Mycroft does not like Amazing Smudge Man. Amazing Smudge Man has no face — or rather, his face is hidden behind a sheer stretch of black nylon, as though he's some sort of ninja assassin roaming Sean's house, and with all that Lycra covering the rest of him Viggo doesn't smell quite like his usual self. Mycroft has made it clear that he feels there is something very wrong about all of that.
One afternoon a couple of Tuesdays ago Viggo got it into his head to shave his chest, and caught up in the moment he kept right on shaving. By the time Sean got home from work that evening he found that the only hair left on Viggo was on his head, and really, thank heaven for even that. After Sean had stalked the length of the house a few times, ranting in vexation, dismay and a Yorkshire accent so thick even Ian wouldn't understand it, Viggo managed at last to get him to sit down and abuse a cup of tea while Viggo explained patiently that it was only an experiment, and that he planned to let his body hair grow back after he had played for a while with the concept of not having any.
Sean was not at all convinced. Though he admitted later that it was an interesting sensation, his hands gliding long strokes over smooth, hairless skin as he made love to Viggo it was not, Sean insisted, something he intended to get used to. The fact that when the time comes to let it all grow back Viggo will itch like hell all fucking everywhere affords Sean a certain vengeful satisfaction for Viggo having gone off and done such an addle-headed thing without giving Sean the opportunity to forbid it, which he most surely would have done.
It has been nearly two weeks since Viggo's initial shaving frenzy. Viggo has not only maintained his sleek skin, but moved on from merely investigating the feel of his skin without its usual fur to experimenting with a black cat-suit he discovered at a specialty shop downtown. The cat suit is not an All-Hallows costume, though it is a snug body suit which covers him entirely from his toes to his neck. It includes an attached hood with a pull-down face mask, the black fabric of it thin enough to allow him to breathe through it easily. Viggo brought it home one evening for a lark, laughed himself silly, started running about the house like a kid playing super-hero, and at Sean's startled demand as to what the hell was going on gleefully proclaimed himself Amazing Smudge Man.
Sean realizes that it is an integral part of Viggo's personality, a part of his learning process to poke around at goofy ideas; to push and nudge at the edges of his own creativity. It's why he teaches, and what he teaches, and though the reasoning often leaves him baffled, Sean generally either joins in the fun or simply lets Viggo run until he's satisfied. Nevertheless, Sean has put up with Amazing Smudge Man running about being artsy and strange practically non-stop for three days now, and he has decided that the game is just about over.
As if poor Mycroft being deeply unsettled by Amazing Smudge Man isn't enough reason, Marilyn seems to be largely in agreement, though it's harder to tell with the little calico, since she tends to retreat when flustered, whereas confusion and consternation show distinctly all over Mycroft's big mastiff face. Ophelia and Jim have constantly followed Amazing Smudge Man around the house, sniffing at him cautiously, as though trying to figure out whether it's really Viggo in this bizarre get-up, and if it isn't Viggo in there, should they be raising some sort of alarm?
Just now Amazing Smudge Man is standing in the doorway of Sean's study, watching Mycroft try to fit his vast, scaredy-cat body into the knee-space of Sean's antique desk, and he says, "Sean, I think I'm gonna have to end the experiment. The dogs don't seem to care for it much."
Sean lowers his newspaper and wonders dryly, "Aye? What makes you think that?"
Amazing Smudge Man crouches, attempting to appear non-threatening and to talk Mycroft into coming out from under the desk, but the big fellow isn't having any of it. Ophelia and Jim watch from the end of the hallway. Phee glances back at Sean over her shoulder. Things are not going well.
"Maybe," Amazing Smudge Man allows, getting to his feet, "if I just explore this, say, once a month or something. I mean, I hadn't planned on doing this for — ack! Oof!"
With a grunt of effort Sean maneuvers Amazing Smudge Man more securely over his left shoulder. He carries the erstwhile Super Hero of Art down the hall, into the kitchen, grabs the scissors one-handed from the kitchen drawer, and while Amazing Smudge Man drapes over his shoulder and chuckles, "Oop, ugh, easy on the splee-een!" Sean carries him up the stairs. The last few steps are some effort, as Sean only outweighs Amazing Smudge Man by a few pounds, but he's quite fit, what with the new rugby team starting up, and he manages with admirable grace.
By the time Mycroft has decided that it might be safe to creep out from under the desk downstairs Sean has slung Amazing Smudge Man backward onto their bed and ordered him to hold still. Starting between Amazing Smudge Man's toes Sean begins to cut his way up the inside of the right leg of the black body suit. He slices gingerly through the crotch, during which time Amazing Smudge Man keeps very still indeed, up the belly, on up to Amazing Smudge Man's collar bones, and then to the chin of the hood, where Sean stops to pull up the face mask and shove the hood back from Viggo's hair. Viggo begins to wriggle out of the ruined cat suit, but stops when Sean sternly reminds him not to move about. Sean starts over again with the scissors down at Viggo's other foot, and he keeps at it, cutting and cutting until the slinky suit is nothing but a pile of black tatters shrinking into itself beneath Viggo's back. Here at last Sean regards his friend and lover; regrettably lacking in body hair, but naked and laughing, which is close enough to perfect, and Sean declares, "Amazin' Smudge Man is dead. Long live Amazin' Smudge Man."
Viggo cackles and suggests, as Sean tosses aside the scissors and lowers himself onto Viggo's bare belly, "How 'bout next time I get the cat suit without the hood?"
"Or the damn gloves or the feet. That was too fuckin' weird."
"M'kay... " and as Sean kisses Viggo's neck, one hand sneaking down past his bellybutton, Viggo adds a bit breathily, "They make a see-through one, y'know, with no crotch in the front... for <em>boys</em>."
"And no mask?" Sean confirms, looking Viggo in the eyes.
Viggo realizes, "It really bothers you when you can't see my face." He brushes comfortingly at Sean's forehead.
"It's one thing for us to play the Viggo-is-a-decoration, or the Viggo-is-a-toy game," Sean explains, "but another entirely for us to turn you into an object barely identifiable as human, let alone identifiable as you. I know some people enjoy that, and that's fine for them, but I can't do it. I won't." He nuzzles into Viggo's neck, just at the base of his ear.
Viggo closes his eyes and runs one hand up the back of Sean's skull. A small irony of the moment is that Sean has taken to cutting his hair short these days, while Viggo's has grown long. "No more masks," he agrees.
Sean wriggles suggestively against Viggo's hairless crotch, and leers down at him. "Though I rather like that idea of your naughty bits bein' out where I can reach them any time I want to."
Viggo gives his hips a little thrust up against Sean, bites back on a needy moan. "So reach 'em. Please..."
"Nah, not yet," Sean murmurs. He nuzzles with intent. "First, I want to kiss your face."
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Story notes: I honestly don't know where the hell this came from.
Post Novice Chronicles: Rattle and Roll, Biding Time, If the Dog Doesn't Like You, Modern Alchemy, In the Doghouse, Cascade, Glamour, A Brief History of Bread, Anatomically Correct, Sheffield Roulette, Spur of the Moment.