Heat. Heat with every touch, with the kiss. Sean had kissed him before- well, he had kissed Aragorn before, just that once, when they had fucked in that hotel room and Viggo had turned his brain off and locked his heart up even tighter. It was just Aragorn then, even though he kept slipping character, because it was Viggo who was in love- whether it was Boromir or Sean, it had always been Viggo. Aragorn had Arwen, his soulmate and the love of his life, but he had been rocked by Boromir so much that the ripples of his emotions had shaken up Viggo so entirely that he couldn't breathe sometimes.
He was breathing hard when Sean pulled away, his hands clenched at his side and his shoulders tight. Viggo exhaled quietly as he watched him lick his lips, and he was moving, walking forward, almost stumbling on his own two feet. He crashed down in front of Sean, staring at him with wide eyes, lips parted, still glistening slightly with spit.
"Not really," Viggo said, and he surprised himself with how hoarse he sounded. His breath tripped over itself, and this- this was something else too. This was something he hadn't even thought about until now; something that surprised him and made his tongue heavy in his house. Kissing Sean. Having sex with him.
Seeing the shades of his eyes when he hooded them in pleasure. The shape of his mouth when he was aroused, swollen with kisses. The taste of him, far less fleeting than now. Nightlights on his skin, gleaming against the scars and hairs and roughness, pure masculinity- and how Viggo's shadows would look, playing on his skin. Placing a mark that would be indelibly written in Viggo's mind, but easy enough to erase when- if- Sean chose it.
He was losing his courage again. Viggo took a deep breath, and reached out, curling his fingers into Sean's hair. The other hand went to the back of his neck, and Viggo leaned in and kissed him again, open-mouthed. And this time, he wasn't still. His tongue darted out immediately, sweeping across every single corner, tasting every inch. Sean tasted of cigarettes and dark scotch and grass and steel and sunlight and everything that Viggo had never been able to define. He tasted different behind his teeth than he did at the corners of his mouth, and there was a tiny pulse at the edge of his cheek, right next to his molars, and Viggo pressed his tongue there for a few seconds, feeling his heartbeat against his skin.
Breathing in Sean's warmth, and feeling his chest hard against his own, his heat seeping through the layers they wore. Viggo shook slightly when he pulled away, and his fingers tingled where he had touched Sean.
"I love you," he blurted, and it was a relief and completely redundant at the same time.
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He was breathing hard when Sean pulled away, his hands clenched at his side and his shoulders tight. Viggo exhaled quietly as he watched him lick his lips, and he was moving, walking forward, almost stumbling on his own two feet. He crashed down in front of Sean, staring at him with wide eyes, lips parted, still glistening slightly with spit.
"Not really," Viggo said, and he surprised himself with how hoarse he sounded. His breath tripped over itself, and this- this was something else too. This was something he hadn't even thought about until now; something that surprised him and made his tongue heavy in his house. Kissing Sean. Having sex with him.
Seeing the shades of his eyes when he hooded them in pleasure. The shape of his mouth when he was aroused, swollen with kisses. The taste of him, far less fleeting than now. Nightlights on his skin, gleaming against the scars and hairs and roughness, pure masculinity- and how Viggo's shadows would look, playing on his skin. Placing a mark that would be indelibly written in Viggo's mind, but easy enough to erase when- if- Sean chose it.
He was losing his courage again. Viggo took a deep breath, and reached out, curling his fingers into Sean's hair. The other hand went to the back of his neck, and Viggo leaned in and kissed him again, open-mouthed. And this time, he wasn't still. His tongue darted out immediately, sweeping across every single corner, tasting every inch. Sean tasted of cigarettes and dark scotch and grass and steel and sunlight and everything that Viggo had never been able to define. He tasted different behind his teeth than he did at the corners of his mouth, and there was a tiny pulse at the edge of his cheek, right next to his molars, and Viggo pressed his tongue there for a few seconds, feeling his heartbeat against his skin.
Breathing in Sean's warmth, and feeling his chest hard against his own, his heat seeping through the layers they wore. Viggo shook slightly when he pulled away, and his fingers tingled where he had touched Sean.
"I love you," he blurted, and it was a relief and completely redundant at the same time.