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Grown-ups’ Pranks

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It all started with sharing a trailer with your co-stars, and especially bad when it’s the mad ones.

Now Sean might not be the little ray of sunshine in the crew but Viggo had a particular reputation of waving his sword down the street like a lunatic. So when Viggo teased him about filling the cabinet with Yorkshire tea and English breakfast tea, Sean only glared at him. “Whatever. Yer coffee is shit anyway.”

After all, you can’t bite the dog even if it bites you, right?

It turned out that you can and you will. The next morning when Sean reached the trailer he shared with Viggo and Orlando, yawning as he was ready to get himself a cuppa while waiting for the make-up, all he could find in the cabinet was those wired-looking Maté tea.

The Maté wasn’t that bad, which was quite a shock for the Brit, but he would be doomed if he let Viggo get away so easily with that shit-eating grin.

When Viggo was taking quick nap in between shoots, Sean stole his damn evil precious sword. It was quite amusing to see the future King of Gondor freaked out waking up without his sword. Viggo stormed around the set like he had a fire to put out, panicking visibly as he tried to figure out what the hell happened to his baby sword.

After hearing rumors of Sean B. walking around the set this morning with a strange sword that obviously did not belong to him, Viggo found Sean half-siting-half-lying in his chair, with a stoic face and a cup of English tea in hand.

“Please, please, Sean,” the American flashed his teary puppy eyes, “please tell me where my baby is, please. I'll be good now, I promise.”

He begged so prettily, Sean thought with a content smile.Those grey-blue eyes shined with a lovely hint of faint green in them, flickering under the afternoon sun light like he was sincerely sorry for being a brat before. Maybe he’d make him beg more in the future, nothing personally, just for fun though. And being a decent gentleman, Sean decided to return the sword to a desperate Aragorn.

And of course he’s not gonna be good, all that begging was only acting, Viggo ground his teeth as he watched Sean walking away with a smug. That British prick had crossed a line, he shouldn’t had touched his child, for fuck’s sake. It’s an open war now, and he had full intention fo win this war. Contemplating a plan of revenge, Viggo developed a nasty habit of holding his sword to his chest while napping ever since.

It wasn’t too much of a surprise, not to Sean at least, when Viggo gave him a full on rugby-tackle in front of half of the crew. He should have known better. “Christ!” The pain of his back crashing down with a brutal strength choked out a cry from Sean, when a grown man ambushed you down on the ground out of blue, the soft grass beneath wasn’t so soft anymore. “You little wanker!” Sean rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the winning smirk of Viggo, still dressed in his ragged Strider clothes and messy hair, “You’ll so regret it, you brat!”

Now that must be embarrassing, Viggo thought as he pinned Sean’s wrists down on the dry turf, being tackled down so easily in front of everyone, he could still hear people giggling in the background as they stealing glances at the quarreling two.

Sean seamed so stoic and uptight most of the time. He had such a strong body build, broad shoulders, and muscular arms. Viggo wouldn’t say he did not appreciate the look of Sean, just from an artist perspective, but the satisfaction of pinning his Steward under him was too strong to ignore. This feeling was good, with his legs wrapped around Sean’s thighs and fingers gripped into his struggling wrists. A flush of bright pink creeped up to Sean’s cheekbones, indicating how embarrassed he was in that situation.

Yeah, he said he was going to win this war.

Well, Viggo knew he was being a brat like Sean claimed, but he wasn’t prepared to be actually treated like one at all.

Taking off his wigs and ready to go home, Viggo was markedly startled when Sean attacked him out of nowhere. And just when Viggo thought he was going to get a proper rugby-tackle in retribution, he found himself bending over the couch in their trailer, getting his ass smacked like a misbehaved kid.

“Let go of me!” He yelled, squirmed fruitlessly as he trying to get away from Sean’s hold. Sean pressed his waist down with one hand, using another to deliver a few astonishingly hard slaps that even the soft denim couldn’t protect his abused backside. Panting, Viggo looked over his shoulder to meet Sean’s iron scowl. “Well, now ya know ya don’t mess with me, brat.”

Fuck Sean, fuck his sturdy arms, fuck his sexy green eyes and hoarse voice, fuck everything. He hated this Brit, and he’s not gonna back down just from one hinderance.

Revenge is a dish better served hot and spicy. The next time he caught a chance of Sean’s mind wondering in blank, Viggo managed to rugby-tackle him again, this time onto the very same couch he was humiliated on just a few days ago.

He had Sean trapped in his tight embrace, the Brit flushed yet again, which was more than delightful in Viggo’s eyes. He forced Sean’s legs further apart with one knee, wittily pointed his kneecap at the Englishman’s vulnerably open crutch.

“You are going to apologize to me, Bean,” Viggo grinned, “or, little Sean is not gonna like what I’m about to do.”

Strangely enough, Sean didn’t utter a word, and Viggo realized something was seriously off when he ground his knee against Sean’s washed jeans.

Damn, he almost cried out in amaze, now this was not little at all. What he felt under the sinful fabric now, was a hot, proper, swelling bulge.

“I—” Viggo felt himself rigid, suddenly as embarrassed as his victim, “Sean, eh, I’m sorry…” Now he was apologizing, fuck. He loosened his grip on Sean’s broad shoulders, silently retreated his regretful kneecap.

He dropped his eyes, sensing neither revolt nor remark from the Brit lying on the couch. Fuck, Sean must be really pissed, or something. Maybe he had gone too far this time, he was too terrified to think about the consequence now. Maybe he did deserve a spanking after all, Viggo tried to slip away from Sean quietly, but found himself stopped by the warm fingers grabbed onto his upper arms.

Sudden dizziness blended into his head, he realized Sean had flipped him over on the couch with a savage force. Viggo was half expecting an iron fist connected to his cheek, instead he heard a low whisper blew inches shy from his own lips. “Vig,” that Yorkshire accent had never seemed so enticing, “yer going to pay for this, bastard.”

Viggo held his breath as he gazed back into those green orbs, searching from a glitter darkened by desire and trance, only to see his own faint blue eyes stared longingly, reflected in Sean’s beautiful eyes.

The air inside the trailer was heating up, moist in the deep of New Zealand’s summer night. Viggo released the breath he was holding, but not for long until his lips were captured again. Everything flew in a haze, and Viggo barely registered anything but Sean’s lips on him, Sean’s hands on him, Sean’s hip on him. That sexy bulge was now grinding on his own crutch, Viggo found himself growing so hard that it hurt to keep his pants on. Taking actions was somehow easier than thinking, no one was distracted enough to care if the trailer door was locked when they teared each other’s clothes open.

They were grown-ups, bloody hell, and they were pulling silly pranks on each other like some disruptive school boys.

Sean’s lips slid under the stubbled chin that always playing magic in charming the audience, bit down on the soft skin when he reached Viggo’s collarbone. The clear water of his gorgeous blue eyes now tinted with smokey fog. He must have been so lost right now, and Sean was no farther behind. He didn’t even realized how badly he wanted this, to touch him, feel him in a way he had never felt before, not until Viggo’s stupid rugby-tackle woke some deep yearning inside his body, his mind. He had wanted this for so long, and he knew it from Viggo’s eyes that he wanted it, too.

His fingers caressed every line of muscles and every inch of heated skin he was allowed to reach, fit himself inside Viggo’s willingly parted legs, the same silent permission he just gave him. The honey tanned skin shimmered with sweat under his palms, Sean left another trail of glint as he licking down those fine six packs to his groin. Raspy moans reached his ears, Sean was glad to see Viggo was as aroused as he was, and everything wasn’t just a piece of exquisite daydreams of his. Sean didn’t show hesitation when he took the hot shaft in his mouth, licking from root to the slit and bringing it to a full erection with no time.

“Please,” the American’s words sounded like shaky gasps, bucking his hip in need while trying not to choke Sean, “don’t tease, Sean, I need…”

Yeah, he said he was going to make Viggo beg again.

Sean licked and sucked, heated fingers gripped at the root and more slick tongue at the top. He could make him beg, and he could make him squirm again, too. The moans continued to build, until Viggo’s shaky digits pulled his golden locks so hard that he had to raise up his head. With a wordless pleading in his eyes, Viggo casted him a tube of lemon-scent lube and a few packs of condoms. “Out of strawberry ones.” Viggo simply stated. He reminded himself to ask why did Viggo keep those supplies in the make-up trailer later, when his fingers were not all wet and deep inside Viggo’s tight arse, when he had more braincells to think about things other than fucking this man nice and hard.

His own cock was weeping in lust when Viggo spared his muscular thighs even further apart, enfolded his long legs around Sean’s waist as a gesture of urging. The desperation was mutual, the words almost jumped out of his lips but he bit them back with a frantic kiss. Usually he would be more patient, but the fire burst out wildly as their body moved in sync, and Sean was trying his best not to come right away like a horny teenager. Steadied himself and slowly pushed inside Viggo, he licked the barely visible scar hidden between dark stubbles right above Viggo’s upper lip.

The American blew all the groans of pain into Sean’s mouth, yet it was both harder and easier than Viggo had imagined at the same time. He surely didn’t look that big, fuck, or maybe it’s his rashness coming back to bite his ass, but it burned so damn much he felt like he could take no more. Yet, the radiant sparkles in Sean’s eyes chased away the streak of cowardice in him.

It felt so good, just so god damn right, to be taken completely by that natural force of this Brit.

Sean set at an almost entire pause to let both men take a breath, but soon enough Viggo was bucking his hip restlessly and nearly fucking himself on Sean’s cock. He felt so full, stretched, vulnerable. The pain was nothing compared to the pure bliss of opening up to Sean, being possessed by Sean, getting fucked into the couch by Sean.

Viggo gripped onto the soft cushions nearby, nails scratched them mindlessly, greedily printing every image before him into his brain for lasting memory. Oxygen inside the trailer was no longer sufficient, the edge of his vision darkened as Sean hastened the pace. Sean thrusted into him almost violently, bending his legs higher up over his shoulders, the angle involuntarily displayed his exceptional flexibility, and the roughness was exactly what he needed.

“Please…” No word was necessary, yes somehow he knew his pleading would gratify Sean strikingly.

“Vig…” Sean smiled, licking the sweat formed on top of his thin lips like a fucking porn star, “You beg so beautifully, ya know tha’?”

I do, Viggo almost screamed when Sean’s ever strong and graceful fingers clutched around his weeping cock, I did from the last time I begged for your mercy, and the sadism in your eyes made my dreams that night zealous and sinful.

Everything closed in, Viggo had lost track of time and space, the only sensation vivid was Sean’s heated body against him, cramming in him with passion. He climaxed so hard he was convinced that he had screamed to the top of his lungs. The lasting bliss held onto him like a tight embrace, Viggo couldn’t remember the last time sex feeling so brilliant and soothing, calming down his nerves from intensive shooting with another passion that seemed so right.

The line was crossed, and it should’ve been crossed a fucking long time ago. The might not have said anything before, but the instinct of their bodies was more powerful than any confession.

And fuck, Viggo almost rolled back his eyes, if this is the price to pay for mischief, he would be pulling pranks on Sean everyday and all they long.

Just when Viggo’s bent legs started to get sore, the Brit released inside him after a particularly brutal thrust. Sean rolled off him, found himself a spot next to Viggo comfortable enough, and refused to let go. I’m a human-shape teddy bear, Viggo thought to himself smiling, feeling gentle kisses Sean pressed on his bare neck as he hugged him tighter.

Now what lessons to learn?

Sean woke up with a sore neck from sleeping in the couch inside his trailer. He rubbed his misty eyes, feeling the dryness in his throat and the blinking lights hurt his eyes.

Wait, blinking lights…?

Sean sat up with a start, shaking slightly as he realized he was about completely naked, then he heard a rather familiar giggling came from someone kneeling next to the couch. Viggo the brat, smirking wickedly at him with a camera in hand.

“Good morning, Sean.” The teasing smug in Viggo’s voice was almost too much to bear, “You’re nose hair is so cute, Bean, I’d make a fortune if I sell these photos to those magazines.”

Bloody hell, Sean ground his teeth and tightened his fists, such a grown-up he is.