Sean was laughing despite his best efforts not to, mostly at Viggo's gall rather than anything else. Seans' feet weren't big, but with his eyes shut, following quietly after Viggo's kisses as he was pulled, he stepped on Viggo's toes none the less, unable to really guide himself. He hadn't even got a really good look at the place to know where he was going himself.

They reached the bedroom more or less intact, though - thank god for Viggo's steel toe caps - and Sean found Viggo's mouth with his own, kissing him hard and deep and taking the last step back himself, pulling Viggo down after him, over him. His right hand slipped into Viggo's hair (which was nothing, he noted, like Christian's), and his left slid down the back of Viggo's pants, squeezing hard, pulling them hip to hip.

He had to stop for breath, still unable to stop his laughing, and forced himself to relax, to exhale, even if the amusement still danced in his eyes.

"We made it to the bedroom. Now comes the hard part."

Like whether or not Viggo could undo Sean's bowtie while Sean's hands were all over him, and after he'd drunk six shots here and however many more drinks he'd had back at the awards ceremony. Probably lots.

"Come on," it was a breath, more than anything, and Sean flexed, arching deliberately underneath Viggo, physically lifting him off the bed with just the strength of his back and thighs.