The Night Before Christmas

Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Fluff, Angst.
Summary: Sean longed for something on the night before Christmas…
Notes: I’m assuming that it snows during Christmas in England or at least gets chilly
Dedication: For Zee whose birthday incidentally falls on the eve of Christmas.


The Night before Christmas

It was bleak in England at this time of the year as nature took on a hostile face of ice and snow, and as the lake froze over, mirroring and reflecting the faint light of the moon as it lay sprawled like an eerie but marvellous work of art. Yet, the air was static with a strange sense of expectation. A strange sense of eagerness for the coming of the day after, echoed enthusiastically by the warmth of the children’s laughter and the excited voices of couples as they good-naturedly argued amidst quiet little kisses as they tried to decide on what decorations to put up on their Christmas trees.

It was the same in every single house, every single year. First there were those people buzzing with energy, getting ready for the big day tomorrow and a cheerful fire roaring in the fireplace. And then there were the delicious smells of cooking wafting from the kitchens and women with arms covered in flour up to their elbows. Then there were the lovers walking hand in hand along the street, their breaths misting in the chilly air only to be warmed by the gentle press of lips upon lips… lips that slowly moved over each other in a soft caress before pressing itself against the shell of an ear, whispering soft, tender words of love.

And then… and then… there was hot chocolate and marshmallows by the fireplace after everything had been cleaned twice and the presents hidden from the inquisitive hands of the Little Ones.

And it was the same in every house but one.

A man stood by the window as he contemplated the sight before him, a frown marring his face. A sharp pang of loneliness pricked at him before he determinedly drowned it with a healthy swig of beer. It usually helped. The alcohol left his senses in a haze and the stupor that he drove himself to was a constant reassurance that he should not dwell on the things that he could not have… because tomorrow, it would be the first time that he would experience a Christmas alone.

No wife. No kids. Nothing.

And it bothered him… more than he would care to admit. The loneliness. The many nights of lying in bed alone without tender kisses or sweet nothings whispered into his ear. The many days of waking up only to discover that he was alone and was without a warm body nestling up to him. The many days of looking into the bedroom of his kids only to be greeted with silence as he regarded the empty bed and the too neat cupboards with a certain sense of wistfulness.

He didn’t understand it if truth be told. Sean Bean, the most desired male in England. He had it all – good looks, a great arse, an incredible career, beautiful daughters, a huge house, a couple of cars, women. He had to be the luckiest bastard in the entire fucking world. So what the hell was he doing alone in his huge, fucking house on the night before Christmas? There was a joke to be made somewhere, but Sean didn’t feel like laughing at the moment. In fact, he felt like curling up in bed and bawling his pretty eyes out – but that would mean damaging his reputation as a laid-back son of a bitch… so he didn’t, settling instead to drink himself into oblivion.

Damned he was drunk. It was still early, but already he felt the weight of sleep tugging incessantly upon his eyelids. Stifling a yawn, he made his way back to his bedroom, casually stripping down to his boxers and then slipping into bed. He sighed, promising himself that he would call his parents, ex-wife and his kids the first thing tomorrow before sleep overtook him and he was snoring gently into a pillow. He didn’t hear the sound of the door being opened nor did he hear the muffled sound of footsteps upon the carpeted floor…

*~*~*~*~*~*

The first thing Sean noticed when he resurfaced into the realm of consciousness was the darkness in his room and the fact that he was being watched. For a wild moment, he thought that Abby had returned, and that the divorce hadn’t happened – that the nights of sleeping alone and needy in his bed had been nothing more than a bad dream.

But then came the heat and pressure upon his body… intense, yet not unbearable. Almost like the glow from dying embers, its heat basking his body in the gentlest warmth that seeped into his very bones, yet it was hot enough to make his senses reel, all rational thoughts, all protests fleeing from his mind and his whole body flushing as a result of that strange heat.

Heat. And then came the comforting brush of something soft against his brow along with the irresistible slide of something wet along the slender arch of his neck. Everything else came along in a rush. The slide of cloth down his legs. The feather-light caresses. The thrusts. The purrs. The whispers. His aching cock encased in the sweetest heat. The frantic struggle amongst the sheets. The pants. The tension. The slow burn in his groin escalating into a desire so intense that his heart ached with it. The press of unfamiliar lips against his. The touch of gentle yet calloused fingers as itted ted through his damp hair. And then the groans. The pleas. The arching. More purring. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Going to come. Need to come.

In the midst of it all, he heard it. Those three words that meant so much and yet was so seldom uttered breathed into his ear like the sweetest, clearest song of a nightingale that brought warmth even in the bleakest hour of the night. And with that, release came as surely and as explosively as a man gasping for breath after lingering too long in the deep end of a bottomless pool. Silence. A now familiar brush of lips against his hair. And against all odds, Sean fell back into slumber, his fingers seeking and finding anchorage in the other set of fingers as if he could not bear to let go…

*~*~*~*~*~*

The second time Sean woke up, he knew that the strange presence had left his room. And yet… yet there was a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that told him to walk down the stairs to his living room. With a muffled groan, he crawled out of bed, his disoriented mind taking note of his nakedness before he stumbled around his room searching for his discarded boxers.

It was funny that. He didn’t remember removing it before going to bed. He was drunk, sure. But not drunk enough not remember whether he went starkers before going to bed… and certainly not drunk enough to not notice a peculiar haze surrounding his senses that he knew came only with the result of sexual gratification. It was odd. He didn’t think he masturbated in his sleep. It was not his style. Not at all. Still, he clumsily slipped into his underwear and padded out towards the stairs.

There were soft sounds of someone moving around as Sean reached the top of the stairs, his hand moving slowly towards the railing to help him steady his shaking knees. He heard it then… a clink of a mug being set upon the coffee table and the almost unfamiliar crackle of a fire that had been relit, its orange glow alleviating the persistent darkness, making the shadows dance and writhe upon the walls.

He took a step downwards, his feet making an audible sound against the floor.

He paused, ears listening intently to the sudden silence below. Listening to the silence and hearing it being reflected back towards him.

Another pause.

Deep breathings now. Soft sounds of cloth rustling against skin. Sean continued to step down his stairs towards the landing below. Down down down he went. Until finally… finally he was able to gaze upon the familiar figure clad only in faded jeans standing in front of the fireplace before him.

Their eyes held. Blue eyes peering into green while green eyes held the blue in a questioning gaze.

A comfortable silence ensued. Both men contented for the moment to find solace in each other’s presence.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Sean whispered. It was as if he feared to speak too loudly lest he frighten Viggo away. Viggo smiled, his lips lifting in genuine delight although it did nothing to mask the fatigue that was present in his eyes.

More silence. Less comfortable this time. Words meeting a sudden death even before leaving the two pair of lips.

“Why are you here?”

Viggo’s eyes slid towards the fireplace.

“I wanted to write a poem,” he said, still studying the bright flames flickering in the heath.

Sean cocked his head in askance before moving slowly to stand next to Viggo.

“Do you want to hear it?” Viggo asked, those blinding blue eyes holding Sean’s captive. Sean nodded his head slowly and together they sat side by side in front of the fireplace, shoulders barely brus as as they stared into the fire… the light casting their faces into the shadow.

And then Viggo began to speak...

“It was over.
Yet the man albeit unconsciously
keeps to his side of the bed while the cold
takes its place next to him.

It was over.
Yet he wakes up in the middle of the night.
Hands outstretched, fingers seeking,
only to find cool sheets where warm flesh once lay.

My heart aches for him.

And in the distance I stand watch.
Tongue checked, silence held
while I dream of a kiss and that one chance
to feel the warmth of his breath upon my skin.”

Viggo fell silent once more, his gaze hooded and face turned steadfastly away from Sean’s.

Silence.

“How does it end?” Sean asked quietly, finally breaking the silence.

More silence.

“I don’t know. Maybe it ends there,” came the sad reply.

Sean turned then to look into Viggo’s face, taking in those bright eyes and his beloved face.

“It doesn’t have to end that way,” he whispered, his own eyes misting over before he leaned forward to press his lips against his friend’s.

Viggo tasted nice. Like warmth and sunshine with just a hint of the hot chocolate and marshmallows he had drunk. Viggo’s tongue shyly slipped into his to trace Sean’s teeth, gently licking the inside of Sean’s lips. Then they gently broke off, Sean taking the opportunity to bury his face into Viggo’s neck, inhaling his unique scent.

In the distant corner of the house, the clock chimed. It was midnight. And just like that, Christmas had come.

The two men lay side by side, fingers interlocked and legs entwined as they listened to the sound of the flames dying in the heath.

“Merry Christmas, love,” Viggo murmured sleepily. Sean smiled to himself.

It was indeed, a merry, merry Christmas.

THE END