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wordsontongueTitle: Saved by a Flying Man in a Loincloth
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
afra_schatz
Rating: light R probably
Warnings: None
Request: Genres - fluff, romance, domestic, light kink, humour, mild, resolved angst; any ratings; Prompt(s) or general mood(s) - The great outdoors
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's make believe and completely untrue.
Author's Notes: The title is a quote from Disney's 'Tarzan'. Very classy, I know. Also, there is intensely artistic artwork included at the end of this :).
If you asked Viggo he'd tell you that life outside was one big jungle. But mind you, he'd say it with a smile on his face - not just any smile but that slightly mad one that simultaneously makes Sean half-hard and check his seat-belt for safety - and of course Viggo would find the jungle metaphor intensely true and exciting (like everything in his life). Sean is pretty certain that Viggo, if prompted, would also go on and on gorging himself on that metaphor and making himself the Tarzan in the modern jungle, if only so he can run around half-naked in the streets of New York to show everyone his hairy chest and to call Sean his whatshername, the bird who Tarzan saves all the time.
Sean is not sure why it is that Viggo, in his randomly prompted day dreams, always ends up making Sean the damsel in distress to his strapping hero. It's not like Sean particularly looks all that much like a damsel - if anything it's Viggo with that youthful twinkle in his eyes and his soft smile who could pass as a woman if he chose to dress up like one (again). Sean is pretty much the stereotype of 'bloke' and he's not even trying all that hard. It's just that when they are invited to parties it's always Sean who ends up enthusiastically discussing football (and 'enthusiastically' includes the odd brawl) and thongs whereas Viggo, at the same party only a couple of feet away, has intensely deep discussions about Mr. Darcy and, curiously, about shoes even though or maybe because he hardly ever wears any.
If you look at what they do for a living it's not like Sean is the one working in the almost all-female field of kindergardening. Sean does proper gardening as he likes to point out (and it makes Viggo cackle every time and say that Sean's play on words is legendary and he should write poetry). Cutting back trees and hauling around sacks of mulch is pretty manly work, at least manlier than trying to dig crayons out of the noses of four year olds. Not that Viggo doesn't excel at that kind of work - their house is full of framed artwork done with said crayons given to him every day. Some mornings Sean comes down for breakfast and catches Viggo standing in their living room still in his pyjamas and looking at the gallery that has grown there over the years. There is so much quiet joy and happiness on his face when he looks at one particular drawing that shows their house and in front of it them holding hands. In that picture Sean holds a crooked sunflower and has a beard that makes him look like the strawberry blond version of Santa Claus and when Viggo hears him and turns around to him he always comments on it, strokes Sean's jaw tenderly before he leans their foreheads together and slides his arms around Sean's waist.
So yeah, anyway, Viggo's kids give him presents regularly and adore the ground he walks on, so much that Sean is pretty sure that Viggo could start his own cult in no time if he set his mind on it and easily instantly had a string of forty followers. Viggo agrees with him there but says that it's pretty hard aiming for world domination when your army consists of under six year olds and if he can't be ruler of the world then why even bother. Privately Sean thinks this pretty hilarious because no one is less suited for war and dictatorship than Viggo who is both too gentle and too muddleheaded to ever succeed at tyranny.
At least that is something they have in common - the muddleheadedness, not the gentleness because Sean is a bit of a klutz when it comes to emotions and kindness and romance and things like that but he does have a tendency to get lost in his own thoughts sometimes. If Viggo is known for his crazy and random ideas then Sean is for his tendency to stray in his own mind.
Which is why this whole idea of the world out there as one big jungle makes him kind of uncomfortable. Sure, he likes being outdoors and there's hardly anything more lovely than spending a lazy summer's day in his garden, tending to his flowers and trees and watching the grass grow, so to speak. But of course that's all domesticated things and Sean might like the occasional brawl and has turned pub-crawls into an Olympic discipline but he likes his life ordinary and well-arranged. Viggo sometimes calls him a control-freak - usually when Sean makes him clean up after himself and insists that it may be okay for his kindergardeners to leave their socks lying all over the place but Viggo is fifty, not five, so the same rules don't apply to him - and Sean supposes that he is indeed a bit of a be-in-command fanatic. It's not just that he prefers it like that in bed, he likes to have control over his life in general and if he hasn't he gets scared that he might get lost. He wouldn't do well in the jungle, real or metaphorical.
It's something that intensely fascinates him about Viggo. It's not envy because Sean loves him too much to ever be jealous of anything that Viggo has or does with the easiest matter-of-factness that would cost Sean a lifetime of effort. Viggo faces each challenge in his life, each set back (and there have been a few, the kindergardening career certainly wasn't what he had imagined when they finished school) with the same early morning well rested confidence - just stretch your muscles once and smile broadly and your day will smile back. Sean is definitely not a morning person (again both literally as well as metaphorically), is more the 'grumbling and hiding in his kitchen behind a huge pot of coffee until the sun is fully up' kind of bloke. And there's no convenient hiding place like that in the jungle, is there?
So, come to think of it, Sean - despite his beard and his sometimes too quick fists and the fact that he's the one topping - might be the damsel in distress after all. Because life outside his house, his gardening centre, his tight circle of friends is the great outdoors, is the jungle. There, it's so easy to get lost or to never get anywhere, to forget where you wanted to go in the first place.
There was a time in his life when he sort of felt just like that, utterly alone in the middle of nowhere, sitting in the rain and feeling sorry for himself. Enter Viggo, who of course had to come in in style. It wasn't dangling from a liana and hollering Tarzan's trademark cry but it was close enough anyway; at a party in, what, 1977, Viggo did this eye-opening impersonation of Bowie and made Sean cry with laughter and fall so hard for him that it felt like he had actual bruises from it afterwards. Viggo was right there in front of him, grinned at him crookedly and scratched his chest like he still does it when he's somewhat torn between that sweet coyness and shameless flirting. Sean didn't hesitate for one second. He asked him out then and there, no uncertainty but utter sureness, just like when he proposed to him a couple of years later. He just grabbed Viggo's hand and told him that they were gonna get hitched and that was that. He has been holding on him ever since that first moment. Because he may be a lot of things but he isn't stupid.
If you find meaning in your life you hold on to it. You do it tightly and never let go again, not under any circumstances.
"You know I'm pretty okay with that," Viggo says contemplatively and Sean hears him scratching his chest.
It's a good ten minutes after Sean has told him about his jungle theory in a moment of pre-coffee foolish affection. In the meantime Sean has sort of fallen asleep again next to him and only opens his eyes when he feels Viggo's hand on his chest.
"Okay with what?" he asks back, yawns lazily and rubs his beard, then shifts to his side, propping his head on his hand. "Me sticking to you like a beggar's button?"
"How about I start calling you that?" Viggo suggests and in turn flops back onto his back, looking up at Sean expectantly. "My little button?"
"How about you don't?"
"Fine, fine, I'll stick to 'Jane' then, though that is a bit plain and boring, compared to my Tarzan."
Viggo shrugs easily and Sean can feel the motion, he's lying that close to him. Viggo reaches up and brushes a strand of hair back behind Sean's ear, his fingers pressing lightly against Sean's jugular vein afterwards.
"There's always a place for you in the tree house, beautiful. After all, you're my pretty jungle bimbo and I love you. Always have, always will."
Sean rolls on top of him, his legs between Viggo's, and he easily pins Viggo's hands down on the pillow on either side of his head.
"Your jungle bimbo, huh?" he growls.
Viggo nods simply, not at all intimidated, but Sean can feel him growing hard against his naked thigh.
"I think we should adopt a cheetah, button," Viggo says conversationally as he twists his wrists in Sean's grip, testing it.
"We're not gonna get any other pets that I'll end up having to take out for walkies," Sean decides. Viggo switches to bedroom eyes. Sean tenderly kisses his forehead, rubs their noses together but insists with a low voice, "That's not gonna work, darling. Nor will your sexy hairy chest or your Tarzan worthy hollering five minutes from now."
He rocks against Viggo, making his point, and Viggo laughs, carefree and self-assured, and leans up to kiss him. So sure and tender and right like everything he does. Sean knows he'd give in to anything that Viggo wishes for in an instant, even something as demented as a cheetah. He knows that in turn Viggo will always be there to guide him through the jungle or keep him company in their tree house.
END
And because I can: Viggo's favourite piece of living room artwork:
Author:
afra_schatzRating: light R probably
Warnings: None
Request: Genres - fluff, romance, domestic, light kink, humour, mild, resolved angst; any ratings; Prompt(s) or general mood(s) - The great outdoors
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's make believe and completely untrue.
Author's Notes: The title is a quote from Disney's 'Tarzan'. Very classy, I know. Also, there is intensely artistic artwork included at the end of this :).
If you asked Viggo he'd tell you that life outside was one big jungle. But mind you, he'd say it with a smile on his face - not just any smile but that slightly mad one that simultaneously makes Sean half-hard and check his seat-belt for safety - and of course Viggo would find the jungle metaphor intensely true and exciting (like everything in his life). Sean is pretty certain that Viggo, if prompted, would also go on and on gorging himself on that metaphor and making himself the Tarzan in the modern jungle, if only so he can run around half-naked in the streets of New York to show everyone his hairy chest and to call Sean his whatshername, the bird who Tarzan saves all the time.
Sean is not sure why it is that Viggo, in his randomly prompted day dreams, always ends up making Sean the damsel in distress to his strapping hero. It's not like Sean particularly looks all that much like a damsel - if anything it's Viggo with that youthful twinkle in his eyes and his soft smile who could pass as a woman if he chose to dress up like one (again). Sean is pretty much the stereotype of 'bloke' and he's not even trying all that hard. It's just that when they are invited to parties it's always Sean who ends up enthusiastically discussing football (and 'enthusiastically' includes the odd brawl) and thongs whereas Viggo, at the same party only a couple of feet away, has intensely deep discussions about Mr. Darcy and, curiously, about shoes even though or maybe because he hardly ever wears any.
If you look at what they do for a living it's not like Sean is the one working in the almost all-female field of kindergardening. Sean does proper gardening as he likes to point out (and it makes Viggo cackle every time and say that Sean's play on words is legendary and he should write poetry). Cutting back trees and hauling around sacks of mulch is pretty manly work, at least manlier than trying to dig crayons out of the noses of four year olds. Not that Viggo doesn't excel at that kind of work - their house is full of framed artwork done with said crayons given to him every day. Some mornings Sean comes down for breakfast and catches Viggo standing in their living room still in his pyjamas and looking at the gallery that has grown there over the years. There is so much quiet joy and happiness on his face when he looks at one particular drawing that shows their house and in front of it them holding hands. In that picture Sean holds a crooked sunflower and has a beard that makes him look like the strawberry blond version of Santa Claus and when Viggo hears him and turns around to him he always comments on it, strokes Sean's jaw tenderly before he leans their foreheads together and slides his arms around Sean's waist.
So yeah, anyway, Viggo's kids give him presents regularly and adore the ground he walks on, so much that Sean is pretty sure that Viggo could start his own cult in no time if he set his mind on it and easily instantly had a string of forty followers. Viggo agrees with him there but says that it's pretty hard aiming for world domination when your army consists of under six year olds and if he can't be ruler of the world then why even bother. Privately Sean thinks this pretty hilarious because no one is less suited for war and dictatorship than Viggo who is both too gentle and too muddleheaded to ever succeed at tyranny.
At least that is something they have in common - the muddleheadedness, not the gentleness because Sean is a bit of a klutz when it comes to emotions and kindness and romance and things like that but he does have a tendency to get lost in his own thoughts sometimes. If Viggo is known for his crazy and random ideas then Sean is for his tendency to stray in his own mind.
Which is why this whole idea of the world out there as one big jungle makes him kind of uncomfortable. Sure, he likes being outdoors and there's hardly anything more lovely than spending a lazy summer's day in his garden, tending to his flowers and trees and watching the grass grow, so to speak. But of course that's all domesticated things and Sean might like the occasional brawl and has turned pub-crawls into an Olympic discipline but he likes his life ordinary and well-arranged. Viggo sometimes calls him a control-freak - usually when Sean makes him clean up after himself and insists that it may be okay for his kindergardeners to leave their socks lying all over the place but Viggo is fifty, not five, so the same rules don't apply to him - and Sean supposes that he is indeed a bit of a be-in-command fanatic. It's not just that he prefers it like that in bed, he likes to have control over his life in general and if he hasn't he gets scared that he might get lost. He wouldn't do well in the jungle, real or metaphorical.
It's something that intensely fascinates him about Viggo. It's not envy because Sean loves him too much to ever be jealous of anything that Viggo has or does with the easiest matter-of-factness that would cost Sean a lifetime of effort. Viggo faces each challenge in his life, each set back (and there have been a few, the kindergardening career certainly wasn't what he had imagined when they finished school) with the same early morning well rested confidence - just stretch your muscles once and smile broadly and your day will smile back. Sean is definitely not a morning person (again both literally as well as metaphorically), is more the 'grumbling and hiding in his kitchen behind a huge pot of coffee until the sun is fully up' kind of bloke. And there's no convenient hiding place like that in the jungle, is there?
So, come to think of it, Sean - despite his beard and his sometimes too quick fists and the fact that he's the one topping - might be the damsel in distress after all. Because life outside his house, his gardening centre, his tight circle of friends is the great outdoors, is the jungle. There, it's so easy to get lost or to never get anywhere, to forget where you wanted to go in the first place.
There was a time in his life when he sort of felt just like that, utterly alone in the middle of nowhere, sitting in the rain and feeling sorry for himself. Enter Viggo, who of course had to come in in style. It wasn't dangling from a liana and hollering Tarzan's trademark cry but it was close enough anyway; at a party in, what, 1977, Viggo did this eye-opening impersonation of Bowie and made Sean cry with laughter and fall so hard for him that it felt like he had actual bruises from it afterwards. Viggo was right there in front of him, grinned at him crookedly and scratched his chest like he still does it when he's somewhat torn between that sweet coyness and shameless flirting. Sean didn't hesitate for one second. He asked him out then and there, no uncertainty but utter sureness, just like when he proposed to him a couple of years later. He just grabbed Viggo's hand and told him that they were gonna get hitched and that was that. He has been holding on him ever since that first moment. Because he may be a lot of things but he isn't stupid.
If you find meaning in your life you hold on to it. You do it tightly and never let go again, not under any circumstances.
"You know I'm pretty okay with that," Viggo says contemplatively and Sean hears him scratching his chest.
It's a good ten minutes after Sean has told him about his jungle theory in a moment of pre-coffee foolish affection. In the meantime Sean has sort of fallen asleep again next to him and only opens his eyes when he feels Viggo's hand on his chest.
"Okay with what?" he asks back, yawns lazily and rubs his beard, then shifts to his side, propping his head on his hand. "Me sticking to you like a beggar's button?"
"How about I start calling you that?" Viggo suggests and in turn flops back onto his back, looking up at Sean expectantly. "My little button?"
"How about you don't?"
"Fine, fine, I'll stick to 'Jane' then, though that is a bit plain and boring, compared to my Tarzan."
Viggo shrugs easily and Sean can feel the motion, he's lying that close to him. Viggo reaches up and brushes a strand of hair back behind Sean's ear, his fingers pressing lightly against Sean's jugular vein afterwards.
"There's always a place for you in the tree house, beautiful. After all, you're my pretty jungle bimbo and I love you. Always have, always will."
Sean rolls on top of him, his legs between Viggo's, and he easily pins Viggo's hands down on the pillow on either side of his head.
"Your jungle bimbo, huh?" he growls.
Viggo nods simply, not at all intimidated, but Sean can feel him growing hard against his naked thigh.
"I think we should adopt a cheetah, button," Viggo says conversationally as he twists his wrists in Sean's grip, testing it.
"We're not gonna get any other pets that I'll end up having to take out for walkies," Sean decides. Viggo switches to bedroom eyes. Sean tenderly kisses his forehead, rubs their noses together but insists with a low voice, "That's not gonna work, darling. Nor will your sexy hairy chest or your Tarzan worthy hollering five minutes from now."
He rocks against Viggo, making his point, and Viggo laughs, carefree and self-assured, and leans up to kiss him. So sure and tender and right like everything he does. Sean knows he'd give in to anything that Viggo wishes for in an instant, even something as demented as a cheetah. He knows that in turn Viggo will always be there to guide him through the jungle or keep him company in their tree house.
END
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