, now he judged himself too hard. It was a desperate attempt to fight his devastating ego.

Sean, on the other hand, had no issues about buying himself an expensive car, renting a luxurious suite (while Viggo preferred a tent in the desert like an eremite doing penance) or showing off in elegant clothes. But deep inside, Sean never had thought he was any better than his mates from the Sheffield streets. Inside, he still was the simple guy he´d always been, and nothing would ever change that.

"Do you care if you miss the ending, if the hero´s welcome is a send-off?" (13)

Sometimes he bound the Brit so tightly he could barely achieve an erection, let alone come, and sometimes he made him control himself by force of will alone. And as yet, he did--so far, Sean had not suffered punishment for the sin of release.

The flaxen head raised, the man's shining eyes went from his crotch to his face and back again. Moving his leg over to allow Sean between his thighs, Viggo resolutely unbuttoned his fly, springing his compressed organ from the too-tight confines, feeling how it inflated fully. At times like this, with the other man on his knees in submission, it felt like his cock was huge, as big as he was tall, made of steel, covered in skin with a network of nerve endings interlaced and connected to his balls and his brain, a veritable weapon.

"Suck it!" he hissed again. Grasping himself at the base, he rubbed the tip against Sean's pale pink lips. Soon, he knew, those polite British lips would be dusky and swollen.

A hot vacuum enclosed him. His head, partially covered by foreskin, was tugged on by suction from the surrounding orifice. The wet heat advanced, swallowing more and more; his hands clawed around the arms of his chair. He hit bottom—Sean's throat.

"Take it all!" he growled. Grabbing Sean by the hair so hard he must have pulled a few strands out, he forced the man's head down, revelling in the sputtering, choked sounds. Sean's gag reflex working against him, then eventual acceptance and opening, so excited him that if he'd been a younger, less-often-satisfied man, he'd have shot his load. Bracing against the chair back, he jammed himself in and out of that delightfully tight throat.

No doubt about it--Sean was skilled. How or where he'd come by such talents or whether it was natural aptitude, Viggo didn't want to know. He chose to think it was for his benefit only that the gorgeous blond man ever opened his mouth and wrapped it around a thick, leaking organ.

He worked on Viggo's now with his lips compressed in a tight ring, folded back over his teeth. The flat of his tongue was applied against the whole underside of Viggo's shaft, pressing against the fluttering vein in waves. Then, he began to bob his head up and down, brazenly pushing Viggo's jeans back enough to cup his balls in one hand and roll them slowly, carefully, exquisite little squeezes and taps with his thumb.

Every so often, he'd look up, as if he wanted to be praised, but Viggo never gave it to him. That way, it made Sean try harder. And he did at that, sucking, pulling, massaging from root to ridge till not only Viggo's cock and balls but his whole groin, perineum, even his asshole felt heavy with blood, aching and congested.

The only thing that might have been better was Sean's ass, and so far, he had not ventured into that territory. Best to keep the man guessing, lusting, on edge. Till Sean showed him a crack in his composure, Viggo wouldn't fuck him. It was all part of the process. Why Sean would debase himself in this way, to suck the cock of a man such as him, Viggo couldn't say, not yet. That curiosity would need to be satisfied, as well.

But suddenly cooler air on his shaft and an urgent tugging at his clenched fist distracted him. Sean pulled his mouth away, red-faced and gasping for air.

Maybe if he wasn't simply terrified of Sean not wanting such a thing of him, Viggo would have leaned down and kissed that open, panting mouth. But he just didn't know.

"Can you join, ask sincerely for affection, understanding and accepting, if it never is given?" (94)

So he growled, "Nobody said you were done, boy," and pulled the blond head back down in his lap. Tears of effort ran from Sean's eyes; they landed in the hairs surrounding the base of his cock and ran down around his sac, into the crease of his ass. The liquid was warm, same as anything coming out of a live human body, yet the drops felt cooling against Viggo's overheated skin.

If he'd had to choose a color for what was going on between his legs, it would most certainly have been red... Red for heat, blood, anger, lust... changing to molten orange as his balls boiled over and he blasted his fiery passionate consummation of this strange relation into Sean's receiving mouth. He'd been slouched down with his butt tucked under, but now he had to bend at the waist even more, rounding himself over Sean's head. He shook and shook and the hot mouth milked him for more and more of his essence; eruptions became spurts, then dribbles, and still Sean's mouth sucked and his tongue probed and he stroked at Viggo's utterly drained balls.

It was almost as if, the darker man thought in a daze, the submissive had become bent on experiencing the orgasm he was not allowed, second hand.

Well, he was a painter, a poet, and a photographer. Shouldn´t he rightly be proud of his universal genius? Wasn´t the multitude of talents a gift that separated him from most people, who would have been glad if they had been born with skills in just one discipline?

Viggo snorted inwardly. He wouldn´t fool himself. The subjects of his poetry were melancholy, sadness, failure, falling apart and inner emptiness. He described with the precision of an excellent watcher, with sensitive perception, but there was no trace of passionate appropriation, no powerful affirmation of life and love. He didn´t judge, he didn´t claim. He stayed outside, distant.

And his photos - what else were they than documents of his loneliness? Empty spaces, deserted landscapes, forlorn and forgotten. Hardly ever a recognisable person in them, and if, it was from behind, with closed eyes, almost wiped out by refractions of light, visually contorted or blurred. The photos were evidence of his inability to come close to anyone, the impossibility within him to love and trust and join.

His paintings - there were some cheerful colours, yeah, yellow and pink, light green and red - but even there, it was more about the things you couldn´t grasp and couldn´t keep. A sunbeam, lost and gone; a smile, flickering across and over. Vague forms, fading, wavering away...

His music. Okay, maybe we shouldn´t talk about that.

"There was no joy in his work, no satisfaction from his needful efforts." (23)

And somehow it was still not enough, no matter than he was drained dry, and that it was taking a supreme effort on his part not to just collapse back into his chair like a limp rag. He wanted more than to dominate Sean by making him bring him off... he wanted to claim more.

'The hell with it!' he mustered himself. Reaching out with both hands, he cupped the sides of Sean's face. There was a pleasant whiskery rasp, along with soft, moisturized skin, for of course Sean took the best care of himself when he wasn't under Viggo's hand. The rugged bone structure beneath that, to Viggo's eyes—artist's eyes—made him so appealing, the perfect blend of sharp with heavy. The world centered around the small tracing of his thumb over Sean's parted lips. He watched the tiny folds of skin over his joint pull apart and re-fold.

When he was able to look up, to gauge the blond's reaction, he saw something close to panic. Almost fear. "Don't," Sean said in a low voice.

"No?" queried Viggo. He was nearly pole-axed by the one word. But then his desire to possess the other man roared up again, and he spat, "Safeword, then!" daring Sean to use that finality as an out. There was a slight shake of head, barely shifting the sweaty tresses, but no words. "Kiss me." This, Viggo demanded, for all that he knew that men in such arrangements don't kiss. Nor did he care that Sean had had a mouthful of his sperm a minute ago. He wanted...

Still Sean hesitated. "Do it!" Viggo barked at him.

Something feral flashed in the greyed, inky-rimmed eyes. Sean's nostrils flared; his upper lip curled to reveal his teeth. He grabbed Viggo's face between his large hands and pulled the Dane forward, sealing their mouths together. A slick tongue invaded Viggo's mouth in fast discovery of his palate and his own tongue; he could only push back in that moment of surprise. One of Sean's hands slid around to grip the back of his neck. Repositioning his whole upper body, the Brit pressed forward. His chest crushed against Viggo's, who could feel the rapid heartbeat thudding through his clothes. Sean sucked his lower lip briefly, licked the upper, then tilted his head to the side for another dive...

Viggo was ready this time. When the same warm tongue slid forward again, he suctioned hard to get it fully into his oral cavity, and thrust his own answer back, tasting the smoke-honey taste of Sean, his own slightly fishy flavour below. Hot breath fanned against his face in quick puffs; it excited him beyond reason to have some say in Sean's very breathing. Curling his tongue-tip, he licked all around the little arches of the insides of the other man's teeth. When he used it like a feathering instrument to tickle the top of the sensitive palate, the blond jerked hard, but Viggo increased the seal of his kiss. Sean groaned; he backed off slightly, looking out through his eyelashes for half a second. Even that small measure of gentleness spoke of his passion. Slate-blue eyes met deep emerald green, only an inch apart.

"C'mon," Sean pulled back enough to taunt him.

Viggo clawed into his shoulders and pulled him in harder, thighs clamping around the sides of the heaving flanks. "Come get me," he growled in return. It seemed he'd made a mistake, commanding his sub to take the upper hand. But Sean, to his disconcertment, brought it. His kisses now were no less erotic, moving his head just so to continually brush the other man's darker, finely-carved lips, yet not as violent; he was waiting. His flicking tongue begged to be overpowered; it teased; it pleaded with partner to make him submit. For that would bring his release, if and when he was allowed.

All of a sudden, Viggo simply didn't know how to do this. This gorgeous, utterly alluring man, whatever his reasons, wanted this.... Wanted it this way. Viggo hated Sean's ingrained or trained-in response to threats, humiliation, subjugation. It didn't matter that it had started with Viggo getting his rocks off in all manners of speaking by forcing his submission. Now he couldn't see how to stop it from continuing only in this manner if at all.

He was still battling it out within the confines of both of their mouths. The whole situation angered him. It was by no means the first time he wanted to beat the beautiful manly male body, and to spit upon the spirit within. And he wanted to lift him up, odd because he already thought the man so outshined him.

It was driving him crazy. He regretted having blown his wad already, because he did not doubt that kissing Sean would have aroused him that much more had he done it before. How was it that everything was suddenly upside down and backwards, just over a fucking kiss? He had to stop this before he couldn't hold up the barrier between 'Sir' and 'boy' anymore. Peeling his lips away, Viggo moved his head to the side and bit the thin-skinned earlobe he found as he nuzzled under strands of hair.

Yelping, the blond released his grip and leant back. He stared, waiting on Viggo to make a move

One thing the Dane decided: Sean deserved to be allowed to come. Ten days now since he'd emptied his balls. His thrill would be that much more if he was watched, seemingly ordered to do it. Viggo would allow him to take that edge off--he wanted to see that so damn badly...

It was this train of thought that prompted Viggo to move his booted foot under Sean's chest and roughly kick him over on his back. There was surprise, of course, but once again, the golden man carefully contained any negative reaction. As expected, his fully erect penis slapped against his belly; his balls were high and tight with pent-up frustration, and he was red from the waist up from lack of air combined with sex-flush.

"You fucking little slut!" Viggo gritted. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Very calmly, the Yorkshire-tinged voice answered him, "I'm sorry, Sir, that my obedience was unsatisfac—"

Hauling back, Viggo unleashed a right hook, but at the last minute reined it and merely grazed Sean's jaw with his knuckles. "Don't... fucking tempt me. You know exactly what you were on about, bitch. Even I know what "pushy bottom" means, as subtle as you seem to think you are. And if you call me 'Sir' even one more time the rest of the day, it will be the real thing." He pointed to his still-fisted hand. "That, I promise you. I can only stand so much of...that."

"Yes... Viggo."

With an impolite snort, Viggo looked down at the floor where Sean had been kneeling. There was a silvery-clear pool with traces of white there on the wood planks, as big around as his palm with a trail running off into the seam of the floor. Even the idea of Sean leaking so much pre-cum could not harden him yet at this point, so he filed it away in his brain for future use, but it thrilled in the pit of his stomach and in the joints of his legs were his baser pleasures lived.

"You wanna cum, Sean?"

There was an actual whimper.

"Since you made such a mess, you can lie in it... and better yet, with your face... while you show me exactly how a man who needs to be 'under' comes. I bet you go in 'under' five seconds, just like you did when you were 'under' fifteen, eh? Just can't wait to get your hand 'under' yourself and around your cock. Should see what it looks like from here, Sean. It's got a lot more to say that you seem to. Maybe you should listen to it." He leered—self-actualized men like themselves were not supposed to admit to thinking like that. But here he was.

Silence... heavy breathing, and then: "Please... Viggo, please ... I need... need to come."

"Kiss my feet," Viggo ordered. "Lick them." Sean bent down and obeyed.

"You can come now," Viggo growled. "Touch yourself."

Sean did, down on the ground with the side of his face in the puddle of his own making; he came with all the denied need of ten days, bucking and cringing, spurting uncontrollably in hot strings of seed while Viggo slowly put his foot on Sean´s neck and pinned him to the floor, treading down.

And while Sean came under Viggo´s foot, humiliated as deeply as possible, for one moment Viggo didn´t feel his self-doubts and fears, looking at Sean under him, so deep, deep under him.

"When we walk away in our separate directions, will it matter who had the last word, who was in charge in the end?" (13)

*****

Chapter 2

"You´ve seemed nearly one with the beast you´ve slaughtered..." (13)

Sean had let him secure his cock in silent devotion, but his eyes were melting with the ache of his need. During these ten days, Sean´s gaze had intensified in an almost frightening way. In the end it had been like the gaze of someone starving to death, and the one shot had still not been enough to satisfy all his pent-up sex-drive. Now, Viggo wanted to fuck Sean´s ass, and to make sure Sean couldn´t come again, he tightly bandaged down Sean´s cock and balls with an item especially designed for that purpose, castrating Sean this way for the duration of the sex, making it impossible for Sean´s cock to erect.

While he fastened the clip, suddenly it occurred to him how almost absurd the situation was. For more than two years now, Viggo lived mostly celibate when he wasn´t with Sean. It had not even been a deliberate decision, it was just that his whole body rebelled at the mere thought of sleeping with someone other than Sean. He had to be very drunk or mentally exhausted and indifferent to make an exception, and he didn´t want to deal with his sexuality this way. Thus, in some way he lived in a self-inflicted "chastity" when Sean was not there. He had never talked about it, afraid of Sean´s reaction; he felt almost ashamed and feared Sean would see his faithfulness as weakness, remembering how harshly Sean had refused to talk about feelings when Viggo had tried a long while ago. For a second it struck him how sad it was that something so beautiful as offering faithfulness to someone could be turned into something that caused contempt in a relationship like theirs.

Sean wasn´t faithful to him, that much he knew. He never asked. He didn´t want to hear anything about it. But now, when he forced Sean to submit to "chastity," it seemed so very ironic to him.

What it reminded Viggo of, for whatever reason, was a clothes pin. Clear acrylic plastic, it was sized to fit closely around an average-sized grown man's penis and ball-sac. The tackle was laid into a molded form on bottom, and a likewise realistically-molded lid snapped down over all. Viggo had found it online, under "chastity belts." While no belt at all, it would certainly do the job. If Sean's cock decided to swell to any degree more than 'perky,' well, it would just have to think again. He had Sean run an errand for him, down to the basement where it was quite chilly, to bring up some wine. He told the Brit to choose carefully, not because he particularly cared what vintage Sean picked out, but to allow the blond man time to clear his mind and with any luck, bring down the near-constant half-erect state of his denied sex.

"Very nice... now bend over." Viggo smirked, and Sean did, with his usual efficiency of movement. Deciding to dispense with his clothes entirely, Viggo quickly dropped shirt and jeans. He stood haughtily in front of Sean, who was on hands and knees on his mat. "Lick," Viggo commanded, and pointed. At once, the pink tongue flicked out to wet the tip of him, just the half-dollar sized area around the slit. Seeming to know exactly what he wanted, Sean continued to repeat the same action. Over and over, the warm organ batted his purpling cockhead. Droplets of pre-cum soon began to ooze one by one onto Sean's tongue, each swiped away while Viggo stroked himself to full hardness. Sean's tongue curled this way and that, circling the ridge after several pokes to move the foreskin all the way back. The tiny slit opening was prodded; Viggo hissed, but in acceptance flexed his muscles to round the tiny aperture. Tiny clear strings of sticky fluids stretched between Viggo's cock and Sean's lower lip as he lapped juice from the source.

"When we ourselves become the bully, do we know it?" (13)

It was with much reluctance that Viggo pulled away. Some day, he was going to let his 'boy' work him like this till he shot cum all over his face, but not today. Today, he had decided, he would get full contact. It would be difficult enough holding back without being over-stimulated to start. Tearing himself away, oh so pleased when Sean tried to follow him with his face, he walked around behind the blond, admiring from above the sheer masculine perfection of him. Most of his longish hair hung down around his face, but there was a section lying along his spine. It reached his shoulder blades, when his head was tipped back like that. Viggo sank to his knees and reached over for his pants, for the lube he'd forgotten to take out earlier. He broke open the packet, getting plenty on his fingers. With his off hand, he stroked Sean's tense bum several times before centering, holding the cheeks apart and using the lubed hand to touch the tiny, tucked-in hole. Sean's whole body shuddered.

"Relax," Viggo urged in a low voice. "Open yourself to me." He was able to wiggle in his index finger a little at a time. Sean was hot on the inside, like a brick baked in an oven for an old-time sleigh-ride. There was room for nothing in that tight tunnel but Viggo's one finger, yet there'd have to be...

He continued to stroke the rounded ass while he slid the finger in and out, then up over Sean's hip, up his back, even over each shoulder. Everywhere he touched brought a ripple of golden skin. The man was so damned responsive; it was making his balls hurt just seeing this. It wasn't as simple to get his middle finger past the ring muscles, but with the aid of more lube and the slightest tweaking of Sean's prostate, he eventually managed. From there, he went about the necessary business of stretching the passage he'd slide into in minutes, scissoring his fingers, slipping in the third, coning them out little by little while the pink and puckered ring smoothed out and dilated around his hand. There was no sound but for their quick, raspy breathing, not even moaning. It was like they were holding all that back for later. Before he was too gone to do it, Viggo oiled the stiff organ between his legs with a good coat of lubricant. Other than lowering his upper body, Sean remained motionless except for where his muscles danced under his skin.

"Take me," he whispered, closing the one eye Viggo could see.

As if he could do anything else. Viggo slid in hard and fast, bottoming out on the first thrust while below. Sean growled; every muscle on each side of his backbone stood up in sharp ridges. Looking down, the Dane thought he'd never seen much in his life that had turned him on as much as just his erection going in... into that... Into the man he'd wanted and somehow valued over any other. His thrusts were strenuous and allowed no quarter. Both men grunted and groaned in their efforts.

Once again, he felt his body's power. He was a weapon, a machine. His erection, that one thing, was the means to subdue the man under him, or any man, or the rest of the world. He was driving into Sean so hard that the blond had to brace himself against every thrust. Veins popped up on his arms, and his triceps stood out in little ledges of resistance. The man's breathing was ragged; Viggo thought to himself that it was early for that; he had much more in store.

He could've gone on like that for a very long time if he'd wanted. While it was absolutely true that Sean was hot and very, very tight around him, the previous climax lessened his urgency; he felt the lack, and thought about how else he might find it. As things progressed, Viggo's fingers dug in deep, but he leaned down to lick the sweat from his lover... the line between 'boy' and lover wavered and he let it. When he licked, Sean moved differently; his spine's movement became more sinuous. So Viggo lay upon Sean's back, still gripping his hips, still fucking him mercilessly, tonguing the salt and musk tastes from his skin. It was an awkward dance they were doing, with Viggo pumping his hips and rolling his ass just because that primal rhythm felt so damn right. Sean's buttocks brushed the fronts of his thighs. There was a subtle backbeat infused in their movements too.

"Sean, get up."

The one emerald eye opened. "How... m'Ah... s'posed...t'do... tha'?" The words jolted out of him spastically, the spacing punctuated by the speed of Viggo's thrusts. The brunette reached down for those broad shoulders; finding purchase, he pulled back, then up, bodily lifting Sean's torso on brute strength while embedding himself even further into the clenching hole as he did.

Sean cried out sharply at the additional pressure to his prostate. His arms flailed a bit before he got his knees back under him so he could balance upright. Behind, now plastered to his sweat- and saliva-damp back, Viggo began to surge again. He was getting close, his thrusting aimed nearly straight upwards and becoming erratic. Work-worn hands skittered over Sean's chest to pluck at his nipples, down his belly as if to test the contours of the muscles there, but they didn't try to feel between his legs. That would have accomplished nothing, anyway.

"Turn your head, Sean. Give me your mouth." The blond made a noise of protest even while he obeyed. It was a stretch, but their mouths touched and fitted together, and Viggo knew he had to have it all. He no longer wanted to be alone in his release of pleasure. Sean coming at the same time would drive it higher for both of them. "Arch your back," he murmured wetly, his eyes swimming, his mind flailing. Sean did it; he reached blindly backward with his hands and managed to get hold of Viggo's waist. In that ungainly position, Viggo reached under the other man's right arm, around his hip, down between his legs to the hard, too-smooth plastic restraint system. "I'm setting you loose, Sean. Come when you need to."

"Noooo!" groaned the Brit, tensing, but Viggo went to unclip it anyway. Utterly taking him by surprise, Sean knocked his hand away, then twisted around and unleashed the kind of kiss that by now Viggo understood was a diversionary tactic. He couldn't fight it. The heat of the kiss overwhelmed him; he shoved his tongue into Sean's mouth again, and his cock into the socket he could tell the blond was clenching on purpose, making it even tighter for him.

Orgasm washed over him as he pitched behind the other man's gleaming body, both of them wet with sweat and shaking. He pounded into Sean with the fury a man denied something fundamental to his nature.

It really was against his will this time that he emptied himself. In some twisted way, it felt so good for once, to let the control be taken from him even though Sean was in direct disobedience while he spilled wave after wave of cum deep into him. Finished, drained, he shoved the man away, down onto all fours again. Had Sean not caught himself on his hands at the last second, he'd have banged his forehead on the floor from the strength of that push.

It had been everything he wanted, and everything he hated.

"The human shape is a ghost made of distraction and pain. Sometimes pure light, sometimes cruel, trying wildly to open, this image tightly held within himself." (Rumi) (41)

From the beginning, Sean had come to him from time to time, looking for a week-long scene or more, then he'd be off again for months, more than a year, once. At other infrequent times; they'd visited as old friends and once-costars. Why should this be odd? Sean at one time even had said to the press that Viggo was his best friend on Rings. After the first time, they'd always seemed to wind up in bed together, too. It was during one of those rare precious occasions that Viggo had laid there, watching the man breathing evenly in deep sleep, exhausted from jetlag and sex, so fucking beautiful it made him want to cry, that he began having the same thought about Sean he always did now: he seriously questioned what he was doing.

But when he broached the subject the next day, Sean made it utterly clear by body language and in less than a hundred words that if Viggo was losing his nerve, then bollocks to it. He could find or pay someone else to give him what he needed. And it was the last such visit, till Toronto, and there'd been none since.

So Viggo made sure, very damn sure, in whatever way he thought he had to, that Sean did not find it necessary to look elsewhere. His dominance took a hard edge. There was meanness to it he didn't like, but felt powerless to let go of. It wasn't physical violence, or if so, carefully planned and executed. It hooked them both into this dynamic. Viggo had to break Sean, regardless that Sean was already broken.

Every time, by the end, it was all Viggo could do not to take Sean into his arms and worship his body... to open his heart and spill out all the love he knew he had, but that he was not allowed to feel.

But not any more. He needed things, too.

"This impulse may only be a futile, short-lived turning away from ends I cannot escape, ..." (27)

Sean knelt up as if nothing had happened, as if they'd never shared that kiss that Viggo just had to have. In proper 'slave' posture, he folded his hands behind his buttocks, kneeling with knees wide, back straight, shoulders pulled back. The only thing ruining the picture, in fact, was the device Viggo himself clipped around his genitals.

Though the transparent casing, Viggo could see how the compressed organs were dark purple. He panted a few minutes; when his breathing caught he inquired conversationally, "Does that hurt?" Sean rumbled at him, an indistinct noise. "Is that how you answer a direct question, boy?" It was back to the set pattern, more involuntary with him than he'd realized. Or more entrenched.

"No, Sir!" Sean barked unexpectedly. "And yes, Sir, it does, Sir!" It was the second time he offered a certain insubordination.

Viggo caught a flash of green, but when he looked again, the blond was just as correct and guarded as before. So he waited. And waited. Minutes ticked by, and the Dane waited impatiently for the other man to look at him again. It seemed to take forever, but finally Sean did. His posture stiffened noticeably but this time he held Viggo's eyes, all defiance in the very act.

"What?" It was obvious that Sean was uncomfortable being expected to speak first.

Viggo mocked his query: "What?" He used the best Filthy Ranger snarl he could drum up. Sean took a deep breath, but let it out slowly, saying nothing. "Speak!" Viggo thundered at him.

"I can't..."

The darker man sat up so fast Sean barely saw the movement. He was on his knees at Sean's side, grabbing him by the hair and hauling his head back. The man's profile, his jutting nose and sharp point of his Adam's apple, imprinted itself into Viggo's memory. "You wanted to make love earlier. Didn't you!? Don't deny it! And yet you want me to... to kick you around and treat you like shit. You, for fuck's sake! Why?!" Viggo was breathing heavily, his control nearly gone, adrenaline pounding.

Sean merely smiled sadly. "Ah, so you play at this master/servant, or slave, 'thing,' but you don't really get it. Do you?" he sighed soundlessly. "And I had such high hopes..."

Viggo was not in a mood to be told he was a disappointment. That, he felt every time he looked at Sean and compared himself to him. And lately, the extent of their relationship... And then, to insinuate that he was also lacking in intellectual comprehensive skills...? Through a red, watery fog, Viggo shoved the golden head back down to the floor. "What the fuck do you mean?" he practically screamed. His voice rose in pitch like it always did when he was riled up, till it cracked like a pre-pubescent boy. Spitting, "Explain yourself!!' he clamped his jaw shut. Sean took his time. Viggo suddenly realized the man was still naked and at his disposal. He wanted to hit him... no, he wanted to spank him.

"This boy has been allowed to serve, both in the domestic sense and for his... for your sexual pleasure... and he is grateful for those opportunities." Viggo's jaw flapped; he couldn't believe this pre-recorded tripe. It was so unworthy of everything Sean was. While Viggo did call him 'boy' and put him down, it was for the sheer charge of first, slapping the face of his own insecurities and second, in hopes that Sean would fight back. He had wanted the man to be a handful, that he would have to work to put him and keep him under, and that maybe Sean would fight it so hard that they didn't have to play these games any longer. It had not been so. Granted, Sean was some kind of wet dream to look at, touch, and listen to, but in Viggo's opinion, this pet thing the Brit became in the name of BDSM was not what he was looking for. To say he was also disappointed was an understatement.

"My conscience is not clean, and I fear further reconstruction. I´ll try to make more amends but only feel capable of imagining ways of breathing more easily in order to say good-bye and make no new promises." (27)

He found he was slapping Sean's upturned butt, handprint after handprint colouring the beautifully formed, masculine cheeks. The Brit's breathing grew harsher as Viggo applied more pressure to the back of his neck. He's ass was a pink and red mottled collage when he began to struggle. But Viggo continued, driven by the steady satisfaction of his open palm on the soft bare skin, even when his hand became too numb to feel any longer.

Eventually, Sean wrenched away. Panting, he managed, "Sorry... Sir... this boy... was having trouble... breathing."

"Enough already!" Viggo cut in. Sean's fine eyebrows rose, but he waited to see what was enough. "Stop it with the third person already! Speak to me as yourself, dammit! As Sean."

For the first time, resentment shone in those green-glass eyes. "Fine... Veeee-goh. Just what the fuck do you want from me?"

"Well, I dunno," Viggo drawled. For the first time, he actually felt like he had the upper hand. "Maybe we should start with you, Sean."

"What?" The blond looked cornered. "I prefer, at times, to be in a different place, where I'm merely there to serve."

"Oh, you are so full of shit!" Viggo cut him off again. Sean glared. "Ha! Look at you! A man like you... a 'bloke's bloke' who likes his footie and beer, but yet is as sensual as you are underneath all that fuckin'... 'I'm British, here's me stick and here's my ahss and please insert!' ... No offence, Sean, but is this your way of keeping the whole world at arm's length?"

"Exactly." Sean nodded to himself, then added, "You'd know all about that, wouldn't yeh?"

The moment he heard Sean´s answer, Viggo realised that he hardly was the one who could blame Sean, because he actually did the same - keeping distance from his partner with staying in defined roles that separated them as opposites: master and slave. It was so very interchangeable who was who in the end...

And with that thought, enlightenment struck him like a slap in the face - the way it arrives in Buddhist tales. Before they came to this arrangement, they had been friends, and Sean had talked with him hedgingly about his feelings of insufficiency in his marriages and relationships, his constant feelings of guilt and responsibility for the failures - his anxiety that he couldn´t live up to expectations, he never knew what was the right thing to do, what was it that his partner wanted, what he was supposed to do - it was all too simple to see the reason why Sean experienced it as a relief to be submissive: if he only did what he was told to do, how could he do something wrong?

Maybe things were more complex and this was not the only aspect, but it was very clear that they both desperately tried to avoid disappointment - being disappointed as well as disappointing someone - by clinging to the rules of a role-game - and now, in a cruel switch, that intent, however well-meant, had turned against them, and their refusal to take the risk of disappointment (in both ways) had itself become the disappointment.

"I miss you, as I have for years, and retain a measure of respect for your temper, which someday may be all you have left of your independence." (13)

Shaking his head, Viggo asked, "And before, when I kissed you, you responded... why?"

"Because that is what Sir..."

"No, damn you!" Viggo got in Sean's face. "Okay, I'm more than happy to give you this... scenario you apparently think you need... God, I had no idea how deep it really goes for you..." he pulled at his earlobe, a familiar gesture of pensiveness. "But it turns out, I want you. Besides just wanting you under me. Do you understand?"

"Aye." Again, the sad, almost pitying expression came over the fair features. "I shouldn't have slipped like that... I'm sorry."

"For what? Being human?" asked Viggo.

God, why must things always be so complicated? Why had they limited their relationship and restricted themselves, when he could feel, he believed... he hoped... that there was so much more they could give each other...

"For being... for being me." said Sean. "I never get it right... its no wonder they don't love me..."

"Everyone makes mistakes..."

"Spare me you fucking platitudes," Sean spat. "I need to be taken down, to be lower than the lot, dirt. It's the only thing that balances me, sometimes."

"What the fuck are you saying?" Viggo shook his head in confusion.

Sean's nostrils flared, seemingly in annoyance, but he continued. "All me life... My wives and girlfriends... and ... blokes. I never get it right. So, if I don't have to call the shots, then I can't muck it up enough to make you leave me." He looked down, because he'd again told Viggo of his own fears of rejection, which he'd avoided for the past six years by means of this on again, off again settlement. "It's worked just fine. Please, Viggo..." He sounded desperate. Sean had begged many times over the years. For punishment. For the fulfilment of his needs. For release. Compared to this, all those other times sounded phoney. "I can't loose this... lose you."

And Viggo could tell him without the slightest hesitation, "You won't."

"We begin to recognise each other, but appearances change and deceive us, like fog hides a reef." (13)

"But," Sean spoke up again, "you can't say that... you don't mean it." He sounded like a small child who knew he was being lied to by an untrustworthy adult.

"Why would I lie?" Viggo asked him. "Sean, I don't tell lies." Then he thought about that for a few seconds and amended, "Well, except by actions, it would seem."

"There was an open wound in Sean's eyes. "See? Even you. Well, Viggo, I give you leave to have done with me." He shrugged, a bitter little flinch. "Ah shoulda seen it coming. 'S always like this; it's not the first time, by any means."

He stopped, as if unsure. Viggo would have liked to slap him silent, but realized at the edge of vicious rebuttal that maybe this was the chink in the armor he was looking for. So instead, he nodded at the other man to continue.

"Well... there was Debra... me first wife... Well, me first everythin'. Kind of a late bloomer, me," he smiled crookedly for half a second. "You never know it now, would yeh? And really, we were still just kids. I found that I liked both sides of things... a lot of things. But she din' like me havin' it over on her. It was too much the traditional male forcing his will, in her eyes. I tried to take her to the clubs in London, to help her understand and so's we could learn together, but she freaked. So... I ruined it with the woman who was supposed to be the only one. RADA opened up my eyes... Did I ever tell you about my first time with a man?"

The blue-eyed would-be Master, his authority now in shambles around him, shook his head. Sean never talked, not like this, and he thought it best to let him go at his own internal promptings.

"It was one of the instructors at RADA, actually. He'd taken me under his wing a bit. Said he'd had his eye on me for months. When I got my Silver and left, he rang and took me out, and took me home. I... I din' leave there for three days. The bloke had a dungeon," he raised an eyebrow in indication of what kind of dungeon, "in his basement. But I didn't wind up down there till after he'd had me... Jesus fuck, Vig... I found that I'd do anything, anything at all, just to keep him from doing that again."

Viggo reached out to touch Sean's face. The blond moved his head away. "It's ok, Sean, I won't hurt you. Never again."

"You don't understand," was the repeated protest. "See, after that, I started going out with Mel, but I was always on the prowl, too. I wasn't sure yet what I was looking for, but already felt like there were things I needed that she couldn´t give me. I felt very guilty... and the more it went wrong with Mel, something in there... went looking for more ill-treatment. Oh, there was plenty to be found. I was never lacking for someone to abuse me. They liked hitting the pretty one." His lips curled sardonically. "I've been spit on, pissed on...I sucked more dicks than..." he shrugged, "Just trying to find out what was wrong with me. What a fucking mess. So you see, I had something against women, and now men, too. She—Melanie—put up with my rage and contempt, though be assured she could give as well as she got. As for what I got up to on the side, she never really said anything. Hell, I'd come home covered in various marks... so between that and women's intuition... I lied through my teeth. I always said I'd been in a fight but she knew. So... she would try things," two spots appeared high on his cheekbones. "She learned how to make me coom by... with her fingers in my bum."

Sean acted like he was shamed by this, yet he'd let Viggo put digits and cock and various appliances in his ass countless times. Viggo couldn't help but ask, "That embarrassed you, at the time? Why's that?"

"Aye. A real man wouldn't let anyone near his arse."

"Oh, he might," Viggo countered.

"At the time, though..." Sean's deep voice trailed off for a moment, while he struggled to find words. "She was very good... she made it feel goddamn good, best I'd had till then. I hated her for it. She knew my secret; she had power over me, y'know? At the end, I begged her to... I'd be there on hands and knees, begging for it. And so, so very angry that she couldn't fuck me... you know... like a man. I could've taken it easily by then, I was ready. But I never said... she'd have been so hurt. I hurt her enough."

"And then there was Abigail. One of those, 'what the fuck was I thinking' sort of things. That woman wanted me under her, and made no bones about it. It were one fight after another. But she was selfish, that one, and I finally understood what it'd been like for Mel - too late. It's horrible enough to feel bad about oneself, but then to have them tell you over and over again, day after day, how wretched and inadequate you are... I couldn't take it. I left. She made a big hoo-ha about how I'd thrown her out, and all her 'low-class' comments... well, doesn't matter any more." Viggo knew this was not entirely true but let it pass. Sean had proved himself 'arrived' alright. The only mention anyone made of his working class back ground was to celebrate how he'd made a name for himself in spite of it. Such things happened daily in America. They had that disparity between them, as well.

"Took to fucking anything that moved for a little while. Straight out of that, I found myself in Wellington, away from it all. Sorta. Elijah—"

"Don't," Viggo hissed. Sean had been with Elijah when he'd arrived. The short but intense flame of their affair burned hot and fast. Sean thought he'd discovered the missing link--the love, physically and emotionally, of another man, but it was not to be. Disillusioned, for words were said about, 'not enough' and 'damaged goods,' he shut down. Only, he did his best not to let on; his acting was convincing enough that no one but Viggo, who hadn't even known him very well, seemed to notice anything was wrong with him. He's turned to Viggo almost blindly—all the American had had to do was offer 'anything you need.' So, Sean had asked to be beaten with a riding whip, and for some ungodly reason, Viggo had done it. He thought it was only a one-time thing, but one thing led to another...

"It's okay," Sean was saying. "Might as well talk about things like that... can't make it any worse, now, eh? I was his first, Viggo, can you fancy that? Guess I'm old-fashioned, thought it'd be more lasting. I loved him before I agreed to... wouldna done it otherwise."

Once again, Viggo was impressed by how the man cared for others above himself. He let them go rather than make things even worse. Was he attempting to do that with Viggo? There was a small glimmer of hope.

"Then there was you... so steady, my best mate, my master... and it was different. Until then, I think I always submitted in order to be punished for being so wrong... Even the first time, when I wanted you to beat me, it was because I had failed again, with Elijah. But that changed, and I surrendered to you because... I really felt that for you... devotion... " he whispered and looked at Viggo with shining eyes. "Couldn't ask for more."

"Yes, you could!" Viggo knew it was Sean's time to talk, but if he didn't say what he meant, then that man was going to talk right around him and over him and out of his life.

"What?" Sean asked, clearly confused.

"To be your lover."

"Dammit, Viggo, don't fucking tease about things like that!"

"I´ll leave out most of our sins as we glimpse the day you´re allowed to back away untouched." (13)

Once again, Viggo did not believe what he was hearing. Maybe this would be the last time ever—this whole last several minutes was somehow loaded with finality--that Viggo spoke to his 'boy.' "Kneel up right, like I taught you, boy. Maybe you'll shake a little before we're done with this, but otherwise, do not move. This is how it's gonna be..." He sidled over next to Sean. "This is going to come off," he lightly tapped the encasement device around Sean's prick. "In more than one way. If it doesn't happen from you being set free of that, then I'm going to take your cock and stroke you till you come all over my hand."

There was a snap! snap! and a clatter of hard plastic dropping to the floor. Within two seconds, Sean's cock went from a purple, tortured-looking, three-inch little bean to its full length, hard as a sword with the Dane's hand wrapped around the hilt. There, the weapon imagery ended. Viggo stroked him with a clenched fist, following the upward curve, sliding the foreskin.

Sean's organ was utterly covered in pre-come. His fluids had made rather a mess of himself inside the casing. It was happening too fast. Not that either of them expected anything else. Sean gritted his teeth through the filling of his erection, the first electric touch of Viggo's hand on it, and the nearly unbearable rhythm of skilled fingers guiding him toward the overflowing of his still built-up seed.

There was more than that, too. "That's right... wanna see you come, Sean, show me how you do it." He spurted through Viggo's fingers, coming till his thighs and abs trembled and it felt like his balls had turned his sacs inside out from how far they pulled upwards. Viggo had put his other arm around Sean's back and the Brit leaned heavily on it as he snorted and groaned through the explosive release.

"That's right, baby," Viggo murmured softly. "It's okay, Sean." For once, the comfort he offered was taken at face value.

"Thank you," the blond man said some moments later, when he was able. "That's more than I deserve." He'd just noticed that Viggo's member was erect and pressed against his side, yet the man remained there with his arms around him." He flicked his eyes once to say he could do something about it, if it was required of him.

"You've come twice. And me... what do you guess Sean? Twenty-five, thirty times in the last ten days?"

"More," the other man replied, deadpan.

"There you go. Believe me, I can wait."

A nod.

"Let us," Viggo began very slowly, "understand something. We have both spent years considering ourselves... unworthy. Each looking at the other as somewhere above himself. You've explained some why you do it. Me... I dunno. Simply ego. You've always been one of the few I've considered an equal, and that in itself puts you above me in some way. But you wanted to be under. I tried my best... but I can't anymore. Not like you want it. I'm sorry."

The men were silent. They each waited for the hammer to drop. Sean broke first. "If you want something other than what you think I want, then... was is it?"

"I want equal terms. No more of this ongoing Master/slave shit. I've lost my taste. It's gone too far. I'm done."

"Is that an ultimatum?" There was nothing but helpless fear in the resigned tone.

Viggo sighed. How he hated being backed into a corner like this. He was too tired to fight any more. Might as well say it. "Yes, it is... I guess it is. I'm done." He couldn't say that it hurt him, that he wanted a partner who wanted only him, that he would just crawl away and lick his wounds and probably never touch another human being again when Sean left him.

"You're leaving me?"

"No, you're leaving me," Viggo informed him. "We're not together anyway. Not the way it should be."

"How should it be?"

"It... I don't know!" Why the hell couldn't he just say it? "I don't want to share you, for one thing. And...God, Sean... I want a real partner, not some cringing slave boy. This has brought out the absolute worst in me. It's over."

"You keep saying that. But what if I agreed?" Sean asked this cautiously. "I mean, to something... more usual? And I can stop seeing other people..."

"What if you can't?"

"Give me a chance." Sean thought for a moment. "Another chance. Please..."

Heart thudding wildly, Viggo asked him, "Why would you agree to stop these games... now, after so long? What if you need them again? I'm not going to hold you against your will. Not ever. God knows, you did whatever you wanted for this long and I never said boo."

"Maybe you shoulda..."

Viggo's disagreement was immediate. "No. Till today, there was no way in hell. You'd have walked. It had to get to this... but before you leave...I want to show you... how I want you under me. How it could've been."

"Don't fucking say it like that!" the blond man pleaded. "And...yes, I want that."

"Follow me." They more or less helped each other up, then into the master bedroom, and finally up onto Viggo's king-sized bed. "I've always been able to dominate you because... frankly, I got off a little too much on ordering around such as you."

Sean rolled his eyes. "To anyone on the outside, we're as equal as equal could be."

"I've always felt inferior to you. So, I worked very hard to bring you down to my level, once you put the power in my hands."

"Well, I don't get all the blame, then," Sean said slyly.

"Let´s share the guilt," Viggo said with a smile. Just the fact that they were able to talk suddenly filled him with hope, even though what they had confessed so far was not all sweetness and light. "And if we do decide to play as we´ve done sometime again, it´s not for punishment, but for the thrill of it... and we will both play on both sides..."

Somehow, his thoughts and feelings must have shown in his face. He didn´t order Sean to kiss him again. He didn´t ask for it.

But it was in his face, both the demand and the begging... the wish and the sadness. Sean slowly, tentatively moved forward, reacting to what he sensed in Viggo´s expression, though he would not have been able to explain it.

This time it was no shock, no surprise, as Sean´s soft lips sunk on his, as his tongue found its way home. It was like receiving a gift he had wished for endlessly, like the fulfilment of a desperate prayer.

Sean kissed him with indescribable tenderness, soothingly; his hands stroked through Viggo´s hair, caressing him kindly.

Both men sank down onto the blankets. They lay on their sides, facing each other, embracing each other, kissing. No hesitation hampered Sean; Viggo made no demands. Sliding tongues, warm and wet, tasted anew and they drank from each other's breath and life. Their bodies closed any distance between them. Arms and legs slid into stronger clasping. The urgency was unspoken, expressed only in drawn-out tracings of their unique, equally cherished features as they moved together.

"Viggo," murmured Sean between two languid licks, "Viggo."

"Sean," said Viggo, smiling.

"Light comes slowly, too slowly, as I stumble into your sights. I´m yours, you´re mine." (13)

*****

THE END

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