Title: Power Struggle
Author: klatschmohn (rotpunkt)
Rating: PG 13
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen / Sean Bean
Feedback: Yes, please! Email: klatschmohnrot@yahoo.de
Disclaimer: All fiction! Never happened.
Notes: Dedicated to Ashlyn.K.Toliver

Summary: The wrestling match begins but neither side fights by the rules

Chapter 2: Power Struggle - Wrestling match

„Might as well take off the belts too,” Viggo says facing a half-naked Sean with 
complete nonchalance. “You could cut yourself with the buckles.” 

Sean shrugs as he removes the belt. He´s eager to put the arrogant ranger in his 
place once and for all.

“Wrestling only,” Viggo reminds him. “No kick boxing. No knife fighting. No amok 
running…,” he adds slightly worried, a little intimidated by the murderous look on 
Sean´s face. A memory flickers in his mind, standing alone against a schoolyard 
bully, “Biting and kicking don´t count!”

A blue-black glance slides over Sean´s well-built body. Not that he hasn´t seen him 
stripped to the waist before. But now, tensed in anticipation, his swelling pectorals 
rising and falling with the rhythm of his fast and deep breathing, skin flexing above 
the clearly defined sixpack, he is more beautiful than any sculpture Viggo has ever 
seen.

Viggo tears his eyes away from him, tries to lock up the artist and to set free the 
warrior in him. Holy shit, and this nonsense was his idea! Now there´s no chickening 
out without serious damage of honour.

Viggo undoes his own belt, draws in a breath then sends a silent signal of readiness. 
At once Sean flings himself onto him. 

Shit, he thinks as the breath is knocked from his chest, the man has played villains 
and soldiers for years and has absorbed enough dirty tricks. His grip hurts right from 
the start, as he bends Viggo´s arms to positions his joints refuse to accept, digging 
his fingernails into Viggo´s skin so painfully that a high-pitched grunt escapes his lips.

Sean´s aggressive onslaught has taken Viggo by surprise, but he defends himself as 
best he can, wiggling like a snake. Both end up clinging to each other in a fierce 
clutch stronger than steel, intertwined with each other like an inextricable knot.

Sean´s sweat mixes with Viggo´s, fusing them together, Viggo clings to Sean like 
someone drowning and they stumble across the grass in zigzag pattern like some 
drunken Siamese twins, until they fall, and Viggo knows seconds before it happens 
that Sean will bear down upon him, far too hard, and then abstract paintings are 
shimmering in front of his eyes until a vibrating black screen blinds him.

Viggo successfully remembers how to breathe but finds himself in a position less 
preferred during a wrestling match. Viggo´s arm is wrenched painfully behind his 
back and Sean´s hand clasps around his throat. Viggo´s flat on his stomach with 
Sean hovering above him. Sean´s hand glides up to Viggo´s chin, then pulls the 
other man´s head back roughly, shoving his arm higher in his back. Viggo is arching 
like an Olympic gymnast.
.
Sean bends down, his lips slightly stirring Viggo´s hair.

“Now… ranger,” he says, sarcasm dripping off his voice. “What do you think Boromir 
would have done with Aragorn after he´d won their competition…?”

Sean´s lips are tickling his ear-labs now. 

Viggo sighs and lets his shoulders sink in what Sean thinks is capitulation.

Enjoying the fruits of his victory Sean feels too sure, pays little attention to his now-
relaxed posture. The second Sean lowers his defences Viggo smiles for himself. He 
can always rely on Sean to react impulsively, never looking through Viggo´s much 
more calculating mind.

Viggo shoots up, bursting out of Sean´s grip.

“No need to worry about that,” he hisses, out of breath. “That´s a waste of time, 
because he will loose…”

He´s above Sean now, wrapping his arm tightly around his neck, taking him into a 
clinch hold then a throw that without question would have sent Sean to the ground… 
but one exactly placed blow hurls him back in circles.

Viggo squirms and stares at Sean with shock-wide eyes. The next blow crashes 
against his ribs and Viggo staggers back finally caught by the fence like a fly in the 
spider´s net.

That´s unfair, but Sean doesn´t look like he´s willing to negotiate any longer.

And suddenly Viggo understands the genesis of Sean´s seemingly senseless 
violence towards him.

If Sean was stronger than Viggo, their fight would have been Sean´s chance to deal 
with his frustration and get over it, to let out his rage and disappointment at being 
robbed of the best aspects of his character. Sean knows only of one man he can vent 
his feelings of incompletion on...

Viggo.

And somehow Boromir´s anger at Aragorn has become entangled with Sean´s 
feelings for Viggo in an unhealthy way.

It´s finally clear why Sean has resisted every attempt at flirtation, even though Sean´s 
desire for Viggo was visible to anyone familiar with the body language of intimacy. 
Of course Sean must fight his feeling of being drawn to Viggo as long as he identifies 
himself with Boromir.

Unfortunately, enlightenment arrives somewhat too late. And it´s rather useless to 
contemplate complicated psychological complexities while well-aimed blows are 
hailing down on him.

Viggo almost laughs but it turns into a tortured cry after Sean´s next attack.
Viggo is supposed to be the method actor who stays in character day and night, 
while Sean slips out of his role while stripping off his costume. But now it´s Sean who 
is unable to differentiate between fantasy and reality. 

He is stronger than Sean. And that´s the problem, because if Sean can´t win by 
regular means, there´s no doubt he´ll use whatever means he can, striking in the 
heat of affect.

Viggo reviews his options.

He can´t defeat Sean by playing fair when Sean ignores the rules, but he´s not 
prepared to let the fight get out of control, to strike back with the same violence and 
risk hurting Sean severely.

Viggo dodges away from a punch aimed at his chin.

Is he willing to let Sean win?

That might be a good idea. There´s a lot less risk in that – and again Viggo ducks 
under a fist – his friend would calm down, would probably be satisfied and able to 
overcome his inner tensions and contradictions.

Viggo locks eyes with Sean. He sees a green-eyed wolf, snarling, struggling for the 
first place in the order of rank. An alpha male, demanding submission from his 
opponent – 

...from Viggo.

Let him win?

NO.

Not on your fucking life.

Viggo´s never been a violent man. He´s a staunch pacifist. But there´s a primal 
instinct lurking within him that comes to the fore.

He can´t – won´t – give in to Sean.

Viggo dances aside to avoid taking another hit, but realises this tactic won´t help him 
much longer. His patience is slowly fading and he´s quickly running out of ideas to 
peacefully diffuse the volatile situation.

Perhaps…

Viggo falls down. Sean´s own momentum makes him stumble and he´s landing on 
top of Viggo. He grabs Viggo´s wrists and pulls them down to the ground. His face is 
inches away from Viggo´s, the eyes throwing green-gold sparks of triumph.

Viggo´s never seen his friend´s face so furious and wild, his rugged features 
expressing hatred, power and euphoria, and god, he is beautiful… 

“Now, surrender, Ara…hmmmpf…”

Viggo´s tongue in his mouth ruins his victory speech. Viggos head shoots up, driving 
his tongue between Sean´s lips and he sucks, licks… ahhh... Sean tastes salty and 
sharp from the fight, you could poison yourself with an oral overdose of testosterone 
from that kiss, and Viggo nearly forgets his plan, because he´s finally kissing 
Sean…kissing Sean Bean…Sean… Sean….

Thankfully his brain enters the wicked stage again, like Judas thinking of betrayal 
while kissing. He fumbles for one of the belts – he has made sure his fall went in the 
right direction, just near the heap of clothes.

Sean will not beat any records with his reaction time, shock-frozen by Viggo´s kiss for 
seconds, but now he jumps as if bitten by a snake, and Viggo catches him unaware, 
hurling him down and catapulting himself over him.

While sliding forward he raises Sean´s arms over his head, wraps the belt tightly 
around them, grateful that the “little book of knots” came in handy.

Sean is ranting and raging now, but with his hands bound it´s no real fight.

Viggo finds the other belt – and ok, that a thin tree stands nearby is pure luck but you 
have to be lucky sometimes – Viggo throws one end of the belt around the tree and 
locks Sean´s hands to it. 

Sean kicks and writhes into exhaustion until the slim leather cuts his wrists, until the 
veins on his biceps are swollen to bursting and his hair clings in strands on his wet 
face.

Sean collapses tired, worn out, panting helplessly.

“Do that again,” Viggo purrs, very approvingly. “It´s nice to watch.”

“Untie me, you sick bastard! You asshole! Let me free! That´s unfair! That´s 
deprivation of personal liberty!”

“I would classify it as self-defence,” Viggo strokes his bruises accusingly and dabs 
gingerly at his hurting ribs where Sean´s fist hit like a comet.

“Fuck! Let me free!”

“I would consider the first option,” Viggo muses out loud, causing another fierce 
struggle from Sean. The blonde man squirms and writhes seeing the look of cool 
amusement on Viggo´s face. He forces himself not to move. 

He´d be damned if he´d give that damn Dane something else to get hot and bothered 
over.

His eyes are haunted like the eyes of a wild animal caught in a trap, but he´s 
desperately trying to control his temper. Viggo is watching in fascination how Sean´s 
eyes seem to change their colour with the emotional roller coaster, turning from 
raging hatred to shame for the suffered defeat, from panic to resignation, from 
defiance to humiliation.

“Vig, please. Untie me.” He pleads softly with a rough and breaking voice.

Viggo looks at him like a predator looking at potential prey.

TBC