Ficlet: Entrechat Cinquante: chain
Apr. 8th, 2009 04:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
splixTitle: Entrechat Cinquante
Pairing: VigBean
Rating: G to NC-17
Author: Alex
Warning: AU
Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
seans_50 challenge.
Beta: the most excellent![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kimberlite.
Disclaimer: Utterly untrue.
Prompt: chain.
July 1992
*
They were doing well. There was no reason to stay in the loft any longer – the place had lost its charm and a great deal of functionality a few years ago. Jacob Schilling might have been a brilliant painter, but he was a terrible landlord; the plumbing leaked incessantly, dry rot had set into some of the flooring, the industrial fan had died, and no matter how many traps they put out, cockroaches managed to evade them. In addition to the interior difficulties, the recent arrival of a nightclub halfway down the block forced Sean and Viggo to step carefully out the door every morning for fear of slipping in a puddle of alcoholic sick.
After long discussion and debate, they decided to buy a place, a three-bedroom co-op on the top floor of a brownstone in the West Eighties. The living room had a view of Riverside Park, the bathroom was cavernous, and there was a little patch of rooftop garden accessed by means of a narrow brick stairway. Sean felt like a bit of a fraud at the co-op board meeting, sitting with Viggo, both of them in sober suits like proper adults, nodding solemnly over financing and tax-deductible maintenance fees and subletting. They were lucky, though; two of the board members were balletomanes, and utterly thrilled to have Sean and Viggo joining their happy family. A month later, the apartment was theirs.
*
Viggo groaned and fell onto their new low-slung leather sofa. They’d had to bid a sad farewell to the green monster, but they agreed that the co-op board would probably kick them out onto the street if they saw the thing. “Screw it,” he announced. “I don’t feel like unpacking. Let’s just live out of boxes for the rest of our lives.”
Sean shook his head and carefully slit packing tape with a box cutter. “Don’t be such a lazy git. I wish you’d labeled the boxes you packed – I don’t know what the hell any of this crap is.”
“What does it matter? It’s all on one level.”
“We could put the boxes in the right rooms instead of carting them everywhere. Okay, this is kitchen stuff.” He got up and carried the box into the kitchen. When he returned to the living room,Viggo was still supine. He bit back an irritated sigh. “Really, Vig, I could use some help.”
“Okay, okay....” Viggo heaved himself up and attacked a box. “Books.”
“I’ve already started a pile over there – by the shelves.”
“So organized.” Viggo’s voice was lightly mocking, but his smile was fond. “Hand me the box cutter, willya?”
Sean lifted a framed photo of himself and Viggo from a nest of tissue. “I hate this picture. I look so fucking weedy. Even more so next to you. You look fantastic. Bastard.”
“You’re not allowed to throw it out, so don’t even think about it. Put it on the mantel.”
Grumbling, Sean set the photo on the little brown marble mantel and stood back to examine it. The photo had been taken in the winter of 1980. They were in their Swan Lake costumes and makeup, sharing a cigarette in the wings. They stood close together, neither of them smiling, but an obvious complicity shone through the moody black-and-white picture. Sean didn’t know who’d taken the photo, or how Viggo had acquired it. “Twelve years,” he said softly.
“Huh?”
Sean tapped the photo with a finger. “Twelve years.”
Viggo’s expression softened, and he smiled. “Hard to believe.” His smile – his real smile, unguarded and full of affection – was reserved for Sean alone. He held out a hand, and as Sean took it, pulled him in for a quick kiss.
A stirring of arousal tickled at Sean, but he pushed it down, slitting open another box. Too long looking at Viggo’s lean body in wash-faded, hole-ridden jeans and the torn green t-shirt he wore would definitely distract them from their purpose. He folded back the box lids and laughed. “Oh, God.”
“What’s up?”
“Good job no one else is helping us unpack.” Sean lifted out a pair of handmade manacles, a leftover prop from a long-defunct and very unpopular production of Prisoner of the Caucasus. “Did you steal these?”
“They were going to throw them away. I like the way they look.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me about them?” Sean sat back on his heels to examine the manacles. They were some light, pale metal, like aluminum, and the cuffs were wide and dented from use. A foot-long chain connected them together. “Kinky bastard.”
“Want to try them out?”
Sean raised a brow. “Who gets to wear them?”
“Since you found them....” Viggo pushed a box out of the way and moved down the sofa. He took one cuff, opened it, and slipped it onto Sean’s wrist. It closed with a click. “Look at that. Perfect fit.”
“That’s convenient.” Sean held up his free wrist enticingly.
“No. I’ve got a better idea.” Viggo urged Sean up, holding the empty manacle. He led Sean through the narrow hallway into the kitchen and opened the back door. “Come on.”
Sean hesitated. “Someone might see us, Vig....”
“Not where we’re going.” Inexorably, Viggo pulled Sean along, propelling him up the little brick stairway. “Careful.” He guided Sean to the laundry pole, a T-shaped steel frame about six feet high. “Raise your arms.”
The night was sultry. Sean saw a cloud of insects dancing around the light on the building opposite. “You sure?”
“It’s almost two in the morning. No one’s looking. Even if they are, you’re not going to move all that much.” He grinned and took Sean’s free hand, then leaned forward to capture Sean’s lower lip gently between his teeth. “Or make a lot of noise. Unless you want me to keep you quiet. There’s plenty of duct tape in the kitchen.”
Sean’s snort of laughter turned into a groan as he felt Viggo’s hard cock pressing into his thigh. “No. I’ll be quiet. Promise.”
“You’d better.” Viggo lifted Sean’s arms and draped the length of the chain over the crosspiece, then snapped Sean’s free wrist into the empty cuff. “Shit. Wait a second, I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the darkness, leaving Sean alone.
Several agonizing minutes ticked by as Sean stood silently in the dark. He was losing his erection. Surely this hadn’t been a joke? Viggo had a peculiar sense of humor at times. Worried, he shifted, trying to see over the wall that concealed the stairway. “Vig?” he called softly. “Vig?”
“Hang on,” a breathless voice replied, and Viggo reappeared, holding a jar of lube. “You were right. I should have labeled the boxes. Took forever to find this.”
“Told you.”
“Don’t be so smug.” Viggo moved closer and unzipped Sean’s jeans, then let them slide to the ground. Sean’s underwear followed. Viggo’s fingertips traced a delicate path around his navel, and he unbuttoned Sean’s soft old cotton shirt to expose his chest. He spread the fabric widely apart, and dipped his head to suckle at Sean’s nipple.
Sean struggled to suppress a groan. His erection was back, harder than ever, and he arched forward. Viggo’s touch was too light, too faintly caressing. He needed to be touched, but roughly, hard. “Vig, please –" he whispered.
“Shh.” Viggo’s lips and tongue hummed against Sean’s nipple, provoking a strangled whimper and a sudden thrust of the hips. Viggo moved back, smiling, teasing. “Nice to be helpless, isn’t it?”
“If I’d known you were going to torture me, I would have chained you up.”
“Next time.” Viggo dropped to his knees, sliding his hands up to cup Sean’s arse, and took the tip of Sean’s cock into his mouth. He flicked his tongue against it, tiny licking, tantalizing motions.
Sean strained against the manacles, biting his lip to contain his whimpers, abandoned to the warm, wet sensation at his cock. All at once Viggo moved forward, taking more and more into his mouth until Sean’s limbs trembled and his bound hands clenched into fists. “Oh, fuck, fuck -”
“If you say so.” Viggo’s voice was lazily amused, but rough with need. He stood, peeled off his t-shirt, and then turned Sean around to face the pole. There was just enough slack on the chain for small movement, but turning made the chain twist, and Sean was pinned helplessly, unable to move at all.
Now Sean saw only the pole and a slice of the park over the wall. He gasped aloud as he felt Viggo’s slick fingers invading him. He couldn’t move backward or forward without pain, and when Viggo pushed in further, he almost jumped out of his skin. “I’m going to come –"
“Not yet.”
Viggo held his hips still and pushed inside. Sean cried out, thrashing as much as the bonds allowed as one hand left his hip and tightly imprisoned his cock. Viggo ground into his arse, deep, racking thrusts that pushed Sean’s labored body into a shuddering orgasm. Blinding sensation washed over him as Viggo finished, sweating and gasping to his own climax.
Gentle hands released Sean from the cuffs and lowered him to the ground. He let his head rest against Viggo’s chest. He smelled of dust and sweat and clean male animal. “Fucking hell.”
Viggo laughed shakily. “Next time you can chain me up.”
“Okay.” Sean nuzzled Viggo’s neck, still getting his breath back.
“I guess we should get back to unpacking.”
“Screw it,” Sean said. “Let’s just live out of boxes.” He dangled the manacles from one finger. “We’ve got everything we need.”
*
picture bygovi20
My table is here
Pairing: VigBean
Rating: G to NC-17
Author: Alex
Warning: AU
Written for the
seans_50 challenge.Beta: the most excellent
kimberlite.Disclaimer: Utterly untrue.
Prompt: chain.
July 1992
*
They were doing well. There was no reason to stay in the loft any longer – the place had lost its charm and a great deal of functionality a few years ago. Jacob Schilling might have been a brilliant painter, but he was a terrible landlord; the plumbing leaked incessantly, dry rot had set into some of the flooring, the industrial fan had died, and no matter how many traps they put out, cockroaches managed to evade them. In addition to the interior difficulties, the recent arrival of a nightclub halfway down the block forced Sean and Viggo to step carefully out the door every morning for fear of slipping in a puddle of alcoholic sick.
After long discussion and debate, they decided to buy a place, a three-bedroom co-op on the top floor of a brownstone in the West Eighties. The living room had a view of Riverside Park, the bathroom was cavernous, and there was a little patch of rooftop garden accessed by means of a narrow brick stairway. Sean felt like a bit of a fraud at the co-op board meeting, sitting with Viggo, both of them in sober suits like proper adults, nodding solemnly over financing and tax-deductible maintenance fees and subletting. They were lucky, though; two of the board members were balletomanes, and utterly thrilled to have Sean and Viggo joining their happy family. A month later, the apartment was theirs.
*
Viggo groaned and fell onto their new low-slung leather sofa. They’d had to bid a sad farewell to the green monster, but they agreed that the co-op board would probably kick them out onto the street if they saw the thing. “Screw it,” he announced. “I don’t feel like unpacking. Let’s just live out of boxes for the rest of our lives.”
Sean shook his head and carefully slit packing tape with a box cutter. “Don’t be such a lazy git. I wish you’d labeled the boxes you packed – I don’t know what the hell any of this crap is.”
“What does it matter? It’s all on one level.”
“We could put the boxes in the right rooms instead of carting them everywhere. Okay, this is kitchen stuff.” He got up and carried the box into the kitchen. When he returned to the living room,Viggo was still supine. He bit back an irritated sigh. “Really, Vig, I could use some help.”
“Okay, okay....” Viggo heaved himself up and attacked a box. “Books.”
“I’ve already started a pile over there – by the shelves.”
“So organized.” Viggo’s voice was lightly mocking, but his smile was fond. “Hand me the box cutter, willya?”
Sean lifted a framed photo of himself and Viggo from a nest of tissue. “I hate this picture. I look so fucking weedy. Even more so next to you. You look fantastic. Bastard.”
“You’re not allowed to throw it out, so don’t even think about it. Put it on the mantel.”
Grumbling, Sean set the photo on the little brown marble mantel and stood back to examine it. The photo had been taken in the winter of 1980. They were in their Swan Lake costumes and makeup, sharing a cigarette in the wings. They stood close together, neither of them smiling, but an obvious complicity shone through the moody black-and-white picture. Sean didn’t know who’d taken the photo, or how Viggo had acquired it. “Twelve years,” he said softly.
“Huh?”
Sean tapped the photo with a finger. “Twelve years.”
Viggo’s expression softened, and he smiled. “Hard to believe.” His smile – his real smile, unguarded and full of affection – was reserved for Sean alone. He held out a hand, and as Sean took it, pulled him in for a quick kiss.
A stirring of arousal tickled at Sean, but he pushed it down, slitting open another box. Too long looking at Viggo’s lean body in wash-faded, hole-ridden jeans and the torn green t-shirt he wore would definitely distract them from their purpose. He folded back the box lids and laughed. “Oh, God.”
“What’s up?”
“Good job no one else is helping us unpack.” Sean lifted out a pair of handmade manacles, a leftover prop from a long-defunct and very unpopular production of Prisoner of the Caucasus. “Did you steal these?”
“They were going to throw them away. I like the way they look.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me about them?” Sean sat back on his heels to examine the manacles. They were some light, pale metal, like aluminum, and the cuffs were wide and dented from use. A foot-long chain connected them together. “Kinky bastard.”
“Want to try them out?”
Sean raised a brow. “Who gets to wear them?”
“Since you found them....” Viggo pushed a box out of the way and moved down the sofa. He took one cuff, opened it, and slipped it onto Sean’s wrist. It closed with a click. “Look at that. Perfect fit.”
“That’s convenient.” Sean held up his free wrist enticingly.
“No. I’ve got a better idea.” Viggo urged Sean up, holding the empty manacle. He led Sean through the narrow hallway into the kitchen and opened the back door. “Come on.”
Sean hesitated. “Someone might see us, Vig....”
“Not where we’re going.” Inexorably, Viggo pulled Sean along, propelling him up the little brick stairway. “Careful.” He guided Sean to the laundry pole, a T-shaped steel frame about six feet high. “Raise your arms.”
The night was sultry. Sean saw a cloud of insects dancing around the light on the building opposite. “You sure?”
“It’s almost two in the morning. No one’s looking. Even if they are, you’re not going to move all that much.” He grinned and took Sean’s free hand, then leaned forward to capture Sean’s lower lip gently between his teeth. “Or make a lot of noise. Unless you want me to keep you quiet. There’s plenty of duct tape in the kitchen.”
Sean’s snort of laughter turned into a groan as he felt Viggo’s hard cock pressing into his thigh. “No. I’ll be quiet. Promise.”
“You’d better.” Viggo lifted Sean’s arms and draped the length of the chain over the crosspiece, then snapped Sean’s free wrist into the empty cuff. “Shit. Wait a second, I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the darkness, leaving Sean alone.
Several agonizing minutes ticked by as Sean stood silently in the dark. He was losing his erection. Surely this hadn’t been a joke? Viggo had a peculiar sense of humor at times. Worried, he shifted, trying to see over the wall that concealed the stairway. “Vig?” he called softly. “Vig?”
“Hang on,” a breathless voice replied, and Viggo reappeared, holding a jar of lube. “You were right. I should have labeled the boxes. Took forever to find this.”
“Told you.”
“Don’t be so smug.” Viggo moved closer and unzipped Sean’s jeans, then let them slide to the ground. Sean’s underwear followed. Viggo’s fingertips traced a delicate path around his navel, and he unbuttoned Sean’s soft old cotton shirt to expose his chest. He spread the fabric widely apart, and dipped his head to suckle at Sean’s nipple.
Sean struggled to suppress a groan. His erection was back, harder than ever, and he arched forward. Viggo’s touch was too light, too faintly caressing. He needed to be touched, but roughly, hard. “Vig, please –" he whispered.
“Shh.” Viggo’s lips and tongue hummed against Sean’s nipple, provoking a strangled whimper and a sudden thrust of the hips. Viggo moved back, smiling, teasing. “Nice to be helpless, isn’t it?”
“If I’d known you were going to torture me, I would have chained you up.”
“Next time.” Viggo dropped to his knees, sliding his hands up to cup Sean’s arse, and took the tip of Sean’s cock into his mouth. He flicked his tongue against it, tiny licking, tantalizing motions.
Sean strained against the manacles, biting his lip to contain his whimpers, abandoned to the warm, wet sensation at his cock. All at once Viggo moved forward, taking more and more into his mouth until Sean’s limbs trembled and his bound hands clenched into fists. “Oh, fuck, fuck -”
“If you say so.” Viggo’s voice was lazily amused, but rough with need. He stood, peeled off his t-shirt, and then turned Sean around to face the pole. There was just enough slack on the chain for small movement, but turning made the chain twist, and Sean was pinned helplessly, unable to move at all.
Now Sean saw only the pole and a slice of the park over the wall. He gasped aloud as he felt Viggo’s slick fingers invading him. He couldn’t move backward or forward without pain, and when Viggo pushed in further, he almost jumped out of his skin. “I’m going to come –"
“Not yet.”
Viggo held his hips still and pushed inside. Sean cried out, thrashing as much as the bonds allowed as one hand left his hip and tightly imprisoned his cock. Viggo ground into his arse, deep, racking thrusts that pushed Sean’s labored body into a shuddering orgasm. Blinding sensation washed over him as Viggo finished, sweating and gasping to his own climax.
Gentle hands released Sean from the cuffs and lowered him to the ground. He let his head rest against Viggo’s chest. He smelled of dust and sweat and clean male animal. “Fucking hell.”
Viggo laughed shakily. “Next time you can chain me up.”
“Okay.” Sean nuzzled Viggo’s neck, still getting his breath back.
“I guess we should get back to unpacking.”
“Screw it,” Sean said. “Let’s just live out of boxes.” He dangled the manacles from one finger. “We’ve got everything we need.”
*
picture by
govi20My table is here
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-04-08 11:24 pm (UTC)Anyway - what an introduction! Want a list of my kinks? This story.
That it's perfectly described and written is just a huge bonus :-)
no subject
Date: 2009-04-09 03:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-09 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-09 03:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-11 07:02 pm (UTC)I cherished every line, every word you wrote and I enjoyed every single moment!
Your beautiful gift , Alex, will always be with me.
Thank you, sweetheart !
no subject
Date: 2009-04-12 01:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-12 08:36 am (UTC)Not only was this a very sexy, erotic, frankly rather scorchingly hot part, but I loved the fondness and gentleness that was so obvious from the moment they began to unpack. I loved the picture, and their reflections of/over it, and hey, if their fun in the garden proves anything, it's that in 12 years, they haven't aged a day. *G* Really quite wonderful.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-13 03:34 am (UTC)Doesn't he? He's such a smarty. :D
Yay on them being fond and gentle together. I am really in love with the idea of the long-term relationship, and I'm so glad the affection and ease comes through clearly. Thank you!!
no subject
Date: 2009-04-17 03:45 am (UTC)seriously; i could almost feel viggo's tongue *is dead*
no subject
Date: 2009-04-17 05:00 am (UTC)And thanks for friending me! I've added you as well. :)