Viggo couldn't help it. Whenever Sean looked at him like this, with eyes full of affection and love and satisfaction, he fell in love all over again for this man. It didn't matter the wrinkles around his eyes or the way his own heart was roaring in his ears and how much longer it took nowadays for him to get his breath back, because all that was worth paying attention to was the pair of green eyes in front of him. Sean's eyes, and Sean's smile, wide and showing his cheekbones in sharp detail, creasing all the laugh lines at the sides of his eyes.
And oh. Oh, Sean might not remember the words, but Viggo would. He would remember every single line; every single rhyming line because goddamn this man and his talent and everything about him. There was little ego in Viggo, and he had never thought that what he did would be invalidated by anyone else- and when he heard that poem and knew it was for him, he couldn't help the swelling of his heart. He couldn't help but lean in further, his nose and mouth against Sean's hair, kissing his hair then his temple and nuzzling against him, burying his face into the scent of Sean and inhaling.
His ears were filled with Sean's voice, his nose with his scent. His skin felt Sean all along his body, and his eyes were filled with him and nothing else. He darted his tongue out, tasting Sean's sweat, feeling the salt gather on his tongue even as Sean's words whirled and whirled around his head, sinking their claws into his mind and making sure that he would never forget.
Viggo had gone right past smiling into grinning. Grinning at the irony, because Sean had just spoken about being split open, and here Viggo was. Here he was, completely invaded by this man, every thing about him taken over until he could barely see anything else, much less think of them. There was no artistry in him at the moment; no real urge to create. There was just Sean. Just this man, who was a perfect work of art in himself, and who had the hands and bright mind to create- and who had chosen him.
There was pride in him now; a pride that he knew he shouldn't have and had avoided most of his life having. It was a pride that served to mock the world, to point fingers at them and tell them that- here, here, this was what they didn't have. He was chosen by a man like this; a man with so much talent that Viggo knew that his own looked barely substantial beside him. Who was utterly beautiful inside and out, and even though he had his flaws, Viggo couldn't help loving those as well.
He had no words for this. There were no words in any language that could possible encompass all that he felt. Viggo closed his eyes, moving down a little and pressing their lips together. It was just a small, gentle kiss, with dry lips, before he pulled back. Their foreheads were pressed against each other, and Viggo could feel Sean's breath on his skin. Another mark. Invisible, but never forgotten.
His finger stroked against Sean's cheek. "You amazed me with every breath," he murmured quietly, and carded his fingers through his hair slowly. "I love you, Sean. I don't think I will ever stop."
It was fine if Sean didn't answer. Viggo just wanted him to know: this was forever, and he would never let Sean go. Not ever.
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And oh. Oh, Sean might not remember the words, but Viggo would. He would remember every single line; every single rhyming line because goddamn this man and his talent and everything about him. There was little ego in Viggo, and he had never thought that what he did would be invalidated by anyone else- and when he heard that poem and knew it was for him, he couldn't help the swelling of his heart. He couldn't help but lean in further, his nose and mouth against Sean's hair, kissing his hair then his temple and nuzzling against him, burying his face into the scent of Sean and inhaling.
His ears were filled with Sean's voice, his nose with his scent. His skin felt Sean all along his body, and his eyes were filled with him and nothing else. He darted his tongue out, tasting Sean's sweat, feeling the salt gather on his tongue even as Sean's words whirled and whirled around his head, sinking their claws into his mind and making sure that he would never forget.
Viggo had gone right past smiling into grinning. Grinning at the irony, because Sean had just spoken about being split open, and here Viggo was. Here he was, completely invaded by this man, every thing about him taken over until he could barely see anything else, much less think of them. There was no artistry in him at the moment; no real urge to create. There was just Sean. Just this man, who was a perfect work of art in himself, and who had the hands and bright mind to create- and who had chosen him.
There was pride in him now; a pride that he knew he shouldn't have and had avoided most of his life having. It was a pride that served to mock the world, to point fingers at them and tell them that- here, here, this was what they didn't have. He was chosen by a man like this; a man with so much talent that Viggo knew that his own looked barely substantial beside him. Who was utterly beautiful inside and out, and even though he had his flaws, Viggo couldn't help loving those as well.
He had no words for this. There were no words in any language that could possible encompass all that he felt. Viggo closed his eyes, moving down a little and pressing their lips together. It was just a small, gentle kiss, with dry lips, before he pulled back. Their foreheads were pressed against each other, and Viggo could feel Sean's breath on his skin. Another mark. Invisible, but never forgotten.
His finger stroked against Sean's cheek. "You amazed me with every breath," he murmured quietly, and carded his fingers through his hair slowly. "I love you, Sean. I don't think I will ever stop."
It was fine if Sean didn't answer. Viggo just wanted him to know: this was forever, and he would never let Sean go. Not ever.