Linger 3 – The Poetry Slam

Author: rotpunkt (klatschmohn)
Pairing: VigBean 
Rating: R-NC17
Warning: None
Disclaimer: All made up  
Summary: This is an interpretation of Viggo´s book “Linger” as a story


Viggo was shivering with rage, his glare so hard it almost physically cut into Sean´s 
flesh.

Sean flinched, but simultaneously an angry-lusty swoosh of grim desire whisked 
through him.

It had always aroused him to no end to watch Viggo lose control, in any way. 
Everybody knew gravely melancholic Viggo and quirky crazy Viggo, but Sean got to 
see the wild side Viggo only revealed in his movies roles. Sean could break through 
Viggo´s habitual cool thoughtful calmness and make him lose himself in raw, 
untamed emotion - shrieking with lust, growling with fury, or both at once.

After three, four steps further backwards Viggo stopped. “No”, he repeated, this time 
in a breathless groan.

Sean carefully followed Viggo, with the smooth predatory slowness of a crocodile or a 
hunting panther in his movements, his eyes smoky gold, hypnotically fixed on his 
prey. Viggo poised himself to strike out, nervous like a cornered animal which would 
prefer flight but has no chance but fight. Sean noticed the muscle tonus rising in 
Viggo´s body, his fists clenching convulsively.

“Hit me,” Sean said calmly. “Hit me, Viggo. I won´t stop you.”

He stepped within the radius of Viggo´s range, in a deliberate offence of territory, at 
the same time letting his own arms hang down defencelessly, an ambiguous fetial 
gesture, challenge and surrender both at once. “Hit me,” he whispered.

Sean knew the breaking point was close. Viggo would either lash out blindly or… - 
the tension in Viggo´s posture slackened, shoulders and head sinking down, the 
angry glow in his light eyes slowly extinguished by dark lashes closing over them. 

“You know I can´t… you bastard…”

Sean grabbed his T-shirt and pulled him closer; Viggo plunged forward passively, 
turning his head to the side. Sean´s fingers ran through Viggo´s hair and finally 
stopped, his palms flatly pressed against the back of Viggo´s head, lifting and 
directing it towards him, Viggo´s face enclosed between his forearms. Sean´s elbows 
lightly rested on Viggo´s shoulders; the whole gesture became a punctuated act of 
possession, and taking.

An almost claustrophobic narrowness dizzied Viggo, as if the limitation of movement 
at the same time trammelled his freedom of thought. He knew Sean was going to kiss 
him, and though he didn´t exactly want it, it wasn´t negotiable. With Sean, a kiss 
never was.

Sean´s tongue probed, tentatively licking the corner of Viggo´s mouth first, slick, 
coarse-fine and hot, but as Viggo opened up with a helpless moan, the sneaky little 
beast fell in with unmasked greed.

Sean changed position, his left arm snaking around Viggo resolutely. Clutching 
Viggo´s arm tightly against his body; his right arm encircled Viggo´s neck, his hand 
grasping Viggo´s chin from behind. With a sudden jerk of his left arm, he made Viggo 
arch; his fingers lifted Viggo´s chin and pulled his head back. He leant over him, his 
tongue swooping down inside Viggo´s mouth, sucking, chewing, as if it was an act of 
vampirism or cannibalism  - more than a kiss.

There comes point when a vampire´s victim turns into willing prey and enjoys being 
emptied of his blood, consciousness, and life. In the same way, Viggo surrendered. 
Sean pushed his hands past his waistband and into his boxers, firmly squeezing his 
buttocks. Sean´s hand invaded his clothes, like his tongue did with Viggo´s mouth, 
and Viggo was ready to bend over the next rubbish bin in the small cobbled alley.

Sean hadn´t planned on this, and Viggo would have had revolted if he had had the 
strength to resist, but as so many times before, their bodies took over, basic instinct 
claiming the lead. They would have ended up fucking in the dark dirty corner of the 
street, if sounds of human voices had not filtered through their sex-driven minds, 
reaching their fainting rational thinking in shaggy blubbering waves. It was difficult to 
de-tangle, to tear away hands and mouths. Reluctantly, Sean let go, deprived of his 
primal need; the frustration ached like a painful cramp.

The impulse still rushed through his nerves. Set on taking Viggo, his fingers twitched 
into empty space, programmed to dig into Viggo´s skin; his tongue licked out for the 
remaining taste of Viggo on his lips.

They waited with halted breaths until the wall of steps and voices faded, but the spell 
had been broken.

“You can´t do this to me… you have no right,” Viggo hissed.

Sean´s knees went limp, he let his back fall against the wall for support. His fingers 
combed through his hair in helpless desperation. He lowered his head abruptly in 
forced resignation, his pulse racing. His whole body slumped and heaved with fast 
unsteady breaths. 

“Send me away, then, Viggo,” he panted, half swallowing a little sobbing groan at the 
end. “Dump me once and for all. Tell me to go if want me to leave? Do you?”

Viggo nodded, faltered, but nodded again, unable to speak, choking at the lump in 
his throat.

Sean levered himself up, both hands left and right near his hips, pushing back 
against the wall. For a moment of vicious silence, they stared at each other with one 
last screaming glance, an outpouring of everything that veered between them, white-
hot desire and vindictive violence. Sean could see dark lines that smoked across the 
shimmering blue of Viggo´s remorselessly stagnant eyes like undercurrents of 
sadness, but the whole chaos of the past minutes had riled him up and drained him 
at the same time. He knew he would not be able to adapt to even more sudden twists 
and turns. He walked away – and heard the little sigh that formed his name more with 
his heart than his ears. 

“Sean…”

Giving himself an inner kick, Sean gathered his last mental and emotional resources, 
turned, and once again slowly approached Viggo. 

“Stop,” Viggo expelled the word harshly, then went on more fluently: “Don´t touch me 
or I´ll be on my knees sucking you off within seconds,” he stated with a deadly tone of 
warning in his voice. Sean blinked incredulously, in total bewilderment.

“And that´s supposed to be a threat?” For a moment Sean had to wonder whether 
Viggo´s craziness had progressed from “slightly mental” to full hardcore insanity.

A throaty little laugh from Viggo, but then his seriousness returned.

“Yes.”

His hands painted a few inquisitive circles in the air, obviously urging Sean to 
understand, struggling for words to explain, but deserted by his usual eloquence.

Nevertheless, realisation densely gloomed in Sean´s confused mind, and he nodded 
slowly.

“Okay. We´ll talk this through first.”

Tbc