Viggo couldn't help but laugh. A low, rumbling chuckle, "Not quite. Not yet."
He pulled away entirely, going back to his camera. Hands against the top, flattening against the equipment to still himself and to convince his erection to go down. It didn't help that Sean just look so incredibly amazing like that, his cock hard and straining against his jeans, and if Viggo strained he could already see the wet spot that was starting to gather. He took a breath, picked up the camera, and looked through the lenses. That was a little easier- gave him some distance. Some cold detachment that he desperately needed.
"Tip your head back a little," he said, and his voice was soft and hoarse and wanting. He zoomed in- the first picture would be Sean with his head thrown back. Lips parted and wet and swollen, dominating the picture from the upper left corner. The barest glimpse of a nose. Long expanse of cheek with the blond stubble, and the hint of his long hair, peeking at the side of the frame. Down, down, to the long throat, cutting off before the adam's apple, blurred a little from the focus. Giving the illusion that Sean was swallowing hard. Reacting. Movement. Wanting.
Viggo stepped back a little. Tilted the camera up.
The second picture was something else entirely. The black of the blindfold on the top, tilted away, so close and so detailed, in high-definition until the folds could be seen. At the corner in the bottom was the hint of red lips. The sweat on Sean's cheek stood out in high relief. Viggo put his camera down, stepping forward and sinking his hair into Sean's hair, tugging it up until the strands fell over the blindfold. He took another picture of that too. Gold on black. Precious metal on dirt, on soil. Sensuality conveyed through purely colours. The sun was shining, and Viggo felt as if even nature herself loved this man kneeling in front of him.
The third picture. Thigh, covered in white. A hip peeking out of the opened waistband. Arms, flash-coloured with tiny wisps of blond body hair, with the black of the tied arms like a hint, a fucking tease. The waistband of the trousers fell outwards, hanging out like a tongue, like another hint. The pants were opened, and the folds on the white hinted at an erection. Viggo put the camera down again, taking out his pot of brown, dirt paint and his black. He dipped his fingers into the paint, reaching out and streaking it against Sean's leg. Brown and black and brown and black, mixing it together, rubbing his thumb against Sean's inner thigh, a little too close to his cock before he darted away.
He shoved his hands into the bucket of water he kept close by for this purpose, and wiped them on a cloth. Back to the camera. He took a picture of that- white pants with dirt. Pristine yet dirty. Nature and sex. There was a theme here, beyond Sean's beauty. The sun was casting such high, sharp contrasts to all the colours. The floorboards were dull wood. That worked unexpectedly well. Viggo took a breath and tried to not stare at Sean's cock, practically calling to him.
Another photograph. Sean's shoulder. A hint of hair, a hint of ear. Expanse of chest, the nipple hiding itself at the corner of the frame, almost shy. Taut and hard, and there was sweat on the chest, focused on and sharp and crisp. Obscene in its clarity, what was conventionally hidden. The hint of shadows beneath the arm, though Sean had shaven himself clean. The tail trails of the blindfold, half-draped against the shoulder. A reminder of transgression, almost.
Knees. On top, the hint of an opened fly. Dirt on the white pants. The temptation of the spread knees, the shadows in between. A single slice of skin shown, tucked against the corner as if hiding itself beneath white curtains.
Zoom out. The full picture. Sean against the window, with the sun in his hair, golden. His skin a darker shade of gold, gleaming with sweat. His lips red, his cock wet. His pants white but dirtied by Viggo's fingers. Black cloth on his hands and over his eyes, hiding green. Shadows over the planes of his face, gathering in the wrinkles. Kneeling on the dull wooden floorboards, the ground splattered with old paint stains. An offering of a muse to the great gods of art. A sacrifice to the old gods, the paints like the past sacrifices. The newest slave presented to the king, his pants open like showing off his goods.
Viggo put the camera down. Walked over to Sean, and buried his hand in his hair, leaning down to breathe hot air against Sean.
"I want to fuck you like this," he said, his words nearly tripping over each other. "While you're on your knees, with your legs spread over my lap. Hands tied and eyes blinded. Until you know nothing but my cock inside you, my hands on you."
A shuddering sigh. "You're so fucking beautiful, Sean."
no subject
He pulled away entirely, going back to his camera. Hands against the top, flattening against the equipment to still himself and to convince his erection to go down. It didn't help that Sean just look so incredibly amazing like that, his cock hard and straining against his jeans, and if Viggo strained he could already see the wet spot that was starting to gather. He took a breath, picked up the camera, and looked through the lenses. That was a little easier- gave him some distance. Some cold detachment that he desperately needed.
"Tip your head back a little," he said, and his voice was soft and hoarse and wanting. He zoomed in- the first picture would be Sean with his head thrown back. Lips parted and wet and swollen, dominating the picture from the upper left corner. The barest glimpse of a nose. Long expanse of cheek with the blond stubble, and the hint of his long hair, peeking at the side of the frame. Down, down, to the long throat, cutting off before the adam's apple, blurred a little from the focus. Giving the illusion that Sean was swallowing hard. Reacting. Movement. Wanting.
Viggo stepped back a little. Tilted the camera up.
The second picture was something else entirely. The black of the blindfold on the top, tilted away, so close and so detailed, in high-definition until the folds could be seen. At the corner in the bottom was the hint of red lips. The sweat on Sean's cheek stood out in high relief. Viggo put his camera down, stepping forward and sinking his hair into Sean's hair, tugging it up until the strands fell over the blindfold. He took another picture of that too. Gold on black. Precious metal on dirt, on soil. Sensuality conveyed through purely colours. The sun was shining, and Viggo felt as if even nature herself loved this man kneeling in front of him.
The third picture. Thigh, covered in white. A hip peeking out of the opened waistband. Arms, flash-coloured with tiny wisps of blond body hair, with the black of the tied arms like a hint, a fucking tease. The waistband of the trousers fell outwards, hanging out like a tongue, like another hint. The pants were opened, and the folds on the white hinted at an erection. Viggo put the camera down again, taking out his pot of brown, dirt paint and his black. He dipped his fingers into the paint, reaching out and streaking it against Sean's leg. Brown and black and brown and black, mixing it together, rubbing his thumb against Sean's inner thigh, a little too close to his cock before he darted away.
He shoved his hands into the bucket of water he kept close by for this purpose, and wiped them on a cloth. Back to the camera. He took a picture of that- white pants with dirt. Pristine yet dirty. Nature and sex. There was a theme here, beyond Sean's beauty. The sun was casting such high, sharp contrasts to all the colours. The floorboards were dull wood. That worked unexpectedly well. Viggo took a breath and tried to not stare at Sean's cock, practically calling to him.
Another photograph. Sean's shoulder. A hint of hair, a hint of ear. Expanse of chest, the nipple hiding itself at the corner of the frame, almost shy. Taut and hard, and there was sweat on the chest, focused on and sharp and crisp. Obscene in its clarity, what was conventionally hidden. The hint of shadows beneath the arm, though Sean had shaven himself clean. The tail trails of the blindfold, half-draped against the shoulder. A reminder of transgression, almost.
Knees. On top, the hint of an opened fly. Dirt on the white pants. The temptation of the spread knees, the shadows in between. A single slice of skin shown, tucked against the corner as if hiding itself beneath white curtains.
Zoom out. The full picture. Sean against the window, with the sun in his hair, golden. His skin a darker shade of gold, gleaming with sweat. His lips red, his cock wet. His pants white but dirtied by Viggo's fingers. Black cloth on his hands and over his eyes, hiding green. Shadows over the planes of his face, gathering in the wrinkles. Kneeling on the dull wooden floorboards, the ground splattered with old paint stains. An offering of a muse to the great gods of art. A sacrifice to the old gods, the paints like the past sacrifices. The newest slave presented to the king, his pants open like showing off his goods.
Viggo put the camera down. Walked over to Sean, and buried his hand in his hair, leaning down to breathe hot air against Sean.
"I want to fuck you like this," he said, his words nearly tripping over each other. "While you're on your knees, with your legs spread over my lap. Hands tied and eyes blinded. Until you know nothing but my cock inside you, my hands on you."
A shuddering sigh. "You're so fucking beautiful, Sean."