The contrast took Viggo's breath away- the halting, hesitant words, the parted legs, and he leaned back for a moment, trying to even out his breathing. His eyes were wide upon Sean, and he couldn't help but move himself forward, practically throwing himself onto him, kissing him hard, tasting the ends of those words in his mouth, on his tongue. A sweet taste, of trust and desire and permission, and everything that Viggo had ever wanted and had never asked for, given to him so freely.
It should be impossible for him to love Sean more, given how long he had waited. But Viggo had always defied conventions and shoulds, and with every breath and every look upon him, he fell in love with Sean a little more. It was akin to stumbling down a cliff, really, or stepping into the ocean; a downward slope without much hope for turning around and scrambling for the top, for air. He could barely breathe for how much he adored this man.
"It's alright," he whispered, and his voice was rough with want. Viggo wanted so badly to just pin Sean down and fuck him hard into the mattress, to mark every single inch of his skin so Sean would know exactly how much Viggo loved him. He wanted to fuck him until he melted with pleasure and want; until he fell asleep on this bed and woke up the next morning pliant and sweet, and Viggo could then make love to him. Slowly, gently, until he was crying out and begging for more.
His head was spinning. Viggo's imagination had always been vivid, conjuring images from the barest handfuls of words. His lips were parted, and he was already panting.
No, not like that. That was what Viggo wanted, but- no, that wouldn't work at all.
Instead, he leaned in and kissed Sean again, open-mouthed and gently, his lips touching every corner and angle of Sean's mouth. His fingers were already moving down, stroking a line from the back of Sean's balls to his entrance, circling, feeling the tension of the muscle. His other hand reached up and unknotted the silk tie, leaving Sean with enough room to wrestle himself out of the shirt if he wanted to.
"Hold onto something," he said, and he flashed Sean a grin before he ground his knees against the bed and moved down. Lightning quick, and he had Sean's legs pulled upwards, his hands hot on his inner thighs, a pillow shoved underneath Sean's hips. Then, Viggo leaned in, and his tongue was rough and hot as he follow the line of the wet lube, trailing spit. He pressed the tip of his finger against the tightness before whipping it away and replacing it with his tongue, pressing in then out, up then downwards, and he repeated the motion again.
no subject
It should be impossible for him to love Sean more, given how long he had waited. But Viggo had always defied conventions and shoulds, and with every breath and every look upon him, he fell in love with Sean a little more. It was akin to stumbling down a cliff, really, or stepping into the ocean; a downward slope without much hope for turning around and scrambling for the top, for air. He could barely breathe for how much he adored this man.
"It's alright," he whispered, and his voice was rough with want. Viggo wanted so badly to just pin Sean down and fuck him hard into the mattress, to mark every single inch of his skin so Sean would know exactly how much Viggo loved him. He wanted to fuck him until he melted with pleasure and want; until he fell asleep on this bed and woke up the next morning pliant and sweet, and Viggo could then make love to him. Slowly, gently, until he was crying out and begging for more.
His head was spinning. Viggo's imagination had always been vivid, conjuring images from the barest handfuls of words. His lips were parted, and he was already panting.
No, not like that. That was what Viggo wanted, but- no, that wouldn't work at all.
Instead, he leaned in and kissed Sean again, open-mouthed and gently, his lips touching every corner and angle of Sean's mouth. His fingers were already moving down, stroking a line from the back of Sean's balls to his entrance, circling, feeling the tension of the muscle. His other hand reached up and unknotted the silk tie, leaving Sean with enough room to wrestle himself out of the shirt if he wanted to.
"Hold onto something," he said, and he flashed Sean a grin before he ground his knees against the bed and moved down. Lightning quick, and he had Sean's legs pulled upwards, his hands hot on his inner thighs, a pillow shoved underneath Sean's hips. Then, Viggo leaned in, and his tongue was rough and hot as he follow the line of the wet lube, trailing spit. He pressed the tip of his finger against the tightness before whipping it away and replacing it with his tongue, pressing in then out, up then downwards, and he repeated the motion again.
Slower.