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"Sean, this is our new Aragorn." Orlando was doing the impromptu introduction as PJ had been pulled away by someone from across the catering tent. "Viggo Mortesen," he motioned one to the other, "Sean Bean. Our Boromir."

"Hello." Viggo's voice was soft, nearly inaudible, but it didn't bother Sean. His hearing was exceptional, even subtle nuances could be detected. "You're my steward."

"Aragorn's steward," Sean gently corrected before he caught himself. Don't be angry with him. Stuart wanted to leave. "Boromir, son of Denethor," he said, lightening his voice, being much more gracious as he made a low bow. "At your service, my liege."

"Hey, you didn't me offer that kind of homage," Orlando protested.

Sean knew the pout was real. He'd seen it enough in the past few months. And I'd like to slap it off your face. "You're an elf, Orlando." He took care with the boy's given name, not shortening to the cast-popular Orli. "Boromir's not sure he even likes the elves, much less wants to swear them fealty." And I have no desire to go on my knees to you. Sean kept his smile to hide to exasperation he'd grown to have with Orlando's constant attention.

"Sure," Orlando said casually as he bounced off to talk with Dom and Billy.

"You've thought about it?" Viggo asked. He sounded impressed, Sean thought. "About their relationships."

"Not really." Not about Tolkien. Sean's reasoning was based on centuries of dealing with warriors and kings. "It's just logical. It's a feudal society and Boromir's allegiance is to his city and his people first. He would be wary of what the elves bring to the table." He paused. "Just as he is wary of Aragorn at first."

"And our elf is rather eager to please." Viggo's smile told Sean they shared the obvious secret about Orlando.

Sean laughed. "Haven't been around a week, Mortensen, and you've figured that out. I think I'm going to like you." Won't know for sure till I taste you.

 

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(later that night at Sean's house)
"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not." Dominic walked out of the kitchen with two beers. "And it wasn't my idea."

Sean took one of the beers and settled back against the couch cushions, propping his feet on the coffee table. "I'm supposed to believe you didn't have a hand in it." He tapped the remote, starting the tape.

"You do guys?" Viggo asked as Sean sat down.

"Sometimes."

"I just. Well, it's that ... Orlando said ... so I assumed ..."

"Orlando has trouble with the word no."

"So, you're not with anyone."

"Well, technically, I'm married."

 

*************************************************

(then at the Halloween party)

"Uh, it's been awhile since I've been in church, but I don't recall the priests carrying whips."

"You were simply going to the wrong churches, Viggo."

"Well that explains it. And all those years spent on my knees in the wrong places."

"Exactly. All that time wasted when you should have been my sex slave."

Viggo nearly chokes on the beer he's drinking.

As well he should. "You'd look good there, curled up by my feet on a Persian rug I liberated during some war once, a very long time ago. You'd be naked and you'd be so domesticated that I won't even need to chain you. You'd make a very pretty slave."

"Sex slave?" Words coughed out. Viggo clears his throat. "Naked, too. Not in a dank castle, I hope."

"Oh, yes. Very dank, I'm afraid. But, don't worry, I have servants who do thinks like chop wood and clean out the chimney. You won't have to dirty yourself."

"Rather impressive for a man of the cloth. Raiding the coffers, are we?"

"And making them pay for absolution, among other things."

"So, if I want to confess and get absolution, it'll cost me?"

"Of course. That's how the best religions work."

"Which is exactly why I got out of them and into my own." Viggo takes another swig of beer.

"You get what you pay for." Sean shrugs. "So what's your own?"

"An amalgamation of mythologies and theologies I'm sure you don't want to hear about at a party."

Sean shifts in the chair. "Try me."

"You're a strange man. Dressed like a 15th-century monk. Goes on about making me a sex slave. And now you want to talk theology. Is it just confuse the new guy night?"

"Do you want it to be? No, really, Viggo, I'm curious. And, I've found, that more people discover religion through sex than through any of the mass coerced conversions of times past."

"Orgasm conversions. That's a thought. We do a lot for sex that we wouldn't do for any other reason. Or for love passing itself off as sex."

"Exactly. This is why I like you, Vig. We're on the same wavelength. So," Sean looked up him and down suggestively. "Want to find religion?"

"I'd rather be losing it, along with the inhibitions I think just went out the door."

Sean places a hand on Viggo's knee and squeezes gently. "Your place or mine?"

"I've barely unpacked. How's your place? Closer?"

"About equidistant. But I'm unpacked. And I have very nice sheets. Would you like to test-drive them?

Viggo's up before Sean can finish his question. "Yeah. Let's go."

Sean leads Viggo to the door, waving off Dom's mischeivous look. "You have a coat?"

"Yeah. Somewhere. But I can get it tomorrow."

"Alright," Sean agrees. He's careful not to initiate anything on the walk home, but he certainly doesn't protest as Viggo slips his arm around his waist.

 

Sean pushes the door shut. "Want a beer? Something stronger?" He heads for the kitchen, unbuttoning the robe as he walks. "Damn this thing is hot. How the hell'd we ever wear 'em?" he mutters as he moves away from Viggo.

Viggo blinks as he hears Sean mutter something to himself that doesn't quite make sense, but they're both this side of drunk, so he figures it doesn't much matter. "I'll take whiskey."

"Whiskey. Neat or you need it chased?"

"Naw, just straight."

Sean returns a few minutes later with a whiskey in one hand, beer bottle in the other. His monk's robe is completely unbuttoned, revealing crew-neck t-shirt and cutoff jean shorts underneath. He hands Viggo the whiskey glass. "Wanna sit down? Living room?"

"Living room's nice." Viggo takes the cup - big enough to be a goblet, he notes in some passive part of his brain - and sprawls out on the couch. He props his knees up on the coffee table. "So, where'd you get the costume?"

"Family heirloom. Passed down through a couple generations. I ended up with it." Sean answers quickly, almost soundly like he'd memorized the response. He discards the robe over the back of a chair and settles in on the unused portion of the couch, inches separating them now.

"Oh." Answer's too pat, but Viggo doesn't care. He takes a swallow of the whiskey, feels it warming him nicely. He squirms a little, landing himself closer to Sean.

Sean chugs his beer, downing half the bottle in a long swig. He pulls it away, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Comfortable?" he asks with a smile as Viggo's body brushes his.

Viggo makes a contented noise in the back of his throat and lays his head on Sean's shoulder. "You're comfortable."

"Be careful, Vig. Too comfortable and you'll fall asleep." Sean's voice was dropping, a low singsong monotone. "Would'ate for you to not be awake if I took 'vantage of you." His arm slid out from between their bodies and up around Viggo's head over the couch back.

"Me, too," Viggo answers, not exactly sure what he's agreeing to, only knowing that Sean's not minding him getting close. He leans in, hoping for a kiss, not sure if it's an invitation.

"Is that what you want, Viggo?" Sean turns slightly, increasing the contact between them, his bare skin rubbing against Viggo's clothed knee. "To be taken 'vantange of?" He moves his hand up off his own thigh and over to Viggo's, leans his whole body into. "Kissed till you can't breathe?"

Viggo doesn't answer in words. He licks the last droplet of the whiskey off his lips and then leans in to kiss Sean.

Sean responds, sliding his hand off the couch back and down to Viggo's neck, holding him steady, not giving him any course of retreat, as he moves into the kiss. When their mouths meet, it's hesitant. For only an instant.

Viggo relaxes into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Sean, moving them even closer together. His tongue explores Sean's mouth, the sharp bite of his teeth, the curve of the roof of his mouth, the taste of them on each other.

Hands move, pressing up on neck, wrapping around waist, until Sean pulls Viggo over and onto his lap, never breaking the kiss until Viggo's nearly gasping for air.

Viggo breaks the kiss to find himself on top of Sean. He's not complaining. Instead, his tongue juts out and licks Sean's lips for him. "You're amazing," he whispers.

"Want me to show you just how amazing?" Sean's smiling, the grin mischievous and secretive.

"Is it anything like that kiss?"

"Infinitely better. Unlike any kiss you've ever had."

"Then, yeah. What're you waiting for?"

"You want to go at this in a real bed or here?"

"Bed sounds nice."

"Then you'll have to pry yourself off me and move that way. Much as I hate the thought of you moving."

Viggo groans, but stands up.

Sean points toward the back of the house. "Bedroom's that way." He stands up. "You can strip now. Or later." Sean smiles. "Or on the way, if you're so inclined. Just want you naked soon."

Well, as long as he's up...Viggo shucks off his clothing as he walks, throwing it this way and that. He'll deal with it tomorrow. Right now he wants skin to skin with Sean.

"Nice form, Mortensen. You do this a lot?" Sean's following, kicking clothes out of the way as necessary.

"Not in the past coupla years, no. You?"

"Is that the subtle way of asking if I'm safe?" Sean skims his t-shirt off and tosses it in the hall bathroom as he passes it.

Viggo blinks. "No, but now that you mention it...I don't have any condoms. Do you?"

"We don't," Sean starts, biting back the instinct to tell Viggo they don't need them, but has a feeling Viggo would back out on doing it without. He races through his brain, trying to remember if there are any in the house. Stuart. Elijah. There have to be. Think, Sean. Where'd Stuart like to hide 'em. "Sure. Basket under the bed."

Viggo gives Sean a look that begs an explanation, but he gets on his knees and pulls a handfull out from under the bed.

Don't ask. "You look even better outta clothes. Don't think we could convince PJ to alter the script, add a bit'o'flesh?" Sean's slipping out of his shorts, no underwear, tossing them aside.

"Don't think so. Maybe a bathing scene, Phillippa might be into that." Viggo stares at Sean, taking in the sight of him.

Sean crosses the room quickly, almost in a blur, and pushes Viggo back onto the bed. "We'll talk to her." Right now I want to fuck you. And taste you. His hands are pillaging the body beneath him. "Later."

Viggo didn't see Sean move, so he's thrown for a minute fiding himself against the bedspread. He makes a mental note that he knows he'll forget to ask Sean about it later.

"Right now, I want you." Sean's mouth was on Viggo's throat, instinctively feeling out the pulse point, running his tongue over it. "Want to taste you." He licked along the path one of carotid arteries made from jawline down the neck, sucking lightly on the sweaty flesh. He knew what the sensation did to a vampire, how it set nerve endings on fire. Hadn't tried it on many humans.

Viggo shivers as he feels Sean's tongue on his neck and he wraps his arms around Sean, bucking hips urging him lower.

Sean pressed himself against Viggo's body as he eased lips and tongue over collarbone and onto chest. "Got a preference, Vig? Give or take?" Not that you get a choice, but it's always polite to ask your victim how he chooses to die. Sean slammed down on the thought as quickly as it came into his brain. Different time, Bean. You're in the 20th century. As he waited on whatever answer might come from the man he had trapped, Sean bit down on the nipple just coming into reach. Soft bite, excruciatingly slow.

Viggo gasps, starts to beg. "Take, Sean. Damn you, fuck me! Been wanting you since forever."

"Forever's a very long time, Vig." Longer than you can imagine. Sean sits up and takes one of the condom packets Viggo's clutching out of his hand. "And you've only known me a few weeks." He's hard, aching, as he prepares himself. "Or is fate part of your religion? Destined to meet me?" Would that it'd been centuries ago. I'd've had you on a stone floor while my brothers watched.

"Fate's a good excuse." Viggo says, doesn't know how long he'll still be able to speak. "But destiny...that's something different."

"I'm more a believer in man determining his own destiny." Sean's had centuries of practice at this, Marton demanding they finish an argument while he was fucking Stuart into next week. He pulled Viggo's legs around him, slid a slickened hand into Viggo's ass, two fingers, maybe three, as he wasn't counting. "What I am is a product of who I've been." Too fuckin' philosophical, Bean. He could hear Marton's voice taunting him. Just fuck the boy.

Viggo unconsciously echoes the voice of Sean's longtime lover. "Just fuck me!"

Hand out, cock in. It's a simple move. Sean pushed in with much more ease than he expected. Not a slut, but he's done this before. Might not be such a bad time with Stuart gone. I may just have a new playmate. "Like that?" Sean didn't hold back, thrusting into Viggo's body. "That what you wanted?"

Viggo moans, too drunk to think of holding back. "Yes."

"Good." Sean pounded into Viggo. "Hate to think I'd disappoint you." He was coming closer by the second, his mind tamping down on the bloodlust. Sex and blood don't always go together. He'd debated and argued the point on countless occasions over the centuries. No. They didn't. But he wanted to taste this human. Had an overwhelming urge to know exactly what he was like. And the only way of finding out was in the blood. So as he pulled out and thrust back in, his cock sinking deeper into Viggo, Sean plotted just how to get his first taste.

Viggo closed his eyes, concentrating intently on the sensation of Sean filling him, stretching himto his limits.

Opportunity arose. Sean dug his fingers into Viggo's hips, pushing him down as Sean shifted angles, thrust more deeply. He pressed his nails into the yielding flesh, intentionally pushing hard enough to draw blood, knowing Viggo would most likely dismiss it in all the other intense sensations he was being bombarded with. Blood flowed quickly under Sean's left hand, pooling just enough to dampen his fingertips. He pulled his cock back, almost completely out, before making a final hard push in. At the same instant, when he knew he'd knocked Viggo over the edge, he quickly brought his hand to his mouth and swiped away the blood. The rush sent him spiraling over the precipice, exploding inside Viggo's body.

Viggo's head fell back as Sean climaxed inside him, pushing him even further into the abyss. He's making so many noises that he can't tell where he stops and his voice begins. He hasn't felt this way in ages.

Sean was spent. He pulled out, discarded the annoying, useless latex barrier over the side of the bed and slid down to the mattress, half atop Viggo. He nonchalantly wiped away the final drops of blood he'd drawn from Viggo's hip as he slid his hand up along the body still coming down beneath him. "Promised you. Unlike anything."

Viggo's slow coming back to himsef, but when he does, he's grateful that Sean's still touching him.

"Need anything?" Sean was whispering now, soothing voice against Viggo's head. "Wanna sleep it off?"

"Hold me?"

"Of course, Viggo." Sean unconsciously slipped into the voice he'd used so often with Stuart. Not patronizing. Exactly. Nor condescending. Just agreeable. Sean wasn't much of a cuddler. although he wasn't one to rush right out of bed either. "You go to sleep." He slid his arms around Viggo's chest, stretched out his leg over Viggo's thigh. "I'll be here when you wake up."

He's exhausted and Sean is so warm around him that Viggo can't help but lull into a deep sleep.