There was something primal and utterly filthy about this. Coming inside Sean, surrounded by his art materials and a camera pointed straight at them, the windows open and the sun in Sean's hair and the winds caressing against both of their skins. Viggo's eyes were closed, his forehead against Sean's collarbone, breathing hard. Every inhale brought him another lungful of Sean, of musk and sweat and sex and his shampoo and the talcum and Viggo could barely breathe for how much he wanted to remember this. Every single detail. The pictures might be able to capture bits and pieces of Sean, but this- Sean's scent, the warmth beneath Viggo's hands. These were all for his own memories, and he would rather forget every intricate detail he knew of the American government than to give this up.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. Looked into Sean and slanted his mouth, kissing him deeply, darting his tongue inside and tasting every single corner of him. Viggo's hand stroked downwards, dancing against the indents of the ribs, moving inwards in a sweeping motion until his hand was placed above Sean's heart. He could feel the thundering roar that didn't seem to slow down at all, and slowly his own heartbeat started to synchronise with Sean's.
He pulled out, hissing quietly before falling to his side. But he refused to let go of Sean, tugging him over until they were facing each other again, and Viggo carded a hand through Sean's hair. He didn't know what it was with it, but every strand felt like new-spun silk, warm and cascading through his fingers.
It must be the new shampoo. Sean was the one who bought it this time.
"In the dimly lit room," he began, and his voice was low and hoarse and soft. He clear his throat, and started again.
In the dimly lit room I had a brief glimpse of bliss: sight of your naked body like a god reclining. That was all.
"While I shuddered," he whispered, skipping lines, uncaring about the poet's intent as his own words started to whirl in his mind. "Like the earth, split open like lightning."
Viggo leaned in, and kissed against Sean's temple. "My Odin and my Baldr, my Apollo and my Erato, my Cú Chulainn and my Lancelot. When with you I always wonder why I bother with acting, because it means that I have to leave you, and being with you gives me more ideas than I can ever write down in one lifetime."
He curled his hand, and stroked against Sean's cheek, gently.
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Slowly, he opened his eyes. Looked into Sean and slanted his mouth, kissing him deeply, darting his tongue inside and tasting every single corner of him. Viggo's hand stroked downwards, dancing against the indents of the ribs, moving inwards in a sweeping motion until his hand was placed above Sean's heart. He could feel the thundering roar that didn't seem to slow down at all, and slowly his own heartbeat started to synchronise with Sean's.
He pulled out, hissing quietly before falling to his side. But he refused to let go of Sean, tugging him over until they were facing each other again, and Viggo carded a hand through Sean's hair. He didn't know what it was with it, but every strand felt like new-spun silk, warm and cascading through his fingers.
It must be the new shampoo. Sean was the one who bought it this time.
"In the dimly lit room," he began, and his voice was low and hoarse and soft. He clear his throat, and started again.
In the dimly lit room
I had a brief glimpse of bliss:
sight of your naked body
like a god reclining.
That was all.
"While I shuddered," he whispered, skipping lines, uncaring about the poet's intent as his own words started to whirl in his mind. "Like the earth, split open like lightning."
Viggo leaned in, and kissed against Sean's temple. "My Odin and my Baldr, my Apollo and my Erato, my Cú Chulainn and my Lancelot. When with you I always wonder why I bother with acting, because it means that I have to leave you, and being with you gives me more ideas than I can ever write down in one lifetime."
He curled his hand, and stroked against Sean's cheek, gently.
"Do you have any idea what you do to me?"