| Rules of the Game delica |
Date: May 4, 2003 Pairing: VM/SB Rating: R Warning: kink; dom!Viggo; very frustrating open-ending Summary: Viggo was in the mood to play a game with Sean. Archive: RugbyTackle, Green Opals, Enigma Disclaimer: NOT true. Absobloodylutely fictional. Feedback: Yes, please. Note: Written for the LJ community contrelamontre "open-ending" challenge in 38 mins. English is not my first language and it is not beta'd, so any mistakes and anything doesn't make sense are absolutely my fault. * * * * * "You're late." Viggo didn't sound much annoyed or upset. But one could hardly tell his mood from his voice. "Mmm, sorry. Just a pint or so." Sean didn't feel like putting up any argument tonight, so he decided to play safe. "Too late." Before Sean could step out of the doorway, Viggo shoved him towards the wall, pinning his wrists next to both sides of his head, and killed the protest with a furious kiss. Sean didn't even bother to put up any half-hearted struggle. His body responded earnestly telling nothing but the truth. Viggo's body pressed against him in full force, grinding his hips the way Sean liked it most. Sean knew Viggo was trying to make him come hard and fast. "Wait," Sean tore his month away from the black hole of all sanity. "Too fast." "I can make you come," Viggo chuckled. "Anytime. Anywhere." Sean shuddered. Because he knew the effect Viggo had on him was devastating. "My way." Viggo bit Sean's lower lip. Sean wanted to say something but couldn't form words. Mouth too dry. Brain overheated. "My rules." Viggo licked all the way from Sean's jaw line to his earlobe. Sean knew too well when Viggo was in a domineering mood there was no way to go against him. "Then fuck me." Sean's eyes narrowed, chin held up. Alcohol bubbled his blood, blazing his mind. "Not so soon." "What's in your mind?" Viggo grinned in such a devious way that Sean could almost hear the sizzling from the melting of his bone and his brain. But before Sean could open his mouth again, Viggo flipped him over facing the wall, erection thrusting into his hips, Viggo's hands entwined with Sean's into fists still pressing up the wall beside Sean's head. Sean wished all clothing could be gone miraculously in a blink. His own crotch was rubbing against the hard wall; the soft fabric next to his skin turned out to be too rough for his swelling cock. The coarse wallpaper scratched his cheek, Viggo's slick tongue swirling along the side of his neck. "Are you wearing boxers?" "Of course. Why?" "That's too bad." "What do you mean?" "Tonight's rules: Hands up, pants off." "What?" "Remove your pants while keeping your hands up." "At your courtesy?" "Nope. What would the fun be?" Viggo seemed to be amused by Sean not getting the point. Sean wanted to press on complaining, but then what would the fun be. "No hands." Viggo snaked one hand down to Sean's groin and gave a nice squeeze. "If you can't make it, you won't have it." Flaming body deserted his back, leaving Sean panting against the wall with throbbing erection. Then something sounded like a moan itched his ears. Sean took a deep breath and turned around. Holy. Fucking. Shit. Viggo sprawled on the armchair, arching his back, spreading his legs; one hand was inside the unbuttoned fly of his jeans, the other disappeared under the half-lifted shirt probably over his nipple; eyes closed with that indefinable smile on his too-handsome face, all flushing and trembling. Sean only knew he was aching, his throat burning, and his heart was fighting out of his chest. Think, old boy. Think. |
| END Sequel: Power Game (1/2) |
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