There were benefits to going barefoot all the time, and Viggo didn't even notice his feet being stepped on. He had Sean in his arms, his heat against his own skin, and that was distracting enough. He rocked backwards against the hands against his ass, then forward against Sean's groin, before he spread his legs and straddled him fully, sitting on top of his thighs.
His head was spinning a little from the drinks and the exhilaration of all this, but Viggo never really let a little tipsiness stop him. In fact, it steadied his hands further, brightened his vision, and he pulled open Sean's bowtie smoothly, letting the silk drop to the side. He wound it around his own hand, feeling the silk against skin- and watched Sean carefully, the smallest quirks curving his lips upwards.
"The hard part is right," he said, his voice a drawl and his words curling inwards, rolling around his tongue, more Spanish than the American flat vowels. He leaned in, his hands slamming down on the mattress beside Sean's head, and kissed him hard, swallowing his breath, his demands, even as he ground down with his hips. Pressing down just as Sean was arching up, and he could feel the indent of Sean's cock against his own ass, curving upwards, pressing against him through at least four layers of cloth.
He laughed quietly to himself, into Sean's mouth, a high, happy sound before he pulls back. Viggo unbuttoned the white shirt in front of him quickly enough, and pulled it back and upwards. The jacket went with it, and Viggo tossed the heavy material back. The shirt, however... he wound the sleeves around Sean's arms, pinning them together. At the same time, he had moved upwards until he was now crouched over Sean's chest, pressing him down, making sure that he couldn't move while Viggo tied his hands together. Then, he freed the bowtie from his hand and tied a crude little bow around Sean's wrists, silk pressing against silk against skin.
"Patience, my Steward," he drawled.
It had been years, but this was like riding a bike, and Sean's eager smiles and smooth skin and beautiful laugh were all inspiring him. His fingers itched to make art, to draw, to create colours on Sean's skin- and he moved down again, his lips pressing against Sean's pulse point. He didn't bite, only letting his teeth scrape against the golden expanse, over and over, while his hands busied themselves with unbuckling Sean's belt, opening up his zipper. The heel of his hand pressed hard against the cock hidden inside his underwear. His hands moved to the waistband of Sean's pants and underwear, fingers digging inwards-
Then, he pulled down, and bit against Sean's throat.
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His head was spinning a little from the drinks and the exhilaration of all this, but Viggo never really let a little tipsiness stop him. In fact, it steadied his hands further, brightened his vision, and he pulled open Sean's bowtie smoothly, letting the silk drop to the side. He wound it around his own hand, feeling the silk against skin- and watched Sean carefully, the smallest quirks curving his lips upwards.
"The hard part is right," he said, his voice a drawl and his words curling inwards, rolling around his tongue, more Spanish than the American flat vowels. He leaned in, his hands slamming down on the mattress beside Sean's head, and kissed him hard, swallowing his breath, his demands, even as he ground down with his hips. Pressing down just as Sean was arching up, and he could feel the indent of Sean's cock against his own ass, curving upwards, pressing against him through at least four layers of cloth.
He laughed quietly to himself, into Sean's mouth, a high, happy sound before he pulls back. Viggo unbuttoned the white shirt in front of him quickly enough, and pulled it back and upwards. The jacket went with it, and Viggo tossed the heavy material back. The shirt, however... he wound the sleeves around Sean's arms, pinning them together. At the same time, he had moved upwards until he was now crouched over Sean's chest, pressing him down, making sure that he couldn't move while Viggo tied his hands together. Then, he freed the bowtie from his hand and tied a crude little bow around Sean's wrists, silk pressing against silk against skin.
"Patience, my Steward," he drawled.
It had been years, but this was like riding a bike, and Sean's eager smiles and smooth skin and beautiful laugh were all inspiring him. His fingers itched to make art, to draw, to create colours on Sean's skin- and he moved down again, his lips pressing against Sean's pulse point. He didn't bite, only letting his teeth scrape against the golden expanse, over and over, while his hands busied themselves with unbuckling Sean's belt, opening up his zipper. The heel of his hand pressed hard against the cock hidden inside his underwear. His hands moved to the waistband of Sean's pants and underwear, fingers digging inwards-
Then, he pulled down, and bit against Sean's throat.