Under

Title: Under (Part 2/2) 
Author: Helena_s_renn and klatschmohn (rotpunkt)
Fandom: LoTRiPS 
Characters: Viggo Mortensen/Sean Bean 
Prompt: 29. Submissive 
Word Count: 6579 
Rating: NC-17 
Warnings: We explore certain psychological aspects of a D/s relationship here; 
though we think the Viggo we portray here is still “within the possibilities” of Viggo´s 
personality, we certainly don´t think the issues he has to deal with here come so 
much to the fore or are as strong as we show them. 
Disclaimer: As always, this is fiction. It never happened. Not true 
Author's Notes: The quotes we use in the parts with Viggo´s insight are from his 
latest work “Linger” (page number in brackets).  
Summary: Viggo has issues with his sub himself. 
 
 
 
 
“You´ve seemed nearly one with the beast you´ve slaughtered...” (13) 
 
Sean had let him secure his cock in silent devotion, but his eyes were melting with 
the ache of his need. During these ten days, Sean´s gaze had intensified in an 
almost frightening way. In the end it had been like the gaze of someone starving to 
death, and the one shot had still not been enough to satisfy all his pent-up sex-drive. 
Now, Viggo wanted to fuck Sean´s ass, and to make sure Sean couldn´t come again, 
he tightly bandaged down Sean´s cock and balls with an item especially designed for 
that purpose, castrating Sean this way for the duration of the sex, making it 
impossible for Sean´s cock to erect. 
 
While he fastened the clip, suddenly it occurred to him how almost absurd the 
situation was. For more than two years now, Viggo lived mostly celibate when he 
wasn´t with Sean. It had not even been a deliberate decision, it was just that his 
whole body rebelled at the mere thought of sleeping with someone other than Sean. 
He had to be very drunk or mentally exhausted and indifferent to make an exception, 
and he didn´t want to deal with his sexuality this way. Thus, in some way he lived in a 
self-inflicted “chastity” when Sean was not there. He had never talked about it, afraid 
of Sean´s reaction; he felt almost ashamed and feared Sean would see his 
faithfulness as weakness, remembering how harshly Sean had refused to talk about 
feelings when Viggo had tried a long while ago. For a second it struck him how sad it 
was that something so beautiful as offering faithfulness to someone could be turned 
into something that caused contempt in a relationship like theirs. 
 
Sean wasn´t faithful to him, that much he knew. He never asked. He didn´t want to 
hear anything about it. But now, when he forced Sean to submit to “chastity,” it 
seemed so very ironic to him. 
 
What it reminded Viggo of, for whatever reason, was a clothes pin. Clear acrylic 
plastic, it was sized to fit closely around an average-sized grown man’s penis and 
ball-sac. The tackle was laid into a molded form on bottom, and a likewise 
realistically-molded lid snapped down over all. Viggo had found it online, under 
“chastity belts.” While no belt at all, it would certainly do the job. If Sean’s cock 
decided to swell to any degree more than ‘perky,’ well, it would just have to think 
again. He had Sean run an errand for him, down to the basement where it was quite 
chilly, to bring up some wine. He told the Brit to choose carefully, not because he 
particularly cared what vintage Sean picked out, but to allow the blond man time to 
clear his mind and with any luck, bring down the near-constant half-erect state of his 
denied sex.  
 
“Very nice… now bend over.” Viggo smirked, and Sean did, with his usual efficiency 
of movement. Deciding to dispense with his clothes entirely, Viggo quickly dropped 
shirt and jeans. He stood haughtily in front of Sean, who was on hands and knees on 
his mat. “Lick,” Viggo commanded, and pointed. At once, the pink tongue flicked out 
to wet the tip of him, just the half-dollar sized area around the slit. Seeming to know 
exactly what he wanted, Sean continued to repeat the same action. Over and over, 
the warm organ batted his purpling cockhead. Droplets of pre-cum soon began to 
ooze one by one onto Sean’s tongue, each swiped away while Viggo stroked himself 
to full hardness. Sean’s tongue curled this way and that, circling the ridge after 
several pokes to move the foreskin all the way back. The tiny slit opening was 
prodded; Viggo hissed, but in acceptance flexed his muscles to round the tiny 
aperture. Tiny clear strings of sticky fluids stretched between Viggo’s cock and 
Sean’s lower lip as he lapped juice from the source. 
 
“When we ourselves become the bully, do we know it?” (13) 
 
It was with much reluctance that Viggo pulled away. Some day, he was going to let 
his ‘boy’ work him like this till he shot cum all over his face, but not today. Today, he 
had decided, he would get full contact. It would be difficult enough holding back 
without being over-stimulated to start. Tearing himself away, oh so pleased when 
Sean tried to follow him with his face, he walked around behind the blond, admiring 
from above the sheer masculine perfection of him. Most of his longish hair hung 
down around his face, but there was a section lying along his spine. It reached his 
shoulder blades, when his head was tipped back like that. Viggo sank to his knees 
and reached over for his pants, for the lube he’d forgotten to take out earlier. He 
broke open the packet, getting plenty on his fingers. With his off hand, he stroked 
Sean’s tense bum several times before centering, holding the cheeks apart and using 
the lubed hand to touch the tiny, tucked-in hole. Sean’s whole body shuddered.  
 
“Relax,” Viggo urged in a low voice. “Open yourself to me.” He was able to wiggle in 
his index finger a little at a time. Sean was hot on the inside, like a brick baked in an 
oven for an old-time sleigh-ride. There was room for nothing in that tight tunnel but 
Viggo’s one finger, yet there’d have to be…  
 
He continued to stroke the rounded ass while he slid the finger in and out, then up 
over Sean’s hip, up his back, even over each shoulder. Everywhere he touched 
brought a ripple of golden skin. The man was so damned responsive; it was making 
his balls hurt just seeing this. It wasn’t as simple to get his middle finger past the ring 
muscles, but with the aid of more lube and the slightest tweaking of Sean’s prostate, 
he eventually managed. From there, he went about the necessary business of 
stretching the passage he’d slide into in minutes, scissoring his fingers, slipping in the 
third, coning them out little by little while the pink and puckered ring smoothed out 
and dilated around his hand. There was no sound but for their quick, raspy breathing, 
not even moaning. It was like they were holding all that back for later. Before he was 
too gone to do it, Viggo oiled the stiff organ between his legs with a good coat of 
lubricant. Other than lowering his upper body, Sean remained motionless except for 
where his muscles danced under his skin.  
 
“Take me,” he whispered, closing the one eye Viggo could see.  
 
As if he could do anything else. Viggo slid in hard and fast, bottoming out on the first 
thrust while below. Sean growled; every muscle on each side of his backbone stood 
up in sharp ridges. Looking down, the Dane thought he’d never seen much in his life 
that had turned him on as much as just his erection going in… into that… Into the 
man he’d wanted and somehow valued over any other. His thrusts were strenuous 
and allowed no quarter. Both men grunted and groaned in their efforts.  
 
Once again, he felt his body’s power. He was a weapon, a machine. His erection, 
that one thing, was the means to subdue the man under him, or any man, or the rest 
of the world. He was driving into Sean so hard that the blond had to brace himself 
against every thrust. Veins popped up on his arms, and his triceps stood out in little 
ledges of resistance. The man’s breathing was ragged; Viggo thought to himself that 
it was early for that; he had much more in store.  
 
He could’ve gone on like that for a very long time if he’d wanted. While it was 
absolutely true that Sean was hot and very, very tight around him, the previous 
climax lessened his urgency; he felt the lack, and thought about how else he might 
find it. As things progressed, Viggo’s fingers dug in deep, but he leaned down to lick 
the sweat from his lover… the line between ‘boy’ and lover wavered and he let it. 
When he licked, Sean moved differently; his spine’s movement became more 
sinuous. So Viggo lay upon Sean’s back, still gripping his hips, still fucking him 
mercilessly, tonguing the salt and musk tastes from his skin. It was an awkward 
dance they were doing, with Viggo pumping his hips and rolling his ass just because 
that primal rhythm felt so damn right. Sean’s buttocks brushed the fronts of his thighs. 
There was a subtle backbeat infused in their movements too.  
 
“Sean, get up.”  
 
The one emerald eye opened. “How… m’Ah… s’posed…t’do… tha’?” The words 
jolted out of him spastically, the spacing punctuated by the speed of Viggo’s thrusts. 
The brunette reached down for those broad shoulders; finding purchase, he pulled 
back, then up, bodily lifting Sean’s torso on brute strength while embedding himself 
even further into the clenching hole as he did.  
 
Sean cried out sharply at the additional pressure to his prostate. His arms flailed a bit 
before he got his knees back under him so he could balance upright. Behind, now 
plastered to his sweat- and saliva-damp back, Viggo began to surge again. He was 
getting close, his thrusting aimed nearly straight upwards and becoming erratic. 
Work-worn hands skittered over Sean’s chest to pluck at his nipples, down his belly 
as if to test the contours of the muscles there, but they didn’t try to feel between his 
legs. That would have accomplished nothing, anyway. 
 
“Turn your head, Sean. Give me your mouth.” The blond made a noise of protest 
even while he obeyed. It was a stretch, but their mouths touched and fitted together, 
and Viggo knew he had to have it all. He no longer wanted to be alone in his release 
of pleasure. Sean coming at the same time would drive it higher for both of them. 
“Arch your back,” he murmured wetly, his eyes swimming, his mind flailing. Sean did 
it; he reached blindly backward with his hands and managed to get hold of Viggo’s 
waist. In that ungainly position, Viggo reached under the other man’s right arm, 
around his hip, down between his legs to the hard, too-smooth plastic restraint 
system. “I’m setting you loose, Sean. Come when you need to.” 
 
“Noooo!” groaned the Brit, tensing, but Viggo went to unclip it anyway. Utterly taking 
him by surprise, Sean knocked his hand away, then twisted around and unleashed 
the kind of kiss that by now Viggo understood was a diversionary tactic. He couldn’t 
fight it. The heat of the kiss overwhelmed him; he shoved his tongue into Sean’s 
mouth again, and his cock into the socket he could tell the blond was clenching on 
purpose, making it even tighter for him.  
 
Orgasm washed over him as he pitched behind the other man’s gleaming body, both 
of them wet with sweat and shaking. He pounded into Sean with the fury a man 
denied something fundamental to his nature.  
 
It really was against his will this time that he emptied himself. In some twisted way, it 
felt so good for once, to let the control be taken from him even though Sean was in 
direct disobedience while he spilled wave after wave of cum deep into him. Finished, 
drained, he shoved the man away, down onto all fours again. Had Sean not caught 
himself on his hands at the last second, he’d have banged his forehead on the floor 
from the strength of that push.  
 
It had been everything he wanted, and everything he hated.  
 
“The human shape is a ghost made of distraction and pain. Sometimes pure 
light, sometimes cruel, trying wildly to open, this image tightly held within 
himself.” (Rumi) (41) 
 
From the beginning, Sean had come to him from time to time, looking for a week-long 
scene or more, then he’d be off again for months, more than a year, once. At other 
infrequent times; they’d visited as old friends and once-costars. Why should this be 
odd? Sean at one time even had said to the press that Viggo was his best friend on 
Rings. After the first time, they’d always seemed to wind up in bed together, too. It 
was during one of those rare precious occasions that Viggo had laid there, watching 
the man breathing evenly in deep sleep, exhausted from jetlag and sex, so fucking 
beautiful it made him want to cry, that he began having the same thought about Sean 
he always did now: he seriously questioned what he was doing.  
 
But when he broached the subject the next day, Sean made it utterly clear by body 
language and in less than a hundred words that if Viggo was losing his nerve, then 
bollocks to it. He could find or pay someone else to give him what he needed. And it 
was the last such visit, till Toronto, and there’d been none since.  
 
So Viggo made sure, very damn sure, in whatever way he thought he had to, that 
Sean did not find it necessary to look elsewhere. His dominance took a hard edge. 
There was meanness to it he didn’t like, but felt powerless to let go of. It wasn’t 
physical violence, or if so, carefully planned and executed. It hooked them both into 
this dynamic. Viggo had to break Sean, regardless that Sean was already broken.  
 
Every time, by the end, it was all Viggo could do not to take Sean into his arms and 
worship his body… to open his heart and spill out all the love he knew he had, but 
that he was not allowed to feel.  
 
But not any more. He needed things, too. 
 
“This impulse may only be a futile, short-lived turning away from ends I cannot 
escape, …” (27) 
 
Sean knelt up as if nothing had happened, as if they’d never shared that kiss that 
Viggo just had to have. In proper ‘slave’ posture, he folded his hands behind his 
buttocks, kneeling with knees wide, back straight, shoulders pulled back. The only 
thing ruining the picture, in fact, was the device Viggo himself clipped around his 
genitals.  
 
Though the transparent casing, Viggo could see how the compressed organs were 
dark purple. He panted a few minutes; when his breathing caught he inquired 
conversationally, “Does that hurt?” Sean rumbled at him, an indistinct noise. “Is that 
how you answer a direct question, boy?” It was back to the set pattern, more 
involuntary with him than he’d realized. Or more entrenched.  
 
“No, Sir!” Sean barked unexpectedly. “And yes, Sir, it does, Sir!” It was the second 
time he offered a certain insubordination. 
 
Viggo caught a flash of green, but when he looked again, the blond was just as 
correct and guarded as before. So he waited. And waited. Minutes ticked by, and the 
Dane waited impatiently for the other man to look at him again. It seemed to take 
forever, but finally Sean did. His posture stiffened noticeably but this time he held 
Viggo’s eyes, all defiance in the very act.  
 
“What?” It was obvious that Sean was uncomfortable being expected to speak first.  
 
Viggo mocked his query: “What?” He used the best Filthy Ranger snarl he could 
drum up. Sean took a deep breath, but let it out slowly, saying nothing. “Speak!” 
Viggo thundered at him.  
 
“I can’t…” 
 
The darker man sat up so fast Sean barely saw the movement. He was on his knees 
at Sean’s side, grabbing him by the hair and hauling his head back. The man’s 
profile, his jutting nose and sharp point of his Adam’s apple, imprinted itself into 
Viggo’s memory. “You wanted to make love earlier. Didn’t you!? Don’t deny it! And 
yet you want me to… to kick you around and treat you like shit. You, for fuck’s sake! 
Why?!” Viggo was breathing heavily, his control nearly gone, adrenaline pounding.  
 
Sean merely smiled sadly. “Ah, so you play at this master/servant, or slave, ‘thing,’ 
but you don’t really get it. Do you?” he sighed soundlessly. “And I had such high 
hopes…” 
 
Viggo was not in a mood to be told he was a disappointment. That, he felt every time 
he looked at Sean and compared himself to him. And lately, the extent of their 
relationship… And then, to insinuate that he was also lacking in intellectual 
comprehensive skills…? Through a red, watery fog, Viggo shoved the golden head 
back down to the floor. “What the fuck do you mean?” he practically screamed. His 
voice rose in pitch like it always did when he was riled up, till it cracked like a pre-
pubescent boy. Spitting, “Explain yourself!!’ he clamped his jaw shut. Sean took his 
time. Viggo suddenly realized the man was still naked and at his disposal. He wanted 
to hit him… no, he wanted to spank him.  
 
“This boy has been allowed to serve, both in the domestic sense and for his… for 
your sexual pleasure… and he is grateful for those opportunities.” Viggo’s jaw 
flapped; he couldn’t believe this pre-recorded tripe. It was so unworthy of everything 
Sean was. While Viggo did call him ‘boy’ and put him down, it was for the sheer 
charge of first, slapping the face of his own insecurities and second, in hopes that 
Sean would fight back. He had wanted the man to be a handful, that he would have 
to work to put him and keep him under, and that maybe Sean would fight it so hard 
that they didn’t have to play these games any longer. It had not been so. Granted, 
Sean was some kind of wet dream to look at, touch, and listen to, but in Viggo’s 
opinion, this pet thing the Brit became in the name of BDSM was not what he was 
looking for. To say he was also disappointed was an understatement. 
 
“My conscience is not clean, and I fear further reconstruction. I´ll try to make 
more amends but only feel capable of imagining ways of breathing more easily 
in order to say good-bye and make no new promises.” (27) 
 
He found he was slapping Sean’s upturned butt, handprint after handprint colouring 
the beautifully formed, masculine cheeks. The Brit’s breathing grew harsher as Viggo 
applied more pressure to the back of his neck. He’s ass was a pink and red mottled 
collage when he began to struggle. But Viggo continued, driven by the steady 
satisfaction of his open palm on the soft bare skin, even when his hand became too 
numb to feel any longer.  
 
Eventually, Sean wrenched away. Panting, he managed, “Sorry… Sir… this boy… 
was having trouble… breathing.”  
 
“Enough already!” Viggo cut in. Sean’s fine eyebrows rose, but he waited to see what 
was enough. “Stop it with the third person already! Speak to me as yourself, dammit! 
As Sean.” 
 
For the first time, resentment shone in those green-glass eyes. “Fine… Veeee-goh. 
Just what the fuck do you want from me?”  
 
“Well, I dunno,” Viggo drawled. For the first time, he actually felt like he had the upper 
hand. “Maybe we should start with you, Sean.”  
 
“What?” The blond looked cornered. “I prefer, at times, to be in a different place, 
where I’m merely there to serve.” 
 
“Oh, you are so full of shit!” Viggo cut him off again. Sean glared. “Ha! Look at you! A 
man like you… a ‘bloke’s bloke’ who likes his footie and beer, but yet is as sensual as 
you are underneath all that fuckin’… ‘I’m British, here’s me stick and here’s my ahss 
and please insert!’ … No offence, Sean, but is this your way of keeping the whole 
world at arm’s length?” 
 
“Exactly.” Sean nodded to himself, then added, “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t 
yeh?” 
 
The moment he heard Sean´s answer, Viggo realised that he hardly was the one who 
could blame Sean, because he actually did the same – keeping distance from his 
partner with staying in defined roles that separated them as opposites: master and 
slave. It was so very interchangeable who was who in the end… 
 
And with that thought, enlightenment struck him like a slap in the face – the way it 
arrives in Buddhist tales. Before they came to this arrangement, they had been 
friends, and Sean had talked with him hedgingly about his feelings of insufficiency in 
his marriages and relationships, his constant feelings of guilt and responsibility for the 
failures – his anxiety that he couldn´t live up to expectations, he never knew what 
was the right thing to do, what was it that his partner wanted, what he was supposed 
to do – it was all too simple to see the reason why Sean experienced it as a relief to 
be submissive: if he only did what he was told to do, how could he do something 
wrong?  
 
Maybe things were more complex and this was not the only aspect, but it was very 
clear that they both desperately tried to avoid disappointment – being disappointed 
as well as disappointing someone – by clinging to the rules of a role-game – and 
now, in a cruel switch, that intent, however well-meant, had turned against them, and 
their refusal to take the risk of disappointment (in both ways) had itself become the 
disappointment. 
 
“I miss you, as I have for years, and retain a measure of respect for your 
temper, which someday may be all you have left of your independence.” (13) 
 
Shaking his head, Viggo asked, “And before, when I kissed you, you responded… 
why?” 
 
“Because that is what Sir…”  
 
“No, damn you!” Viggo got in Sean’s face. “Okay, I’m more than happy to give you 
this… scenario you apparently think you need… God, I had no idea how deep it 
really goes for you…” he pulled at his earlobe, a familiar gesture of pensiveness. “But 
it turns out, I want you. Besides just wanting you under me. Do you understand?”  
 
“Aye.” Again, the sad, almost pitying expression came over the fair features. “I 
shouldn’t have slipped like that… I’m sorry.”  
 
“For what? Being human?” asked Viggo. 
 
God, why must things always be so complicated? Why had they limited their 
relationship and restricted themselves, when he could feel, he believed… he 
hoped… that there was so much more they could give each other… 
 
“For being… for being me.” said Sean. “I never get it right… its no wonder they don’t 
love me…”  
 
“Everyone makes mistakes…” 
 
“Spare me you fucking platitudes,” Sean spat. “I need to be taken down, to be lower 
than the lot, dirt. It’s the only thing that balances me, sometimes.”  
 
“What the fuck are you saying?” Viggo shook his head in confusion.  
 
Sean’s nostrils flared, seemingly in annoyance, but he continued. “All me life… My 
wives and girlfriends… and … blokes. I never get it right. So, if I don’t have to call the 
shots, then I can’t muck it up enough to make you leave me.” He looked down, 
because he’d again told Viggo of his own fears of rejection, which he’d avoided for 
the past six years by means of this on again, off again settlement. “It’s worked just 
fine. Please, Viggo…” He sounded desperate. Sean had begged many times over 
the years. For punishment. For the fulfilment of his needs. For release. Compared to 
this, all those other times sounded phoney. “I can’t loose this... lose you.”  
 
And Viggo could tell him without the slightest hesitation, “You won’t.”  
 
“We begin to recognise each other, but appearances change and deceive us, 
like fog hides a reef.” (13) 
 
“But,” Sean spoke up again, “you can’t say that… you don’t mean it.” He sounded like 
a small child who knew he was being lied to by an untrustworthy adult.  
 
“Why would I lie?” Viggo asked him. “Sean, I don’t tell lies.” Then he thought about 
that for a few seconds and amended, “Well, except by actions, it would seem.” 
 
“There was an open wound in Sean’s eyes. “See? Even you. Well, Viggo, I give you 
leave to have done with me.” He shrugged, a bitter little flinch. “Ah shoulda seen it 
coming. ‘S always like this; it’s not the first time, by any means.” 
 
He stopped, as if unsure. Viggo would have liked to slap him silent, but realized at 
the edge of vicious rebuttal that maybe this was the chink in the armor he was 
looking for. So instead, he nodded at the other man to continue.  
 
“Well… there was Debra… me first wife… Well, me first everythin’. Kind of a late 
bloomer, me,” he smiled crookedly for half a second. “You never know it now, would 
yeh? And really, we were still just kids. I found that I liked both sides of things… a lot 
of things. But she din’ like me havin’ it over on her. It was too much the traditional 
male forcing his will, in her eyes. I tried to take her to the clubs in London, to help her 
understand and so’s we could learn together, but she freaked. So… I ruined it with 
the woman who was supposed to be the only one. RADA opened up my eyes… Did I 
ever tell you about my first time with a man?” 
 
The blue-eyed would-be Master, his authority now in shambles around him, shook his 
head. Sean never talked, not like this, and he thought it best to let him go at his own 
internal promptings.  
 
“It was one of the instructors at RADA, actually. He’d taken me under his wing a bit. 
Said he’d had his eye on me for months. When I got my Silver and left, he rang and 
took me out, and took me home. I… I din’ leave there for three days. The bloke had a 
dungeon,” he raised an eyebrow in indication of what kind of dungeon, “in his 
basement. But I didn’t wind up down there till after he’d had me… Jesus fuck, Vig… I 
found that I’d do anything, anything at all, just to keep him from doing that again.”  
 
Viggo reached out to touch Sean’s face. The blond moved his head away. “It’s ok, 
Sean, I won’t hurt you. Never again.” 
 
“You don’t understand,” was the repeated protest. “See, after that, I started going out 
with Mel, but I was always on the prowl, too. I wasn’t sure yet what I was looking for, 
but already felt like there were things I needed that she couldn´t give me. I felt very 
guilty… and the more it went wrong with Mel, something in there… went looking for 
more ill-treatment. Oh, there was plenty to be found. I was never lacking for someone 
to abuse me. They liked hitting the pretty one.” His lips curled sardonically. “I’ve been 
spit on, pissed on…I sucked more dicks than…“ he shrugged, “Just trying to find out 
what was wrong with me. What a fucking mess. So you see, I had something against 
women, and now men, too. She—Melanie—put up with my rage and contempt, 
though be assured she could give as well as she got. As for what I got up to on the 
side, she never really said anything. Hell, I’d come home covered in various marks… 
so between that and women’s intuition... I lied through my teeth. I always said I’d 
been in a fight but she knew. So… she would try things,” two spots appeared high on 
his cheekbones. “She learned how to make me coom by… with her fingers in my 
bum.”  
 
Sean acted like he was shamed by this, yet he’d let Viggo put digits and cock and 
various appliances in his ass countless times. Viggo couldn’t help but ask, “That 
embarrassed you, at the time? Why’s that?” 
 
“Aye. A real man wouldn’t let anyone near his arse.”  
 
“Oh, he might,” Viggo countered.  
 
“At the time, though…” Sean’s deep voice trailed off for a moment, while he struggled 
to find words. “She was very good… she made it feel goddamn good, best I’d had till 
then. I hated her for it. She knew my secret; she had power over me, y’know? At the 
end, I begged her to… I’d be there on hands and knees, begging for it. And so, so 
very angry that she couldn’t fuck me… you know… like a man. I could’ve taken it 
easily by then, I was ready. But I never said… she’d have been so hurt. I hurt her 
enough.”  
 
“And then there was Abigail. One of those, ‘what the fuck was I thinking’ sort of 
things. That woman wanted me under her, and made no bones about it. It were one 
fight after another. But she was selfish, that one, and I finally understood what it’d 
been like for Mel – too late. It’s horrible enough to feel bad about oneself, but then to 
have them tell you over and over again, day after day, how wretched and inadequate 
you are… I couldn’t take it. I left. She made a big hoo-ha about how I’d thrown her 
out, and all her ‘low-class’ comments… well, doesn’t matter any more.” Viggo knew 
this was not entirely true but let it pass. Sean had proved himself ‘arrived’ alright. The 
only mention anyone made of his working class back ground was to celebrate how 
he’d made a name for himself in spite of it. Such things happened daily in America. 
They had that disparity between them, as well.  
 
“Took to fucking anything that moved for a little while. Straight out of that, I found 
myself in Wellington, away from it all. Sorta. Elijah—“ 
 
“Don’t,” Viggo hissed. Sean had been with Elijah when he’d arrived. The short but 
intense flame of their affair burned hot and fast. Sean thought he’d discovered the 
missing link--the love, physically and emotionally, of another man, but it was not to 
be. Disillusioned, for words were said about, ‘not enough’ and ‘damaged goods,’ he 
shut down. Only, he did his best not to let on; his acting was convincing enough that 
no one but Viggo, who hadn’t even known him very well, seemed to notice anything 
was wrong with him. He’s turned to Viggo almost blindly—all the American had had 
to do was offer ‘anything you need.’ So, Sean had asked to be beaten with a riding 
whip, and for some ungodly reason, Viggo had done it. He thought it was only a one-
time thing, but one thing led to another…  
 
“It’s okay,” Sean was saying. “Might as well talk about things like that… can’t make it 
any worse, now, eh? I was his first, Viggo, can you fancy that? Guess I’m old-
fashioned, thought it’d be more lasting. I loved him before I agreed to… wouldna 
done it otherwise.”  
 
Once again, Viggo was impressed by how the man cared for others above himself. 
He let them go rather than make things even worse. Was he attempting to do that 
with Viggo? There was a small glimmer of hope.  
 
“Then there was you… so steady, my best mate, my master… and it was different. 
Until then, I think I always submitted in order to be punished for being so wrong… 
Even the first time, when I wanted you to beat me, it was because I had failed again, 
with Elijah. But that changed, and I surrendered to you because… I really felt that for 
you… devotion… ” he whispered and looked at Viggo with shining eyes. “Couldn’t 
ask for more.”  
 
“Yes, you could!” Viggo knew it was Sean’s time to talk, but if he didn’t say what he 
meant, then that man was going to talk right around him and over him and out of his 
life. 
 
“What?” Sean asked, clearly confused.  
 
“To be your lover.”  
 
“Dammit, Viggo, don’t fucking tease about things like that!”  
 
“I´ll leave out most of our sins as we glimpse the day you´re allowed to back 
away untouched.” (13) 
 
Once again, Viggo did not believe what he was hearing. Maybe this would be the last 
time ever—this whole last several minutes was somehow loaded with finality--that 
Viggo spoke to his ‘boy.’ “Kneel up right, like I taught you, boy. Maybe you’ll shake a 
little before we’re done with this, but otherwise, do not move. This is how it’s gonna 
be…” He sidled over next to Sean. “This is going to come off,” he lightly tapped the 
encasement device around Sean’s prick. “In more than one way. If it doesn’t happen 
from you being set free of that, then I’m going to take your cock and stroke you till 
you come all over my hand.”  
 
There was a snap! snap! and a clatter of hard plastic dropping to the floor. Within two 
seconds, Sean’s cock went from a purple, tortured-looking, three-inch little bean to its 
full length, hard as a sword with the Dane’s hand wrapped around the hilt. There, the 
weapon imagery ended. Viggo stroked him with a clenched fist, following the upward 
curve, sliding the foreskin.  
 
Sean’s organ was utterly covered in pre-come. His fluids had made rather a mess of 
himself inside the casing. It was happening too fast. Not that either of them expected 
anything else. Sean gritted his teeth through the filling of his erection, the first electric 
touch of Viggo’s hand on it, and the nearly unbearable rhythm of skilled fingers 
guiding him toward the overflowing of his still built-up seed.  
 
There was more than that, too. “That’s right… wanna see you come, Sean, show me 
how you do it.” He spurted through Viggo’s fingers, coming till his thighs and abs 
trembled and it felt like his balls had turned his sacs inside out from how far they 
pulled upwards. Viggo had put his other arm around Sean’s back and the Brit leaned 
heavily on it as he snorted and groaned through the explosive release. 
 
“That’s right, baby,” Viggo murmured softly. “It’s okay, Sean.” For once, the comfort 
he offered was taken at face value.  
 
“Thank you,” the blond man said some moments later, when he was able. “That’s 
more than I deserve.” He’d just noticed that Viggo’s member was erect and pressed 
against his side, yet the man remained there with his arms around him.” He flicked 
his eyes once to say he could do something about it, if it was required of him.  
 
“You’ve come twice. And me… what do you guess Sean? Twenty-five, thirty times in 
the last ten days?”  
 
“More,” the other man replied, deadpan.  
 
“There you go. Believe me, I can wait.”  
 
A nod. 
 
“Let us,” Viggo began very slowly, “understand something. We have both spent years 
considering ourselves… unworthy. Each looking at the other as somewhere above 
himself. You’ve explained some why you do it. Me… I dunno. Simply ego. You’ve 
always been one of the few I’ve considered an equal, and that in itself puts you 
above me in some way. But you wanted to be under. I tried my best… but I can’t 
anymore. Not like you want it. I’m sorry.”  
 
The men were silent. They each waited for the hammer to drop. Sean broke first. “If 
you want something other than what you think I want, then… was is it?”  
 
“I want equal terms. No more of this ongoing Master/slave shit. I’ve lost my taste. It’s 
gone too far. I’m done.” 
 
“Is that an ultimatum?” There was nothing but helpless fear in the resigned tone. 
 
Viggo sighed. How he hated being backed into a corner like this. He was too tired to 
fight any more. Might as well say it. “Yes, it is… I guess it is. I’m done.” He couldn’t 
say that it hurt him, that he wanted a partner who wanted only him, that he would just 
crawl away and lick his wounds and probably never touch another human being 
again when Sean left him.  
 
“You’re leaving me?”  
 
“No, you’re leaving me,” Viggo informed him. “We’re not together anyway. Not the 
way it should be.”  
 
“How should it be?” 
 
“It… I don’t know!” Why the hell couldn’t he just say it? “I don’t want to share you, for 
one thing. And…God, Sean… I want a real partner, not some cringing slave boy. This 
has brought out the absolute worst in me. It’s over.”  
 
“You keep saying that. But what if I agreed?” Sean asked this cautiously. “I mean, to 
something… more usual? And I can stop seeing other people…”  
 
“What if you can’t?”  
 
“Give me a chance.” Sean thought for a moment. “Another chance. Please…”  
 
Heart thudding wildly, Viggo asked him, “Why would you agree to stop these 
games… now, after so long? What if you need them again? I’m not going to hold you 
against your will. Not ever. God knows, you did whatever you wanted for this long 
and I never said boo.” 
 
“Maybe you shoulda…” 
 
Viggo’s disagreement was immediate. “No. Till today, there was no way in hell. You’d 
have walked. It had to get to this… but before you leave…I want to show you… how I 
want you under me. How it could’ve been.” 
 
“Don’t fucking say it like that!” the blond man pleaded. “And...yes, I want that.”  
 
“Follow me.” They more or less helped each other up, then into the master bedroom, 
and finally up onto Viggo’s king-sized bed. “I’ve always been able to dominate you 
because… frankly, I got off a little too much on ordering around such as you.”  
 
Sean rolled his eyes. “To anyone on the outside, we’re as equal as equal could be.”  
 
“I’ve always felt inferior to you. So, I worked very hard to bring you down to my level, 
once you put the power in my hands.” 
 
“Well, I don’t get all the blame, then,” Sean said slyly.  
 
“Let´s share the guilt,” Viggo said with a smile. Just the fact that they were able to talk 
suddenly filled him with hope, even though what they had confessed so far was not 
all sweetness and light. “And if we do decide to play as we´ve done sometime again, 
it´s not for punishment, but for the thrill of it… and we will both play on both sides…”  
 
Somehow, his thoughts and feelings must have shown in his face. He didn´t order 
Sean to kiss him again. He didn´t ask for it. 
 
But it was in his face, both the demand and the begging… the wish and the sadness. 
Sean slowly, tentatively moved forward, reacting to what he sensed in Viggo´s 
expression, though he would not have been able to explain it. 
 
This time it was no shock, no surprise, as Sean´s soft lips sunk on his, as his tongue 
found its way home. It was like receiving a gift he had wished for endlessly, like the 
fulfilment of a desperate prayer.  
 
Sean kissed him with indescribable tenderness, soothingly; his hands stroked 
through Viggo´s hair, caressing him kindly. 
 
Both men sank down onto the blankets. They lay on their sides, facing each other, 
embracing each other, kissing. No hesitation hampered Sean; Viggo made no 
demands. Sliding tongues, warm and wet, tasted anew and they drank from each 
other’s breath and life. Their bodies closed any distance between them. Arms and 
legs slid into stronger clasping. The urgency was unspoken, expressed only in 
drawn-out tracings of their unique, equally cherished features as they moved 
together.  
 
“Viggo,” murmured Sean between two languid licks, “Viggo.” 
 
“Sean,” said Viggo, smiling. 
 
“Light comes slowly, too slowly, as I stumble into your sights. I´m yours, 
you´re mine.” (13)