Title: Novice Chronicles: 14/15: How Everything Is
Author: Brigantine
e-mail: gidgetpup@netzero.com
Pairing:  Vig/Bean/Dave/Karl
Rating: NC-17
Warning: AU.  Happy Bondage galore.
Disclaimer: Not happening.  Didn't happen.  Won't happen
Summary: Dave runs his final sessions with Vig and Sean.  Karl and Sean have some 
unfinished business.  

#################

A/N: The author apologizes abjectly to the late Jim Henson.  I really couldn't help it.  I 
tried not to, I swear I tried, but it just kept *happening,* and the bunnies were singing, 
and I am just so, so sorry!

*****************

Thursday, 7:45 p.m.:

Dave has Viggo to himself tonight.  As is his preference Dave's studio is lit by the two 
mismatched wall sconces and by fire; candles atop bookshelves, on the mantel, a small 
fire going in the fireplace.  Viggo is on his hands and knees on top of the bed, and he 
glows.  He rests his forehead on the comfortable triangle of his index fingers and thumbs.  
His knees are splayed wide and his spine stretches downward, arching his backside as 
high as he can get it and still remain in position.  He's playing with the weights.  Sitting 
nearby on a drawn up chair with his legs curled beneath him, Dave watches with 
satisfaction and a certain amusement the gleaming swing of the chains and sway of the 
chrome stretcher ring encircling and pulling down on Viggo's balls.  

Viggo's ankles are bound to the stretcher ring with heavy gauge steel chain, and just for 
fun Dave has added a few ounces of black enameled lead fishing weights onto the big eye 
screws of the stretcher.  Viggo's cock swings at half-attention, his entrapped balls 
dragged taught and turned deeply rose in their gleaming chrome prison.  If Dave tilts his 
head a bit he can see past Viggo's lean belly to his face.  His eyes are closed in 
contemplation, and he wears a soft, thoughtful smile at the pull, the swing and the mild 
burn of the weight, the quiet clink of the chain links.

Dave teases, "Shall I add some jingle bells to that rig?"

Viggo grins, upside down even more Cheshire Cat than usual.  "Yessir."

Dark sparkles go off in Dave's imagination.  "I have a different idea.  You stay put."

Viggo hums to himself and sways his backside purely to his own contentment while Dave 
rises to fetch some enticingly rattly items from the armoire, and from the old oak dresser 
he pulls two toys Viggo has yet to play with.  He sets the items on the tea cart and moves 
behind Viggo, who protests and pouts a bit when Dave removes the chrome ball stretcher 
and takes the chains off of his ankles.

Dave's got himself two new lengths of chain, and to Viggo's unmistakable delight re-
attaches his ankles to the posts at either corner of the foot of the bed. 

"This," Dave says, "should be an interesting little experience.  Kneel up and pay 
attention, now."

As Viggo settles himself, Dave sits on the bed and shows him the shiny steel objects.  
"This is a Miller speculum."  Dave turns it over in his hands, demonstrating how it works.

"Um, Sir, isn't a speculum a gynecological instrument?"  Viggo clears his throat and 
brushes his hair out of his eyes.

"Not necessarily." Dave wiggles his eyebrows meaningfully.  

Viggo snickers, catching on.  He cranes a bit, trying to get a glimpse of what Dave's got 
just behind him on the bed. 

Dave pulls it forward.  "And this," he grins, watching Viggo's eyes widen, "is also a 
speculum.  Generally it's used for large animals, such as horses."

"Jee-eez!"  Viggo gapes at the large instrument, and Dave notices his body clenching up 
instinctively.

The object is heavy and gleams wickedly in Dave's hands, dwarfing the other speculum 
while Dave watches Viggo's face, the way his breathing quickens the longer he stares.  
"Round about 17 inches long overall," Dave explains, "though the actual blades are about 
13 or so."

Viggo gulps, his cheeks flushed pink.  "Oh.  Um.  Oh.  Are we, I mean, am I--?"

"No," Dave says.  "I just wanted you to see what some of your options are."

"Tease.  Scared me, Sir!"

"I don't think you're nearly as frightened as you believe you ought to be," Dave asserts.

Viggo smiles at him, shrugging.  "It's unnerving, but it looks interesting.  I'd trust you to 
do it."

"I know." Dave brushes back Viggo's hair affectionately.  "But for your first time with 
one of these spiffy little gadgets we'll go a bit conservative.  I believe you'll enjoy the 
Miller."

With a last, lingering glance at the horse-toy, Viggo turns his attention to Dave.
  
"As you can see, the blades are nice and wide.  See these little screws with the wheels?  
This little beauty will open up to three and a half inches wide--though we won't go all 
that way, I think.  That's a big diameter."  

Viggo regards the speculum thoughtfully, rubbing at that fetching divot in his chin.  "Will 
it hurt?"

"A little. We'll work it open a bit at a time, and see how it goes.  Your body, at least as far 
as the blades reach, will be pressed open and left that way.  How do you feel about that?"

Viggo looks up at Dave with the adventurous expression Dave has come to love, and 
drawls,  "Wow.  That'll be… hm… 'Kay.  Crank me open, Sir."

Dave pulls the wrist manacles off the tea cart, and as Viggo watches with gleaming eyes 
he is bound to the headboard.  He sighs in contentment, head down and bottom up, 
making small pleased noises while Dave slicks first the speculum and then Viggo, 
warming and easing him, and giving one butt-cheek a little nip that makes him wriggle 
and snicker.  It's interesting, Dave thinks, how Vig's sub-space has changed over the past 
weeks.  It's become much more of a game for him now, and Dave could hardly be more 
pleased.  

Just as Dave promised he proceeds slowly, sliding the closed blades into Viggo's body 
and giving Viggo time to adjust, allowing the natural resistance of his muscles to relax.  
By the time Dave locks the wheel screw in place he has opened the speculum to just over 
half of its potential width and Viggo is humming, low in his chest, his breathing slow and 
deep.  Dave rubs Viggo's backside, notices that he's trembling a bit, and rubs up into this 
lower back.  When he feels the tension in Viggo's body ease he leans forward and very, 
very softly blows over the gaping, vulnerable opening the speculum has created.  Viggo 
makes a small, startled noise.  His reaction is not, Dave knows, because the faint breeze 
he's just caused either pleasures or hurts Viggo, but because it is happening.

"What are you thinking, Viggo?"

Viggo cackles, "You just blew up my butt!"

"Aside from that," Dave grins.  He's going to get himself a case of the giggles, if he 
doesn't watch out.

"You can see inside me, Sir."

"Want to know what you look like?"  He lets his breath out gently, lets it feather past the 
opening to Viggo's body.  Viggo makes a soft noise that sounds remarkably like pleasure.

"I expect I'm very pink, Sir."  Viggo's voice shivers a little, but that thoughtful smile he 
gets holds precedence.

Dave watches Viggo's face and asks, "Tell me more."

After a few moments of thought Viggo's answer is a soft groan, a resonance at the top of 
his hard palate, something entirely aside from fear laced beneath it.  "You could do 
anything to me."

"I've always been able to do anything to you, Viggo."

"Mmm… *I know.*"  Viggo smiles, his body language sliding further toward the 
wanton.  He's arching his back downward, pressing his opened backside as high as the 
triangle of his hips, elbows and knees will allow.  Dave can tell by the darkness of his 
eyes that he hardly realizes what he's doing anymore, and it's all Dave can do to keep 
from kissing Viggo just now.

"If you could have me do one thing right now, Viggo, what would it be?"  Dave knows 
the answer.  He wants to hear Viggo say it.

Dave waits, knowing Viggo's brain isn't processing quite at top speed.  Vig hums and 
drawls his request.  "Sir… if you could go ahead and fuck me now…" 

Dave chuckles darkly, leans forward and blows a loud raspberry against Viggo's left butt-
cheek.

Viggo yelps and eyes him reproachfully over his shoulder.  "That was evil, Sir!"

"Couldn't help it," Dave explains.  "You've got such a charming bum…"  He whuffles a 
series of smaller raspberries across Viggo's backside, until he is squirming and giggling.

"Hey," Viggo complains, "Now I'm all awake again!"

"You certainly are," Dave observes unrepentantly.  He loves watching Viggo dive down, 
running deep in his submissive head space.  Viggo is comfortable there now, loves to go 
there, and Dave loves helping him get there, but just now he wants Viggo right here on 
the surface, with him.

"Now about that fucking, Sir?  You did ask me what I want."

"I did indeed." Dave rubs his stubbled cheek cat-like against Viggo's upraised bottom.  
He reaches between Viggo's legs to caress his cock; the full, warm hardness of it, 
stroking the length of it and toying gently with his balls.  He bites slowly at one of 
Viggo's buttocks, massages the other, runs his hands down Viggo's thighs.  He licks at the 
tight skin around the opened speculum, runs his tongue along the sensitive skin stretched 
across the open space between the blades, and Viggo gasps and moans into the mattress.  
He's muttering something, a pleading, urgent string of nonsense, until Dave realizes that 
he's ranting in Danish and asks, as he's kissing and rubbing at Viggo's lower back, 
"Viggo, what are you saying?  In English, please."

The response is a low groan of words.  "God, that's fabulous, now please hurry the fuck 
up!  Sir."

Cheeky as hell, and damned demanding for a boy, but as always Viggo is offering Dave  
anything he wants, and trusting Dave to take care with him.  Viggo writhes beneath him, 
demanding in Spanish this time, and the amber light slips over the lean muscle of his 
shoulders, slides up over the ridges of his backbone, glints off of the Miller speculum that 
opens Viggo's body to Dave--to the world, if Dave were to let it in.  But Viggo knows he 
won't.

"Hold still, Vig."  Dave gradually narrows the blades of the speculum, licks soothingly at 
the gathering skin of Viggo's hole, makes him sigh and moan.  Dave smiles into the 
beginning sweat-sheen of his hip and murmurs, unnecessarily, "Don't go anywhere" into 
the nearest bump of his spine.  Heaven only knows what Viggo's thinking as he crouches 
there, smiling to himself, listening to whatever Dave's up to now.

Dave is stripping off at speed, is what he's up to.  There's nothing quite so inspiring as a 
boy who *wants it.*  Viggo makes a low, rumbly sound of satisfaction when Dave 
anoints him with extra lube, and it's all Dave can do not to rush.  He urges Viggo a little 
further onto the bed so that he can climb up behind him.  Dave indulges himself in 
caressing Viggo, small gestures of genuine affection that set Viggo to waggling his 
backside happily, which he knows perfectly well Dave can't resist, and with no further 
ceremony Dave is pressing into him, already open and wanting, and Vig presses back, the 
roll of his shoulders gold and umber swells in the soft light.  They rock together, pressing 
in, pushing back, Dave making long sweeps of his open hands over Viggo's flexing back 
until they've both become impatient, but Dave prefers to make this last a little, and he 
holds himself back, resisting the urge to speed up, to take Viggo hard and fast.  He 
restrains himself to savor the solid delight of Viggo pushing back against him, matching 
his rhythm; the warmth of Vig's damp skin beneath his hands, the curve of his buttocks 
beneath his palms, the slope of Viggo's spine down into the breadth of his shoulders and 
the soft sheen of dark, sandy gold hair by candle light.

Dave closes his eyes, flexes his lower spine into the rhythm they share, sinks into the 
sensation of his own breath matching Viggo's, smiles when he realizes they've begun to 
hum and moan softly in contra point to one another.  Dave revels in the simple, slick 
beauty of his cock gliding into and out of Viggo's body, again, again, again... and ohh, it's 
too good, it is, but though he could keep Vig on the edge like this for a very long time, he 
won't, 'cause Vig has earned better than that.  Dave reaches around to grasp at Viggo's 
length, coaxing and rubbing his fingers and thumb over the wet tip.  He leans in and 
presses his ear to Viggo's back to hear the rumble of long, low groans, and the harsh, 
quick breaths he takes before he arches up against Dave, his hips jerking out of rhythm, 
his cries uneven and sharp, and Dave follows soon after, his hands at Viggo's hips, 
pulling him in, strong and deep.


Dave and Viggo are tangled together on the bed, manacles and chains removed and slung 
carelessly onto the floor for now.

"It was different tonight," Viggo says thoughtfully; dissecting, as he tends to.  "It's always 
good.  Certainly it's always been interesting.  But tonight... Man, the sense of 
vulnerability in having one's body forced open.  It was terrifying, but liberating.  That's 
always such a strange dichotomy."

Dave smiles, "Made you greedy, that's what it did.  But that's alright.  It's good to want 
the most out of this.  It's a wonderful thing, to want to give and receive everything you 
can; trust, pleasure, maybe pain."  He traces the shadow of Viggo's left shoulder blade.  
"Not always easy to find a person worthy of the exchange.  I'm honored, Viggo, that you 
came to me these weeks and trusted me to share it with you.  We all are."

Viggo teases, but he's holding tight.  "Even Dom and Lij?  I think they still believe 
Orlando and I are part of some secret cookie-stealing organisation."

Dave chuckles, "They're young and they have far too much energy for their own good--
or, really, for the safety of civilisation as we know it, but once we've got them settled 
down they'll be grand."

"I've learned a lot," Viggo says, "about who I was.  Am.  What I want.  I thank you for 
that.  I'm not the same."

"You worked hard for it, Vig."  Dave hopes his pride in Viggo shows in his voice.

Viggo nuzzles under Dave's chin, and he can feel him grinning.  "If you call me 
Grasshopper now I'm not sure how I'll handle that."

"Brat."

Viggo sniggers softly against Dave's chest, and Dave threads his fingers through Viggo's 
hair.  He's going to miss these quiet moments together an awful lot.  He'll miss the faint 
tangs of linseed oil and turpentine that Vig can never quite wash out of his hands, and the 
soft, earthy scent of Viggo as a whole; the way Viggo slides into subspace, his clear grey 
eyes turning dark as worn pewter.  He'll miss fooling about in the bathtub together 
afterward until their fingers are pruny and the water is cold.  Dave will sorely miss the 
blessing of Viggo's willingness.


When Dave and Viggo walk out of his studio, clean, dressed, and wondering what all the 
racket is, Eric is running up and down the hallway carrying Orlando, who stretches his 
arms out in front of him and makes zooming noises.  Miranda and Billy have collapsed 
together in a fit of giggles on the floor, while Elijah and Dom leap around the hallway 
like mutant ballerinas.  Someone's CD player is belting out "It is I, Captain Vegetable!" at 
high volume.  Liv and Karl want to know when they can hear, respectively, "Doing the 
Batty Bat" and "Proud to be a Cow" again.  

Viggo sighs mournfully.  "I'm gonna miss this."

Dave reminds him, hoping, "You can come back."

Viggo hooks one forefinger with Dave's pinky finger and begins to hum along with 
"Three cheers for me, Captain Vegetable, crunch crunch crunch!"

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

Friday 7:48 p.m.:

Sean is in a familiar position, his arms shackled to the beam above his head, legs out 
shoulder width.  He's blindfolded, and waiting patiently.  He's looking forward to what's 
coming later, but Dave has told him he's got a nice surprise for him first.  Dave chuckles 
softly to himself as he steps toward the studio door.  Surprise is hardly the word for it, 
though this is as much a favor to Karl as it is a gift for Sean.  On the one hand Dave can't 
help feeling just a little wistful at the notion that this will be Karl and Sean, rather than 
Karl and Dave, but that it isn't Karl and Dave is his own fault, and anyway, he is 
thoroughly looking forward to watching.  Dave opens the door and grins at Karl, who is 
looking nervous, but eager as he waits in the hallway.  Dave motions him through the 
curtain, locks the door behind them, and informs Sean,  "Our guest is here, Sean.  See if 
you can guess who it is by touch alone."

Sean smiles and nods, game for it.  "Aye, Sir, I'll do me best."

Karl rubs his hands in a happy *So will I* gesture, and Dave suppresses an amused snort 
as he ensconces himself in the big Stickley chair in the corner, where he's got a nice view.  
This is where he shaved Sean that first rather traumatic time, and again in quieter, more 
languorous evenings afterward.  Damn.  Time has run away from him.

Among other items laid out neatly on the tea cart there is a large jar of honey dust.  The 
lid has already been removed, and Karl reaches inside and pulls out a generous amount of 
the rich gold powder.

Karl begins at Sean's ankles, adding a heavy layer of honey dust as he moves up Sean's 
leg.  Sean's skin and the crisp blond leg hairs where Karl has anointed him shimmer gold 
in the firelight, and in the warmth of the room the scent of honey rises richly and invites 
imagination.  Karl gathers more honey dust, slides his hands over Sean's hips, curves over 
his backside, slips his hands softly forward, stroking and fondling, and Sean presses 
forward unashamedly into the touch.  Karl leans against Sean's back, rubs his cheek 
against Sean's shoulder, brushes his lips over the back of Sean's neck as Sean sighs his 
name.  "Karl..."

"How did you know?"  

"The look in your eyes when you watch me," Sean says softly.  "I can feel it in your 
hands."

Dave is so proud of him he nearly hurts himself trying not to say so, though he realizes 
that Sean's mind has slid just into under-space.  If he were trying to recognize Karl with 
his conscious mind it'd never work.

Karl smiles and nuzzles at the nape of Sean's neck, scoops up a handful of the dust, then 
moves in front of Sean, brushing over his belly, up onto his pectorals and back down, 
curving his hands around Sean's waist.  He pulls him close, kisses his chest, licks at his 
nipples, toys there until they're taught and cooling under soft puffs of his breath, brushes 
his lips downward, tickles his tongue into Sean's navel.  Sean is starting to tremble, and 
Dave watches him swallow hard, catch his breath as Karl licks at the wet slit of Sean's 
erect cock.

Sean's voice is husky, willing.  "Ah.  Jesus..."

"Let me, Sean," is all Karl says, and then he's kneeling and lowering his mouth over 
Sean's length, embracing his thighs, his fingers gently spreading  Sean's cheeks, ghosting 
over his opening.

Dave watches Karl's mouth, the redness of his lips.  He watches the way Karl's eyes close 
and his brows draw down in concentration.  Dark hair slips forward, obscures part of 
Karl's face.  Dave resists the urge to get up and push it aside.

Sean grunts and sighs at the feel of it all, presses his face against his upraised bicep while 
Karl pulls him in deep, licking and suckling, one hand now gently teasing at Sean's balls, 
a long middle finger pressing on that sensitive spot just there behind, and Sean is shaking 
with trying not to thrust into Karl's mouth.  

Karl pulls away to lick and softly bite at Sean's cock, and he urges, breath intimate 
against Sean's skin, "Buck if you need to, I can take whatever you've got, Sean," and then 
he's swallowing Sean again, sucking hard, and toying with his entrance, while Sean's 
head lolls back, and he bites his lip.  Karl plunges one finger deep into Sean's hole, and 
Sean takes in a series of quick breaths, his body rippling upward from his feet to his head, 
and then he's bucking hard and groaning into a sharp cry, his arms jerking at the chains.

Karl swallows and licks, smiling as though he's just put something over on the U.N., and 
he caresses Sean's thighs, and turns him gently loose.  He kisses Sean just below his 
bellybutton, trailing upward to his throat, and he kisses Sean on the cheek.  Sean turns his 
face into the gesture, murmuring, "Thank you."  

Karl smiles and chuckles, holding Sean's face between his hands, and he briefly rests his 
forehead against Sean's.  "You've no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

"Happy to be of service," Sean smirks, and Karl laughs, kissing him quickly on the nose 
before fleeing the room, still chortling.  He's walking a bit stiffly.  Dave doesn't envy him 
that.

For a few moments there is no sound in the room but Sean's long, even breaths, and the 
comforting lull of the fire.  Dave has never seen Sean's eyes when Sean has climaxed.  
Sean has always either been blindfolded or facing away from him.  This is something 
Dave has imposed upon himself.  He knows Sean's body, understands him on a level very 
few others ever will, but this one privilege he has reserved for another man, has sacrificed 
it to Ian's hope that one day Viggo will be the one to share that beauty with Sean.

Sean tilts his head, trying to listen past the flames.  "Sir?"

"I'm here, Sean."  Dave rests one hand on Sean's shoulder and unbinds Sean's eyes.  "You 
ready for part two?"

Sean blinks into the firelight of the room and grins at Dave, his honey-rough voice rich 
with anticipation.  "I am that, Sir!"

Dave is certain just now that he has never before seen a grin quite so wicked, and so 
entirely blessed by a sure, lopsided grace.  He bunches his fingers in Sean's hair and pulls 
him forward to kiss him on the temple, inhaling the scent of him.  Mercy, but he's going 
to miss this.



Several weeks ago Sean discovered that among the many wonders of the Internet there 
exist bondage gear retail establishments.  At the time Sean freely admitted to an amused 
Dave that he finds these fascinating, if occasionally a bit daunting (and in one case more 
than slightly frightening), and recently while cruising one of his favorite sites he ran 
across a demonstration photograph that struck his fancy.  Dave has happily agreed to 
integrate this into their scene tonight.  

Earlier today with Sean's help Dave dragged up a heavy bench from the dark bounty of 
the dungeon on the ground floor.  The bench is thickly padded and covered in soft black 
leather.  At the moment Sean is bound to it on his back, his elbows buckled with bands of 
black leather to his knees, his wrists buckled near his ankles; forearms to shins.  Wide 
bands of black leather bind his thighs hard back, wrapping across from one thigh to the 
other beneath the bench, securing him down.  His body is nearly folded in half, forced 
wide open, and everything Sean owns is on blatant display for Dave's easy access.

Sean's neck is supported by a small leather pillow, while a strap of black leather crosses 
his throat, binding his upper body loosely, but effectively to the bench.  A double wrap of 
black silk binds Sean's eyes.  The fire light paints Sean's bound body in amber and smoke 
shadows, washes orange across the jut of Sean's left cheekbone beneath the blindfold, and 
Dave remembers that Sean has pale gold freckles across his shoulders, just like the tiny 
ones across his face.  It is Dave's considered opinion, as he watches the honey dust Karl 
painted on Sean's skin glow in the warm light, that Sean looks more beautiful right now 
than he has ever seen him--or, quite likely, than anyone has ever seen him.  Perhaps that 
is due in part to Dave's awareness of the emotional and mental distance Sean has traveled 
over these past weeks.  He can not imagine Sean having suggested something like this 
back in July.

This is the part of the game Dave and Sean have agreed on.  The rest, as is his habit, Sean 
has left to Dave.  Dave could do anything to him, here in the privacy of his studio.  The 
possibilities are mind-boggling.  Dave already knows what he wants.  The fact that Sean 
has already come once tonight will only make it better.  It's not a complex idea, but it will 
require a certain patience.

Dave strips slowly, enjoying the feel of the warm air touching his skin.  He folds his 
clothes, leaves them on the end of the bed next to Sean's.  Dave stands at the end of the 
bench, quietly watching Sean breathe, shallow, but even.  He watches the quick thump of 
Sean's pulse at the base of his throat as he waits quietly for Dave to touch him, to do as he 
will.  Dave shifts to his right, grasps Sean's bare foot and begins to suck on his big toe.  
Sean starts, laughs, and then giggles when Dave's tongue darts between his toes.

Dave rubs his thumb hard against the arch of Sean's foot, the touch this time intended to 
please rather than to tease.  He licks at the backs of Sean's toes, grinning as Sean squirms, 
wriggling his toes.  Dave observes that he is freshly erect, deeply pink with the flush of 
warm blood, the blunt head of his cock darkened and moist, and lord, but that is truly 
lovely.

Dave gives a last lick to Sean's second toe, then moves over to the other foot to give it the 
same treatment, except that he nibbles on the round ends of Sean's toes.  He laughs aloud 
when Sean comes *that* close to a squeal of delight, but manages to bite it off into a 
snort and a snigger instead.  Dave slides his mouth onto the elegant fingers of Sean's right 
hand, bound near Sean's ankle; bites at the open palm, sucks on Sean's thumb, lets it go 
with a wet sound.

He moves back to the end of the heavy bench and kneels, pausing to enjoy the new 
perspective.  He rests his hands on the upturned backs of Sean's thighs up near the backs 
of his knees, strokes downward over the hard muscle until he cups Sean's taut buttocks, 
the opening to Sean's body centered between his hands.  Dave leans forward, bracing 
himself against Sean, and runs a wide, slow lick of his tongue from the base of Sean's 
cock just to the base of the head and back.  Sean lets out a low sound, one hand clenching 
and opening.

Dave licks again, smiles as Sean's cock twitches appreciatively, and then Dave gently 
maneuvers Sean's smooth balls into his mouth, sucking lightly and licking at the tender 
skin while Sean breathes long sighs of pleasure, licks at his lower lip.  Dave lets go 
carefully, licks at the wet skin, nuzzles briefly, moves downward.  Sean gives a little cry 
of surprise when Dave licks at his hole, his tongue light and quick.  When Dave's strokes 
become bolder, more thorough, he earns a shameless moan of pure pleasure that makes 
him grin, and he goes a touch dizzy, as a fair amount of his blood has by now surged 
southward.  He presses his tongue into the delicate pucker, wriggling and pushing, and 
the sound Sean makes comes from deep in his belly, and it's wonderful, but still shy of 
that one sound Dave has wanted most to hear from him.  Dave flicks his tongue, pulls 
away, and Sean gives a small, regretful sigh.  

Dave slicks himself, then lavishes Sean, who tries to tilt his hips in encouragement, 
except that he is bound too tightly, and in spite of the blindfold Dave can read in Sean's 
face this reminder of how helpless he is.  The realization expresses itself in a shiver 
running through Sean's body, in the tightening of his balls, a flick of his cock.  Dave lets 
out a long, slow breath of anticipation and presses a finger, swiftly followed by another 
and yet another into Sean, not because he believes Sean particularly needs the stretch, but 
because he loves the feel of Sean's body, hot and slick and tender around his fingers.  In a 
certain way Dave's fingers inside Sean are more intimate than Dave's cock.  He presses 
knowingly, smiles as Sean jerks and gasps at the pleasure, and then Dave's fingers are 
sliding out and his cock is sliding in, and Sean is arching open-mouthed, his breath low 
and quick, as Dave takes him with firm, even strokes. 

Though Dave loves all of the pleasured sounds Sean has made over the past weeks, the 
sighs and moans and sometimes screams and curses, there is one sound that they have 
never quite reached before.  It's a sound that Dave has only imagined.  It will be glorious 
and beyond price, he'll know it when he hears it, and he's aiming for that, pushing into 
Sean hard but not too quickly, holding back his own entirely possible release and 
working himself into a worthwhile sweat, tasting his own salt on his upper lip.  Thanks to 
Karl, Dave's got time he can take, whether Sean wishes it or not.  He may curse Dave for 
it now, but he'll thank him for it later.

Dave grips at Sean's raised ankles, pulls himself that much harder into Sean's body, 
white-knuckled as the leather straps dig into Sean's skin.  He watches the sweat sheen 
over Sean's belly and chest, listens to the harshness of his breath.  Dave deliberately rakes 
that sweet place inside Sean just once, then misses it, then rakes it again and again, only 
to miss; teasing at his balls and winding Sean up and letting him down until every breath 
is predatory, spoiling for a fight, but there's nothing Sean can do.  The legs of the bench 
scrape against the hardwood floor as Dave pulls himself into Sean.  There will be bruises-
-stripes of bruises across Sean's thighs, across his wrists, his knees and forearms where he 
strains against the bindings, and only the strap of leather across his throat keeps his 
shoulders down. When Sean's pleasure and pain and frustration have spiraled together 
into a storm of curses behind clenched, bared teeth, Dave begins to hit his mark 
repeatedly, begins to tease at his cock, and that yearning cry Sean makes is gorgeous, but 
that's not what Dave's after.  Dave misses the mark again, flicks at his cock.  Sean is 
ready to scream.  Dave loves it when Sean screams… and that's very nearly what Dave's 
working toward, that is…

Dave's own breath is loud and harsh in his ears when Sean's body starts to batten down 
around him--too soon, just.  Dave misses the mark.  Jesus God, but he wants to come, but 
the way Sean is swearing and begging, it's almost, it's just…ah, yeah… and Dave grips 
Sean's cock, hard, and he's focused on Sean's face when his neck arches back, the tendons 
standing out in his throat, pressed up against the leather, and finally, thundering up from 
deep in his chest, and shredding out from behind bared canines as he's blind and he's 
bound and he's *finally* coming hard, is a wide-open roar that racks Sean from tip to 
toes, and they can likely hear it downstairs.  Dave feels the reverb of it in his cock and in 
his chest, and he's laughing for the joy of that glorious racket Sean's making, as he 
wrenches himself into his own climax, rough and fantastic and bloody well-earned, and 
falls forward over Sean's sweating, come-slickened belly, holding himself awkwardly up 
on shaking arms.

For a moment he watches drops of sweat drip off the ends of his hair onto the leather 
across Sean's throat.  Then he wheezes, "Sean..."

Sean takes yet another deep breath and wheezes back, "Dave?"

"Just checking for life signs, mate." 

Sean gives a little groan of a laugh, manages a decent half grin.  "Taunted madness on 
that one."

"I think we did," Dave agrees as he rises and begins to unbuckle Sean's restraints with 
clumsy fingers.  His knees feel wobbly, and he leans against the bench for a moment.

Sean's grin completes itself, and his voice is steady, if not quite strong.  "Fuckin' brilliant, 
yeah?"

Dave lightly bites him on one toe, makes him yelp and laugh.  "Sean..."

"Aye?  Gor, I've no bones in me at all."  He pulls off the blindfold, lies blinking with his 
legs crooked in the air.

Dave crawls up Sean's body as he lets his legs unbend, though his feet can't quite reach 
the floor this way.  Dave takes Sean's face between his hands, makes Sean look at him.  
"Sean, you were very beautiful just now.  You *are* very beautiful.  For so many 
reasons.  I need you to understand that."

Sean smiles up at him and Dave notices that this time Sean isn't blushing.  He brushes at 
Dave's forehead, curves his palm against his cheek.  "Thank you."



They're sloshing in the big claw foot tub, Dave snugged up behind Sean.  Sean is playing 
with a plastic cow, using it to squirt a flotilla of various yellow rubber duckies, plus one 
purple hippo.  Dave rests his chin over Sean's shoulder, feeling the slight flex of muscle 
beneath his jaw and humming quietly. 

"Where'd you get all the bath toys?"  Squirt, squirt, squirt.

Dave is tempted to tell him the truth, that Viggo keeps--kept--bringing them in, but he's 
not sure he ought, so he says, "Oh, a mate.  Funny sort of fella," and goes on humming.

Sean drops the plastic cow and frowns into the bubbles.  "I'll miss coming here," he 
admits.

"Miss you too," Dave tells him.  "'Course, you're a pain in the arse most of the time," he 
teases gently, "but I've decided I quite like you in spite of yourself."

"You like me *because* I'm a pain in the arse."

"I do."

Sean twines his fingers with Dave's as they rest around his waist under the water.  
"You've fucked me dizzy every week for the past month.  You'll miss that.  So will I."

Dave laughs against the back of Sean's neck.  "Caught me."

"Look... ehm... we could sometime, I mean... "

"Yes," Dave says distinctly.  "Yes, I'd like that.  Listen, Sean.  Take some time.  Let all of 
this sink in.  But you know my number.  I can track you down at the museum, if I have 
to.  Hell, I can send Eric, and he'll roll you up in a carpet like Cleopatra, throw you in the 
bed of his truck and haul you back.  Might have his way with you before he gets here 
though, just to get something out of the effort."  

Sean laughs, "He would, wouldn't he!  Y'know I'm goin' to want to find out if Livvie ever 
finds a boyfriend who's man enough that he isn't  jealous of you lot."

"Ah, turned a bit elder brother, have we?"

"Can't help it," Sean shrugs.  He aims the plastic cow at the purple hippo.  Squirt.

"I dare say you can't. It is, in fact, one of the reasons you're such a pain in the arse, and 
you shouldn't ever change it."

"Angular sort o' compliment, that."

Dave rests his cheek against Sean's shoulder.  Though this is the end of one thing, 
perhaps it will prove the beginning of something new after all, just as Ian planned.  Dave 
hopes rather desperately that this is the case.

"Dave?"

"Mm?"

"What were you humming?  It's stuck in m'head now, and it'll drive me mad, not knowin' 
what it is."

"Oh," Dave smirks behind Sean's back, "Oscar the Grouch sings it.  You know, from 
Sesame Street."

Sean laughs, "You're daft, y'know that."

Dave wriggles his toes in the warm water.  "It's a fun song..."

Sean tries to look at him over a wet shoulder.  "So how does it go?"
 
~~~~~~~~~

Friday, 11: 45 p.m.:

Most of the day Viggo's been feeling a bit low, to the point where Ian finally took him 
across campus after his two o'clock class and plied him with ice cream, as though he were 
a pouting six-year-old.  It's amazing what a big chunk of Haagen-daas dulce de leche and 
a quiet sit-down with a friend who already knows what he's worrying over and so doesn't 
ask can do for a guy.

Tomorrow Viggo will go cheer from the back as Sean and his team battle it out for the 
league championship, and the thought of watching Sean tear up the field, sweaty and 
fierce in shorts and shin-guards has sweetened Viggo's mood considerably. 

Right now he's got a funny song from last night running around inside his head, and it 
should be making him nuts, but he can't help singing it.  Marilyn crouches thoughtfully in 
one of the bookshelves, where she can watch without risking direct involvement, while 
Jim sits nearby on the studio linoleum observing curiously as Viggo messes contentedly 
about with his latest canvas and sings, 

"… No other color will do,
not when I'm beautifully blue.
It true.
He's fuzzy and blue,
all over, fuzzy and blue, 
like Grover,
look at us two..."

~~~~~~~~~

Sean is cleaning his house.  It's nearly midnight, and he should be in bed, 'cause Dave 
worked him over something serious, and he's got a big game--the biggest game of the 
season, thanks--tomorrow afternoon and practice in the morning, but bugger-it, he's got a 
silly song stuck in his head, thanks to Dave, the tosser.

Not that he's really fighting it.  It makes him happy, when it would make more sense right 
now for him to be moping and missing Dave and wondering what's to come.  So, he's 
cleaning his house, while Mycroft and Ophelia follow him cautiously from room to room 
and occasionally glance at one another in worry and confusion.  Sean dusts the dining 
room table and sings out in a better voice than most people would believe, 

"I can't show how much I love you with a flower.  
I can't show how much I love you with a toy…"

"Although," Sean soliloquizes, mid-swipe, "I really think it would depend on the toy…

'Cause things like that just do not have the power 
to make a grouch's heart fill up with joy.
You got to meet me in the moonlight in the junkyard..."

~~~~~~~~~~

Viggo slings a generous amount of cadmium red onto this canvas, drips cadmium yellow 
medium all over the floor before slapping it through the red.    

"...I'm blue, he's fuzzy,
how do you do?
We're fuzzy and blue." 

Jim has begun to bark and howl along, and Viggo laughs and continues in his best Cookie 
Monster voice,

"Yoo-hoo!
Fuzzy and blue, me said me
fuzzy and blue.
From head to bottom of shoe,
that right, me fuzzy and blue.…"

~~~~~~~~~~

Sean is jogging up the stairs, polishing the dark oak banister as he goes, and belting out, 

"Oh yeah, it's bigger, 
it's much much bigger 
than the biggest pile of junk you've ever seen!" 
 
Though she can't hear all the noise properly, it's quite clear to her that something's up, 
and Ophelia raises an eyebrow at Mycroft as Sean disappears upstairs and starts the song 
all over again, 

"I can't show how much I love you in a garden,
I can't show how much I love you at the zoo..."

~~~~~~~~~~~

11:30 p.m.:

Dave stands on the back patio of the mansion and stares up at the stars.  The crew is 
fooling around inside.  Louis Armstrong is giving of his best, and Louis's best is 
wonderfully good, but Dave's not quite in the mood.  He's feeling a bit bereft at the 
moment, wondering if he'll ever see Sean or Viggo again. Sure, they talked about coming 
back, but the whole point of all of this is to get the two of them together, and from what 
he and Ian have been able to piece together, it's working better than expected.  
Serendipity, Dave thinks, has had her hand in all of this, right up to her dainty elbow.  
That horrible person from Viggo's past is something of a shadow and a wild card, but 
there's nothing Dave can do about that.  He's just going to have to keep trusting Ian's 
benevolent cosmos.  Although, if Dave thinks about it too much, he wonders how a 
benevolent cosmos could create such a creep in the first place.

He sighs heavily, and realizes that someone has come out onto the patio behind him.  He 
turns just enough to see who it is.

Karl deduces, "Missing your boys?"

"Sort of a lot, yeah."

"She'll be right," Karl reckons.  "They'll miss you, too.  They'll come back."

"I hope so."

Karl stands beside him, just being there with him quietly for a little while, and then he 
says, "I've a favor to ask."

"What's that?"  Dave would do just about anything for Karl, though he doesn't expect 
Karl knows that.

Karl clears his throat, and Dave can feel the nervousness in him now.  "Dave... may I, 
um."  His voice drops until he's nearly whispering. "Dave, may I kneel for you?"

Dave's heart stalls, sputters for a few beats, then hammers in his throat.  He turns, 
meeting the fear in Karl's eyes.  It's more than odd to Dave that a man this imposing 
should be terrified by an easy fella like him.  So much for his famous skills at reading 
people, but Dave is quick on recovery and he knows what he wants.  "No," he tells Karl 
gently, because to his own mind Dave hasn't earned that, "but I'd really like it if you'd 
kiss me."

At first he's afraid Karl will faint, the way he stands there staring at Dave, but then Karl 
grins and bounces on the balls of his feet and leans into Dave, and yeah, Dave has always 
fantasized that kissing Karl would be hot and ardent and a bit mind-numbingly good, 
rather like this.  Just as though it's everything he's ever wanted.

Dave supposes, in slightly steamed-over hindsight--oo, ace, yeah, Karl's always had good 
hands--that he really ought to have said something sooner.


--tbc--