Series: Pornotherapy 
Chapter title: Canne'd  
Author: Oulangi
Oulangi@yahoo.com
Viggogorn/Sean Bean , Viggo/Orlando suggested,  Sean Bean/Orlando & 
Viggo/Karl later chapters 
NC17 
Summary: Aragorn has Viggo confused during the Cannes film festival. 
AN: 'Abbey Singer' is TV jargon for the last shot of the last scene, used 
here to mean the end of principal photography. Warning: FPS/RPS cross-
over, Angst, Timeline shifts, and a smidge of Het Interview gacked from 
Keelywolfe whose brilliant "Luuuv triangle" veered me onto this track: 
 
JRD: My favourite one was when we did an interview at the Cannes Film 
Festival - they put us in groups and so I ended up with Viggo and Sean 
Bean and the lovely Sophie from Television France was the interviewer - 
and she was very blasé ..and very beautiful - VERY beautiful - and she 
looked at Viggo and at me and she said "Well personally, I'm a woman 
and there's not much for women in this movie. Then she looks at Viggo 
and says Noooooo….and looks at me and …Nooooo - then she looks at 
Sean and says "Ahhhh! Sean - tell me …now, as a woman, tell me - how 
you would seduce me" ..I've never seen Sean look so embarrassed in all 
my life. And Viggo and I were going Yeah!!! Go on!!!  
 
 
Later… 
 
"So how did you seduce her?"  
 
Viggo was on the better side of a bottle of Martini Bianco, a piss colored 
syrupy alcohol Orlando had bought that tasted suspiciously like sweetened 
vermouth. He had wrapped the slim bottle in a paper bag is some vain 
attempt to make the liquor appear SERIOUS and STRONG, but had 
succeeded only in looking contrived and silly. He glared angrily and 
winced as he took another slug from the bottle. Really foul stuff, that. He 
had glanced back and seen Sean making his way across the jetty, looking 
quite debonair pouncing lightly from boulder to boulder in a casual black 
suit. Sean. He'd changed clothes Vig noted to himself, then shifted back 
towards the ocean, grey and flat, decidedly un-Mediterranean. A wave 
broke across the jetty, soaking him and ruining his 'artist brooding at the 
ocean' pose.  
 
"So? How did you?" 
 
"It were too easy. Anything would have worked. I could have said 'come 
on and fuck in the bathroom' and she'd have jumped". 
 
Sean sat down next to Vig on the wet rock, unaware or uncaring of what 
salt water could do to twenty-five-hundred-dollar suits. Vig shifted 
slightly, hoping to use his body block Sean from the inevitable drenching 
of a rogue wave. Sean took the paper-bagged bottle and gulped. 
 
"Christ Vig, what the fuck are you drinking?" 
 
"Orli bought it" 
 
"I should have known. Come on mate, stop sulking. I'll buy you a proper 
drink". He leapt gracefully to his feet and headed back, just as another 
wave dealt Vig a soggy blow.  
 
* 
 
Aragorn had seduced Viggo. His son had said he was "cool", but reading 
Tolkien's work he had recognized him as a messiah, with his Christian 
symbolism and his gentle humility. He was beautiful and loyal, striding 
towards his destiny with all the certainty Viggo lacked. Late to the cast, 
with filming starting immediately, he rushed into Aragorn, trying to find 
him without the safety of time and research. Not until he was well in love 
did he start to see a darker side of Isildur's heir. An all too human Aragorn, 
raised among immortals while he himself remained under death's sword. 
An Aragorn with his exquisite empathy with finity, driven and hungry. 
Viggo felt it too. Felt his own secret fears of dying without making his 
mark, claiming his crown before times inevitable march. He understood 
Tolkien's hero, his destiny marked by who he was, not what he did. 
Viggo's soul rushed in, a little jealous perhaps of Aragorn’s certainty of 
Fate. And he embraced him unconditionally. 
 
Unfortunately Aragorn was not that simple. His mortal desires surged and 
captured Viggo unawares; swallowing him in their fight for dominance. 
Aragorn desired both the Steward of Gondor and the Prince of Mirkwood, 
and Viggo could only observe in horror at the king's attempted seduction 
of them both. It seemed to work. Legolas, always watching him and 
wanting, but mistaken in the way of elves by thinking there is time enough 
for such luxuries. And Boromir, owing fealty to his king and wanting to 
serve him in all ways, scorching him with hot glances and light touches. It 
confused Viggo, and sent him scurrying for cover from craft service on 
more than one occasion when either Orlando or Sean lingered overly long 
during meals. He hadn't had male lovers since, well, since he was married 
and all the crazy fucked up love he, 'Xene, and John Doe could conjure 
had evaporated into a legal DMZ of paper recriminations. But Aragorn 
wanted, and all Viggo could do was run and hide. 
 
* 
 
The bar Sean had decided served proper drinks was in Le Suquet. Vig was 
surprised with the ease that Sean navigated the labyrinth of narrow streets, 
obviously familiar with this less glamorous side of Cannes. He stopped at 
an unlit door and knocked, opening it into a world that Vig thought should 
lead no further than someone's house, a feeling not entirely shaken by his 
surroundings.  
 
"This is it, mate. Café des Amis" 
 
'Café des Amis' looked like some insane doll collector's living room. A 
doll collector whose entire family sat around all night smoking black 
cigarettes and arguing about Voltaire. The dolls themselves lined the walls 
in specially constructed coffin like shelves, their noses and chins 
blackened from smoke and dust. Glass eyes glittered at the patrons, like 
silent cherubic vultures. The effect was creepy enough to momentarily 
distract Viggo from his desperate need to breathe something besides the 
opaque smog that warmed the room. Viggo thought he might actually die 
if he didn't get some air soon. He felt lightheaded as Sean deposited him 
into a broken corner booth and disappeared, leaving him under the watch 
of the porcelain predators, making him paranoid about closing his eyes. 
His head was spinning, though from the lack of oxygen or Orli's poisonous 
alcohol preferences he couldn't tell.  
 
"Isn't this great?" 
 
Sean set a pint of thick black liquid on the table in front of him, which 
Viggo eyed suspiciously. 
 
"What is this place" he asked, more to divert Sean's attention as he poked 
surreptitiously at the glass.  
 
"It was opened around the same time as Commune Libre du Safranier by 
another group of expat painters. They pay the bills by running this place. I 
thought being an artist you'd feel at home. And it's the only place in 
Cannes that serves deep shaft stout, so drink up" He saw Viggo's doubtful 
look. "It's good, really" 
 
"I'm buying a bottle of Aquavit and making you and Orli finish the entire 
thing. Someone has to show you two what a real drink is" Viggo 
grumbled, but he sipped the drink anyway, caught equally between happy 
that Sean had wanted him to feel at home and disturbed that he had 
thought that this catacomb of porcelain corpses would do it.  
 
"It's a deal. I'll try your fucking awful-shite. Now just drink your beer, you 
great poof" 
 
And he did, sinking into the darkness of this place that Sean had decided 
to share with him, enjoying the warmth he felt near Sean. Enjoying his 
company as just Sean and Viggo, without Aragorn's licentious whispers in 
his ear. Whispering about Sean's neck, his lips, his arse and how good they 
would taste. Aragorn did have a point, thought Viggo wryly as he studied 
hid friend through sun-bleached lashes. He was beautiful. The way his 
throat flexed as he devoured his drink sent chills straight to Viggo's groin. 
He wondered what would have been if Sean had been born a woman. 
Only, well, maybe it was the combination of Bianco and Stout, but Viggo 
couldn't imagine him female; that would surely ruin the rugged ferocity 
that lurked dangerously beneath green eyes. Jade eyes, he corrected. 
Wouldn't want those strong thighs hairless and delicate. Wouldn't want 
heavy breasts and a slick cave in trimmed fur where there should be hard, 
throbbing muscle.  
 
I suppose then I wish I was a girl then, thought Viggo wryly, because I'm 
certainly Not Gay. Viggo realized he was shuddering, and that Sean was 
watching him intently.  
 
"Um. Did I say that out loud?" 
 
"What? No mate, you haven't said a word" Relief flooded through him, 
and he searched his head for a change of subject. 
 
"So are you going to see her again?" And Sean looked up sharply, 
studying Viggo through the smoke of the room. 
 
"Why'r you asking Vig?" 
 
"Just making conversation" Viggo mumbled, wondering if he could feel 
anymore awkward than he already did.  
 
And why was he asking? Aragorn was gone, excised when Pete had 
proudly shot the 'Abbey Singer' and then gotten them all very drunk. Vig 
certainly didn't care about some French Television twat. She was beautiful 
and available, two adjectives that could make a man sing. But. She seemed 
too easy for Sean. He deserved better, right? Except that he couldn't really 
find any fault with her, and he supposed they would have been hot 
together. He imagined Sean backing her into the bathroom, flipping her 
around and yanking up her skirt. He saw Sean fucking her like that, hard 
and unprepared, his thighs slapping loudly against her ass cheeks as he 
drove through her. Sean's ass, sweet with sweat, pumping mercilessly. 
Sean's face, contorted in almost pain... Viggo was glaring at his beer.  
 
Sean sighed. 
 
"I've made no plans to see her again. And I didn't fuck her, you know. So 
stop acting like a jealous wife and drink yer beer". 
 
So Viggo did, melting happily into blue haze with his good friend, Sean. 
 
* 
 
Boromir was exceptionally fair. Aragorn watched him at the council of 
Elrond; his pride and fury; and he had lusted. The ever-vigilant elf had 
noticed as well, leaping to crush the rival and defend his love. Aragorn 
saw it and strutted wantonly around them both until a worried Viggo 
managed to lock him in his trailer. Boromir's intensity was not lessened by 
this humiliation; it fixed on Aragorn. And Sean started seeking him out 
under pretence of working lines and finding motivations. The elf on the 
other hand, withdrew, but his intense scrutiny of Vig never wavered, nor 
did his sledge hammering playfulness. 
 
Vig'd watched Sean's love scenes in films. Aragorn had insisted. He'd 
watched the women Sean was with, trying not to watch Sean. Hard not to 
see him. He couldn't very well not see a naked Sean in a love scene, now 
could he? A naked, aroused Sean pumping with animal ferocity, a naked 
Sean slick in a bath. And Aragorn had come, roaring in Viggo's palm. 
 
It worried Viggo, the ease of his schizophrenia. This subtle parasite had 
curled into him and effectively unmade decisions reached years ago. He 
had rejected all this; decided once and for all that he was NOT GAY, that 
his previous bisexuality was merely an artistic interlude, an error of youth, 
and having experienced it he need never return. But Aragorn was 
relentless. He wanted Boromir and Legolas and, ultimately Arwen, his 
appetites voracious and cruel. And while Vig fought for control, Aragorn 
reveled in him, taking over, slipping in and out unnoticed and leaving Vig 
with gaping holes in his reality. 
 
Viggo tried phototherapy. He carried a camera everywhere, hoping to 
capture those moments that were flitting from his conscious. Sometimes 
he would sit in his make-shift dark room and stare at the prints, trying to 
puzzle them into some type of history of his day. There were a lot of 
pictures of Orlando, Sean and Liv. 
 
* 
 
True to his word, Viggo found a bottle of Aquavit and had it stashed in the 
freezer of his mini-fridge. He spent the day in another marathon of 
interviews with Sean and John, trying to make each one fresh and 
interesting and watching the wall clock strike down 15 minutes after 15 
minutes after 15 minutes of his life that he would never get back. Until 
finally, when the last reporter asked him for the last time what Aragorn's 
role in the movie was he was ready to meet the guys and drink. Heavily. 
 
Except John was meeting his wife for dinner, Sean was MIA, Orlando 
gave some half hearted excuse that Viggo suspected meant the persistent 
Sophie had struck again, and the Hobbits were hitting one of the parties. 
There was Ian, but Viggo knew from experience that the older man would 
ditch him and cruise the boulevard. Stood up and cranky he stepped into 
his shower, scalding off the remains of make up and too many questions. 
And because it was the second Tuesday of the month, he washed his hair. 
 
A shrill double ring broke his reverie, and he stumbled to the phone.  
 
"Hey, did you get that bottle of Awful-shite like you threatened?" Sean 
sounded refreshed and relaxed.  
 
"Aquavit" His mumble sounded petulant even to him. Aragorn's fault that 
Sean had this effect on him he thought pissily. 
 
"Why don't you bring it up to my room. I'll order some food up and we 
can get pissed together. I know I need a drink after that day". And Viggo 
thought it sounded like the best idea he'd heard all week. 
 
* 
 
Arwen had been easy. Her lips soft and innocent, welcoming his 
trespasses. She had succumbed to Aragorn, never realizing it was he and 
not Viggo who held her, he who had stroked her to completion and 
captured her agony in his breath. And why not? Was she not destined for 
him, after all? His elf and his steward had watched, one through eyes 
narrowed intently, one through jaded bemusement as his Arwen unfolded 
into his embraces.  
 
* 
 
"You can't just gulp it down, there's a ritual." Viggo poured another glass, 
glaring at Sean who was sucking down a glass of water. 
 
"Christ that's strong stuff. You Danes must be made of stiffer stuff than I 
thought"  
 
Which made Viggo's hand shake as he poured the shots. He had bought a 
pour spout from the hotel bar at the same time he had nicked a couple of 
aperitif glasses. Steadying his hand he poured the viscous liquid until a 
perfect meniscus curve crowned both glasses. He pulled two bottles of 
beer from his bag and handed one to Sean. 
 
"Now when you want a drink, you have to raise your glass, look me in the 
eyes, and say skol" 
 
Sean started to raise his glass. 
 
"WAIT! Then after you take a sip, you raise the glass again and you're still 
looking me in the eyes before setting the glass down. Get it? It's a Danish 
tradition that if anyone skols everyone has to stop whatever they're doing 
and drink" 
 
"I'm 40 years old Vig. Bit old for drinking games, yeah?" 
 
"This isn't a drinking game" Viggo sniffed, "It's a keystone of Danish 
culture I'm sharing with you. Now SKOL". 
 
Sean lifted his glass with elaborate care, gave Viggo his best I'm-a-posh-
bastard-aren't-I? look, then downed the contents of the glass chasing it 
with most of his beer. 
 
"You don't have to drink the entire thing in one go, y'know" 
 
"Not sure I like this game - you keep changing the rules. And I've had 
twice as much as you. Beginning to think you're trying to get me pissed" 
He waggled his brow suggestively. "What did you have you got in mind 
Vig?" 
 
Vig gave him a playful sock in the arm. Not wanting to seem less manly 
than Sean, he downed two glasses and was about to do a third when room 
service rang. The waiter barely had time to leave the tray before Sean was 
shooing him out. 
 
"Viola, in honor of this Danish cultural exchange, look what I ordered: 
Gravlax, a cheese platter, black bread, shrimp, I even had the kitchen 
make frikendel and red cabbage, special" 
 
"How? When did you do all this? How did you know?" 
 
Sean laughed, enjoying Viggo's dazed expression. "To be honest mate, I 
bought a bottle of Aquavit myself. I dated this Danish girl once, she used 
to cook all this. I thought'd be a fun surprise". 
 
"So you knew how to Skol" 
 
"'Course I did. I'm not a bloody savage, you know. Now eat". 
 
So he did, unable to shake the image of Sean the bloody savage, dressed in 
a leopard skin, and throwing him over his shoulder before carrying him off 
to his cave. Ripples of Aragorn. 
 
* 
 
He knew the morning that something happened. Knew it by the way 
Orlando scurried away from him between takes. Knew from the sly 
appraisals Ian cast his way and the sharp avoidance from Sean. Sean had 
injured his hand somehow, but when Viggo had asked him about it, he 
simply stared at him before striding angrily away. He came into Vig's 
trailer at the end of filming that day, slamming him against the wall and 
shouting. He wanted to know what the fuck Vig wanted, what the fuck 
was he doing and what kind of fucking game was this. Vig had no 
answers, and Sean had kissed him then, brutally but not unfamiliar. 
 
He couldn't remember how that had ended. He supposed he must have 
pushed Sean away and resolved it somehow; after all they still were 
friends. He poured over photos from that period, trying to find answers in 
Sean's black and white dimples and toes. There were a lot of pictures of 
Sean. 
 
* 
 
Sometime between when Vig had tried to catch shrimp with his mouth and 
when Sean's accent had degenerated into an unintelligible brogue they had 
opened the second bottle. Not long after that they had crawled giggling 
like hobbits onto Sean's bed, swapping sheep herder jokes and stories of 
reckless youth. Laying together, sprawled on their backs, passing the 
bottle and Viggo couldn't imagine a more perfect moment in time than this 
one right now. Wanted to capture it, write it, and compare its hard 
perfection to all the lesser moments to come. Nothing could improve this, 
nothing except 
 
-oh- 
 
-this was even better- 
 
Sean was kissing him. Sean was kissing him hard, his tongue exploring, 
probing into Vig's mouth sending shivers and expectation coursing 
through him. And God, it felt so good to just release himself into this, to 
allow Sean to take him 
 
-except- 
 
Vig was on top. He was holding Sean down. He was biting Sean's lips. He 
was grinding his cock against Sean's leg. And those soft desperate 
whimpers were coming from him. Something of his surprise must have 
registered with Sean because he felt himself being rolled over and away, 
feeling loss as he pulled his warm body away. 
 
"You ok, Vig? Y'ok to do this?" 
 
"No. 
… 
But I have to anyway"  
 
and he stretched up, claiming Sean's lips again, trying to get lost again, 
pleading for heavy silence and deepening tongues. Pleading, desperate 
kisses and Sean hesitated only a second before sinking down. Growling, 
responding, and Viggo realized he hadn't really been kissing him before at 
all. He felt his heart clutch in real fear, wondering the depths that Sean had 
held back. His kisses were so hot, so shudderingly deep, his groin was 
tugging with each curl of tongue. He wrapped himself into it, into Sean, 
his arms crushing him down to his chest, impossibly tight. 
 
And Sean was whispering things; telling Vig that he'd wanted him for so 
long, that he'd thought about this, missed him and 
 
Sean's tongue was inside his mouth, flicking gently behind his teeth and 
Vig realized he couldn't hold it, couldn't stop himself if Sean didn't stop 
soon he was going to- 
 
He moaned defenselessly into Sean's embrace, feeling the heat inside him 
build towards desperation, and then Sean stopped. He cradled Vig's face 
tenderly, stroking his rough hand across his brow.  
 
"Are you sure?" And suddenly he was. He answered by flipping Sean over 
onto his back, over powering him, grinding his cock into Sean's. 
 
And Sean laughed, delighted. "Y'know Vig, I'm starting to wonder who's 
working whom" It came out as a growl and Sean rolled Vig over and 
under, thrusting his twenty five hundred dollar silk suit clad cock against 
Vig's trapped in jagged denim and  
 
Sean slid his hand under Vig's waistband and it was too much, the 
electrifying jolt connecting all the previous sensations into an unbearable 
cacophony of too much. Too much hot, wet tongue, too much hard heat 
rubbing dry against his groin, too much firm callous gripping his cock in 
perfect control. He came, screaming silently into Sean's mouth, veins 
straining, arching and then collapsing into blackness and light. 
 
Then. 
 
Sean was petting him. 
 
Odd. 
 
And he felt fingers squeezing his too sensitive cock, and then gone, 
wriggling fisted through the entrance that was the waistband of his jeans. 
Jade eyes, jaded, he corrected, watching him, hooded with desire, bringing 
his fist full of come to his lips, licking purposefully, his eyes never leaving 
Vig's. And fuck if that wasn't the sexiest thing Vig had ever seen in his 
life. 
 
So coarse, so raw and unrefined yet beautiful as Sean dipped each finger 
into his mouth, sucking Viggo from his skin, leaching his bitterness and 
salt with powerful lips. Viggo moaned and Sean smiled, deliberately 
prolonging his smorgasbord, licking thoughtfully from each finger as if 
comparing the flavors.  
 
Sean reached into his own pants with his other hand, pulling them roughly 
open. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. He squeezed the head of his 
cock, milking the clear slickness into his fingers. 
 
"Skol" Sean raised the fingers coated with his pre come to Viggo's lips. 
 
Vig shuddered as he closed his mouth around Sean's fingers. He wanted to 
close his eyes too, to lose himself in the fleshy saltiness of Sean but he 
couldn't look away, not now, and not from a skol, so instead he licked, 
tongue trembling, breath ragged staring at Sean as Sean stared into him. 
Couldn't believe he was here, the 'whys' and 'hows' lost as firm fingers 
were pressed into his mouth. 
 
"Enough. Want you now." Sean had him flipped onto his stomach and 
before Viggo realized what was happening he was tugging at his jeans, 
shucking them forcefully from his legs. 
 
"Want to fuck you for a change". Vig moaned at Sean's words. 
 
"But you're going to have to beg for it" The grim determination in Sean's 
voice went straight to Viggo's cock, hardening him instantly. 
 
Hot breath on his calves, tickling and raising the hair. Blowing, Sean kept 
his lips centimeters from Vig's skin , rustling hair as gentle as the ocean. 
Viggo whimpered pushing upwards towards Sean. 
 
"No mate, I told you. You're going to have to ask". 
 
Ask? He rebelled against the words. He didn't want this. He wasn't gay, he 
was drunk and Sean was Taking Advantage. So why didn't he just get on 
with it and stop torturing him like this? He wriggled up again, only to be 
rewarded with a smart smack across his arse. He cried out, the pain 
arousing him more than the tickle. Defeated he whimpered at Sean. 
 
"please…" 
 
"Please what?" 
 
Bastard was going to make him say the words and Viggo almost stopped, 
crimson with shame. Almost. 
 
"please touch me" 
 
Sean descended, devouring with firm licks and rough bites. No gentle 
seduction here, but harsh roughness as beard shadow rubbed sensitive 
skin, fingers dug into flesh and mouth demolishing Viggo. 
Viggo rubbed himself into the bed, humping the mattress in an almost 
obscene display of teenaged frustration, rubbing until Sean dealt him 
another sharp slap. 
 
"None of that. If you can't stay still I'll find ways to make you". The threat 
was golden, dripping from Sean's lips and washing over Viggo.  
 
He reached under Vig and gripped his cock, pulling back towards him and 
forcing Vig's hips to follow before releasing him. Arse in the air, chest 
pressed to the bed, and his face burning at the exposed picture he knew he 
made. Crouching forward Sean borrowed in, lapping softly at Vig's 
dangling balls. Licking, his tongue swirling around one and then the other, 
nipping gently at the smooth spot beneath them, biting a little harder, then 
running his teeth along their seam as they tightened and hardened under 
Sean's ministrations and 
 
Taking them whole into the warm vacuum of his mouth 
 
Viggo screamed, curling, his back, his fingers and his toes all trying to 
wind into themselves. He arched back into Sean, trying to push his entire 
being into Sean's hot, wet mouth. 
And out, Viggo trembling in anticipation, Sean leaning back, arms crossed 
surveying the surrender he had wrought. 
 
"God you're so fucking hot. I could fuck you now with nothing but spit 
and a prayer. You like that, I know you would" the coarse words at odds 
with the slurred accent, and were followed by another slap. 
 
"You're arse is beautifully receptive. Y'know I might just have to take you 
over my knee and give it a proper warming"  
 
It broke Viggo out of his head space enough to once again be hit with a 
fresh wave of humiliation at the exhibition he made. And fuck, but Sean 
really meant to do this thing, panic and desire waging war within him. He 
didn't bottom. Even before, before he realized he was Not Gay he didn't 
bottom. But god the picture of it, Sean spanking him, then riding him, 
rutting mindlessly like any animal in the field…. 
 
His tongue was higher now, pushed between spayed cheeks, pushing 
around that tight bundle of muscle that stood between him and what Vig 
had jokingly referred to as 'exit only'. Licking unyielding and demanding, 
forcing strangled mewls from Viggo. 
 
"What do you need?" lips pressed against ring of muscle, vibrations 
penetrating where Sean had not. 
 
Vig bucked, his hind quarters glistening with sweat and spit, and Sean 
swiped his tongue lazily across his opening, pulling fresh groans from him 
 
And then another lick, the question repeated 
 
"What do you need?" 
 
And something snapped inside Viggo. And the flood gates were open. 
 
"NEED YOU" hoarse, non-human. Shaking, writhing shameless as any 
bitch in heat, crying, thrust his arse up, spreading and 
 
"Beg" 
 
Oh god O god O god O god and  
 
"Oh god PLEASE, PLEASE Sean. Please fuck me, fuck me until I cant 
walk, I can't... Please just fucking fuck me now" 
 
A kiss, far too tender, was bestowed on Viggo's spine. 
 
Then the smooth hiss of silk sliding off skin, and Viggo realized all this 
time Sean'd been fully clothed.  
 
A pop of a plastic bottle cap, and then soft silicone slippering his skin. 
Sean's finger foraging in, twisting painfully but such a relief and curling 
and twisting and beckoning and 
 
Viggo howled. 
 
He pushed backwards onto the finger painfully impaling himself, and was 
rewarded with a garbled mutter as Sean gritted his teeth. 
 
"more more more more more more" chanting, grinding on Sean as another 
finger invaded, clenching so tight and 
 
"Bloody hell Vig, you're gonna break me fingers" 
 
"more more more" 
 
then relaxing and more fingers and Christ Vig thinks Sean could shove his 
whole fucking hand inside of him and it still wouldn't be enough. Feels 
Sean's eyes hot on him, watching as his fingers stretch and fuck Viggo in a 
lazy tempo. Then slipping out and 
 
Sean's straddling behind him, can't wait anymore, lining up and pressing 
and then breaching plunging to the hilt and it fucking hurts and  
 
Viggo yelps as the muscles all the way up his spine contract but 
 
Sean's rubbing him, stroking his sagging cock but not moving nor 
removing and god but it feels so fucking strange and full. 
 
And then rocking, slowly finding a rhythm as he pulled Viggo's shoulders 
higher, changing the angle and nudging something. Viggo whimpered. He 
nudged it again and Viggo starts making yappy growls. He's pushing back, 
trying to take more of Sean, all of Sean, inside him. Yapping with each 
nudge in concert to Sean's driving plunges. 
 
"more" 
 
Sean grabs his shoulder tightly using the leverage to slam brutally into him 
and it still isn't enough. Vig growls wretchedly, spreading his legs wider 
and sweat is pouring off of Sean, and onto Viggo, making their skin 
slippery and Sean has to grip him tighter just to hang on. Pounding 
relentless, driving into that tiny spot with him and Sean reaches around 
and begins stroking Viggo's cock in sharp cruel tugs. 
 
Nails digging and Sean's cock plundering thundering into him and he can't 
stop can't stop can't stop and he can hear an un-earthly scream and he 
realizes in shock that it's him just as he explodes into light. 
 
And. 
 
Sean is still fucking him. 
 
Slamming into him hard enough to lift the mattress out of the frame. 
 
Pounding. 
 
Relentless with whiskey dick, and Christ, Viggo's getting sore. He rolls his 
hips upwards, moving with Sean trying to wrench an orgasm from his 
unremitting cock.  
 
"Christ Vig, are you trying to kill me?" 
 
"No just help you finish" Viggo mumbled and Sean roared with laughter. 
But he was done, shaking straining pouring all of him into Viggo until 
thrusting his last ounce of energy into one last jackhammer drive he comes 
into Vig, collapsing wet and exhausted onto him. 
 
* 
 
Aragorn awoke with Boromir heavy on him. His steward, in his arms 
where he belonged. He felt deliciously used, sated, and sore as he 
stretched out into the damp mattress. He felt Viggo’s age briefly before his 
own Numenorean blood washed away his fatigue. Boromir, usually so 
pliant and willing had taken him with aching vigor. His cock danced at the 
thought of it, and cupping Boromir's ass he thought he might just return 
the favor. 
 
* 
 
"God I missed you Vig, missed this". Fingers dancing possessively along 
Viggo's nape. 
 
"Missed this? How?" he felt his softened cock slip out of Sean. 
 
"I don't think I can wait another three months or until the next time 
circumstance lands us together" Lips on Vig's neck, kissing intimately. 
 
"What are you talking about Sean?" 
 
"Us. You. Me. Together. Somehow. I dunno, maybe spend a month in 
England, and I'll come spend a month in LA. This is too right to give up" 
 
"Too right? Sean this was an accident" 
 
"Yeah I know, I know, it were supposed to stay in New Zealand, but I 
can't help it. I want you Vig" 
 
"What are you talking about? I'm not fucking gay Sean. I didn't want this, 
it's just a one off drunken mistakes". 
 
"What the fuck are you talking about Vig? You seduced me first 
remember? If you think you can keep fucking me when ever you like and 
then pretend there's nothing between us, well fuck you Viggo Mortensen" 
lips frozen, anger rising, charging the air between them. 
 
Viggo opened his mouth to retort, but he knew suddenly, the unspoken 
words would ring false. Knew with sudden clarity why he had pictures of 
Sean's toes, Sean's knees, and the small of Sean's back. Knew that he had 
possessed them, capturing them with both camera and mouth. Viggo knew 
everything Aragorn had done, and the memories came flooding back, 
hitting him like bricks to the chest. He stiffened, wide eyed and winded 
with shock. Shaking, stumbling away, away from the horror of the tidal 
wave his recollection wrought. He mawwed silently at Sean, backing 
away. 
 
"Oh God, what has he done… I…I… must go. Please. I'm sorry… Don't 
look at me. Can't. be. here. Sorry" he fumbled to get his feet into the slacks 
as he stuttered at Sean, tears welling. Sean stared back at him, to stunned 
to speak. 
 
Shaking Viggo ran from the room, shirtless, shoeless and unzipped. For 
the second time since Sean had fallen into the well of shadow and mirrors 
that was Viggo he slammed his fist into the wall.  
 
Cursing, crying and cradling his bruised fingers he started to laugh 
uncontrollably. Viggo was wearing his pants.