Feet

Title: Feet
Pairing: SeanB/Viggo
Rating: NC17
Summary: Rain, bare feet and toe-lust.
Disclaimer: Fiction. Totally, utterly made-up. 100% untrue. Product may contain traces of nuts.
Notes: UK Spelling.
Also archived at www.dreamreaver.com/showcase
Feedback: Please.. :) It's very much appreciated, and useful.


FEET


Mouth-watering. The sight of Viggo's bare feet sinking slowly into warm mud. Sean tore his gaze away, though he wasn't sure how, and looked up into smirking brown eyes. Trust Orlando to catch him staring. Again. Sean knew he wouldn't tell Viggo. After all, it was a lot more fun to tease him, wasn't it? Turning from the good-natured accusation in that smile, Sean started off down the hill towards their car. Behind him, he heard Orlando talking to Viggo.

"When you've finished fannying about, Vig?"

And, in what Sean hoped was an unintentionally husky voice, Viggo's reply.

"Feels good, Orlando. You should try it."

"Nah, I'm good. Enjoy, I'll meet you back at the car."

"Wimp," Viggo called after him, laughing. He pulled his feet out of the mud and swiftly caught up to Orlando. Falling into step beside the younger man, his boots dangling from one hand by their laces, he nodded ahead to where Sean now waited. "What's up with him?"

Orlando shrugged. "No idea."

"Hm. Post-holiday blues, maybe. Are we still on for Sunday?"

Orlando's eyes widened. "Oh, shit! Sunday! I forgot all about it! Crap, Viggo, I'm really sorry, I promised 'Lij I'd go surfing."

"No problem, Orlando. Really, don't worry about it. Maybe I'll ask Sean instead. Might cheer him up."

Chewing on his lip, Orlando nodded. "Um, yeah. It might. I *am* sorry, Vig."

"You'll have fun with the hobbits, so really. Forget about it."

"Well, next time. Promise."

Sean pushed away from his lean against the car's bonnet. "Next time what?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Fishing on Sunday. Want to come?" Viggo asked. He was concentrating too hard on wiping the mud from his feet onto the grass to notice Sean staring.

"Go on, Sean. It'll be fun." As if Sean needed Orlando's words of encouragement.

"Sure. I'm up for it."

"That's settled then. Just come by at ten or so and we'll get off." Viggo, finally satisfied with the state of his feet, shoved his boots back on and straightened up.

Sean nodded and rounded the car to open his door. *A morning alone with Viggo,* thought Sean. *Only one thing I can do. Get over this obsession with his feet and try to act.. normal.*

Sean was pretty sure, though, that if it wasn't his feet it'd be his hands. If it wasn't his hands it would be his mouth. The man was just made for fantasies.


SUNDAY, 10a.m.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Sean watched the small cabin. At least, what he could see of it through the rain. Maybe he could just turn around and go home, and Viggo would think this weather had stopped him. Except that he'd been sat outside for almost fifteen minutes now, and hadn't turned back yet.

If not for the rain, there wouldn't have been a problem. Sean could probably have coped with just sitting quietly at Viggo's side, mostly watching the world go by. He already knew he wasn't the world's best fisherman. Nothing was going to change that.

But this rain. They surely wouldn't go out in it. For one thing, it was a colder rain than Sean had felt in all his time here. For another, it would make the river Viggo favoured particularly dangerous.

Sean must have been staring into space, lost in daydreams, because next thing he knew someone was tapping on the window. Not just someone, of course. Viggo.

Unsure why he did it, Sean rolled down the window, instead of just opening the door. Viggo grinned at him, looking so much like Aragorn with his long hair plastered to the side of his face in spider leg spikes that Sean had to catch his breath.

"You know the cabin's comfier, right? And I have fresh coffee. Or tea, whichever you'd prefer."

Sean tried not to stare at the water dripping off Viggo's chin. He tried not to notice the way his friend's shirt clung to his chest, detailing perfectly the skin and the raised nipples beneath. He tried not to lick his lips, but failed. The recovery, though, impressed even him.

"Coffee. Great, need a drink."

"Step out of the car and open your mouth to the sky," Viggo said, winking. He moved back to give Sean room and looked up. Sean remembered to stop stg ang and clicked his seatbelt free before swinging the door open. He sat on the edge of the seat, one foot out of the car, and stopped for a moment. Viggo's eyes were closed, his tongue darting out between parted lips to chase raindrops. The sight was captivating, bean\ean's gaze still lowered.

He could see the tops of bare feet, toes disappearing into the wet leaves that littered the ground. Biting his lip simply to keep from moaning aloud, Sean looked up at the sky, across to the cabin, anywhere except at Viggo, and unwound the rest of his body from the car. Straightening up, he stretched, immediately shivering at the chill of rain running down his neck. He closed the car door and the thud seemed to bring Viggo back out of his reverie.

"Better get inside and warmed up before we both catch cold," Viggo said, already turning to head back to the cabin. Sean followed, still resolutely not looking at Viggo's feet.

Viggo stopped, briefly, to scuff the mud off the soles of his feet and onto the doormat. Sean just stood on the mat and pulled his boots off while Viggo reached around him to push the door closed and shut the rain out. "Funny weather, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I probably should've called to see if you still wanted to-"

Viggo shook his head. "No, it's alright. Though I can't imagine we'll be going fishing in this rain. Wouldn't be able to see much, unfortunately."

Sean nodded. "That's what I thought. So, er.."

"So come through and have a coffee with me. There's something I want you to see, actually."

"There is?"

Viggo nodded, beckoning Sean to follow him along the hall, down to the sunroom. Wet footprints appeared behind Viggo, shiny on the wooden flooring, which Sean carefully avoided. Viggo opened the door, ahey hey were both immediately overcome by the noisy percussion of rain slamming against glass.

Sean looked up, watching the slide of water along one slanted pane above them. It was impossible to see anything beyond blurred grey above and shadowed green outside the room. There was already a tray set up on the low wooden coffee table. Mugs, a small jug of cream, sugar and two pots covered over with thick towels. Viggo pulled the towels away and looked up at Sean.

"Sure you wouldn't prefer tea?"

"No, coffee would be great. Thanks."

"Well, take a seat."

Wicker creaked beneath Sean as he settled onto one of the high-backed chairs. He reached behind himself to adjust faded floral cushions until they were no longer pressing uncomfortably into the small of his back, and smiled. Better. He took the mug Viggo passed him and let the rich scent steam up and into his nostrils.

"Thanks. So, what was it you wanted to show me?"

"Oh, yes. This." Viggo went to the corner of the room, where an easel was set up, the canvas covered by a dust-sheet. He slowly pulled the sheet off and stood back. Sean sat forward a little, making a soft sound of appreciation.

"What do you think?"

"I..er.. Yeah. I like it. I like the colours and the shapes." He really did like it, but he found he had to purposefully inject the enthusiasm inis vis voice because he had no idea what he was supposed to be looking for in the painting.

"You don't think it's too.. much?" Viggo asked, still looking at the canvas thoughtfully.

"Not at all." Sean shifted again, the cushions had somehow moved and he could feel the edge of one jammed against his hip.

"Okay. Thankyou."

Viggo left the painting uncovered and sat down opposite Sean, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. He looked lost, deep in contemplation. Sean watched, for a moment, those steel-blue eyes dart around the room. He thought of a cat, dreaming, glassy gaze twitching restlessly in rhythm with its paws. Until that gaze landed on him.

"I wonder how well the boys are faring, surfing in this weather?" Viggo asked, intense stare still locked on Sean's eyes.

"Um. Well, you know. Mad bastards are probably out there having a wild time. Er.." Sean swallowed, and could have sworn it was audible even over the pelt of rain surrounding them. He watched Viggo's feet come up, saw his mouth forming words that might have been 'May I?', and nodded dumbly. Viggo's feet settled on the cushion beside Sean, still bruised here and there with dirt.

"You seem quiet today, Sean. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Sean said, hoarsely. He cleared his throat and said again, "Yeah. Everything's fine. Just, you know. This weather."

"The rain reminds you too much of home?" Viggo asked, a smile skipping briefly across his lips before they turned down in a concerned frown. "Do you miss England?"

"'Course I do. But this is good. I'll get back there, you know, and wish I was here again," Sean said, grinning.

"It's a beautiful country, sure."

"Mm." Sean hadn't really been thinking about the country.

"Coffee okay?"

"Yeah, perfect. What kind is it? I'll have to get some." 'Oh God', thought Sean. 'Small talk.'

"You can take a pack, I've got a spare in the kitchen."

"That'd be great. Thanks, Viggo."

Viggo smiled, relaxing. "Alright, I give in. This -is- a nice way to spend a Sunday morning."

"Really?" Sean chuckled, the sound just a low rumble. "I know you'd still prefer to be out there fishing, Vig."

"Perhaps. But good company can be enjoyed anywhere."

Sean felt Viggo wriggling his toes, and couldn't help but look down. He could feel the tickle of what was almost but not quite the press of Viggo's foot against his calf, and tried not to move closer.

"Sorry, Sean. Is that bothering you?"

Startled, Sean looked up, finding blue-grey eyes on him again. "I..er.. no. No, it's not."

Viggo sat up, elbows pressing with a crackling creak to old wicker. Now his foot -was- pressing against Sean. "How about now?" he asked, with what Sean could only think of as a sly smile.

"Viggo?" Sean licked his lips, wishing he could lick his throat as well. Because it had suddenly become very dry. He took a mouthful of coffee, ignoring how hot it still was, and swallowed.

"Sean. We're both adults, aren't we? Friends, too. So why don't you tell me what you want, and I'll tell you what I'm willing to give. Will that work for you?"

Sean couldn't stop himself swearing. He did manage to keep from dropping his coffee all over Viggo's outstretched leg as he leant across it to put his mug down. He knew his cheeks were burning and wondered if Viggo could feel the heat at the other side of the room. "What?" he asked.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice? Sean, really. You're not as subtle as you think." Viggo moved his foot again, curling his toes over Sean's thigh. "As for me, well, I don't even try sutblety any more. Life's too short."

Sean was rarely lost for words, but as he looked down at Viggo's feet, his vocabulary seemed to shrink drastically. "Oh", he managed.

"Tell me," Viggo said.

"I want you."

"So take me."

Sean finally moved, wrapping a large, warm hand around Viggo's ankle. He stroked his thumb against the bone that jutted out, moaning as Viggo's toes curled tighter into his thigh. He heard the muted 'ssh' of a chair being scraped forward, and tore his gaze from perfect feet again to see that Viggo had moved closer.

Sean took a deep breath. "This is.. going to sound weird," he said.

"Try me," Viggo replied, the movement of a shrug in his voice rather than his shoulders.

"Can I.. May I wash your feet?"

Viggo smiled, a secretive smile that had shivers crashing along Sean's spine. "If you want to. Should we go inside?"

"No, I'll do it here." Sean glanced up again, watched the rain for a moment before he rose. "I'll get some water."

"Okay."

Sean could feel Viggo's gaze on his back as he left the room, tried to control the erratic rhythm of his heart. What was he -doing- asking to wash Viggo's feet? 'I really am beyond help', he thought. But Viggo had agreed. Sean decided he wasn't going to think too much about that, not yet. After all, like Viggo had said, life's just too short.

He found a large plastic bowl and filled it with warm water, taking soap and a washcloth from the bathroom. Balancing the bowl carefully in his hands, he returned to the sunroom. As he bent to put the bowl down beside his seat, he felt the whisper of a touch brush across his thigh. Swallowing back the breath that caught in his throat, he sat, lifting Viggo's feet onto his lap.

"You're sure you want to do this, aren't you Sean?"

"I'm sure."

Viggo nodded, his eyes closing when Sean rolled the legs of his jeans up a little way. He could hardly hear anything that Sean was doing over the thunder of rain on glass, so when Sean laid the warm, wet cloth across his foot, Viggo felt a tug in his chest.

"It's not too hot, is it?" Sean asked, his voice only just audible.

"It's fine."

Sean said nothing more, or, if he did, it was too quiet for Viggo to hear. He moved the cloth over Viggo's foot, watching the dried mud turn to wet smears, then light smudges. He squeezed a little soap onto Viggo's toes and rubbed it into the skin with soft strokes. He looked up when Viggo moaned, and only made his strokes more gentle. He used both hands on each foot, bringing up a vanilla-scented lather.

Sean dipped the washcloth to the water again, squeezed the excess from it, and wiped the soap from Viggo's feet. The skin beneath was now clean, deeply tanned. Sean blew lightly over now shiny wet flesh, wiped the hem of his sweater along the soles of Viggo's feet, drying them.

He moved the tip of his index finger along a pale green vein that stood out along the side of the foot he still held, traced its path until it disappeared back, deep under the skin. He found a scratch near Viggo's little toe, felt the tiny ridged bumps of dried bloodspots. Bending down, he pressed his lips against it. He tried to listen to Viggo's breathing, follow the changing pace, but he could only hear one ragged breath before the rain drowned everything out again.

He licked briefly at the pad of a toe, feeling the hitch that Viggo gave. Smiling, he let his tongue follow the same vein his finger had traced. Viggo's skin tasted slightly bitter from the soap, but with the underlying tang of dark copper. He reached the ankle and kissed his way around it as much as he could, one hand absently massaging the other foot.

Sean dragged his chin back along the top of Viggo's foot, the scratch of his beard stippling the skin scarlet. He soothed the faint sting with a smattering of kisses, before opening his mouth around three toes. He sucked, losing his focus for a moment, then returned to licking, lapping at each toe in turn. Held hld hear Viggo shifting restlessly, wicker creaking noisily with his every move.

"Viggo," he groaned.

"Don't stop," Viggo told him, breathless.

Sean sucked hard on Viggo's big toe, tongue moving around and over the nail. He tasted salt, moaned again. The hum of his voice vibrated along Viggo's foot.

"God.. Sean.."

Sean pushed his thumb along the underside of one foot, pulling the skin taut. He lifted it, licked at the stretched skin, closed his teeth over it and nibbled. He held Viggo's ankle, steadying him as the older man squirmed, a rough purr seeming to vibrate through his entire body.

Sean looked up, saw the thick bulge in Viggo's jeans, and swallowed hard, his mouth still open around Viggo's heel. He watched Viggo twitch, the corners of his mouth turned down in some kind of concentrated frustration. Sean let go for a moment, actually hearing Viggo whimper, and pulled off his sweater. He moved forward, dragging the seat he was in with him, and lifted Viggo's foot to his cheek. His beard scraped tender flesh as he moved his mouth and caught Viggo's heel between his teeth again. He darted his tongue over the almost leathery skin, quick swipes meant to tease.

Sean watched Viggo's hand move towards his groin. He saw long fingers, caked here and there with spatters of paint, unfasten buttons to curl inside denim and squeeze. He continued to kiss, up along the arch of one sole, took two toes into his mouth again. He crushed his tongue between them, felt the thin stretch of skin at the base of the gap and licked at it.

Sean felt Viggo's body jump, and concentrated again on the big toe, his mouth a tight seal around it moving down, up, down in even strokes. He slanted his tongue over the top of the toe, gripping Viggo's ankle hard when he convulsed.

Sean listened, tuning out the rain with some effort, to hear Viggo's fevered gasps.

Watching Viggo lose himself completely was a thing of beauty. Sean had never imagined it could look so good. The tanned hand dropped, trembling, to rest limply on a leg that jerked with every spasm. Viggo's entire body shook with it. Several thick splatters of semen spread in a dark stain across Viggo's still damp shirt. Sean was sure there would be a ringed bruise around Viggo's ankle, he was holding it so tight.

Sweat shone beneath dark hair and here and there, a few strands were plastered to Viggo's brow. His lips moved as if to form words, but he was breathless, out of this world and in another. His eyes would have been staring straight at Sean had they not been glazed over, half hidden beneath shivering lashes.

Sean watched the jittery rise and fall of Viggo's c, li, listened to him as he found breath again and sucked each one in hard. He felt the pulse in his cock quicken as Viggo's gradually returned to normal, found himself lifting his hips to the air. Viggo finally stopped squirming, relaxing into a sated slouch.

Sean let go of his ankle, dropping Viggo's foot between his open legs. "Unnh.." he moaned, singsing the foot down with both hands.

Wicker creaked again as Viggo moved, soft voice telling Sean to unzip his jeans. "Let me," Viggo said, watching appreciatively as Sean did as he said. Jeans and boxer shorts were pulled hastily down and Sean's erection stood pulsing darkly against his stomach. His chin sank lower to almost touch his chest as he looked down, desperate to watch what Viggo would do.

His jaw fell slack on a sigh when Viggo moved his feet, to curl them in slightly at either side of Sean's cock. He hooked one arm over the back of his chair, pushing back to lift his hips and offer Viggo better access. The other hand draped across the chair's arm, fingers curling in to brittle wicker as Viggo dragged rough heels along Sean's length.

Fragile wood crackled beneath Sean's blunt fingernails when Viggo's toes bent, stroking over the head. Slippery and slightly sticky toes slid down Sean's cock, tickled through the coarse hair at its base, then came back up, quicker. Viggo moved both feet after a few more strokes, spreading one flat against the underside of Sean's cock, the other still curled above.

Sean had given up trying to watch, concentrating instead on breathing. He sucked in sharply at the feel of toes curling up, squeezing the head of his cock, and could no longer hold on. Muscles clenched, his grip tightened on the chair and splintered the wicker beneath. Swearing, gasping Viggo's name, he felt warm wetness rain onto his belly.

He pried his fingers from broken wood, and sank heavily down, chasing air with deep, gulped breaths. "Jesus.." he whispered.

Viggo used the tails of his shirt to clean himself off properly, fastened his jeans again and stood, taking off the stained shirt. He leant over Sean, dark hair falling forward, and lapped the other man's stomach clean, listening to the soft moans. Sean slid large fingers through Viggo's hair, pulled him up. "Kiss me," he said, squirming when Viggo tucked his cock into his boxers and pulled the zipper on his jeans up again.

"Kiss me?" he asked again, running his tongue over his top lip. Viggo settled onto Sean's lap, threaded his own fingers through short hair, twisting it between them. Sean watched the reflection of rain in Viggo's eyes, an endless fall of water, humming dully.

"I want you, too," Viggo said, hooking his thumb under Sean's chin and pushing upward.

"So take me," Sean replied, opening his mouth to Viggo's.


END