Title: Caravaggio´s Painting / Showdown
Author: klatschmohn and Ashlyn K. Toliver
E-Mail: KTR525@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Sean B./Viggo M., Orlando B.
Warning: BDSM, Violence
Disclaimer: All fiction!
Summary: Orlando winds Sean up…

Chapter Six - Showdown


Viggo was far ahead of me, his stride purposeful as it ate up yards of 
ground. 

There weren’t many bushes and trees on Malta, so I could easily make 
him out even at such a distance.  It made no sense to hide. If Viggo ever 
bothered to look back he wouldn’t have noticed that I was trailing him. I 
had the advantage knowing which of the little moving dots in the 
landscape was him, because I’d been watching him from the moment he 
left the airport.

His vague silhouette led me along. I never took my eyes off him for fear 
I’d mistake someone else for him if I looked away for even just a second.

After half an hour my eyes began to grow tired, as did my legs.  It was 
hot and dusty, and it seemed as if I was following a shadow, a phantom 
hardly recognizable with bare eyes.

Gods, what the hell was I doing here? 

Suddenly it all seemed surreal and absurd to me. Running after a ghost…a 
silly fantasy…a near-nothing…and yet I was compelled to march behind 
that commanding figure like a puppy on a long leash.

More than an hour passed, and in the meantime I was sure – because I 
knew him well enough to tell by instinct - Viggo was on his way to the 
beach.

Of course, he could have reported the loss of his ticket to the police, he 
could have called someone he knew (perhaps even Sean), but that’s what 
normal people would have done, and perhaps what Viggo would do 
tomorrow. While he realized his next opportunity to leave was the 
following day, considering all of today’s drama he must have simply 
wanted to be alone and spend the night on the beach. 

Viggo had told me once that he always carried his sleeping bag with him 
and it was typical for him to travel with a backpack instead of a suitcase. 
In New Zealand he often slept outdoors, especially when we were shooting 
on location, and during the filming of “Hidalgo” he refused to drive back to 
the hotel, preferring to camp in the desert.

I breathed a small sigh of relief.  Part one of my plan had been 
accomplished.  Viggo was still here on Malta.

Knowing Viggo, he’d stay here on the beach for a few days, diving for 
mussels and catching fish with his hands, until he found some sort of 
peace with himself.

Next order of business was to get Sean down here – soon.

I didn’t want to give either man any time to think, to reflect.  The 
unspoken and unresolved anger between them was there, smouldering 
like embers, just waiting for someone to stir the blaze.

Without a second thought as to what I was intent on setting into motion, I 
called Sean. There wasn’t the smallest amount of regret in my mind, 
knowing that more than likely the two of them would engage in a serious 
shouting match…perhaps even come to blows.

And I would make sure of it, as I added a little more fuel to the fire.

I knew I had only one chance and before Sean could say hello or have the 
chance to hang up on me once he realized who it was I blurted out in a 
breathless rush, “Viggo’s still here, Sean…”

“Orlando, you little bastard,” he snarled and for a second I held the phone 
gingerly as if he could come through the receiver and strangle me.  “What 
the fuck do you want?  If this is another of your bloody little tricks…”

My heart was racing a mile a minute.  “Listen to me, please.  Go get your 
car and drive down to the beach…I’ll tell you where it is.  Viggo hasn’t left 
Malta yet.”

I could feel his uncertainty and his mistrust.

I could also sense his hope and I latched onto it like a rapid attack dog.

“God Sean, I’m sorry…what happened shouldn’t have…but you’ve got a 
chance to talk it over with him…what do you have to lose?”

The sigh on the other end of the line was better than a trophy for I knew 
Sean couldn’t resist what I was offering.  “Tell me where he is, Orlando.”
 
Gotcha.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sean’s car pulled up, I’d been waiting about half an hour at the 
point where Viggo had left the road and descended down the worn 
pathway to an isolated cove.

Sean jumped out and sprang towards me.

Before he could approach any closer, I showed him Viggo’s wallet and 
some left-over pieces of the shredded airline ticket to prove my sincerity. 
“You see, Viggo couldn’t leave, I made sure of that…”

“You took his wallet and tore his ticket?” Sean said slowly, absorbing the 
enormity of what I’d done.  Against his better judgment he let a small 
smile of genuine admiration appear on his lips. His typical smirk flashed 
up for half a second and vanished again.  “I’ll say one thing for you, you 
little bastard, you’re ruthless.”

Oh Sean, you have no idea…

“So, where is he?”

I pointed in the direction of the cover, but held him back. “Wait a moment 
and I’ll show you, but there’s something I need to say to you and it’s 
important…”

He frowned, obviously more interested in getting to his lover, but also 
realized that I’d actually done him a favour by insuring that Viggo stayed 
on Malta.

I’d become rather adept at faking sincerity and there it was, shining in my 
big brown eyes.  “Sean…look, I know we both went too far, but it was…it 
was…”  I swallowed nervously, as if seeking the right words that wouldn’t 
upset him.  “After the kiss we shared at the other night, you know…I 
couldn’t help myself and I just didn’t stop to think my actions through or 
how they would affect your relationship with Viggo…”

He softened a little, but the wariness hadn’t left his face or his stance. The 
man was hardly naïve and of course he didn´t trust me any longer. But I 
didn´t have in mind to convince him of anything he would never believe. I 
only wanted to help to give birth to a thought that already had begun to 
come up in his mind…

Like a surgical strike, I cut just so, right where the heart of Sean’s 
vulnerability and his anger lay.

“And honestly, I really didn’t think Viggo would behave like this…like he’s 
jealous…”

I heard the hitch in his breathing and knew he’d been thinking along the 
same lines.

 “…You don’t have anything to apologize for, Sean. Remember what we 
talked about before, about his wanting an open relationship?”

Sean’s eyes glittered.  Oh yes, he definitely remembered…

“He is jealous Sean, and you know it…but he won’t admit it. You gave him 
a little taste of his own medicine and guess what, he found it bitter…”

I carefully watched him from beneath shadowed lids, judging the effect of 
my words. 

I had worried the sore tooth of doubt in his head, now it was time to 
extract it.

Quietly I said, meeting his intense gaze head on, “Seems to me that Viggo 
operates on a double standard. Honestly Sean…you never really believed 
me when I told you nothing happened between us the night he sketched 
me naked, did you…”

I looked down, saw his fists clenching…all that rage close to the surface…

Of course he never believed me, not then and certainly not at this 
moment.

And then something Viggo had said in his anger popped into my head, and 
I couldn’t resist.

Viggo’s own words used against him…

“He told you that I came on to him…but he didn’t tell the whole truth, 
Sean…he had his hands on me the whole time…”

What was it about me playing with fire?

The look I now saw in Sean’s eyes was even darker than the one I’d seen 
earlier, and if I didn’t get the enraged man down to that cove, he might 
decide that taking his anger out on me was an acceptable substitute.

It was the human equivalent of leading a Brahma bull by the horns… 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Viggo had found himself a small cave, steps from the waterline. 

He sat cross-legged on a blanket with the contents of his backpack spilled 
out in a little heap. Evening was slowly settling in, though it was still hot, 
and Viggo was dressed in nothing but a pair of cargo shorts. He was 
smoking, watching the waves roll in and out slowly, motionless except for 
the slow drags on his cigarette. 

The picture was almost serene, placidly beautiful – nothing but earth, sky 
and water - but I knew it was not. 

Not beneath the surface.

A dark energy surrounded Viggo, and even from where I stood with Sean 
beside me, I could feel it.

When he finally noticed us, he insolently rose to his feet, waiting, with a 
look so cold on his face, it was almost inhuman.

As soon as Sean stepped towards him, head high, his posture challenging, 
I knew my words had fallen on fertile ground. 

This man would not drop to his knees and beg again.

He didn’t, but went right in for the kill.

“Tell me something Viggo,” he snarled. “Shouldn’t you be happy I took the 
first step towards that precious ‘open relationship’ you’re always talking 
about? Didn’t you tell me,” and Sean’s voice oozed biting sarcasm. 
“‘Frankly, I wouldn’t freak out just because you might have a little 
something on the side`? And how would you classify your behavior if not 
as ´freaking out´ then ?’” 

Viggo flinched.  “Just shut up, Sean.” 

Sean laughed mirthlessly.  “You’re just a petty little hypocrite, Mortensen.  
Nothing more, nothing less.”

“At least I’m not a whore,” Viggo spat at him, louder this time.  “What was 
it Sean, am I too much a man for you to handle and you needed some 
feminine-looking boy-child to remind you of your masculinity?”

Sean laughed wildly.  “That’s rich, Vig, considering that I’ve been able to 
take everything you’ve given and then some.  You’re nothing more than a 
jealous, self-righteous lying bastard who admits that he wanted what I got 
first…and by the way, his ass is a lot tighter than you could possibly 
imagine!” 

Viggo saw the look of triumph on Sean’s face and that was all it took.  The 
thin leash he’d been holding onto finally snapped and he struck out, 
punching at Sean. 

But Sean half dodged away, taunting him.

“…Want me to tell you how good it felt, Vig…how hot Orli’s ass felt as I 
pounded him into the floor…”

Viggo kicked out at him and Sean lunged forward, his fist making crushing 
contact with Viggo’s chin, but a split second later he doubled over from 
Viggo’s knee ramming into his stomach.

But Sean, filled with unchecked rage, shook it off, his smile feral as he 
continued to goad Viggo.

“…Oh yes, you should have seen him…on his knees…”  Sean panted, rising 
to his feet again.  “…On his knees in front of Caravaggio’s painting…his ass 
so pretty like a girl’s…and he was begging for my cock…not yours…”

I’d seen and been a part of many stunt fights, but never had any of those 
carefully orchestrated movements come close to what unfolded in front of 
my eyes and I watched in horrid fascination as they literally tried to beat 
the shit out of each other, tearing at their clothes - Sean had also worn 
only shorts and a T-shirt - fighting until they both were bleeding, their 
bodies marked with blackening bruises with blots of red.

This was turning out even better than I’d planned…

Now, you could say that I’d manipulated Sean and Viggo into the fight, 
but you’d be partly wrong.  This was a fight long overdue, and all that was 
left was for me to pick up the pieces.

Should Sean emerge victorious, it would provide the perfect hurt-comfort 
scenario – after all, someone would have to take care of Viggo – and I 
strongly doubted that Viggo would want Sean anywhere near him after 
that. I would help Viggo again – a friend in need - and make him listen to 
my version of the incident.

Should Viggo come out as the winner, I could always extend the hand of 
generosity towards Sean and drive him to the hospital while I made Viggo 
wait until I returned.

After all, neither of them wanted it bandied about the tabloids they’d had 
a violent lovers’ spat.

The sounds of their combat shattered my thoughts.

Viggo struck out again, his fist aimed at Sean’s jaw, but again Sean 
dodged the blow and struck back with a force that even I could feel.

They were pretty equally matched.  I might have even bet on Viggo if this 
had been for fun.  But if you ever saw that scene in the beginning of 
“Essex Boys”, then you’d know Sean really had what it took when it came 
to fighting dirty.  It was the brash young street-tough in him, from years 
ago.

I couldn’t help feeling a strange sort of admiration, like watching a 
virtuoso guitar player; the quickness and precision of Sean’s moves were 
almost artistic, like a lethal ballet.  It was far from blindly whirling with 
fists and feet, he worked like an effective fighting machine, spinning 
around, lashing out, placing deadly precise blows with breath-taking 
accuracy and the aesthetic grace of a dancer.

And that lethal grace had begun to take its toll on Viggo, who couldn’t 
seem to land a blow anywhere.  It was as if Sean were a ghost, 
tormenting the older man unseen and unstoppable.  

I had hoped that Sean would win the fight, the hurt-comfort-situation 
suited my purposes best, but I wanted to take care of Viggo, not to pick 
up his pieces…