Clockwork for splix

[vbmods.livejournal.com]

Title: Clockwork
Author: savageseraph
Characters: Viggo Mortensen/Sean Bean (Viggo Mortensen/Harry Sinclair)
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Beta:caras_galadhon
Request: Genres - angst, romance, kink, AU, h/c; any ratings; Prompt(s) or general mood(s) - gleam
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's make believe and completely untrue.
Summary: Viggo wondered what it would feel like to have the hands that crafted such a fine thing on his body.



Viggo surfaced from sleep just in time to feel the head of his patron's cock shoving into his body. He couldn't help but tense up, couldn't hold back the cry he muffled in the pillow, not when he'd been used hard the night before. In the months between commissions, Viggo worked hard to forget how Lord Sinclair always woke early and eager to fuck, how the things he demanded in addition to the paintings he bought left Viggo sore, body and soul, for days after.

A slap on the side of the ass made Viggo jerk in surprise, and Sinclair used that moment to bury himself to hilt in Viggo's body. Strong hands gripped Viggo's hips, hauling him back firmly onto Sinclair's cock when he tried to pull away.

"It would be unfortunate if your lack of accommodation affected my generosity with your commission." Sinclair rolled his hips, groaned deeply as Viggo tightened around him. "Especially since you've already invested considerable talent into earning it."

Viggo wasn't sure who he hated more, the arrogant lord or himself, as he forced his body to relax. He pressed back, felt his face flush as he murmured, "Please, lord, take me. I...."

His voice trailed off when a silver sculpture of a rosebud on the bedside table chimed softly as the metallic petals began to unfurl. The insides of the petals were covered in blood-red enamel, and a scattering of crystal chips glittered on them like frozen dewdrops.

Sinclair must have noticed that Viggo's attention had drifted away from him. "One of my wife's foolish fancies," he said as he rocked his hips. "Clockwork curiosities one month. Cruises on a dirigible the next." He groaned softly as his thrusts got longer, harder. "I'm sure it's only a matter of time before some old woman in beaded shawls is invited over to speak with the departed."

Viggo's fingers itched to touch the rose, but instead he curled them in the sheets as Sinclair's thrusts jarred his body. Everything from the color of the petals to the flash of light in the crystal catching the rising sun seemed a product of nature and not artifice. Passion went into its making. Even if that wasn't clear to a jaded nobleman, it was to Viggo. He wondered what it would feel like to have hands that worked with such feeling on his body. His cock stirred, hardened, even as his resolve did the same.

Hours later, Viggo slipped out of the servants' entrance to the Sinclair estates, ignoring the scornful looks the household staff directed his way. He moved stiffly, his body still protesting the liberties he encouraged Sinclair to take with his body. The gold his efforts earned him weighted down his purse, but it was the clockwork rose, cupped gently in his hands, that made the bargain worth the price.

###

That evening the rose chimed shut, closing back into a bud at sunset. Even though Viggo expected it, hoped for it, he smiled at the soft surge of delight it stirred in him. He studied the metal until he found the artist's mark etched on the underside of one petal. He sketched the mark, a leaf inside a gear, admiring the same merging of nature and mechanism captured in the rose itself. Surely, anyone with such talent was going to be easy to find, and Viggo knew just where to start looking.

###

By midday, Viggo's feet ached and a knot of tension gripped the base of his neck. He'd been to every clockwork shop, every jeweler, every watchmaker in High Market, where the shoppers would have the coin to spend on mechanical trinkets. He'd even searched farther afield, visiting shops where the wealthy could purchase hand-blown gas-lamp chandeliers, water clocks, and other curiosities; and asked after reclusive crafters who released their work in private, invitation-only showings. No one recognized the mark or confessed to using it. No one showed Viggo any piece to rival the clockwork rose.

It didn't make sense. Someone with the skill to craft the rose should have throngs of wealthy patrons hanging on to marvel at his next device. The fact that he took the time to design and use a mark meant he didn't mean to hide his hand in the rose's creation. Yet no one admitted to knowing him, and Viggo couldn't find another sample of his work.

A light lunch and the rest it afforded improved Viggo's spirits enough for him to pull out a sketchbook when a trio of flower sellers emerged from the shop across the street. They sat on the stairs leading up to the door binding together small bouquets from the tangle of blossoms in their baskets. It was only when Viggo tried to fill in detail about the shop itself that he noticed the round wooden sign that hung over it. A sign that had a single leaf inside a circle of roses.

Viggo blinked, flipped back through his pages to the sketch of the mark on the clockwork rose. The leaf in the middle of each sign certainly looked similar. He grappled with the thought that he was being decidedly foolish as he got up, brushed imagined dust off his jacket, and crossed the street.

In the shop's window, a cut-crystal vase sparkled in the afternoon sun, and in the vase were roses with petals as richly red as the clockwork blossom. Steeling himself for what he was certain would be the last disappointment of a disappointing day, Viggo pushed the door open. Even before the door shut behind him, he touched his satchel, itching to pull out his sketchpad and try to capture the shop's color and charm.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Viggo's attention shifted from a vase of irises to the speaker. The man behind the counter had a smile that was impossible not to return and the most remarkable green eyes.

"Let me guess. You're looking for a bouquet for some special lady who has your eye." The man leaned on the counter. "I can help you put together something that will make her melt."

The hint of teasing promise in the other man's voice made Viggo think he was more than passing familiar with making people melt. "No, I don't have a...." Viggo cleared his throat. "That is, I'm not looking for a bouquet."

"Ah, well, we have more than flowers. Maybe some plants or an ornamental tree for your study."

Viggo's lips quirked into a smile. "I would need to have a study first."

"I suppose you would." The man came around the counter, nodded at the other side of the store. "We have teas, jams, dyes, spices. Even a bit of coffee or chocolate if you're so inclined. If it comes from a plant, we carry it." He held out his hand to Viggo. "Name's Sean.

Viggo offered his own hand to discover Sean's clasp was as warm and assured as his voice. "Viggo."

"So, Viggo, is there nothing in my shop that catches your eye?"

The most eye-catching thing in the entire shop was the one thing not for sale, and Viggo felt his cheeks warm as he looked it over and got caught doing so, if he read Sean's arched eyebrow and sly smile right. He glanced around the shop, attention everywhere except on Sean.

"I like tea." Viggo regretted the words as soon as they'd left his lips, but Sean only smiled and rested a hand at the small of Viggo's back to steer him toward an assortment of tea canisters. He supposed he should object that Sean's touch was less than proper and suggested a familiarity they didn't share, but Viggo was reluctant to do anything that might prematurely rob him of Sean's warmth.

His trousers grew uncomfortably tight at the thought of sinking into that heat, of letting it wash over him and claim him, and when Viggo left the shop some time later, it was with an exotic tea whose name he'd already forgotten. That night, after sipping the surprisingly mellow tea brewed from dark, spidery leaves, he closed his eyes, took himself in hand, and imagined Sean drawing the blinds in his shop, locking the door, and bending him over the counter. When he came, he bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

###

Days passed into weeks. Viggo learned more than he thought possible about types of tea, and the paintings he made from his sketches of Sean's flowers became a series of quaint still lifes very popular for ladies' sitting rooms. Every morning, Viggo woke to the chiming of the clockwork rose. The leaf on its maker's mark was a rose leaf. He'd learned that from Sean. A rose leaf.

Just like the leaf on the sign outside Sean's shop.

When Viggo arrived at the shop, Sean was turning the sign in the door from Open to Closed. He smiled as he saw Viggo, opened the door, which he locked behind Viggo.

"You're lucky you're a regular." Sean said as he pulled the blinds. "I don't let just anyone in after hours. Would you like some tea? A cup of tea, that is. I could make us some."

"Just like you made this?" Viggo held out the rose.

Sean's eyes widened, then narrowed. His hands curled into fists as he stepped closer. "Where did you get that?"

"That's...complicated."

"Complicated?" Sean growled softly. "Did you steal it from that woman? Did she give it to you as some sort of gift?"

Viggo shook his head, though the lewd suggestion in Sean's voice when he said "gift" made Viggo flush. "It annoyed her husband, so he gave it to me as part of my payment for a painting he commissioned."

Sean eyed him suspiciously. "Why bring it here?"

"I wanted...." Viggo swallowed. "I wanted to find the person who made it."

"Why?" Sean's voice was flat, hostile.

"Because it's spectacular."

Sean stared at him long enough for hostility to mellow into wariness. He raked his fingers through his hair, sighed heavily. "I had the sign up that that shop was closed, but I forgot to lock the door. I just wanted to compare it to the real roses, see if it needed more work. Then that woman came in with her friends. I didn't want to sell it, but it was the only way to be rid of her."

"She never came back for more?"

"She never imagined I was the one who made it." Sean shrugged. "I told her I'd gotten it at a fair when I was looking for new seeds."

"I suppose she wasn't very observant." Viggo stepped closer to Sean, offered him the rose.

Sean wet his lips as he looked at the rose, then turned without taking it from Viggo. "Come with me."

Viggo tucked the rose back into his satchel before he followed Sean out of the shop through a long greenhouse humming with heat and the smell of growing things to a small walled-in courtyard. He unlocked a door, held it open, waved Viggo inside. "Up."

The stairs to the second floor were steep and narrow and curved a bit to right as they neared the top. They opened into a sitting room that was much like others of its kind except that the furnishings spoke more of comfort than fashion. Viggo's floral still lifes would have looked as awkward on its walls as a lace bonnet on the head of a woodcutter.

However, Viggo's attention didn't linger long on the mundanities of table and sofa, fireplace and mirror. He stopped abruptly enough that Sean bumped into him from behind. A small alcove that might have once held china nestled in one wall. Except instead of plates and tea cups, it was home to dragonflies with glittering mica wings and bumblebees with bodies of yellow jasper and jet. Brazen butterflies fanned jeweled wings, while steel-legged spiders with obsidian bodies spun metallic webs over silver daisies whose heads turned slowly, like lazy pinwheels.

Viggo released the breath he didn't realize he was holding in a soft sigh. "It's wonderful."

"It's just a hobby." Sean shrugged as he picked up a ladybug whose golden legs couldn't get traction on a smooth saucer and deposited it on one of the alcove's wooden shelves.

"It's wonderful. You could be a wealthy man if you sold even a few of these."

Sean shrugged. "Aye. I suppose I could. But then people would come around and want to buy more. And I would have to make more. And that would take me away from my plants, and they're my first love."

"Passion doesn't always pay the bills."

Sean cocked his head to the side, studied Viggo long enough for him to feel a trickle of sweat tickling his back. "So it's better to put passion aside?" With the same gentle ease with which he relocated the clockwork ladybug, his fingers brushed along Viggo's jaw.

Viggo couldn't disguise the shudder that ran though him at that light touch. "Sometimes it's necessary."

Sean's hand came to rest on Viggo's shoulder as he stepped close enough that barely a whisper could slip between their bodies. "That is a proper load of shite, Viggo."

Before Viggo could more than open his mouth to begin to protest, Sean brought his lips down on Viggo's and curled his fingers around the back of Viggo's neck to hold him still. Viggo heard soft, needy sounds as Sean's tongue slipped into his mouth to taste and tease. It took a few moments before Viggo realized the sounds were coming from him. When he pressed tighter against Sean, he felt clear evidence that the other man was as aroused as he was.

"It's never necessary."

"But..." Viggo made a startled sound as Sean tugged his jacket off. Nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons and clasps on Viggo's shirt.

"No buts... Patrons can only buy what we're willing to sell." Sean hummed softly as he ran his fingers over Viggo's chest. "And some things should never be sold."

Viggo was ready to argue before Sean ducked his head, before soft lips and a wicked tongue teased each of his nipples in turn.

"You're an artist, Viggo. Not a whore." Sean unbuttoned Viggo's pants, slid them off over his hips. He licked his lips as his gaze moved over Viggo's body. "Fuck, but I knew you'd be beautiful."

The hunger in Sean's words made Viggo shudder. Apparently Viggo wasn't the only one who spent lonely nights with only his hand and imagination for company.

"I wanted you from the first moment you walked into my shop."

Viggo nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Me too."

"No real reason to wait then, is there?" Sean didn't even bother to wait for an answer before his arms curled around Viggo's waist, hands sliding down to cup Viggo's ass. He herded Viggo awkwardly toward the bedroom, mostly because Sean didn't seem inclined to stop kneading or nuzzling or nibbling along the way.

Not that Viggo objected.

Quite the opposite in fact. He felt no need to protest when Sean gave him a gentle shove to tumble him into his bed or when fabric tore as Sean yanked off his own clothes. No complaint passed his lips when Sean explored every inch of skin or when he finally slid two fingers into Viggo to stretch and tease. There certainly wasn't cause for protest when Sean's cock sank slowly into his body.

"Knew you'd feel better than any man deserved to."

Viggo couldn't argue with Sean's logic, not when they fit together smoothly as the cogs in one of Sean's clockwork creations. And hours later, sticky, sweated, and utterly sated, Viggo drifted off to sleep to the sound of Sean's breathing and the soft whir of mechanical wings.

Comments

[splix.livejournal.com]

Why, you sly minx! You didn't give a hint of your recipient at dinner. Well played, madam. :D

And what a story! Always love an in medias res opener like that. There's an unhappy timelessness about the powerful taking what they want from the powerless, and you captured it well. At least Sinclair provided Viggo with the means to discover another world - and almost, it felt to me, another reality. I felt that from the moment I read the description of the rose-clock, like I'd slipped sideways into a delicate, magical place.

Viggo was excellently persistent in finding the craftsman of the piece, and I adored that Sean was a gardener. Even the shop had a sort of otherworldly feeling to it, and the discovery of the dainty little mechanical flora and fauna was gorgeous. So cool to have the two of them come together in an intertwining of passions, and extraordinary beauty. You painted this whole thing brilliantly, and I just love it to pieces. Thank you so, SO much!

[mooms.livejournal.com]

This is absolutely delightful! I loved the fairytale quality of it, from Viggo setting off on a quest to find the maker of the beautiful clockwork rose to the very satisfying conclusion, where they fitted together like cogs.

It seemed so right that Sean was a gardener and his first love was growing things, but that he was also skilled at making these intricate objects, yet having no desire to sell them and draw the attention of collectors and no interest in making money. It took meeting him to set Viggo straight and adjust his values and the ending made me feel that they would have a beautiful future together.

[govi20.livejournal.com]

This is so lovely. Start of sort of kinky and then changinfg in a dreamylike fairytale. Like the others; Sean being a gardener and having this shop, seems so very right. An amazing tale and I love it.

[bluegerl.livejournal.com]

Pure magic. Oh those glorious creatures in the alcove, truly magical. And those two glorious creatures with each other, Sean the gardener growing and gathering Viggo. Some of the wordings and phrasings are sublime.

[j-flattermann.livejournal.com]

You had me completely drawn in like Viggo when describing the mechanical rose. And I think just like Viggo I would have searched far and wide to find the person who is so talented to create such a delicacy. Just like this story is one and I surely will revisit this magical tale more than once.

[alex-quine.livejournal.com]

There's a Brothers Grimm quality to the world of this fic and yet it's intensely human with a strong sense of the men each searching for something and finding it in the other. The settings are rich and detailed and the quest is an honest one, with a happy ending. great fun.

[kirby-crow.livejournal.com]

I love stories that wind up feeling like so much more than just a little story. This has a magical quality to it that I loved. :)

[shegollum.livejournal.com]

This is completely wonderful! I love the mix of fairy tale and steampunk that seems to come through in Sean's creations (and mention of a dirigible! loved that!). Your descriptions are so vivid and everything inside Sean's shop and home is so magical and warm. I am completely and thoroughly charmed by this. Thank you!!

[foxrafer.livejournal.com]

This is as magical as the clockwork pieces Sean creates. Love how Viggo hunts him down, how he recognizes he's found the man and then when Sean reveals his work is gorgeous. I also love how Sean reacts when he thinks Viggo has stolen the piece and why he doesn't want to sell the work. Wonderful story.