brainofck

Title/Chapter: Dreaming
Author:

muck_a_luck, posting in

brainofck
Pairing: SB/VM (other pairings in later chapters)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Viggo is somewhere else, where everyone and no one is the same
Content/warnings: AU. Violence.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Slash is fiction. So while we may all be demented, slash is basically the author's own ~~porno~~ 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: www.rugbytackling.com, Green Opals, if they're interested, and my journals

muck_a_luck and

brainofck
Further Disclaimer: Any resemblance to Ancient Rome mostly incidental. I have never seen any gladiator flick. Ever. Honest. Not even stinky Gladiator that stole FOTR's Oscar. *glares*
Blame:

uisgich, for encouraging me

The Arena Homepage

Chapter 1: Arena
Chapter 2: Water and Oil
Chapter 3: Flesh and Iron
Chapter 4: Night Terrors
Chapter 5: First
Chapter 6: Opening
Chapter 7: Closing
Chapter 8: Last
Chapter 9: The Mysteries of the Next Life, Part I
Chapter 10: The Mysteries of the Next Life, Part II
Chapter 11: Initiate
Chapter 12: Blood Wash
Chapter 13: Sword Practice, Part I
Chapter 14: Sword Practice, Part II
Chapter 15: Water and Oil, Reprise
Chapter 16: Laurel

Sean had spent two years coming to terms with life as a bed slave.

It hadn't been easy, in that time, to realize how deeply he was in love with Viggo.

He spent the nights denying the lust of his patrons, but in the golden light of a late afternoon, he'd wake and take himself in hand and imagine what it would be like to be Viggo's lover. Imagine the tightness of Viggo's passage around him. Or with oiled fingers, stretching and preparing himself for his night's work, feel Viggo inside him, touching him in the most intimate places.

It was a fine line to walk.

He never imagined Viggo when his patrons came to him. He wouldn't use pure love and desire as a tool to make day-to-day insults more bearable.

Except sometimes, when Ursus was most insistent. Sometimes it was better to think of Viggo.

Sean knew exactly what he wanted from Viggo here in the warmth of midday, when Sean was usually sleeping and dreaming of open spaces or the arena or the weight of Viggo, curled against his side.

Sean wanted Viggo to be his lover. To yield and take. To touch and taste. To weigh him down and send him flying through the ether.

And to get everything he wanted, Sean realized he would have to show Viggo that it was alright.

Viggo was tight and hot around him. His face was calm and his eyes were clear, though there was tension around them and a tremble running through his body Viggo couldn't completely control. And of course, the long, slow breaths gave him away.

Sean laughed shakily, "You and your ujjayi breathing," he said, "am I hurting you?"

Viggo smiled up at him, a little strained, but Sean thought not distressed.

"Some," he replied. "It's been a while. Give me minute to adjust, and then it'll all be good."

Sean laughed again, "Well, not too long, I'm begging you. It's been quite a while for me, too." He settled his weight onto his elbows and knees, dipping his head down to nip and nuzzle at Viggo's ear, trying not to interfere with his lover's breathing.

"No, not long," Viggo agreed, and after not long at all gave his hips a small, experimental roll. Sean groaned from deep in his chest, and tried not to just let loose right there.

As Viggo began to rock up against him, Sean responded with long slow strokes, adjusting his hips and knees, watching Viggo's face for signs. When he found the perfect spot, Viggo let out his breath in a rush.

"Yeah," he moaned, "there it is." He growled as Sean stroked across it again with more confidence. Sean sucked in a hard breath as Viggo spasmed around him.

Having found the angle, Sean kept his strokes long and liquid. He drew them out impossibly. Ursus had done this to him so many times. He pushed that unpleasant thought away, and turned the ugly experience to Viggo's pleasure, capturing and pinning slim wrists to the mattress when Viggo reached up to stroke himself.

Viggo groaned and bucked upon being restrained, but Sean just chuckled softly and continued the long slow torture.

When Viggo came, in hot splashes against Sean's chest, the smell of sweat and seed had never been so perfect.

With Viggo's essence on his skin and scent in his nostrils and taste on his lips and skin under his palms and body all around him, Sean came in a kind of white light that faded to a warm safe darkness.

Viggo had slept the afternoon away. When he woke to the familiar damp warmth of Sean draped over him, he was confused and disoriented and had to grope through his groggy brain for some explanation.

Sean's bed. Sean's room. The Laurel. Sean.

Viggo opened his eyes to lamplight. Sean's head was on his chest, arm thrown across Viggo's belly. Their legs were tangled together. It was only slightly more intimate than a hundred mornings in the barracks.

But unlike those mornings, Viggo knew that now he could look if he wanted, touch if he wanted, and not have to hide or apologize. After their day together, Viggo wanted Sean with a fierce longing that had him rock hard and nearly trembling.

Viggo's waking disturbed Sean's sleep. Sean sighed against him and shifted, rolling onto his back in the sheets.

Viggo sat up to watch him, reaching out gentle fingers to touch Sean's bare belly and trace a delicate finger down the crease between torso and hip. Sean gave another long sigh in his sleep as Viggo ran an open palm over the solid muscle of Sean's thigh, wrapping long fingers around to caress the vulnerable softness behind Sean's knee.

Sean's little gasp brought Viggo's head up with a snap. Sean was wide awake and watching him, his color up. Among other things. Viggo couldn't help his first reaction.

"Sorry," he murmured, not quite able to look Sean in the eye, "Didn't mean to wake you." He managed the nerve to leave his hand where it was.

"Time to wake up, anyway," Sean replied. "Besides, you know how I sleep. It's only gotten worse here. If I don't want to wake up, I just don't."

Sean reached out for him, and Viggo let himself be drawn forward, til he was sprawled over sleep-warm skin.

"Let yourself take what you want, Viggo," Sean whispered.

And Viggo finally did. He drank the kisses from Sean's mouth. Devoured lips and tongue. Roved down Sean's throat to broad chest and hard nipples. A long broad stroke of the tongue back to that perfect smile.

Sean writhed under the onslaught. He pushed and rubbed their cocks together, gasping when Viggo bit down on his ear lobe, squirming as a clever, moist tongue touched unexpectedly sensitive skin.

And Sean begged.

"Viggo..." with a tiny inhalation.

"Oh, please..." Panting.

"Gods, I can't wait. Please!" Lyrical.

Almost without thinking, Viggo was urging Sean's knees apart, meeting no resistance whatsoever, only enthusiasm as long legs wrapped around his back and drew him in tighter. He was nudging against Sean's opening before he thought clearly enough to realize what he was doing and what he hadn't done.

"Sean," he managed to grate out, bracing his hands by Sean's shoulders, trying slow their breakneck pace.

"We can't do this without oil," Viggo insisted.

Sean practically glared up at him, lust denied vivid in his scowl.

"I'm not letting you go unless you promise you'll finish what you've started," he growled, tightening his thighs around Viggo's body just to show he meant what he said.

Viggo laughed.

"Fine," he said, "where is it?"

Viggo was amazed at how tight Sean was around his fingers. But he took two easily and relaxed quickly. Viggo smeared a palm-full of oil over his own cock, and found himself looking down at Sean with more confidence.

"Alright," he said, "I'm all yours. How do you want it?"

Sean gave him a nearly feral grin.

"Let's see what you've got, old man." The tone was mocking, but the smile was sweet, and the deep emerald of his eyes was all the reassurance Viggo needed. He lined up and shoved, knocking Sean's breath from his lungs. Sean arched his whole body in response, pushing back just as hard, and they returned to their earlier rush with gaspy laughter, rutting like the end was near, until Viggo suddenly threw all his weight down onto his lover, brining them to an abrupt halt.

Sean moaned in frustration, but Viggo just grinned at him, then reared back and caught Sean behind the knees. He folded Sean's legs back, and the dangerous gleam behind Sean's smile told him that the move was appreciated. He settled back on top of Sean, now pinned and exposed, and rested the head of his cock against Sean's hole.

And teased him. Gently rubbing, circling Sean's opening. Barely pressing. Pushing in ever so slightly, then drawing back to trace up and down Sean's crevice as Sean shuddered and cursed under him. When Viggo finally lined up and eased back into him, Sean sobbed and begged and Viggo resumed the furious pace they had set earlier. Sean came hard between them and Viggo continued to pound into his clenching channel, reveling in the hot tendrils of pleasure that worked their way out from the base of his spine, until he followed Sean to orgasm and filled him with his heat and lust.

"Old man..." Viggo muttered, trying to sound annoyed. "You'll be as old as I am one day, you know."

Sean turned his head lazily to look at Viggo's profile.

"The insulted tone would be more effective if you weren't grinning that maniac grin," Sean snorted. Then he thought of question he'd never asked.

"How old are you, anyway?"

The smile faded to thoughtful.

"I don't know."

"You must have some idea."

Viggo shifted and let his arm fall over his eyes.

"That first day in the arena, I was 40. So 44 I guess?"

Sean rolled up onto his elbow to look down at him in surprise. Viggo peeked out with one eye and laughed at the shocked look on Sean's face.

"I'm one of the city ancients, huh?"

"Maybe not ancient," Sean said, sounding shaken. "Maybe eternal."

Viggo turned his head away. "I hope not."

"Do you remember the day they marked you? It was four days after we met in the arena, wasn't it?" Sean asked, more to sort out his own memories than for actual confirmation.

"I was so amazed by how you took the pain. And Gods, your swordplay when the Master evaluated you had frankly shocked us all. I couldn't believe you had made it through that melee without a mark on you. I knew you weren't one of us, but you were the most impressive warrior I had ever met."

Viggo smiled and wouldn't meet Sean's eyes again. He shut them instead, and for the second time that day Sean saw him blush. He chuckled a little. Viggo pleased and embarrassed and off balance. The surprising thrill of power it gave him was having certain effects on his cock. Or maybe that was the heat of Viggo so close. Or the clean sweet smell of his skin. Sean found himself grinning and was glad that Viggo wasn't watching him.

"That afternoon," he continued, "I realized something. I wanted you. I knew you were a free man, and I wished the new mark on your shoulder, the one that bound you, was my mark." He laughed, mostly to himself this time.

"I would have put bands on you, that moment, if I could have. Bound you to my bed." Viggo's eyes flew open at this. Sean didn't look away, though he felt his own face coloring now. He pushed on. "I wanted to spoil you and give you everything you ever wanted. Those first few days with you I didn't know what to do with the thoughts that went through my own head. I was so confused that afternoon. Because I didn't want you for this," Sean gestured vaguely to the room around them, "I really just wanted you."

Viggo's eyes were huge, now, fixed on him, and Sean finally couldn't meet them any longer. He sat up and rested his head on folded knees.

"Do you remember that afternoon?" He asked again. "I said the words of binding over you. No one else had done it. So I did."

The silence was long and heavy. Sean finally couldn't hide anymore. He raised his head from his knees. Viggo looked thoughtful. The flush was still in his cheeks.

"So I'm a free man, with a slave's brand, bound by the laws ritual and tradition to a pleasure slave?" The corners of Viggo's mouth were twitching. Sean suddenly needed to possess Viggo all over again. He rolled up onto hands and knees and crawled over him.

"The words that bind a slave are the same words that a man says over his woman on their wedding night," Sean added, trying very hard to keep his expression neutral, though he had difficulty containing the sly grin just under the surface.

Viggo was laughing.

"So what are you saying, then? I'm your wife?!"

The grey light of dawn through the tiny window found Viggo exhausted, slightly drunk, and on the very edge of tears.

"You know Rodin's dead," Viggo said.

"I had heard that."

Suddenly, Viggo found that he couldn't tell Sean the whole story.

"How can I leave you here?" he asked instead.

Sean shrugged. He was sitting at the foot of the bed by the nearly empty bowl of berries they had been feeding each other.

"What do you think of Laruel's offer? Sean asked him.

Viggo was suddenly angry.

"You won't be here long enough for it to make any difference," he stated.

Then he was on his feet and dressing, carefully contained fury evident in every gesture.

The room spoke of sensual indulgence in a way this room never did.

The half devoured feast on the table. Two cups half full and three bottles completely empty. The fruit bowl spilling and staining the linens. The bed more like a nest, having been ripped apart and put back together more than once in the long night. The lingering saltsour odor of cum and sweat.

Every place Zara looked she saw the residue of energy and desire.

Sean sat naked and cross-legged on the rumpled bed, staring at nothing. The low lamplight caught the warm rich gleam of his bindings; the burnished gold of his hair; the perfect clarity of the tears on his face; the dull, hard edge of the blade across his knees; the absolute emptiness of his vacant eyes.

Zara shut the door softly behind her.

"I'm dreaming," he whispered brokenly as he pressed his damp face against her apron and let her wrap her arms around him.

They cried together for a long time.

Chapter 18: Homecoming, Part I