Title: Fresh Sweat Author: klatschmohn (rotpunkt) Rating: NC-17 Pairing: Viggo Mortensen / Sean Bean Summary: An interpretation of Viggo´s poem “Sweating” as a story. When I read his poem, this story came to my mind. Feedback: Yes, please! Email: klatschmohnrot@yahoo.de Disclaimer: All fiction! Never happened. Notes: Thanks to thevixenne, the best editor you can dream of Thanks to helena_s_renn for a sentence that is so much Sean that I fell in love with it and had to use it Thanks to nevanoon who made that absolutely wonderful banner! Sweating - Chapter 4 Viggo wasn´t surprised. After two exciting, halcyon, exhilarating weeks with Sean, Ian had warned him that Sean would probably have to prove to Viggo – and maybe even more to himself - that he was still free and independent, that it was not a relationship he shared with Viggo but just sex between them – nothing else. Ian saw the unbridled happiness in Viggo’s eyes and though he wished him luck out of the depth of his heart, he didn’t want Viggo to run headfirst into that knife aimed figuratively at the man’s heart. Ian didn’t believe that Sean was ready to trust Viggo, even less to trust himself. He was convinced Sean would still fight his feelings to the bitter end. So when Sean announced that he planned to sleep with Dave, Viggo had shielded his heart, expecting something like that from the other man. Amazingly, it didn’t hurt as much as he had feared. That was because by the look in Sean’s sad and guarded eyes he wondered which of them suffered most. Oh Sean, how long will you shield yourself to keep anyone from hurting you – or from loving you? “There’s really nothing to discuss then, is there,” Sean asked, making his voice as casual as he could. “I’m only telling you because I play fair and don’t make it a habit to lie to people.” “I take it you laid your cards on the table to him, too,” Viggo replied, just as cool. “Of course. He knows about us.” “And he’s okay with that?” “He said so.” “Well, then,” and Viggo shrugged, as if the idea of his lover sleeping with another man was of no concern. At Viggo’s cold and casual reaction both hurt and hardness crept into Sean’s eyes at the same time. A wounded animal is much more dangerous and the look on Sean’s face reminded him of a lion, mortally wounded by a bullet but still resolved to kill his hunter before the end. ************************************** Viggo had tried to make it through the afternoon and into the evening all by himself, but just couldn’t stand the images of his Sean in the arms of the man who played his brother any longer. Viggo decided to visit Ian. “Something the matter, Viggo?” Ian asked, yawning, opening the door just a bit. ”Because I just got rid of the bloody hobbits who invited me to visit a pub with Dave and Orlando.” “Dave?” Viggo stammered, and Ian chuckled, knowing. “Ah, I see. He’s supposed to be with Sean…well, definitely not now. I assume that changes your plans for tonight, which is perfectly fine, because then I don’t need to change mine.” He winked conspiratorially, and smiling, he closed the door. *************************************** Sean didn’t need to look up when he heard the sound of the key turning in the lock. Only Viggo had the key to his house. Gazing upwards as he sat at the sofa, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his palms, Sean made an ugly sound, a bizarre combination of a hum and a grunt, expressing distinctly that it was Viggo of all things on earth what had missed right now to spoil his evening completely. “It didn’t work,” Viggo stated matter-of-factly. He walked further into the darkened room. “Why?” Sean bowed his head a little more, his hands kneading each other, folding, unfolding. Scratching his arms. A broad variety of groans, huffs and snorts told Viggo that Sean would prefer not to answer. “Why?” Viggo demanded “Goddammit…because of you,” Sean finally growled. “I thought you talked to him. Thought he said he accepted the situation.” Again the hum-grunt. Viggo walked closer until he stood face to face with Sean. “Sean! You told me he didn’t object to…” “Well, he didn’t!” Sean hissed and rolled his eyes with poorly hidden impatience. Viggo eyes widened with blankness. “It wasn’t him.” A long pause. “I couldn’t.” Viggo bit down hard on his lower lip to suppress a laugh. He wondered how far Sean had taken the scenario until he realized he ‘couldn’t’. He didn’t dare to ask, though. Which wasn’t necessary anyway, because Sean went on, looking at his fumbling hands. “It’s not funny to stand behind a bloke who’s got his naked ass up in the air, waiting for you to fuck him, with the lube already on and everything, and then having your cock shrivel to the size of a peanut. A small peanut.” Viggo still thought it was VERY funny, but with superhuman effort managed to keep a bland expression. “You still could have bottomed, though,” Viggo offered half-heartedly, not really believing he was helpful. Sean again rolled his eyes contemptuously. “He’s not an idiot, man,” he shook his head. “We ended up sitting naked on the bed, with him telling me why I couldn’t…” “And – why couldn’t you?” “You know damn well, you bastard!” Sean nearly lunged out of the sofa. “Why do you want to hear what you already know?” “Oh,” mocked Viggo. “I know…? So did you tell me before you suffer from sudden cases of erectile dysfunction? Funny, but I didn’t notice you were handicapped in that way over the last two weeks…” “Viggo!” Sean snarled, trembling with rage. “I don’t have no goddamn erectile dysfunction or whatever, you daft bugger!” “You don’t need to feel ashamed, Sean,” Viggo continued, feigning compassion. “There are many men who…” “Viggo!!!” Inwardly Viggo gloated, but didn’t dare to push further, seeing that Sean was on the edge of explosion. “Viggo, please…” desperate and breathless, but Viggo didn’t feel too sorry for him. “What, Sean?” And the painful truth finally burst from Sean’s chest – “I can’t sleep with anyone else! Godammit, I fucking can’t! I’m bound to you now… For Chrissake, I love you, Viggo… fuck… my heart told me a while ago, but now that my cock starts insisting on it, I know it’s hopeless. I love you and there is nothing I want more than to be with you. Except from being able to hate you and despise you that is…” It wasn’t the most romantic declaration of love Viggo had ever heard but no words had ever sounded sweeter to his ears. “Come here, Sean…” “Oh no!” Sean bolted up, gazing at him accusingly. “Where will you be, eh? Somewhere in the world, filming. And me, somewhere else. Listen to me, Viggo – I’m a jealous bastard. I will pursue you, accuse you of sleeping around. I will shout at you, insult you, start a screaming pissy fight in the middle of the night just because I want to know you’re mine! I will be sulking if you don’t call every day, and at the same time I won’t be true. I will get drunk because I miss you, then pick up someone, man or woman – it won’t matter. I’ll wake up in the morning full of disgust and self- pity and put the blame on you. I will arrive at your place without any warning and expect you to care for nothing else but me… I will…” his voice was pitched slightly higher because he ran out of oxygen, but he still tried to carry on. “Come here, Sean,” Viggo repeated softly. “No! You’re not taking me seriously!” “Yes, Sean, I am. I think you will be even worse. But believe me, it won’t be easy with me, too. I will disappear for hours or days on end, forgetting to leave a message because I’m too occupied with my art. I will work until 3 o’clock in the morning in my studio, then fall asleep on the floor with my clothes still on and not come to bed. I will try new recipes, force exotic food on you and leave the kitchen as a mess. When I feel bad I will expect you to guess what’s wrong and will be pissed if you don’t figure it out. I will drone on for hours about philosophy, arts and politics until your ears bleed…and no, we will not be watching Sheffield United on television. I hate sports!” Now it was Viggo’s turn to breathe and Sean took the opportunity to finally smile sheepishly. “I guess that means we will be the most terrible pair on earth, then?” he asked, running his fingers through his hair and stepping closer. Viggo grinned happily, spreading his arms wide. ******************************************* “Viggo?” “Mmmm?” “You WILL leave a message when you disappear for a while, right? If you fail to do that once, I’ll make damn sure you’ll never forget it again,” Sean’s voice was smoky dark with threat, and Viggo easily nodded his acceptance. “And I,” Viggo returned, every single word loaded with menace from the start, “I’m not going to tolerate you screwing around. Because you are mine. All mine. Is that perfectly clear to you?” Sean merely nodded, but his eyes were shining bright. Viggo pulled down Sean’s trousers and claimed his ass with a possessive grip. “Mine. All mine.” Viggo chanted, whispering, stroking Sean’s buttocks, tracing up over his firm belly, circling his breast. “Mine.” As if he had to declare his ownership separately for each part of Sean’s body, casting a magical spell on Sean. The little word lured Sean’s cock to swell into Viggo’s hand. With the other hand he helped Sean to step out his trousers. A little piece of paper, crumbled and crushed, fell out of Sean’s pocket. Viggo picked it up. It was his poem. He looked at Sean in surprise. “Some days ago I saw this poem pinned above your desk. You had written it down again, neatly and plainly. I remembered you told me of the birds and knew you meant me…it was for me… Looking down, I detected your first draft in the waste- paper-basket. I thought I should save it… I put it in my pocket…” Sean hesitated. Viggo felt it was not the whole story Sean wanted to tell. He waited patiently, but with unrelenting attention. “Now, it fell out of my pocket…,” by the far-away look in Sean’s eyes Viggo wondered what went on his mind. “…And?” Sean’s eyes wandered back on him. “Well…,” he sighed. “… You know, when I was with Dave… the same thing happened. As I said, we were naked, prepared, and I just stepped closer to grab him… when I felt something crumble under my feet. The damn thing must have fallen out of my pocket when I undressed… I looked down, saw it was the poem, and instantly thought of you…” Viggo’s face lighted up in sudden understanding. “That miserable bit of paper…lying accusingly at my feet…and I had tread on it… that was the moment when my erection bid farewell…” Wow. The power of poetry. Viggo was impressed. “But now…not quite now, because first you’re gonna fuck me…like a jet, Viggo… pierce me!” he joked, winking. “But then… write a new poem for me!”