[FIC] RPF: blue sunlight, in Istanbul | envidia

[evocates]

... So I'm posting my prompt fics from this post. (Psst, if you want to prompt me still, it's open!) I'm trying to not spam your f-lists, though, so a lot of them will be collapsed in one post. (They are all kind of tiny anyway, fff.)

envidia

Characters/Pairing: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: PG
Words: ~300
Disclaimer: Didn’t happen, just the product of my imagination.
Summary: Sean wants Viggo to shut off the music. Written for j_flattermann’s prompt.

"For fuck's sake, Vig," Sean yelled through the studio door. "Yer fuckin' music's givin' me a fuckin' headache!"

A Spanish opera singer screamed on, undisturbed, behind the door. She hit a particularly high note, and Sean squeezed his eyes shut, squinting at the nearby window to see if the glass was threatening to break. It didn't; a shame, really, because if the glass broke outside, then maybe Viggo would realise that Sean was trying to get his attention.

"VIGGO!" Sean roared through the door, kicking it hard. "SHUT OFF THAT FUCKIN' RACKET!"

He raised his foot to kick against the wood again when it pulled open. But it was too late, and Sean's toes connected with Viggo's shin. The paintbrush in Viggo's hand went flying, smacking hard against the side of his own face and leaving a fetching streak of blue- but Sean ignored that, storming over to the stereo and pulling out the plug with the vengeance of a man forced to listen to harpies screeching.

"Hey! What the hell was that for?"

Viggo's eyelid was blue and Sean had an odd moment of vertigo when he was reminded of the eyeshadow he wore as Tracie, but he shook his head. "I shouted through the fuckin' door plenty fer ya ta turn the damn volume down already."

Viggo blinked at him. He bent over and picked up the paintbrush, and Sean took a moment to admire the tight ass revealed by the very thin, very paint-splattered jeans he was wearing.

"Sean," Viggo heaved a sigh, the name dragged out as if it took all of his energy to speak. "You realise that this is your house, right?"

"Course I do. 's why I want ya ta keep the fuckin' volume down."

"No," came the reply. Viggo dragged his hand through his hair, smearing more blue paint everywhere. "What I mean was - I didn't lock the door.

"You could've just opened it and turned down the volume at any time."

End

note: the title of the fic comes from Viggo saying that one of his favourite songs is Envidia, taken from this interview. Somewhere in the middle.

blue sunlight, in Istanbul

Characters/Pairing: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: PG
Words: ~500
Disclaimer: Didn’t happen, just the product of my imagination.
Summary: “Every single city had a different-coloured sun.” Written for noalinnea’s prompt. A sequel to grazed knees.

Every single city had a different-coloured sun. Viggo knew that the thought was ludicrous to many - the sun's light fell the same way throughout the Earth after all - but he had saw it himself. In Istanbul the sunlight was the lightest of blues, only noticeable if he half-closed his eyes. The air, the colours of the city- all of it changed the light.

It had been a month since New Orleans. Thirty-four days. Viggo would count the hours if he get out of bed, but he preferred staying here; here, right next to Sean as he slept, tracing the deep wrinkles that had set themselves into his eyes without Viggo's notice, without his permission. Sean had aged, caused by the hurt that Viggo caused, and Viggo wondered when he would be able to forgive himself for that.

(He wondered if he could try forgive Sean for sleeping with someone else; for sharing the sights of him in the delirium of pleasure that only Viggo should be able to give him. He wondered when he would address it and speak of it, instead of trying to forget. The thought festered within him, and he knew he should say it, tell Sean rather than try to claim him every single moment he could, with hands and lips and tongue and skin.

He wondered if Sean already knew his reasons, and that was why he didn't ask.

They should speak of it. Unspoken resentments had already broken the two of them once, and Viggo wouldn't let it happen again. No matter how much he feared that he would lose Sean because of it. He had already lost him once, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to live without him. Not when Sean was carved into his heart and mind and his very soul.)

But not today. Not today. Viggo reached out and stroked his hand through Sean's hair. It was short and brown, so different from the blond that it had been when they had first met. Viggo's own hair was grey; a testament to the years they had spent with each other.)

Sean shifted in his sleep, a soft breath escaping from his lips. He licked them, unconscious still, and Viggo watched as the dull pink turned into a soft red under the early morning night. He should wake soon; filming would start n two hours, and Viggo wanted nothing more than to claim him again, in the morning. Claim him until Sean ached from inside out, unable to forget Viggo even when he turned into Paul Winstone.

He pressed his lips against Sean's. Gently, barely enough weight to disturb his breath.

Green eyes opened slowly, and Sean shifted in the bed. He yawned, reaching out and sliding his hand into Viggo's hair, pulling him down. They inhaled each other's morning breath, a familiarity that changed laughing disgust into another, stronger joy.

"Mornin'," Sean said, his voice thickened by his accent and sleep.

Viggo smiled, and he stroked Sean's cheek, sliding down to his neck, feeling his pulse beat against his fingers.

"It's a beautiful day."

End