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Is That What You Think

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Viggo hasn't been with anyone like Ed before. Ed is different every day, but it doesn't seem random or unpredictable; it's like he's responding to Viggo's needs as fast as they change on him.

One day he's quiet, neat, precise. He runs Viggo through a dozen different postures and trains him to respond to a snap of the fingers or a nod of his head.

The next day he's a drill sergeant, barking at Viggo at the top of his lungs, filling the room with his voice and his presence. Viggo scrambles to do what he's told, and Ed's harsh and physical with him, dragging him across the floor by his hair.

He can be full of laughter, his sense of humor infecting Viggo and making him grin. He can flirt, which almost catches Viggo off-guard when he realizes it's what's happening. He can roll Viggo onto his back and kiss the breath out of him, making love to him, hot and slow and downright romantic.

"Don't you ever want something for yourself?" Viggo asks, coming into the living room with a cup of tea and a book. Ed's got his glasses on; he's watching a documentary on Antarctica. He looks up at Viggo with his eyebrows raised.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Viggo puts his book down, puts his mug on top of it. "I mean, if I wanted something right now, what would you do?"

"Put you on your back, tie your wrists together with something soft, suck you off. Why? You want something right now?" Ed grins.

Viggo almost starts stripping off; damn, that really sounds good. But he shakes his head. "It sounds fantastic," he admits, "but that's what I'd want. What about what you want?"

"You don't think I've been getting what I want?"

Viggo makes a frustrated noise, tries to catch it between his teeth before it hits the air, but it's too late for that. Ed catches it and leans back against the couch, eyes solidly on Viggo's.

"I'd just like to know what you want. I can't tell." Viggo sighs. "You do a great job of making me happy, but what about what you want?"

"You don't think we'll get there?"

"So we're not there now?"

"Didn't say that."

This time Viggo doesn't even try to hold back the eyeroll and the irritated sound. He turns on his heel and heads back for the kitchen.

Ed's there with him, wrapping his arms around Viggo's waist and tucking his chin over Viggo's shoulder.

"Cut it out," Viggo snaps.

"You know what I like?" Ed asks, ignoring Viggo's stiffness and the way he's holding himself--the don't touch me attitude that Viggo's sending off in waves. "I like you dropping like a fucking rock. Like you've been waiting for years for somebody to notice that you need to go down so hard you can't get up again afterwards. And I like easing you back out of that."

Viggo tries to pull away, but Ed tightens his grip. "I like that you can't figure out whether you hate the way I read you or whether you love it. I like the way your shoulders look when you're on your knees with your hands behind your neck. I like that you know a dozen different ways to tie a knot and you'll lace your own cock and balls up if I tell you to. I like that you give sloppy blowjobs and outstanding handjobs, and that if I ever tell you to fuck me, you're not going to be gentle or hesitant about it." Viggo's relaxed some, and Ed slides a hand between his legs, cupping his cock and balls and then squeezing them. "And I like that doing all the dirty, nasty things I've been wanting to do to somebody for years makes you as hard as it makes me. Because it's not just for you. None of it."

That gets Viggo relaxed the rest of the way, and he sighs as he rocks his hips forward, rubs his cock against Ed's hand. "You promise?" Viggo murmurs.

"I promise," Ed murmurs back. "Come back to the front room with me."

Viggo goes, and he strips down while Ed gets a two-foot length of silk out of a drawer. Ed ties his wrists together and then crawls down Viggo's body, stroking all the way down his arms, down the sides of his body, moving down to his ankles and spreading his legs apart. Viggo groans as Ed gets him positioned just right--knees bent, legs spread wide--and stretches out between them, getting his fingertips behind Viggo's balls and stroking them gently.

"You really think this is just for you," Ed says. His voice is full of amusement, and it makes Viggo turn his head to the side, sighing.

"Seemed like it to me," Viggo admits.

"Honestly." Ed makes a tsk-ing sound, and Viggo would probably snap at him for that, too, but then Ed's sucking him down, and Viggo stops thinking. He groans, instead, thrusting into Ed's mouth until Ed reaches around and pins his hips to the floor. It's all Ed's pace, then, a fast, rough pace that makes Viggo pant and squirm and come close to begging, but there's nothing he can do to get any mercy or breathing room. When Ed's got him where he wants him, Viggo's just supposed to hold on and enjoy the ride.

And he does. He cranes his neck up to watch, barely able to keep his eyes open, but it's worth it to see Ed's mouth moving up and down on his cock that way. It's worth it to have all that focus, all that determination, brought to bear on him, like there's nothing else in the world worth acknowledging. And when the time's right and Ed's given enough, when Ed's lips and teeth and tongue say now, boy in the way his voice can't, Viggo comes, panting harsh and loud with his teeth together, breath coming in short gasps.

"You all right there?" Ed asks, afterwards, when he's gotten Viggo's hands untied.

"Yeah--mm," Viggo answers, cut off with a long, deep kiss that makes him taste himself all over Ed's tongue.

Ed backs off far enough to look into Viggo's eyes. Ed's grinning.

"All for you. You really think that."

Viggo shrugs. "Maybe not."

"We'll work on it." Ed delivers a loud, smacking kiss to Viggo's forehead and peels himself up off the floor, up off Viggo. "Promise you that, too."