Double Lotus: Chapter 2: Shava-asana
Jan. 24th, 2005 10:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brainofckChapter Title: Chapter 2: Shava-asana
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
muck_a_luck, originally posted at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rugbytackle, now also in brainofck
Pairing: SB/VM
Rating: G to NC-17
Summary: Yoga for two
Content/warnings: Um. Excessive use of technical yoga talk?
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Slash is fiction. So while we may all be demented, slash is basically the author's ownporno script, populated by the individuals she feels would be ideal to fill the various roles if she ruled the universe if she were ever fortunate enough have the opportunity to bring her vision to the screen. *snortle*
Archive rights: Would be cool to be archived! www.Rugbytackling.com only, though. And Green Opals if they'll have me! :)
Chapter 1: Saluting the Sun
He blamed Abby for it all. It was her fault really.
He'd started yoga practice with her, years ago, persuaded when she'd described the possible benefits to their sex life.
He'd loved the amazing flow of the asanas, combined with the sense of strength and calm it gave him.
But there was no denying that yoga was sexual for him. And after a few months the sex had been amazing. Both of them stronger, more flexible, more aware of their bodies, both alone and together. After he and Abby had broken it off, she was the reason he usually avoided practice with other people. It was too much like foreplay.
So he had blamed Abby all week, as his mind wandered in Shava-asana to images of the American - the arch of his back, the strength of his thighs, the reach of his fingers... Damn woman. He'd re-focus on his breathing, but his cock would be hard, and the benefits of the relaxation pose would be gone, though the practice wouldn't be a total loss. He hadn't felt so energized in months.
He had also been dreaming. Odd, confusing dreams. He'd wake up in damp sheets and remember long arms and eyes the blue of frost under the moon in December.
The whole experience was unsettling. It had taken Sean almost the entire week to shake off the strange feeling of mixed shame and excitement brought on that morning. He'd stayed away from the club completely. But he had finally convinced himself that he was being ridiculous. He was running away from the memory of his ex-wife. The whole thing was just the result of his recent divorce-induced aversion to romance. Not enough real sex in his life. He'd rolled his eyes at himself one last time and headed out for work with a packed duffle.
So here he was, signing out, smiling at Diana over the log book, feeling stretched and relaxed and ready for sleep, the way he always felt after his evening swim.
"I am famished!" Diana groaned, "And I still have that new aerobics instructor to break in this evening. Wanna go down the street for a sandwich?" She looked at him hopefully.
Sean grinned, "How could I say 'No'?" he agreed. He picked up his bag and they stepped out into the cool evening. They walked in companionable silence down to her favorite little cafe, about two blocks from the club. She was a neighborhood fixture, and they got nods and smiles from the locals as they made their way.
There was a low hum in the cafe. As they went in, Diana immediately appeared to be looking for someone. And there he was. The American. Tucked into a corner booth with a paper and a half eaten plate of dinner in front of him.
Diana's sidelong look at Sean was nothing short of smug. "Viggo!" she called, attracting the attention of every diner in the place. She bounced across the room and slipped into the booth across from the American - Viggo, it seemed. Sean followed reluctantly, as there was really no graceful way out. Diana was in full press. "Viggo," she announced, a little breathlessly, "I have found you a partner!" She turned to Sean, who was now standing by the table. "Sean Bean! One of my oldest clients!" She beamed at both of them, looking to Sean like the cat that had eaten the canary. "Sean, this is Viggo Mortensen. The new member I was telling you about!"
Viggo turned and gave him a lopsided smile. And of course, Viggo's eyes were the eyes from Sean's dreams, icy blue, clear, and curious. But deep and intelligent and suddenly Sean was struggling to smile normally and breathe calmly and not behave like a love-struck teenager. Because he felt it. The horrible worldshifting, soulwrenching twist in his gut. Love. Or lust. Or something. Deep breath, Bean, he told himself.
He extended his hand almost by reflex. "Lovely to meet you, mate. And exactly what kind of partner am I meant to be?" He addressed the question to Diana, and tried to give her a cold glare. But he was pretty sure it came off as panicked.
"Oh!" Diana said, spotting someone else she knew across the room. "I’ll be back in a moment. Sean, could you order me my usual?" And she leapt up and was gone.
Sean smiled weakly at Viggo, and slipped into the booth across from him. "So, what kind of partner, exactly?" Sean asked again.
"Yoga," said Viggo quietly. "My old partner has gone and gotten engaged," he continued, with a sad half smile. "Not, of course, that we'd been doing much together anyway, since I left London. The Sheffield to London commute's not really doable before breakfast." He tried again for a smile, this time succeeding more convincingly.
"Anyway, I miss the double poses, and I mentioned to Diana that I was looking for someone who might be interested."
The waiter came and took Sean's order. He looked at the menu a moment to stall, then asked for his usual. Just as he was about to give Diana's order she reappeared. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I just realized I got the time wrong. That new instructor has been waiting for me for five minutes already. I can't stay!" She took the waiter by the elbow and gave him a delivery order on her way to the door.
The horrid woman had planned the whole thing, Sean was certain. Now here he was, alone with Viggo and his inappropriate responses, and he'd just place his dinner order, so there wasn't much avenue for retreat now.
As Sean stared dumbfounded at her retreating back, Viggo chuckled. "That was a set up if ever there was one," he said. Sean turned back to see a huge grin on his face. "Not very subtle, is she?" Viggo looked at him hard and said, "Look, there's no reason for you to feel you have to stay. Grab your order and run. No harm done." Viggo's openness was hard to resist. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Besides, who was he kidding? Sean knew himself well enough to stop trying to deny that he was… OK. Not quite ready to admit lovestruck. But he was something, and there was no reason not to stay and get to know the guy better.
"Nah. It's alright. If you don't mind?"
"Great!" said Viggo with a smile. He fold the paper and set it aside.
"So why did you leave London?" Sean asked, struggling for small talk and wishing his food would arrive so he could use eating as an excuse to shut up.
"Studio space," said Viggo. " And I'm tired of the pace and the cynicsm and the general atmosphere. I could get the space I wanted here, and room to breathe, and if I want London, it's not that far."
"You're an artist? What do you do?" Sean asked.
"Painting and photography, mostly. Some poetry, as well. I show Orli's sculpture, when he's got something to show, and a few other friends' work."
"Orli?"
Viggo gave a small smile. "The yoga partner who left me to get engaged?"
"Ah. So he's an artist, too?"
"Actor. Model." Viggo said, "Sometimes artist. It takes him forever to finish a piece. He's a perfectionist and there's not a lot of room in his life these days for the patience and stillness he needs to sculpt." Viggo trailed off. The smile on his face was affectionate, but Sean thought there was tension around his eyes.
"You miss him," he said. He realized how accusatory it had sounded, and felt heat rise to his cheeks. The curse of a fair complexion. It was a dark restaurant. He hoped Viggo wouldn’t notice.
"Yeah, I do," Viggo said, looking at him oddly.
God, Sean was losing his mind! Because listening to Viggo talk about this Orli person had brought that tight twisting feeling back in Sean's gut, and he recognized this one. Pure, unadulturated jealousy. Yep. I'm losing it completely. He was jealous of the friend of some guy he barely knew because - what? - Viggo missed him? That was it. That was really all Sean could handle for one evening.
Sean looked at his watch abruptly. "Oh! Sorry! I have to be out early tomorrow. I really should be heading home." Viggo continued watching him closely, as he flagged the waiter for the check.
They settled the bill, then much to Sean's dismay, Viggo got up to leave with him. They seemed to be walking in the same direction, so they settled into a quiet, easy walk. In Sean's mind, it felt like they were walking to nowhere. Like they were walking alone in the universe and when they finally arrived at their destination, something was going to happen to change Sean's life forever.
But no. There was the end of the block, where Sean would turn right, and cross the street, and walk another couple of blocks to his townhouse. No special final destination. Just a handshake, then a walk home. And suddenly Sean remembered that Viggo missed the double poses and realized that he had never answered Viggo's half-extended invitation.
Sean was about to mention it again when Viggo stopped abruptly. Sean looked over at him and saw Viggo was staring. Sean followed Viggo's gaze. Sitting on the steps of a shop no, studio, Sean realized, right on the corner, was a collapsed figure. The boy looked up as they stood there, and when he saw them no, saw Viggo, he was on his feet, but looking forlorn and confused. His nose was red. His eyes swollen and his face tear-streaked. And to Sean's eyes, he was achingly beautiful. Long and lithe, with sweet long chestnut curls and rich deep dark eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit. What is wrong with me?!
"Viggo, I can't..." was all the young man said, then he was in Viggo's arms, his fingers plunging into Viggo's hair, tugging him in for a desperate, despairing kiss.
Sean didn't wait. He turned on his heel and continued down the block toward home. He didn't look back. But the image was there. The beauty of the two of them, embracing on the street corner, drinking each other in...
What the fuck is wrong with me? He refused to wipe away the tears, because he was certain he couldn't possibly be crying.
Chapter 3: Revolved Triangle
Author:
muck_a_luck, originally posted at rugbytackle, now also in brainofckPairing: SB/VM
Rating: G to NC-17
Summary: Yoga for two
Content/warnings: Um. Excessive use of technical yoga talk?
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Slash is fiction. So while we may all be demented, slash is basically the author's own
Archive rights: Would be cool to be archived! www.Rugbytackling.com only, though. And Green Opals if they'll have me! :)
Chapter 1: Saluting the Sun
He blamed Abby for it all. It was her fault really.
He'd started yoga practice with her, years ago, persuaded when she'd described the possible benefits to their sex life.
He'd loved the amazing flow of the asanas, combined with the sense of strength and calm it gave him.
But there was no denying that yoga was sexual for him. And after a few months the sex had been amazing. Both of them stronger, more flexible, more aware of their bodies, both alone and together. After he and Abby had broken it off, she was the reason he usually avoided practice with other people. It was too much like foreplay.
So he had blamed Abby all week, as his mind wandered in Shava-asana to images of the American - the arch of his back, the strength of his thighs, the reach of his fingers... Damn woman. He'd re-focus on his breathing, but his cock would be hard, and the benefits of the relaxation pose would be gone, though the practice wouldn't be a total loss. He hadn't felt so energized in months.
He had also been dreaming. Odd, confusing dreams. He'd wake up in damp sheets and remember long arms and eyes the blue of frost under the moon in December.
The whole experience was unsettling. It had taken Sean almost the entire week to shake off the strange feeling of mixed shame and excitement brought on that morning. He'd stayed away from the club completely. But he had finally convinced himself that he was being ridiculous. He was running away from the memory of his ex-wife. The whole thing was just the result of his recent divorce-induced aversion to romance. Not enough real sex in his life. He'd rolled his eyes at himself one last time and headed out for work with a packed duffle.
So here he was, signing out, smiling at Diana over the log book, feeling stretched and relaxed and ready for sleep, the way he always felt after his evening swim.
"I am famished!" Diana groaned, "And I still have that new aerobics instructor to break in this evening. Wanna go down the street for a sandwich?" She looked at him hopefully.
Sean grinned, "How could I say 'No'?" he agreed. He picked up his bag and they stepped out into the cool evening. They walked in companionable silence down to her favorite little cafe, about two blocks from the club. She was a neighborhood fixture, and they got nods and smiles from the locals as they made their way.
There was a low hum in the cafe. As they went in, Diana immediately appeared to be looking for someone. And there he was. The American. Tucked into a corner booth with a paper and a half eaten plate of dinner in front of him.
Diana's sidelong look at Sean was nothing short of smug. "Viggo!" she called, attracting the attention of every diner in the place. She bounced across the room and slipped into the booth across from the American - Viggo, it seemed. Sean followed reluctantly, as there was really no graceful way out. Diana was in full press. "Viggo," she announced, a little breathlessly, "I have found you a partner!" She turned to Sean, who was now standing by the table. "Sean Bean! One of my oldest clients!" She beamed at both of them, looking to Sean like the cat that had eaten the canary. "Sean, this is Viggo Mortensen. The new member I was telling you about!"
Viggo turned and gave him a lopsided smile. And of course, Viggo's eyes were the eyes from Sean's dreams, icy blue, clear, and curious. But deep and intelligent and suddenly Sean was struggling to smile normally and breathe calmly and not behave like a love-struck teenager. Because he felt it. The horrible worldshifting, soulwrenching twist in his gut. Love. Or lust. Or something. Deep breath, Bean, he told himself.
He extended his hand almost by reflex. "Lovely to meet you, mate. And exactly what kind of partner am I meant to be?" He addressed the question to Diana, and tried to give her a cold glare. But he was pretty sure it came off as panicked.
"Oh!" Diana said, spotting someone else she knew across the room. "I’ll be back in a moment. Sean, could you order me my usual?" And she leapt up and was gone.
Sean smiled weakly at Viggo, and slipped into the booth across from him. "So, what kind of partner, exactly?" Sean asked again.
"Yoga," said Viggo quietly. "My old partner has gone and gotten engaged," he continued, with a sad half smile. "Not, of course, that we'd been doing much together anyway, since I left London. The Sheffield to London commute's not really doable before breakfast." He tried again for a smile, this time succeeding more convincingly.
"Anyway, I miss the double poses, and I mentioned to Diana that I was looking for someone who might be interested."
The waiter came and took Sean's order. He looked at the menu a moment to stall, then asked for his usual. Just as he was about to give Diana's order she reappeared. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I just realized I got the time wrong. That new instructor has been waiting for me for five minutes already. I can't stay!" She took the waiter by the elbow and gave him a delivery order on her way to the door.
The horrid woman had planned the whole thing, Sean was certain. Now here he was, alone with Viggo and his inappropriate responses, and he'd just place his dinner order, so there wasn't much avenue for retreat now.
As Sean stared dumbfounded at her retreating back, Viggo chuckled. "That was a set up if ever there was one," he said. Sean turned back to see a huge grin on his face. "Not very subtle, is she?" Viggo looked at him hard and said, "Look, there's no reason for you to feel you have to stay. Grab your order and run. No harm done." Viggo's openness was hard to resist. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Besides, who was he kidding? Sean knew himself well enough to stop trying to deny that he was… OK. Not quite ready to admit lovestruck. But he was something, and there was no reason not to stay and get to know the guy better.
"Nah. It's alright. If you don't mind?"
"Great!" said Viggo with a smile. He fold the paper and set it aside.
"So why did you leave London?" Sean asked, struggling for small talk and wishing his food would arrive so he could use eating as an excuse to shut up.
"Studio space," said Viggo. " And I'm tired of the pace and the cynicsm and the general atmosphere. I could get the space I wanted here, and room to breathe, and if I want London, it's not that far."
"You're an artist? What do you do?" Sean asked.
"Painting and photography, mostly. Some poetry, as well. I show Orli's sculpture, when he's got something to show, and a few other friends' work."
"Orli?"
Viggo gave a small smile. "The yoga partner who left me to get engaged?"
"Ah. So he's an artist, too?"
"Actor. Model." Viggo said, "Sometimes artist. It takes him forever to finish a piece. He's a perfectionist and there's not a lot of room in his life these days for the patience and stillness he needs to sculpt." Viggo trailed off. The smile on his face was affectionate, but Sean thought there was tension around his eyes.
"You miss him," he said. He realized how accusatory it had sounded, and felt heat rise to his cheeks. The curse of a fair complexion. It was a dark restaurant. He hoped Viggo wouldn’t notice.
"Yeah, I do," Viggo said, looking at him oddly.
God, Sean was losing his mind! Because listening to Viggo talk about this Orli person had brought that tight twisting feeling back in Sean's gut, and he recognized this one. Pure, unadulturated jealousy. Yep. I'm losing it completely. He was jealous of the friend of some guy he barely knew because - what? - Viggo missed him? That was it. That was really all Sean could handle for one evening.
Sean looked at his watch abruptly. "Oh! Sorry! I have to be out early tomorrow. I really should be heading home." Viggo continued watching him closely, as he flagged the waiter for the check.
They settled the bill, then much to Sean's dismay, Viggo got up to leave with him. They seemed to be walking in the same direction, so they settled into a quiet, easy walk. In Sean's mind, it felt like they were walking to nowhere. Like they were walking alone in the universe and when they finally arrived at their destination, something was going to happen to change Sean's life forever.
But no. There was the end of the block, where Sean would turn right, and cross the street, and walk another couple of blocks to his townhouse. No special final destination. Just a handshake, then a walk home. And suddenly Sean remembered that Viggo missed the double poses and realized that he had never answered Viggo's half-extended invitation.
Sean was about to mention it again when Viggo stopped abruptly. Sean looked over at him and saw Viggo was staring. Sean followed Viggo's gaze. Sitting on the steps of a shop no, studio, Sean realized, right on the corner, was a collapsed figure. The boy looked up as they stood there, and when he saw them no, saw Viggo, he was on his feet, but looking forlorn and confused. His nose was red. His eyes swollen and his face tear-streaked. And to Sean's eyes, he was achingly beautiful. Long and lithe, with sweet long chestnut curls and rich deep dark eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit. What is wrong with me?!
"Viggo, I can't..." was all the young man said, then he was in Viggo's arms, his fingers plunging into Viggo's hair, tugging him in for a desperate, despairing kiss.
Sean didn't wait. He turned on his heel and continued down the block toward home. He didn't look back. But the image was there. The beauty of the two of them, embracing on the street corner, drinking each other in...
What the fuck is wrong with me? He refused to wipe away the tears, because he was certain he couldn't possibly be crying.
Chapter 3: Revolved Triangle
