Reflections in Blood

9. The Mornings Won’t Do

A/N: I haven't updated in a really long time, so I don't remember how I set thoughts apart. Thoughts and telepathy are inside **blah**.

The preparations and gloating on Rush Street continued on into the later morning.
Elsewhere, in a quiet hotel room, behind an emphatic “Do Not Disturb”, Sean Bean
blinked awake and tried to stretch himself. Unfortunately, he found his morning ritual
curtailed by a heavy weight tangled across his body. It took a moment for him to realize
he’d been sharing his bed. His fingers skittered across the figure’s hair, fine, long, silky
strands. Viggo was practically in the same position that he’d fallen asleep in, pinning him
down. Viggo. Sean looked up at the ceiling, disbelieving. It had happened, all of it.

Sean tucked a long swath of hair behind Viggo’s ear, tracing the outer edge of that ear
with a fingernail. The artist only murmured, wriggling a little. Sean was perplexed;
Viggo had always told him himself that he was a light sleeper.

Apparently, last night had taken almost as much physically out of Viggo as it had from
him. It had definitely beaten the hell out of them both emotionally and mentally. He
vaguely remembered, now, the both of them burrowing beneath the covers last night, and
Viggo had retwined himself around him. They had been comfortable, but wrecked, and
now, he was wide awake. Sean was reminded, with a slight bitterness, that he was no
longer strictly human. Fast healing, he thought as he slipped from beneath Viggo slowly.

Still, that might not be so horrible. He felt fantastic, at least on a bodily level, refreshed,
rested, energized. He had to share this feeling with his new lover. Sean was sure Viggo
wouldn't mind being woken if he had something worthwhile to be roused by.

"Vig," Sean whispered, crossing to the side of the bed that Viggo was turned towards. He
rubbed the tip of his nose against the other man's, feeling the soft warmth of Viggo's
breath. Viggo flinched but didn't open his eyes.

Chewing his lip, Sean stroked Viggo's hair again, then shook him a bit by the shoulder.
What little of Viggo's body he could see was enticing and he was getting anxious. The
werewolf gifted his mate with a light kiss, which had Viggo's tongue peeking out to taste
him. Still, he stirred little more.

Sean toyed with the idea of simply jumping on Viggo, but something wolfish gave him a
better idea, he just hoped he could recover from it quickly. Crouching on the floor, Sean
searched his mind for the wolf-spirit again. It found him instead, reluctantly responding
to his presence. **Do you want to go out again?** he tried not to use the slightly
condescending tone that people used with their dogs. Reluctantly, it came toward him.
**Thank you.** This thought brought the wolf much closer, and it licked Sean's face in his
mind's eye. Then, the wolf merged into his mental image, bringing with it an unexpected
bliss.

The change was far less painful this time, as Sean tried not only to relax, but to push
himself into it. He attempted to think of the melting, the burning in his bones as simply
stretching long-unused muscles, tried to feel his way through the experience, to feel his
body structure change rather than fighting it for the pain. It worked far better than he
expected.

He was still panting with the exertion on the floor when he reached his wolf form, but
he'd managed not to scream. Sean sat a moment resting, pulling in Viggo's scent to center
himself and to let the healing take place. It was small wonder werewolves healed so fast,
Sean thought, since their bodies had to adjust to so much abuse. He did wonder where
his limits were, though, but there was time for that later.

It was too bad Viggo's arms were firmly entrenched under the covers. Sean would have
hazarded a sloppy lick across his fingers. Loping around to the other side of the bed,
Sean poked his head beneath the comforter and sheets and rooted through them. Finding
the perfect spot where Viggo's tattoo arched, he pressed his cold, wet nose up against the
sleeping man's lower back and exhaled.

Viggo's response was instantaneous. "Gah!" He screamed in surprise and tossed over to
the other side of Sean, landing on the floor in a flurry of limbs and bedclothes. There he
sat, one foot out in front of him, wrapped sloppily in the comforter, giving the chuckling
wolf the hairy eyeball.

**Awake now?**

"Very," Viggo managed to grind out. "I thought wolves were nocturnal."

Sean glanced up at the clock by the bedside. **Viggo, it's almost noon.**

"Well, shit," Viggo, muttered getting back on the bed. "I think we're entitled."

He arched up, propped on his elbows, reminding Sean disturbingly of his dream last
night. Sean watched the fascinating tableau as Viggo stretched himself thoroughly,
almost too thoroughly. He smelled the salt, the slight glimmer of sweat as it lightly made
its presence known on Viggo's skin. Sean noticed he was paler than in the dream, but it
didn't matter much to him. Instead, he saw small, lovely things again, details that drew
him in, the lithe turn of Viggo's arms as he moved them above his head, watched Viggo
wiggle his toes as if he had only discovered them for the first time. And people told Sean
he looked comfortable in his own skin. **Beautiful creature,** the thought was meant for
Sean himself, but Viggo seemed to catch it anyway.

It seemed to make him self-conscious, for he tilted his head forward and obscured his
face in the strands of his hair, "Thanks." The quiet word meant more than any gushing
thank you. "Can you turn back, Sean? There's something I want to give you."

**I love presents,** Sean wolf-kissed the side of Viggo's face, then scrambled off into the
bathroom.

Viggo sat for a moment, contemplating. He had planned, no, nothing so structured as a
plan, he had hoped to make love with Sean this morning. Damn his own body's actions
but he'd been too tired to even anticipate the morning last night; if he'd had the energy, he
would have done Sean justice by being restless, by thinking about it all night. Maybe
then he would know what to do when Sean came back; he could be precise, seductive,
decisive.

He hadn't had time to plan this, and now, all that was left over was the fact that he
wanted, craved it so badly his skin hurt. Viggo tried to refocus himself, but he couldn't
bring his mind to calculate how this should go down. All his mind could settle itself on
was the fact that the wolf was now transforming into Sean again, beautiful, naked Sean.
As striking as the golden eyes were, he still longed to see the darker green staring at him,
blazing with need. He wanted to brace his palms against Sean's chest, so smooth
compared to his own, and stroke the honeyed skin. A sudden thought came to Viggo, that
of Sean pushing his thigh up between his legs, and a small sound escaped the back of his
throat.

His hands were drawn to his own body as he imagined Sean touching him. Viggo
couldn't remember the last time he was so needy, the last time simple thoughts had made
him so starved for another's touch. In his mind's eye, the fingertips that moved down the
cords of his neck and over the line of his torso were broader than his own, blunt and
curious. **Yes, I need this.**

He was hard already, could feel it without any need to look, but he didn't want to touch
his cock yet. That was a last recourse, to be taken only if Sean didn't come back soon.
Instead, he busied himself with the rest of his body, kicking away covers and bringing
both hands to his neck to work the knots out. Sean would be just as gentle, just as
thorough as he was, Viggo decided. He could spend days beneath those hands. He ran
his right hand over his left hand's knuckles, stroked between his own fingers, imagining it
was Sean wanting to grasp his hand. That small touch sent electricity running all the way
up to his shoulder blade and he whimpered.

He grew bolder with his touches, envisioning Sean running his teeth down his collarbone.
Would they become sharp now, when the wolf showed itself in the man? Viggo thought
about this, imagined them pricking lightly over his skin, not enough to draw blood.
Sean's tongue . . . he'd only gotten the smallest sampling of what it could do the previous
night. Viggo licked his palm almost unconsciously, rubbing it down his chest to simulate
the warmth of the younger man's mouth. It was neither as warm nor as wet as he wanted,
though, so he licked his middle and index fingers, sucking them into his mouth. His
opposite hand scraped a path up his thigh, digging his short nails into the skin slightly to
leave reddened trails. When his fingers were sufficiently damp, Viggo reached down to
pinch a nipple between his knuckles. No, he didn't want any teasing swipes from Sean's
tongue in this matter; he wanted Sean to suck them, hard. He kneaded the little bud until
it reddened and hurt, then soothed it by rolling it gently between his fingertips. He
groaned, hungry for silky lips, hot tongue, pulling, lapping . . .

Sean had dried the sweat from his body, breath still coming quickly as his body repaired
itself from the change. There had been no blood this time, thank God, but it had taken
him a few minutes before he could stand, let alone walk. He padded slowly, a little
stiffly, into the bedroom, where he saw his "present". The sun was shining brightly, one
of those blinding, winter days were shade was a necessity. Viggo sat sprawled in that
light, tiny motes of dust catching the sun all around him. His body was still beneath a
storm of hands, enjoying his own touch, and as Sean breathed in, he was sure he could
smell lust thickening the air. It was like watching a perfectly carved statue move, that
combination of motion and stillness.

Every so often Viggo would moan, low and loud. Sean hadn't expected that; the thought
had crossed his mind that the artist would be as quiet in bed as he was in everything else.
Viggo seemed to find a lovely sensitive spot on his inner thigh, dragged his nails across it
hard, and his head turned to one side rapidly, hair flying. **Forget about that one, Vig?**
Sean thought. **Well, soon, I'll make you remember.**

Suddenly, Viggo realized he was watching. Sean caught him with his fingers in his
mouth. The look in the clear, blue-green eyes was bewildered at the werewolf's notice of
him, almost innocent. He pulled his hand away from his lips, and there was a wet smack
as he let them go. "Go on," Sean managed to rasp out.

With a sharp exhale of breath, Viggo flung himself across the bed at Sean, pressing them
together from mouth to hips. The slender, wild creature who pushed against Sean was
slippery with sweat and his own saliva. Sean wrapped surprised arms around Viggo and
kissed him roughly. Viggo captured the tongue that pushed its way into his mouth and
sucked it. Sean tried to moan, but the insistent suction prevented him.

**Jesus,** the werewolf thought, only semi-coherent. He ran his hands down Viggo's back
and every muscle they passed was taut as a bowstring. Standing in his embrace, Viggo
ground against him, once, the motion more a fluid arching of body-to-body than anything
else. Unconsciously, Sean grabbed at the tight muscles of his lover's ass. They crashed
backwards into the mattress and Viggo rolled on top of him, pushing them together across
the already disarrayed covers.

"Want me?" Sean questioned, breathlessly.

"How could you tell?" Viggo whimpered. He purred, feeling the sleek skin beneath him,
sensing Sean's body bunching up tightly. "Done this before?"

Impatient, the blond man rolled him, wanting to claim like he had last night, but thrilled
that Viggo wasn't simply motionless. He wagered that Viggo would spread his legs for
him, tilting back far enough to allow him entry, if he only asked. He smelled his mate's
readiness already, the spiciness stronger now. He knew what was implied in Viggo's
question. "No, you?" He knew what was entailed, and obviously his subconscious was
more knowledgable than he was. He felt obliged to ask, though considering Viggo's
enthusiasm, he already knew the answer.

"Before I was married," the older man offered only that before laving Sean's lips with his
tongue.

Sean pushed in against that mouth, finding the slight bitterness of early morning enticing
rather than repelling. Viggo's tongue was clever, slithering behind teeth, spiraling over
Sean's. Sean simply mimicked what his body craved, what the wolf snarling beneath his
surface wanted to do, pushing into Viggo's mouth relentlessly. Sean pulled back, looking
down at Viggo, smiling evilly. "Bite your lip for me."

"Make me."

"I think I will." the werewolf moved to the slender neck, noticing that his claws were
back. He put them in his mouth, sucking each carefully, and making the observation that
they were not as sharp as he'd thought. Perfect. With a sudden swipe of his hand, Sean
scratched the place on Viggo's thigh that had made the artist flinch and whine earlier.
Viggo gulped in air. Sean dipped his head, growling, gnawing the tender flesh of one
earlobe, lightly, nosing through fine hair already damp with sweat.

While Viggo moaned his pleasure through closed lips, the wet pads of Sean's fingers
ground rough circles into the oversensitive flesh inside his leg, just inches from his cock.
Viggo was still defiant to Sean's attempt, though, and paused to lick his lips. Arrogant
tease, the blond man thought, digging his nails into Viggo's thigh hard enough to bruise.
The long-haired artist huffed a little, but it certainly wasn't a sound of pain, though it was
subtle enough that Sean would not have been able to tell without the new dimension in
his hearing. "You like to be hurt?"

"I like whatever you want. That didn't hurt so much," Viggo breathed. Then he grinned,
an absolutely filthy look on his face. His tongue poked out of his lips, peeping from the
corner of his mouth, disappeared, returned at that almost middle place where his scar hit,
vanished again, licked the entire left side of his mouth. On anyone else, it would have
looked childish.

"Don't poke that thing at me unless you intend to use it," Sean tried to look completely
unaffected.

"I do," Viggo pulled Sean's head aside to offer his lips the tiniest flick of that tongue.

Sean cupped the back of Viggo’s skull in his hand and pulled him upward. **Oh, no,
you’re not going to get away with that.** He began devouring his mate’s mouth, thrusting
his tongue inside as deeply as it would go. Viggo swallowed his own groans of pleasure
and sent his hands traveling down Sean’s back.

Questing fingers began to chart golden silk over bunched muscles. Viggo’s hands moved
slowly, now kneading gently, more often, simply stroking to memorize the feel of Sean.
It was like the enticement of a blank canvas, or a white sheet of paper. He so wanted to
draw images of delight with his hands or mouth on that skin, but his need to surrender to
Sean’s overwhelming explorations tipped the balance from Viggo.

He felt teeth, and yes, they had sharpened provocatively, pressing themselves against his
tongue, briefly, too briefly, before they moved to his neck. Viggo caught Sean’s eyes for
a shred of a second, just enough to watch the smoky, jade-colored eyes transmute to
molten gold. Viggo was as trapped as a prey animal underneath what seemed a killing
gaze. A damp mouth, deceptively soft, began to savage Viggo’s nipple, no blood drawn,
but no mercy, either.

The older man sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, making a noise that was nearly a whine.
Sean, pleased, licked the warm hair in a direction away from the nipple he was tasting,
sticking it wetly to Viggo’s skin and conveniently keeping it down. Sean blew on his
target with an evil smirk. This was surprisingly easy for his lack of experience. Still, he
supposed that it helped to have a partner who practically yielded himself into his grasp.
Sean moved forward on nothing but instinct and drank Viggo's responses for
nourishment.

There was little Viggo could bring himself to do as Sean leaned down again and nibbled
lightly at his nipples, torturing him with the utmost care. The werewolf flicked the
hardened little buds with his tongue like he was still in his lupine form, lapping up water.
This drew a sound that was almost a shout from the artist's throat. Viggo's hands could
find neither rest nor focus as his friend's mouth sucked him in. Sean's own hands took
care of his indecision, clamping around Viggo's wrists and guiding his fingers into his
hair.

Sean smelled the tang of blood and remembered his demand of Viggo to bite his lip had
been fulfilled. His lips closed over the artist's, licking the dark stain from them, running
his tongue over the warm trickle of crimson. It wasn't sweet, exactly, with his new sense
of taste, not like sweat was, but it was enticing. Sean wondered if Viggo would writhe
this much if he were to draw a claw across the juncture of his hip and thigh, so close to
his erection, pressing just hard enough to scrape a bit of blood from the skin. It would
surprise Viggo, Sean decided, but with his claws slightly blunted as they were, it would
also leave a painful wound, and that, he didn't want.

Viggo slipped out of Sean's grasp as he was contemplating his next move. He licked
provocatively at the prone blond's back before Sean could turn, tracing swirls of heat
which turned to wet coolness. Sean turned over, mesmerized at watching the pale brown
hair trail over his skin as Viggo tended to him. He’s not being controlling, the werewolf
thought. This is pure adoration. He reveled in the warm, wet mouth sucking at his skin
with relish. Gods must feel much the same before their supplicants. The werewolf felt
no nervousness, no doubts. “My servant, are you?” Sean asked lazily.

“Yes, if you want.” Viggo pulled his head up. He leaned close to Sean’s ear and purred,
“Your whore, if you ask.”

The words, rolling off that eloquent tongue, ignited something visceral in Sean. They
would have ignited something visceral in a rock. Viggo punctuated the statement by
lifting Sean's hand to his mouth and sucking the lengths of the other man's fingers, pale
eyes bright and teasing. Need lanced deep into Sean and he pulled his hand out of the
older man's grasp. "Prove it," he snarled, pushing Viggo at arm's length. "Down."

Viggo grinned slightly, but his eyes registered the slightest amount of shock. Silently, he
traced a path down Sean's belly and struck, sucking in the head of Sean's cock without
warning. He pushed his hands beneath Sean's ass and tilted the blond's hips up,
devouring his erection whole. Sean didn't remember the last time he'd been worked over
so enthusiastically, harsh, deep suckling punctuated with merciless swipes of tongue. His
hands reached down into Viggo's hair and pulled, kneading clawed nails into his scalp.
The groan in the other man's throat shot through Sean, sharp as an arrow.

Viggo eased up slightly, pulled back, adding wicked swirls of the tip of his tongue around
Sean's erection. Sean sighed. Fingers . . . skilled and strong, closed over the part of his
length that Viggo did not hold in his mouth. They began to dance slowly over Sean's
skin, squeezing, easing their pressure, sliding over and around. When Viggo's wicked
mouth let him go the werewolf let out an audible hiss.

The long, soft hair was suddenly abrasive as it dragged heavily over Sean's thighs. Viggo
lifted him up higher, licking downward over his balls then back up to the base of his cock
to lash him with his hot tongue. Nuzzling intently, he licked his way lower, very slowly
stroking Sean's erection. With the same reverence he'd used when he'd kissed his way
down Sean, he parted the other man's ass and licked his way over Sean's opening.

Sean practically snarled. "How can you want to . . ."

"Oh, but I do."

Warm lips slid over his hole, moving almost imperceptibly, sending Sean closer to
madness. He felt the wolf in him whine softly. A glancing lick, soft breath, Viggo
panting, and then, long, drenched strands of hair slithered over Sean's thighs and ass.
Then, the tip of that deliciously wet tongue poked him, began to draw in and out of him
so delicately. It felt . . . Sean had no words; no thought even existed for something like
this. Viggo began to drive deeper, thoroughly devouring him. Sean's fingers ripped
jagged furrows into the sheets. Viggo's tongue turned circles, writhed up and down inside
him. Tongue-fucked; yes, Sean felt fucked, but it had less to do with sex than with the
feeling he was completely condemned. He felt his nerves suddenly yank themselves as
taut as piano wire. Sean felt droplets of cum sliding down his cock, he was so close, so
close, then nothing.

"Not yet." Viggo tilted himself back.

"Jesus, why?" Sean's voice was between a growl and a genuinely disappointed whine.

"Fuck me." Viggo pulled Sean up over him, and again, the words were weapons, sexual
entities of themselves. "Or do I have to show you how?" Viggo smiled, smug, and gave
him that casual, deadly look that Aragorn gave sidelong at an opponent.

**Vicious beast,** Sean glared at him. **Fucking tease. Don't fucking play with me.** "I'm not
stupid."

"Prove it."

Sean’s leap pushed both them and the spread off the bed onto the floor. “Is this what you
want?” Viggo was chuckling softly -the bastard- as his head hit the carpet. He threaded
his legs around one of Sean’s, pushing his erection over Sean’s thigh. Sean’s eyes
narrowed and he leaned down do give each of Viggo’s nipples a single, hard suck. The
taller man smiled, shut his eyes and sighed. “Want more? Well, that’s a fucking pity,
because you aren’t getting it.”

The pale blue-green eyes read **What are you playing at?**. He was clearly surprised. Sean
was pleased. After, all if Viggo was going to play the part of whore, it was only natural
that he submit. Sean twisted his fingers into the enticing, long hair, and pulled Viggo up
for a kiss, filling his mouth with his tongue. There was no way Viggo could maneuver
his tongue around Sean's, so he was forced to relinquish any control he may have thought
he had. When Sean was satisfied that he'd completely stolen the taller man's breath, he
pulled back.

"Do you realize where my mouth's been?" again, Viggo grinned playfully.

Sean wasn't about to fall for that game. "Do you think I fucking care?" He forcibly
untangled Viggo's long legs from around his and pushed his heels up, bending his knees
easily. "Say it again." He pressed his hips down over Viggo's vulnerable cock and he
savored the gasp that brought. The older man let out a low groan but didn't speak.
Sighing as though he was exasperated, he covered Viggo with his body, rested his weight
on his knees and delicately began to play with the enticing nipples, pushing them with his
fingers. "Tell me." Viggo whined softly, and Sean began grinding his hips, pushing
against his lover's cock and ass, their mingled essences making the contact slick as skin
dragged across skin.

Sean exerted a bit more of his strength and flipped Viggo onto his stomach. He rested his
hands on the tattoo at the small of his mate's back. He slid his arms up so that he was
flush with Viggo, palms to the backs of the other man's hands, fingers locked, limbs
stretched along each other. Sean slid his cock against the hot juncture of Viggo's ass,
pressing his length along the puckered hole, sliding rapidly. He snarled satisfiedly as he
felt Viggo moving, rubbing his hips against the floor in desperation. "Say it," Sean hissed.
Viggo grunted and pushed back against him.

He spread his knees and scrabbled long fingers against the carpet, overwhelmed by the
friction. "Fuck me." Viggo turned his head and ground his teeth, knowing he could come
from the contact, but instinctively knowing Sean was going to stop, leaving him in just as
much agony as the werewolf had been when he'd been rimming him.

"Now." Sean's eyes had shifted into an even richer gold, glimmering in the sun.

"You need . . ." Viggo rolled to one hip to look at him.

"I told you, I'm not stupid. Wait for me," Sean ordered, his eyes narrowed and clouded.
He stood and headed in the direction of the bathroom. "Touch yourself," he added,
wickedly, "Like you were doing when I came in. Stay ready for me." Viggo's fingers
went directly for his sticky cock. "No," Sean snarled. "I don't want you to come, not
even by accident. Hands off that." Glaring, Viggo fully turned over, exposing every lithe
line of his body in that simple rotation, and lightly trailed his fingertips over his chest and
collarbone. "That's fucking better, " Sean mumbled softly. "So lovely."

Watching the blond man leave, Viggo ran his palms over his thighs, wondering what he'd
done to deserve this level of torture. He stretched and writhed, trying to keep himself
from thinking of the fire racing over his nerves. He was not through stretching yet when
Sean returned with a bottle of lotion.

Sean bore him back down, sniffing curiously at the tattoo on Viggo's hip. He could
sustain himself for a lifetime on that scent, the earthy, spicy smell of Viggo's skin that
only he could smell and that was born of nothing artificial, mingled with the salty-bitter
of semen and sharper bite of sweat. He gave the dark crescent of ink an experimental
lick, lightly scraping it with blunted claws. Sean noticed the sharp state of his nails, and
tried to consciously calm himself to make them vanish. He took a few deep breaths and
found his effort successful. Coating two fingers in lotion, Sean pushed Viggo's thighs
apart with the opposite hand.

The first stab inside Viggo was greedy and inexperienced. Sean might as well have still
had the claws because it ripped along his nerves painfully. Viggo gasped sharply, then
tried to will the pain away; he had promised to give himself in to the feelings Sean was
stirring in him completely, and, dammit, he was going to. He couldn’t just beg to be
fucked and then renege on it when it hurt a bit. “Slow, Sean, please, God, speed up
later,” he gasped, trying to remain submissive and take the persuasive route.

“Did I hurt you? Sorry,” Sean didn’t sound entirely remorseful. His fingers eased their
violent thrusting, and Viggo sighed. Only then did the pain he’d caused touch Sean’s
eyes; he’d apparently thought Viggo had been trying to provoke him again.

“I like this, just give me a minute, it’s been a while. Please?” The fingers inside him
moved, spiraled, stretched, slowly reached into him, searching. “Yes, yes,” Viggo
purred, scraping his lower lip under his top teeth. A lucky stroke caught his prostate.

**Moan . . . that’s a *good* moan,** Sean thought, becoming more sure of himself. He
added another finger and pushed the passageway wider. The sound Viggo made was
ragged and breathy. The older man began to slide his way up against Sean's hand.

Sean's other hand moved to guide himself in; God, he hurt. He prayed that the relentless
teasing his lover had given him was not what he always had to look forward to.
Withdrawing his fingers sharply, quickly, he pushed in on Viggo's gasp. Sean
whimpered; unconsciously, he called on the strength of the wolf to grant him a bit more
discipline. It was such a tight fit that he needed to or he would spill over.

Viggo's moaning turned to edgy panting as he felt Sean buried within him, full and hard
and impossibly hot. Pain: it was like being split apart from within, the drag of the carpet
beneath the sheets burned his skin from without as he was forced backward along the
floor with the force of their joining. Sean stayed unmoving. Good, it would give him a
moment to relax. The agony seemed to melt suddenly, flying out on Viggo's breath once
he had rested a second. He kissed under Sean's jaw, letting his tongue slink over flesh
and bone.

The werewolf sensed the change in the artist and slowly began his rhythm. He felt Viggo
relax, open to him, and he kept his movement slow so they could both savor it. The
enticing moaning started again from Viggo's throat, and that made Sean all the more
gratified as they rocked leisurely together. He was the alpha male here, and Viggo did not
seem to mind being topped at all. In fact, he felt as if he was giving freely.

Viggo's ideas of "giving" were different from those of the blond man, though. Since his
body had been feeling pleasure from the friction of their joining rather than discomfort,
he had wanted to flip their positions and ride Sean's cock relentlessly. Clasping his legs
around Sean's, he forced that movement, surprise being his only advantage. Feverishly,
he stroked Sean's chest as questioning gold eyes looked up at him. Viggo shifted on his
knees, sliding almost fully off of Sean. Then, he impaled himself on Sean's erection,
pushing himself downward until the werewolf was fully sheathed inside of him. Sean
opened his mouth in a silent snarl, canines sharp in his top and bottom jaws.

Sean pushed up, and Viggo slid back down. Sean's movement was small, hurried, and it
blazed inside of Viggo as he pushed himself into that motion. Fire lanced through the
darker man as he thrust himself down, pulled away only slightly. No time existed for
teasing. Each of them increased his movement, so that Viggo was arched far above Sean
and they almost separated before they came crashing into one another. Sean sat up,
clutching the slender form, pulling Viggo into his lap and forcing him down onto his
cock.

Viggo let out a howl worthy of Sean's other form and rocked his hips, the movement
needy and quick. His pale eyes shone hotly with the exertion of their mating. Sean
rubbed against a molten place inside of him, and he braced himself against Sean, burying
the other man deeper. Sean took his control more actively and pounded into him. Viggo
felt himself pull tight inside, and go limp everywhere else, his body falling back against
Sean's hands, which clutched at his back, lost in torrents of sensation. The artist's arms
slid back so he wouldn't lose his balance. Viggo's fingers twisted in the already shredded
sheet below them, his lips begged almost silently. He came, his response wrenched from
his body, leaving him lacking part of his soul in that completion. The tight muscles
clutching around Sean made him shatter, the pleasure beating against his body, pouring
into Viggo's. He clenched his eyes and mouth shut and whimpered, long and low, against
the taller man's neck.

Then, their bodies dropped out from under them.

They lay together, destroyed, panting at the perfection of it. Viggo rolled them over
again, crooked one knee so he could settle his weight on Sean, who didn't seem to be
protesting. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of Sean's chest pillowing his head,
while the younger man stared up at the ceiling, visibly devastated.

Soon, the two would learn that with Sean's lupine strength came an unexpectedly high
degree of stamina. They took advantage of it until Viggo physically couldn't handle any
more. Then, they got ready for the premiere party, which was sure to pale in comparison
to the afternoon.