Title: Sauna

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John staggered out of make-up at the end of a long day. His skin felt blistered and raw. For some reason, his allergy to the Gimli cosmetics had flared up again in a particularly brutal fashion. Perhaps because it had been so dry that day, or perhaps because shooting had gone on for an excessively long time. Whatever the reason, Peter had allowed him a day off to recuperate.

"Poor John," a voice said behind him. It was Sean Bean.

"Ah, yes," groaned John. "Well, I'm getting used to it. In a sort of ghastly way."

"I was going to ask you," said Sean. "I go to this sauna now and again, and perhaps you'd like to come along. It's very good for the skin, you know. Opens up the pores, really cleans everything out."

John considered for a moment. "Well, thank you," he said then. "I think I may take you up on that kind offer. A sauna might be quite the thing! And it certainly can't make things worse."

"No, it can't at that!" laughed Sean.

So they arranged to meet the next day, and Sean picked John up in his car and chauffeured him to the health and fitness centre.

There weren't all that many people there, and they managed to get a sauna booth to themselves. They entered with their towels slung around their waists, and then John had his first surprise when Sean simply threw his towel off, spread it on the wooden slats of the upper bench and lay down on it, belly up, naked as the day he was born.

'Well,' thought John.

He hummed and hahed for a while, went to pour water over the coals, slapped his arms, scratched his beard. He also couldn't help casting sideways glances at Sean, at his lean torso and the curve of his thighs. Finally, he settled himself down on the lower bench, leaning against the upper one, pulling one leg up, and careful to keep himself covered with the towel.

"No need to be embarrassed, you know," came Sean's voice. "It's good to take off everything. Makes you sweat better."

"Ah, yes," said John. "Well, I am rather modest by nature, and..."

"Whatever suits you, John," said Sean. Was he chuckling?

John suddenly felt ridiculous. Why should he care about such matters? Feeling reckless, he tugged off his towel, spread it out and then lowered himself onto it face down.

It did feel very pleasant lying there. The pouches under his eyes were beginning to ache slightly less. Hot air rushed up his nostrils into his head, he was breaking into a quite agreeable sweat, and the pungent smell of the coals made him feel drowsy.

"It's good, isn't it?" asked Sean.

"Yes, very relaxing," agreed John.

And suddenly froze as Sean's hand brushed against his back.

He lay perfectly still and waited, one minute, two minutes, then he turned his head very slowly. But it was nothing. Sean was still lying on the top bench, eyes closed, chest lifting and falling. He must have just dropped his arm over the edge of the bench and touched John by accident.

Which made it all the more absurd that John now had an erection.

He rolled his eyes and tried to think of something else. His penis was pressing into the tufty texture of the towel. John broke out in even more of a sweat than he was already in.

"We should go out now and have a swim," said Sean suddenly. John started.

"Yes, yes, quite right," he agreed.

Sean clambered over him, knotted his towel around his waist, put his hand on the doorknob and asked, "Coming?"

"Yes, yes, directly," mumbled John. He tried to roll off the bench without revealing his embarrassing condition, clutching the towel in front of him, but this task was almost impossible to achieve. He looked up and noticed that Sean was raising an eyebrow.

How absurdly awkward.

The icy water of the pool was a relief after those last minutes of torment in the sauna. His penis shrank, his sweat was rinsed off, the blood started circulating through his veins, and, as an unfortunate side effect, his eyes started to throb once more.

"Everything all right?" asked Sean, swimming up to him at the edge of the pool.

Sean's hair was wet and plastered to his head but one strand lay across his forehead and left eye. He held on to the edge of the pool, treading water, smiling at John.

"Oh, yes, yes," said John. "Well, it's my eyes. No sooner are we out of the sauna than they start aching again."

"We'd better get back in again quickly, in that case," said Sean. And then winked, actually winked. Now what was that all about? John suspected the reason and it drove the blood into his face.

In the sauna, Sean once again carelessly flung his towel onto the slats and lay down. Was John imagining this, or was Sean purposely arranging himself on that towel? He was drawing up his knees and hooking one leg over the other thigh in a most provocative fashion.

"You take the top bench this time, John," he drawled. "It's good up there. Even hotter than down here."

Hotter indeed.

John clambered up to the top, carefully avoiding coming into contact with Sean's feet or knees. He paused for a second. Towel off or towel on? If he left his towel on now, he would seem to be admitting to having something to hide. So, somehow, towel on had ceased to be a viable option.

John took his towel off, knelt while spreading it, hesitated, and then lowered himself down on his back this time. He smiled. This wasn't too bad. This was rather fun. And he was starting to feel quite devil-may-care.

Until he noticed out of the corner of his eyes that Sean was rubbing his hand up and down the inside of his right thigh, up and down, and then further up, just brushing his testicles.

John's erection was back.

This was becoming too ridiculous. It must be the unfamiliar heat, that and the sulphuric fumes emanating from the heap of coals. He was just not used to this type of environment.

He heaved himself round to his side, turning his back to Sean, trying to think neutral thoughts. He pictured his penis immersed in a bucket of snow, and when that didn't work, imagined himself covered in his dwarf make-up.

Still, his eyes felt fine in this steamy air. And in a funny way, it was reassuring to know that he was able to have these erections in quick succession and without apparent reason. It made him feel quite virile, almost youthfully so.

"You all right up there?" came Sean's voice.

"Yes, very well, thank you," John replied.

"No need to be shy, you know." Sean sounded amused.

"Yes, ha ha. I seem to be rather, ah... inconvenienced."

"Well." There was a brief pause. "Maybe I could help you out there."

And before John could think of an answer to that astonishing remark, Sean's hand was creeping up between his legs, just pushing its way in between his thighs, catching on the hairs as it went. John sucked in his breath. Then, almost involuntarily, he opened his legs slightly to allow better access. He felt Sean's hand move upwards and cup his balls, fingertips gently stroking the ridged underside of his scrotum.

John squeezed his eyes shut. Every fibre of his body was focused on Sean's hand.

Sean's arm was firmly wedged against John's buttocks, producing a pleasant warm sensation. Sean's fingers were scratching the hair at the root of his penis, his palm enclosing John's testes.

A shudder went through John.

"Would you rather I stop?" came Sean's sandpaper voice, his breath feathering along John's hip. "Is this uncomfortable?"

John shook his head so violently it banged against the wooden slats.

"Perfectly... comf...," he managed to get out before Sean closed his fist around John's erection.

"Good Lord," John gasped.

Those were the last coherent words he uttered because Sean's practised strokes along the full length of his penis were rendering speech impossible. And now he felt Sean's damp hair against his hip, and the scratch of Sean's beard, and then suddenly a very, very soft sensation that was completely unexpected. It took John a second or two to realise that the sensation came from Sean's tongue, drawing small circles onto his skin, so soft, so exquisitely soft and wet. And without knowing whether he had been pulled or whether he had willed it himself, John flopped onto his back. Sean readjusted his hold on him and then, most astoundingly of all, that soft tongue descended on his penis.

Wordless groans emerged from John's throat. Sean was pumping his erection and licking the tip of his penis, and now his mouth closed in just on the head, oh, soft mouth, soft tongue, scruffy beard against belly, unbelievable.

Without quite being aware of it, John brought his own hand over Sean's, steadying it, guiding Sean into his rhythm, and Sean understood straight away, sped up, slowed down at the barest touch, while sucking ever so gently just on John's glans.

And when John came, convulsively and explosively and in a shower of moans, Sean drank in his sperm and licked his penis clean.

There were bolts of lightning behind John's eyelids. He was breathing hard, like a steam engine.

After a while, he opened his eyes onto Sean's face. Incredibly, Sean looked quite unruffled. He had a wry smile on his lips and a tiny dab of semen at the corner of his mouth.

"Good heavens, man," cried John, still trying to get his breath back. "Is this what you always do in the sauna?"

"I'm actually impressed," said Sean. "That's some feat on your part, in this incredible heat. Anyone else might have had a heart attack. Come on, we'd better go and have another swim."

At least, John didn't have to hide an erection this time. He hopped off the benches with what was virtually a bounce, non-chalantly draping the towel around his waist.

On the way to the pool, Sean looked across at John, winked again and asked, "So, are you up for a pint after this?"

"Excellent idea," agreed John. "And you know what, my eyes feel better than they have in months."

"Well, " remarked Sean, breaking into a broad smile. "You know what they say about sex, don't you? It does wonders for the complexion."

The End.

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15 April 2002

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