Decision – The Price of Fame Title: Decision - The Price of Fame Author: klatschmohn (rotpunkt) & Ashlyn K. Toliver (thevixenne) E-Mail: KTR525@yahoo.com Rating: R to NC-17 Characters: Sean B./Viggo M./OFC’s Warnings: Kinky sex in chapter 4 Disclaimer: This is a work of FICTION, created by two slashy women who simply adore Sean and Viggo and love playing with them (We wish!). Notes: This is the first collaboration for the both of us and we had a lot of fun, though we live on opposite ends of the world. Isn’t the Internet wonderful? Thanks Anne for inviting me to play. Thanks to Ashlyn: I dreamed and she made the dream come true! Summary: The price of fame is high…is Sean willing to pay it? Fame – fame makes a man take things over Fame – fame lets him loose, hard to swallow Fame – fame puts you there when things are hollow Fame… Fame – David Bowie ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter One “Come on Vig, it won’t be that bad.” “It’s a party and it’s black tie. It’s bad.” Sean laughed, knowing full well his lover’s aversion to anything that had to do with the industry. They’d been together for three years, and in that time, Viggo attended only a handful of premieres – for ‘Rings and for Hidalgo – and the latter only because Sean took a cue from the play Lysistyrata and withheld sex for one week until the stubborn git agreed to go. Viggo did go, unwillingly held captive by his libido, and when he returned home later that night, he fucked Sean to within an inch of his life. “You know I’m just not into all that crap,” Viggo said, gazing at the emerald-eyed man with soft eyes. “Besides, you’re the king of schmoozing with all the beautiful people.” “I prefer the term ‘networking’ meself,” Sean replied breezily, easily lapsing back into his working-class Sheffield cant. “If anything, you could at least go for the food.” Viggo rolled his eyes. “No one eats in Hollywood these days, you said that yourself when you came home from that last party and you raided the fridge.” “Yeah, well I should have paid more attention to who was throwing the bash,” he admitted amused. “By the time I figured out all they were serving was rabbit food, I was stuck keeping Orli somewhat sober.” “And we both know between him and Lija, that’s a full-time job.” Sean nodded at that, remembering too many nights in Wellington babysitting their blue-eyed ringbearer who thought his younger metabolism could withstand mixing Guinness and tequila. “So luv, will you go with me? I promise if it gets too boring, we’ll leave.” Viggo had planned to give in, but wanted to see just how far his lover was willing to go. “And what do I get if I say yes?” Sean’s eyes smouldered as an utterly licentious smile played on his lips. “I’ll let you fuck me brains out when we get home. Now that’s a deal you can’t pass up, right?” He leaned over to kiss Sean’s seductive mouth. “Maybe I don’t want to wait that long…maybe I’d like to give you something to keep you hot while you’re dazzling your admirers with your looks…” As Viggo dressed in one of the few nice suits he owned – courtesy of Sean who’d taken him to Savile Row in order to update a wardrobe that had completely lacked anything even remotely resembling a suit – he thought about their differing outlooks on fame. Even though they were both extremely private as far as their personal lives were concerned – Sean even more so than Viggo, especially when it came to his three girls – there was also a part of Sean that enjoyed his new-found success. Viggo himself was rather tired of the attention, tired of fawning sycophants attending gallery showings of his art looking for Aragorn son of Arathorn. He was tired of being told by his agents and the studio heads how to look, how to dress, how to just be, and the idea of just giving up acting altogether was beginning to sound like a good one. He had his horses, his art, his publishing house, his son and of course, he had the love of his life – nothing else really mattered. Of course he didn’t begrudge Sean his needs or his space. More often than not, Sean did the party circuit while Viggo stayed home, working on a painting or writing poetry or just daydreaming barefoot on their redwood deck. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Are they?” A young woman and her friend, both tall and slender, sipped on white wine as they stood looking at the two men with their arms around each other, laughing and joking in front of the cameras. “No dear,” her companion’s tone was full of amusement, “Everyone knows Viggo’s rather the touchy-feely sort. You should have seen him at the premiere in London – I swear he and Dom Monaghan practically locked lips.” “Did he really, Anne? God I think that’s so sexy.” Trevor Martyn did his best to ignore the conversation in front of him as he watched with growing dismay as Sean and Viggo played up to every rumour that circulated around their relationship. He’d been Sean’s agent for the last seven years, and through his diligence, the actor went from being a mainstay of Masterpiece Theatre to an almost international celebrity, having scored big playing the villainous Alec Trevelyan in Golden Eye, then with the role of a lifetime as Boromir of Gondor in Fellowship of the Ring. And though Sean had landed another choice role as the wise Odysseus in Troy, Trevor was planning even bigger things for the Sheffield-born and bred actor, but all those dreams seemed to slowly drain away with each teasingly intimate look shared between the two men before him. Trevor wasn’t homophobic – in this town it wasn’t exactly a wise business move, considering. However, he was a realist and he’d learned to adapt since he’d opened this branch of the agency here in Los Angeles. One of the things he’d understood about Hollywood was about the celluloid closet. There were a lot of gay actors, directors, producers and the like, but they kept their sex lives private. Very few had the balls to come out, and doing so was always a dangerous proposition. More so, he had come to understand the American temperament, its almost stifling puritanical atmosphere where homosexuality was concerned. He knew for a fact that most of the hate mail that came to Ian McKellen when it had been announced he would be Gandalf, came from the U.S. And though there were shows like ‘Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’ and ‘Will & Grace’, those shows had a decidedly niche audience. Trevor was a little more ambitious than that. He wanted Sean Bean to be as much a household name as was Brad or Tom or even Russell. And none of it could possibly happen if the power-brokers at the studios assumed Sean was gay. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “So,” the reporter drawled condescendingly. “Are you two a couple?” The rude question was asked by the same self-styled entertainment guru who not only trashed the entire ‘Rings trilogy, but who had also written scathing comments about Viggo’s poetry collection and his art. Usually he ignored such obnoxious people, but as he’d feared, the party had quickly spiraled downward into the same tedious crush, made up of air kisses and polite backstabbing and Viggo felt less than charitable. Of course Sean was in his element, charming the pants off of just about everyone with his wry humor and his accent – which Viggo noticed had quite a few people of both genders hanging onto his every word. And in the background like some malevolent Svengali was Sean’s agent, Trevor Martyn who looked less than pleased to see him. The two men were icily polite, as they acknowledged each other’s existence with barely perceptible nods of their heads. Between Trevor’s attack-dog demeanor and the reporter’s smarmy comments, Viggo snapped. As the cameras snapped pictures, he pulled Sean forcefully to him and planted a hugely passionate kiss on the surprised man’s lips. Eyes like blue daggers, he held the dumbstruck reporter speechless. “What do you think,” he retorted sweetly malicious as Sean looked rather dazed. Jaws dropped. People gasped. Some tittered. And from somewhere behind him he heard a distinctly feminine voice say, “Now I see what you meant, Anne. Damn, lucky man that Sean.” He turned around and gave a warm and genuine smile to the young woman who made the comment. She returned it with a wink and raised her glass in a toast. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Trevor nearly lost it at that point. He’d been prepared to tolerate Mortensen for the sake of keeping Sean happy, but this… Already the vultures were circling him, asking him the kind of questions he simply didn’t want to deal with right now. “Is Sean Bean gay?” “How long have Sean Bean and Viggo Mortensen been a couple?” “How will this affect Sean’s power at the box office?” Giving his most professional smile, the one that tended to put people at ease, Trevor fielded the questions as best he could, when inwardly he wished Mortensen to whatever godforsaken part of Denmark he’d been spawned from. “No, Sean Bean and Mr. Mortensen are not a couple. They are indeed close friends, and as everyone knows, Mr. Mortensen has always been rather effusive when it comes to public displays of affection.” As the writers eagerly scribbled his words, he continued pleasantly, “Most of us were there during the Wellington and London premieres of Lord of the Rings, and as is his wont, Mr. Mortensen kisses everyone. Sometimes I think he’s more European than most of us who were actually born there.” Everyone chuckled at this sally and he breathed a small sigh of relief as it appeared Mortensen’s ill-timed gesture was being viewed through Trevor’s lens. He hoped it would be enough. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “What the bloody ‘ell brought that on?” Something was obviously bothering Viggo for he never asked to drive if he didn’t have to, leaving Sean to navigate the torturous maze of freeways and streets. Viggo didn’t say a word at first, and Sean had been with the man long enough to not push for an immediate answer. Sunset Boulevard at three a.m. was much like Las Vegas when the sun came up – almost taking on an air of harsh reality and as Viggo drove farther away from the Strip, he felt as if whatever weight sat on his chest was being lifted. “I’m just tired of people like him intruding into our private life. What I’m even more tired of is attitudes like his as if what we have should be kept hidden away like dirty socks.” He smiled thinly. “Maybe I’m just too much the idealist at heart, that’s all.” “You take this stuff too personally, Vig. Unfortunately it’s all a part of the game.” “Well, it’s obviously a game you’re better at than I am.” Sean knew Viggo was angry, but not at him. “In some respects, yes. But do we really want a bunch of people invading our space? Why else do you think I make it abundantly clear that my girls are off limits to the media? There are certain things the public is allowed to know about Sean Bean the actor. Sean Bean the man is not for public consumption.” “Trevor saw me kiss you.” Sean chuckled. “I bet that nearly gave him a coronary. Don’t worry, luv, I’ll straighten Trev out tomorrow. I’ve got to meet with him around eleven.” Trailing a seductive finger up and down Viggo’s arm, he purred, “I think I owe you one for being such a good sport. I did promise…remember?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ But even the bliss of coupling couldn’t take away the uncertainty each of them felt as they attempted to bury themselves inside the other as far as they could possibly be. Afterwards, lost in their own thoughts, both tried desperately to understand what was happening to them. A part of Viggo wished he hadn’t allowed either that idiot reporter or the scowling Trevor to get under his skin that way. As Sean had said to him earlier, it was all a part of the fame game, and he’d been a part of it, albeit unwillingly, for a little longer than Sean. His reaction, though partly satisfying, had also been rather juvenile. Yet the more rebellious part of him was angry that such an action, no matter how juvenile, could be enough to set Sean’s career back. It was a kiss, for god’s sake, nothing more – and yet Trevor had reacted to it as if the two of them were actually fucking each other’s brains out right there by the ice sculpture. Nor was Trevor the only one. It wasn’t as if he was trying to make a statement, but if he were, why did it even matter that he and Sean were a couple? What did their personal lives have to do with the millions of unknown faces out there who watched and enjoyed their films? Was it so wrong to love openly and honestly? Sean’s thoughts were not as convoluted as his lover’s, but his mind was just as restless. It was a kiss, more of a teasing joke than something passionate, and yet he could sense Trevor’s thunderous rage. He knew that Trev had taken the situation in hand, but he also knew that he’d hear about it in the most unflattering terms possible. His agent had never bothered to hide his antipathy for Viggo, though politesse kept him silent. Sean loved his career, no – he loved acting. He loved breathing life into another’s words and images, loved taking a role and making a character his, with all the complexities that were part and parcel of the human condition. His craft was what allowed him to take such risky parts as Ranuccio – though in Europe such roles didn’t automatically confer homosexual status. Acting he loved – the rest he could do without. As far as he was concerned it was also a job – and like a job, his private life began the minute the director yelled “that’s a wrap, folks”. Unfortunately, attending boring media circuses like last night’s party was also part of the job, but he’d learned to deal with it as graciously as possible. Sometimes he wished he could be as confident as his blue-eyed lover. He wished he had other areas to fall back on, the way Viggo had his art, his poetry and his publishing company. He wished that it didn’t matter if he and Viggo were a couple – that people wouldn’t assume the worst simply because he happened to be in love with a man. Fame was a real bitch. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I should apologize for last night,” Viggo began later that morning as Sean readied himself for their meeting. He loved watching Sean dress, just as much as he liked undressing him. Perhaps it was simply his artists’ eye taking in the various and sundry elements and watching them be expertly put together with sartorial elegance. It was a casual yet tailored look – a powder blue mock turtleneck and jeans - but Sean always managed to look as if the cover of GQ was made just for him. “Don’t worry about it, Vig,” Sean reassured him with a loving smile. “The old boy will rant and rave as he usually does then we’ll get down to business.” Viggo’s face darkened slightly. “I wasn’t talking about Trevor. I was talking about you.” “Me?” “You. What I did last night wasn’t smart. Here I am always talking about supporting you and your career and I let my own issues with certain people cloud my judgment.” Sean’s fingers skimmed the bristly stubble of his lover’s cheek. “Ah Vig, ye’re doin’ it again, lad. Ye’re overanalyzing things way too much.” The soft Sheffield lilt was as gentle as the caress, and Sean’s eyes were kind. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that in this town there’s no such thing as bad publicity. That kiss probably landed me on the front page of practically every entertainment magazine out there. And for that matter, you too. Besides, it wasn’t as if I didn’t enjoy meself considering what your kisses usually do to me. I’m just grateful we were in a public place or I might have ripped your clothes right off and done unspeakably naughty things to you.” “Too bad you don’t have time right now,” Viggo teased, eyes grown heavy with newly awakened passion. Sean ran his tongue over his upper lip, the one gesture that fueled millions of female fantasies around the world and pressed his body against the other man’s, a slow burn coloring his eyes an even deeper green. Viggo’s breath caught, once again amazed by the beauty and strength of his lover. “What makes you think I don’t?”