Title: Spaghetti Sauce Author: yueni Author's email: pevra at excite dot com Author archive: http://www.livejournal.com/users/yuenidezi/ Fandom: LotR Pairing: VM/SB Rating: R Disclaimer: If Viggo and Sean really did this, I'll laugh and then ask for the video. Summary: Spaghetti sauce, aprons and forest green sheets. Bronzed bodies twist together upon silk sheets of forest green. Harsh pants and deep growls split the air. “Viggo.” The name is said in a moan. A grunt. “Now. Please…” Pleadingly, feverishly. Viggo acts like he hadn’t heard. Beads of sweat form on his brow, his eyes are intently focused on him. Muscled arms bunch, hooking legs up, spreading them. His hips flex as he slides himself snugly home. Warm. No, not warm, hot. There is a strangled scream, then moaning. He thrusts faster and faster and faster, until everything explodes into nothing and all that is left is wave upon wave of pleasure. Tidal wave after tidal wave, streaming up to overwhelm. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Sean?” Blink. A hand waves in front of his face. “Sean?” Blink. “Viggo?” “You okay? You look… funny.” Viggo’s face comes into focus, worried, concerned. Sean grunts. “Yeah.” “We still up for dinner?” “Yeah. My place. Seven. Be there.” And he tries not to think of the newly made bed with forest green sheets. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ He is in the kitchen stirring the spaghetti sauce when the doorbell rings. He adjusts the heat and goes to answer it. Viggo is carrying a bottle of wine, and he comes in and puts it on the counter, watching Sean heat up the sauce. Watching shirtless Sean in an apron stir the sauce. And something else stirs. Something else comes alive From where he stands, Viggo can see past Sean and into the open door of the bedroom. And past the doorway is a bed made with silk sheets of forest green, dark and rich against the smooth mahogany bedframe. He looks back at Sean, eyeing the way the neat bow at the back perfectly highlights the exquisite tautness of his butt. Eyeing the way the ribbon dangles perfectly over Sean’s butt. Stark white against dark slacks. And he shifts uncomfortably, his pants are too tight. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ He has an urge to walk over and pull off the apron. He has an urge to walk over and pull off his pants. He has an urge to walk over and pour warm spaghetti sauce all over that well muscled chest and lick it all off. He can taste the way it would sit on his tongue. Tangy tomato, rich in beef, with an aftertaste of Sean. He growls low in his throat. "Viggo?" Sean turns around. "Are you hungry already? The sauce is done..." "I’m hungry, but not for spaghetti." And he moves over, his fingers itching to undo the apron bow. He pulls Sean roughly to him, and kisses him. Hard. Forcing his mouth open with his tongue and his teeth. His jaw works convulsively, tasting and taking without permission. Overwhelmed and not expecting it, Sean holds on and clings. And kisses back roughly, his hands scrabbling to undress the man before him. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The first round is hard and rough. Viggo practically rips off the apron and strips Sean down to nothing in two quick almost violent movements. Before Sean has anytime to register this, he is suddenly on the kitchen table, legs spread, cock throbbing. He looks up at Vig, sees the feral look in his eyes, and knows that there will be no mercy. And knows that he will be taken. And he is taken. Hard. Roughly. So hard it hurts, so rough it stings. And he arches into it. He wants more. More pain, more pleasure, more Viggo. He wants it now. Sean is taken hard and fast, with few words, mostly grunts of pleasure. He comes hard, spilling milky white semen between their sweaty bodies, as Vig spurts into him. He lies there in the aftermath. A sheen of sweat on his body. His cum sticky and drying on them. Their chests are heaving with exertion. A slow smile. "I’m still hungry." A gasping breath. "For what?" A smug grin. "For spaghetti sauce." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "Definitely better than spaghetti." Viggo laps and nibbles at his lover, who is sprawled delectably naked across the mattress. Warm spaghetti sauce has been smeared liberally over his muscled torso, with little regard to where it drips, leaving wet pools of red on the forest green sheets. He tastes of rich beef and tangy tomato and the salty, unique flavour of Sean. It a feast for the taking. And Viggo takes it greedily and unashamedly, until Sean pulls him down and rolls them over, entering him in one quick movement. The tables have turned, and now it is Sean who ravishes. It is Sean who brings Viggo to the brink of completion, and flings him into the void of ecstasy. In the aftermath, they lie there, tangled, sated, full, limp from exertion. The spaghetti sauce is gone, finished and savoured. Neglected on the kitchen table, sits a bowl of plain spaghetti.