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Viggo chases intensity like a dog chasing a car; Ed can see that much. He can also see the other half of the cliché, the question of what he'd do if he ever found it.

It's not like Ed to back away from something, so he invites Viggo up to his room for a drink and conversation.

"And?" Viggo asks, as if surely Ed must be offering more than that.

Ed tilts his head slightly, nods. "And."

Viggo's the pushiest man Ed's run into in a while, pushy in a way that stops a few steps shy of actually moving them toward the bed. Viggo's eyes track from Ed's face to his belt to his boots and over to the bed, but Ed's eyes stay steady on Viggo's eyes, not even lowering to his mouth, to the way he forms his words.

It's enough to break Viggo without even needing to touch him. He lasts a little over three hours, and then he snaps.

"What's going on here, Ed? Do you just want to spend the night turning me down?"

Ed leans back in his chair, looks Viggo over slow and careful. Viggo goes still, and his shoulders relax.

"I don't remember turning you down," Ed says.

"All right," Viggo murmurs. "So how do you want to do this?"

"Not like that."

Viggo frowns a little, and Ed lifts himself out of his chair and walks over to Viggo, leaning down, sliding a hand around to the back of his neck. Viggo shudders and exhales, warm and soft and solid.

"Make no mistake," Ed says, and he knows it's a cliché, but sometimes things have to be said a certain way for them to stick. "I want what you're offering. But you know it doesn't work like that. You want this, we play it my way. I lead. You follow."

He rubs his thumb over Viggo's lips, and Viggo opens his mouth. Ed leans in and kisses him.

"Good boy," Ed says softly. "C'mon, now. Bed's over here."