Dark Muse, Part III
Jan. 21st, 2005 09:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brainofckI know it started out as a 1/2. So, (and no Carolina jokes, people!) here is Part 3. Part 4 is on the way this evening, as soon as I resolve an issue revolving around the over-use of a certain naughty phrase. :)
Title: Encounters with the Dark Muse 3/5? Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here.
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
muck_a_luck
Pairing: SB/VM
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sean calls the police.
Content/warnings: References to kidnapping, violence, and non-consensual sex. An attempt at something *besides* PWP.
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*
Additional disclaimer: In light of the (surprisingly unintended) parallels between my disclaimer and my story, feel I should make an additional disclaimer. I have no real desire to kidnap these people. I am not a stalker. I don't have any intention of trying to make fiction reality. No international sex crime syndicate at my disposal, people!
Archive rights: Would be cool to be archived! www.Rugbytackling.com only, though.
Sean pressed end and tossed the phone onto the floor. Viggo wasn't going to answer.
And what was Sean planning to say, anyway? "You raped me, you bastard! Do it again?!" Or possibly, "So who were those people you hired to drug me, kidnap me, and beat me up? I thought I knew all the stunt guys."
Sean swore and sat up. Then swore again, all the big and small aches and pains making themselves felt at once.
A deep, dull ache from the huge bruise on his chest that he could see though Viggo's open shirt. Yeah. Viggo's shirt. Or possibly Orli's, as it was shudderingly orange with some sort of green and yellow pattern.
A stabbing pain low in his back from that mother-fucker of a kidney punch.
The stretchy achiness in his groin from being in that goddamned fucking spreader so long.
The odd, not-quite-painful discomfort in his ass.
And the prickly warmth of the mark between his shoulders…
He swore again and got up to run hot water in the tub.
Your body is a crime scene. He laughed humorlessly to himself. It sounded odd in the quiet house.
What about that, anyway? He walked back into his bedroom and his eyes fell on the disc on the bed. The phone was on the carpet. He should call the police.
But he hurt all over, and what he really wanted was a long soak.
Well, at least Viggo had the sense to plan their little escapade at the beginning of a long weekend. Sean could stay home, lick his wounds, and not have to show up on set today.
He stripped off and stepped into the scalding water. Sat in the tub til his fingers were pruney, adding more hot water when the tub threatened to get too cool. Thought about the disc.
Was the whole thing really Viggo's idea of a birthday present? Really? He knew what was on the disc. He'd been there. What he should really do was call the police.
It was one thing for Viggo to want him, proposition him, maybe even push a little too hard.
It was another thing for Viggo to drug him, kidnap him. Force him.
But had it been a crime? Because warped as it would sound to any sane person, Sean had liked it. Well, not all of it. But from the moment Viggo had touched him, Sean had somehow lost track of the fact that he had not agreed to it. It was frightening and twisted.
But Sean knew he would watch the disc. Probably wank to it, too.
Except that Sean didn't really want what was going to be on that disc. Sean wasn't into the hard stuff. But oddly, with his mind newly opened to the possibilities, he thought he might have wanted something else from Viggo. But Viggo apparently wanted a rough ride with a sick twist of voyeurism.
God, how could he be getting a headache when the rest of him was so relaxed he wasn't sure he'd be able to get out of the tub on his own? He pulled the plug and levered himself up.
Fine. So. If it was his present from Viggo, he should at least do Viggo the courtesy of watching it.
It was midmorning. Sean put the disc in the player. Settled himself in the arm chair. Took a sip of his orange juice and wished he was willing to pour something stronger. But he didn't want to risk mixing alcohol with the who-knew-what Viggo had used to knock him out twice in twenty-four hours.
The scene didn't open in a dark room, as he had expected, but rather showed a woman sitting in a swivel chair in what appeared to be a brightly lit security command center. Several monitors were visible from this camera angle. Sean sat up a bit fuck, that kidney punch hurt to get a better look at them. Yes, there he was, pacing in his display cabinet.
Ah. And there were the trolls. He smiled grimly. At least there he'd gotten some of his own back. One of them would be needing reconstructive surgery on his knee, and a second might never play the violin again. Lovely compound fracture to right forearm. Sean hoped they'd gotten that on film. He was considering scanning ahead to see when Viggo walked into the room.
His friend looked as if he had just gotten out of bed, tired, worried and a little pale. He shook the woman's hand and exchanged thin lipped pleasantries. She offered him a chair and pointed Sean out on the monitor. Viggo walked over to the screen and stared down. Actually reached out and touched the glass
"I have acquired a lovely new toy," she said, with a flirty little smile. "I wanna see him get fucked." Viggo turned to her quickly, eyes wide and startled. She smiled more broadly, "I think you're the man for the job."
Sean wasn't sure he had ever seen Viggo Mortensen speechless. But his friend's mouth actually fell open before he snapped it shut and obviously struggled to comprehend.
"I've set up a beautiful room downstairs and have the cameras where I want them. We've just been waiting for you."
Viggo just continued to stare. So did Sean. What the fuck was this? His heart was pounding, and he had a sudden panicky sense of separation from his cell phone, still on the floor upstairs. He wanted to lock all the doors and set the security alarm. Something. Because suddenly he felt like he was being watched in his own home.
But the disc kept playing.
"I promised myself something really special for my thirty-fifth birthday," she said. "It took me a long time to decide, but now I'm very sure."
Viggo's response was remarkably calm. "What makes you think I'll have anything to do with this?" he asked.
"Well," she paused, "I would prefer you to fuck him, but the boys … they’re more than happy to take turns." Sean felt ill.
"It's up to you," she continued. "You came, and I'll keep my word. You can take him home in the morning, whether you help me or not."
Sean's hands were clenched so tight the bone showed through at the knuckles. He saw the moment when Viggo decided. "All right. I have two requirements. I don't want him to know about the cameras. Cover his eyes. And I don't want him to say anything on film. Gag him, too."
She smiled sweetly. "Agreed. My two stage directions. He knows it's you. He gets no explanations."
Viggo took a deep breath. "Agreed."
Except she had given Sean the explanation, and he didn't know what it meant. His head was throbbing now, and he really, really wished for about four fingers of scotch.
Sean watched the rest of the disc, went upstairs, put on some clothes, and called the police.
Part IV
Originally posted at Rugbytackle
Title: Encounters with the Dark Muse 3/5? Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here.
Author:
muck_a_luckPairing: SB/VM
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sean calls the police.
Content/warnings: References to kidnapping, violence, and non-consensual sex. An attempt at something *besides* PWP.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Slash is fiction. So while we may all be demented, slash is basically the author's own
Additional disclaimer: In light of the (surprisingly unintended) parallels between my disclaimer and my story, feel I should make an additional disclaimer. I have no real desire to kidnap these people. I am not a stalker. I don't have any intention of trying to make fiction reality. No international sex crime syndicate at my disposal, people!
Archive rights: Would be cool to be archived! www.Rugbytackling.com only, though.
Sean pressed end and tossed the phone onto the floor. Viggo wasn't going to answer.
And what was Sean planning to say, anyway? "You raped me, you bastard! Do it again?!" Or possibly, "So who were those people you hired to drug me, kidnap me, and beat me up? I thought I knew all the stunt guys."
Sean swore and sat up. Then swore again, all the big and small aches and pains making themselves felt at once.
A deep, dull ache from the huge bruise on his chest that he could see though Viggo's open shirt. Yeah. Viggo's shirt. Or possibly Orli's, as it was shudderingly orange with some sort of green and yellow pattern.
A stabbing pain low in his back from that mother-fucker of a kidney punch.
The stretchy achiness in his groin from being in that goddamned fucking spreader so long.
The odd, not-quite-painful discomfort in his ass.
And the prickly warmth of the mark between his shoulders…
He swore again and got up to run hot water in the tub.
Your body is a crime scene. He laughed humorlessly to himself. It sounded odd in the quiet house.
What about that, anyway? He walked back into his bedroom and his eyes fell on the disc on the bed. The phone was on the carpet. He should call the police.
But he hurt all over, and what he really wanted was a long soak.
Well, at least Viggo had the sense to plan their little escapade at the beginning of a long weekend. Sean could stay home, lick his wounds, and not have to show up on set today.
He stripped off and stepped into the scalding water. Sat in the tub til his fingers were pruney, adding more hot water when the tub threatened to get too cool. Thought about the disc.
Was the whole thing really Viggo's idea of a birthday present? Really? He knew what was on the disc. He'd been there. What he should really do was call the police.
It was one thing for Viggo to want him, proposition him, maybe even push a little too hard.
It was another thing for Viggo to drug him, kidnap him. Force him.
But had it been a crime? Because warped as it would sound to any sane person, Sean had liked it. Well, not all of it. But from the moment Viggo had touched him, Sean had somehow lost track of the fact that he had not agreed to it. It was frightening and twisted.
But Sean knew he would watch the disc. Probably wank to it, too.
Except that Sean didn't really want what was going to be on that disc. Sean wasn't into the hard stuff. But oddly, with his mind newly opened to the possibilities, he thought he might have wanted something else from Viggo. But Viggo apparently wanted a rough ride with a sick twist of voyeurism.
God, how could he be getting a headache when the rest of him was so relaxed he wasn't sure he'd be able to get out of the tub on his own? He pulled the plug and levered himself up.
Fine. So. If it was his present from Viggo, he should at least do Viggo the courtesy of watching it.
It was midmorning. Sean put the disc in the player. Settled himself in the arm chair. Took a sip of his orange juice and wished he was willing to pour something stronger. But he didn't want to risk mixing alcohol with the who-knew-what Viggo had used to knock him out twice in twenty-four hours.
The scene didn't open in a dark room, as he had expected, but rather showed a woman sitting in a swivel chair in what appeared to be a brightly lit security command center. Several monitors were visible from this camera angle. Sean sat up a bit fuck, that kidney punch hurt to get a better look at them. Yes, there he was, pacing in his display cabinet.
Ah. And there were the trolls. He smiled grimly. At least there he'd gotten some of his own back. One of them would be needing reconstructive surgery on his knee, and a second might never play the violin again. Lovely compound fracture to right forearm. Sean hoped they'd gotten that on film. He was considering scanning ahead to see when Viggo walked into the room.
His friend looked as if he had just gotten out of bed, tired, worried and a little pale. He shook the woman's hand and exchanged thin lipped pleasantries. She offered him a chair and pointed Sean out on the monitor. Viggo walked over to the screen and stared down. Actually reached out and touched the glass
"I have acquired a lovely new toy," she said, with a flirty little smile. "I wanna see him get fucked." Viggo turned to her quickly, eyes wide and startled. She smiled more broadly, "I think you're the man for the job."
Sean wasn't sure he had ever seen Viggo Mortensen speechless. But his friend's mouth actually fell open before he snapped it shut and obviously struggled to comprehend.
"I've set up a beautiful room downstairs and have the cameras where I want them. We've just been waiting for you."
Viggo just continued to stare. So did Sean. What the fuck was this? His heart was pounding, and he had a sudden panicky sense of separation from his cell phone, still on the floor upstairs. He wanted to lock all the doors and set the security alarm. Something. Because suddenly he felt like he was being watched in his own home.
But the disc kept playing.
"I promised myself something really special for my thirty-fifth birthday," she said. "It took me a long time to decide, but now I'm very sure."
Viggo's response was remarkably calm. "What makes you think I'll have anything to do with this?" he asked.
"Well," she paused, "I would prefer you to fuck him, but the boys … they’re more than happy to take turns." Sean felt ill.
"It's up to you," she continued. "You came, and I'll keep my word. You can take him home in the morning, whether you help me or not."
Sean's hands were clenched so tight the bone showed through at the knuckles. He saw the moment when Viggo decided. "All right. I have two requirements. I don't want him to know about the cameras. Cover his eyes. And I don't want him to say anything on film. Gag him, too."
She smiled sweetly. "Agreed. My two stage directions. He knows it's you. He gets no explanations."
Viggo took a deep breath. "Agreed."
Except she had given Sean the explanation, and he didn't know what it meant. His head was throbbing now, and he really, really wished for about four fingers of scotch.
Sean watched the rest of the disc, went upstairs, put on some clothes, and called the police.
Part IV
Originally posted at Rugbytackle
