Every murmur and cry of his name made Viggo lose a little bit more control, and his hands were almost trembling as he watched Sean buck and arch on his fingers, tossing his head back and forth, sweat gleaming on his skin. There was a flush that started from his chest and spreading all the way up to his face, pinking his skin, and Viggo had never seen anything so remarkably beautiful and arousing. He wanted his camera; wanted to capture this moment, this single second of Sean in motion, desire trapped within a beautiful man- but he couldn't leave. He couldn't tear himself away, trapped, and caught even more when Sean's hands grabbed onto his shoulders, then onto his hand, and-
God. His fingers in Sean's mouth, hot and wet and biting, and he could feel the roughness of Sean's tongue. And his eyes, the irises almost wholly swallowed by the black pupils, the slits of green bright and shining. Viggo pulled his hand away with an effort, curling his fingers on Sean's chin and pulling him forward, his mouth pressing against his neck, kissing and nipping at him, but he didn't kiss him. He couldn't, not after where his mouth had been. Not right now.
"Sean," he breathed, and inhaled in his scent again. He could get addicted to this. The shape of Sean's name on his own lips, the scent of him, the feel of him against himself. He had waited so long and relied on the abstract, on his imagination- and this was something so real, so earthy and visceral. Everything that Sean was, everything he had never gone after and now he had it. He had Sean, and it was making his head spin and his breath short.
He could barely breathe. "Sean," he said again, and it was a helpless little sound, because it was a little too overwhelming and his mind was short-circuiting out. He could barely think- and Viggo took another breath and stopped thinking. Simply stopped, and pulled away. His fingers almost literally ached from being out of Sean's heat and tightness, and they tremble as they move down on his own pants, yanking them off. He must've ruined the zip on his slacks, but he frankly didn't care, kicking off both his pants and underwear and falling upon Sean again, pushing him back onto the bed.
And he couldn't help it, thrusting forward, upwards, feeling his cock slide against Sean's. He whispered his name again, his one hand shifting underneath Sean's leg, pulling it up and apart and around his own waist. Lining himself up, the other hand on his own cock, and he was pressing in, sliding home.
Viggo closed his eyes, his body falling over Sean's, breath trapped in his throat because he was so damn tight he had to control himself. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, pulling out slightly and pressing in again, changing his angle, trying to find that spot within Sean. His mouth was back on Sean's neck, teeth scraping against skin, tasting him as he shook, his elbows barely enough to support his own weight.
"Sean," he wasn't even aware that he was talking again. "I love you," he pulled back, thrust forward, rocking in until he was inside to the very hilt. "I love you so damn much." Again. "So much." Again.
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God. His fingers in Sean's mouth, hot and wet and biting, and he could feel the roughness of Sean's tongue. And his eyes, the irises almost wholly swallowed by the black pupils, the slits of green bright and shining. Viggo pulled his hand away with an effort, curling his fingers on Sean's chin and pulling him forward, his mouth pressing against his neck, kissing and nipping at him, but he didn't kiss him. He couldn't, not after where his mouth had been. Not right now.
"Sean," he breathed, and inhaled in his scent again. He could get addicted to this. The shape of Sean's name on his own lips, the scent of him, the feel of him against himself. He had waited so long and relied on the abstract, on his imagination- and this was something so real, so earthy and visceral. Everything that Sean was, everything he had never gone after and now he had it. He had Sean, and it was making his head spin and his breath short.
He could barely breathe. "Sean," he said again, and it was a helpless little sound, because it was a little too overwhelming and his mind was short-circuiting out. He could barely think- and Viggo took another breath and stopped thinking. Simply stopped, and pulled away. His fingers almost literally ached from being out of Sean's heat and tightness, and they tremble as they move down on his own pants, yanking them off. He must've ruined the zip on his slacks, but he frankly didn't care, kicking off both his pants and underwear and falling upon Sean again, pushing him back onto the bed.
And he couldn't help it, thrusting forward, upwards, feeling his cock slide against Sean's. He whispered his name again, his one hand shifting underneath Sean's leg, pulling it up and apart and around his own waist. Lining himself up, the other hand on his own cock, and he was pressing in, sliding home.
Viggo closed his eyes, his body falling over Sean's, breath trapped in his throat because he was so damn tight he had to control himself. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, pulling out slightly and pressing in again, changing his angle, trying to find that spot within Sean. His mouth was back on Sean's neck, teeth scraping against skin, tasting him as he shook, his elbows barely enough to support his own weight.
"Sean," he wasn't even aware that he was talking again. "I love you," he pulled back, thrust forward, rocking in until he was inside to the very hilt. "I love you so damn much." Again. "So much." Again.
"Sean."