Smooches On Couches

“… warm woolen mittens..”

“What are you singing?” Viggo laid his newspaper on his chest raised his head from the arm of the couch and his right eyebrow at the same time to stare over the coffee table at Dave.

“Mm? Oh, nothing,” Dave stopped singing and returned to reading his script. He felt his neck grow warm.

“It was something about kittens and mittens.”

“No, no, it wasn’t anything. I love the humor between Sam and Faramir in the rewrites. Have you seen the new bits?” Dave shifted in his chair and rattled the pages of his script, trying to distract Viggo. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to start humming that silly bit of fluff out loud like that. In fact, he wasn’t sure at all why the song had popped into his head.

Viggo’s mouth turned up in a sly grin. “I’m pretty good with songs,” he said refusing to be distracted. He struggled into a sitting position on the couch. “Hum a few more bars. I bet I can guess it.”

Dave felt his face color right up to the roots of his long, reddish hair. Damn his fair complexion anyway. “It’s embarrassing.”

Propping his legs on the coffee table, Viggo folded his arms over his chest. “More embarrassing than my tongue up your ass?”

“Actually, yes,” Dave retorted. He thought about where they’d been when Viggo had the sudden urge to rim him. They were in Minas Tirith, between shots, and the crew was out to lunch. They’d found a back section of the mock city, partially screened from prying eyes but where they could see any one else approaching. Dave had stood with his hands braced on the low “stone” wall with his costume around his ankles while Viggo knelt behind him. It was definitely one of his favorite things and Viggo damn well knew it.
“Well, maybe not.”

“C’mon, Dave,” Viggo coaxed. “I won’t laugh.”

“Oh, yes you will, too.” Dave slumped down in his chair and closed his eyes, trying to blot out the sight of Viggo dressed in close-fitted jeans and a simple button down shirt, open to the waist. How was it that he always managed to look so damn sexy? “Besides, I can only remember bits and snatches. And I don’t even know why it’s stuck in my head.”

Viggo chuckled and leaned forward on the couch. His long arm snaked out and he caressed Dave’s knee. “Let me see if I can help you.” He pretended to think for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “Whiskers on kittens and warm woolen mittens? Does that sound right?”

Dave rolled his eyes. “And girls in white dresses with bright colored sashes. Yes, yes.”

“These are a few of my favorite things.” He sang in a light baritone, demonstrating his considerable singing skills.

“Well, maybe not the white dresses and sashes part. But …let’s see…,” Dave caught Viggo’s humorous glint and smiled. “Snowflakes on my nose and eye lashes.”

“My lovers warm tongue rimming my asses.”

“Gollum!” Dave laughed. “How about ‘smooches on couches’ instead?”

“Is that one of your favorite things?”

Dave got out of his chair and moved around to sit on the couch beside Viggo. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Viggo leaned back and draped his arm around Dave’s shoulder and pulled him in close. Their lips touched and instantly David’s mouth opened to Viggo’s and he was able to thrust his tongue deep into the other actor’s mouth. The scruff of beard scraped his face and tickled his own beard. Dave’s lips were warm and moist and soft. Their tongues dueled until both were breathless and squirming.

When they finally broke the kiss, Viggo looked at Dave and the Aussie smiled. “Yes, most definitely one of my favorite things.”

“Can you think of any others?” Viggo’s hand roamed down over Dave’s strong chest, wriggling beneath the knit shirt he wore and sought out the fine swirls of hair on his chest. He pinched a nipple and Dave groaned.

“Well, that…but I don’t know how to make ‘pinching my nipples’ rhyme.”

“I’m becoming less and less concerned with rhyme and meter,” Viggo said as he lowered his head and kissed beneath the Aussie’s jaw.

“Well, that’s good since the whole damn thing has gone completely out of my head,” Dave hissed softly as Viggo lightly bit him.

“But not your favorite things, I hope.”

“No, those I quite remember. Why don’t you let me demonstrate?”

“It won’t involve dancing around a room or hanging from trees will it?”

“No hanging from anything, I promise. And no matching outfits made from the drapery! But I wont’ make any promises about the running around the room part.”

“In that case…”

Dave squirmed away from Viggo and pulled his shirt over his head and then shimmied out of his own jeans. “It’s much better if I show you,” he said as Viggo began whistling ‘These are a Few of My Favorite Things’.