|sheffiesharpe (sheffiesharpe) wrote in kinkfest,|
@ 2008-03-20 12:57:00
|Entry tags:||a: garglingargoyle, f: lotrips, march 20, p: sean/viggo|
"Spring Cleaning," LotRPS (Sean/Viggo)
(posting this for garglingargoyle who is having internet difficulties)
Title: Spring Cleaning
Rating: Light R-y.
Warning: RPS AU-y domestic schmoop.
Disclaimer: Not true.
Word Count: 500
Prompt: Sean/Viggo, shower sex—“Have you ever been actually clean in the last 18 months?”
The door slammed and Sean nearly pounced on Viggo. “Off! All of it off. I just mopped.”
Viggo stood on the mat and smirked as he bent over to work at the laces of his boots. “You pick the rainiest week of spring to mop floors?” He peeled away his soaked and muddy denim jacket and tossed it at Sean. “Aren’t you just asking to have to do it all over again?”
Sean threw the jacket back at him. “It wouldn’t matter when I did it, living with you. Have you ever been actually clean in the last eighteen months?”
Viggo remembered stripping to his boxers and tossing his muddy clothes out the door onto the porch to be retrieved later. He didn’t remember exactly when he’d lost his shorts. But they were gone now, and the cold of the shower wall made him wince. Sean had backed him into the bathroom, maneuvered him into the tub and followed him, pressing him against the tile. Sean was still completely clothed, and the flannel of his shirt was a soft contrast to the chill at Viggo’s back. Sean traced the dirt line at Viggo’s wrists and he couldn’t help but wriggle.
Sean liked cleaning. He liked seeing everything in its place. And knowing that he’d put everything in its place was what let him know that their house was his place. Nothing made him feel more content than sitting down in a freshly washed and brightened living room, everything placed just so, everything set to rights. And nothing delighted Viggo more than mucking it up. Not this time. Today they would make it at least until dinner before Viggo’s happy mess began to encroach on Sean’s fresh order. Sean smiled as he felt Viggo wriggle under him. “Pre-emptive strike,” he said.
Viggo felt his grin widening, imagined it lighting his eyes the way Sean insisted it did. “Why you dirty—”
“Me dirty?” Sean kept Viggo pressed to the wall with one hip while he maneuvered out of his clothes, then fiddled with the shower knobs.
“You’re using sex to keep the house clean.” Viggo couldn’t have kept the amusement out of his voice if he’d wanted to.
Sean turned Viggo so that the water hit him between the shoulder blades. “I never would.”
“But you are.”
Sean let his fingers brush the length of Viggo’s cock. He shrugged. And grinned.
Sean had his feet propped on the coffee table, carefully avoiding knocking askew the short stack of magazines he’s fanned across the table earlier. The late afternoon sun streamed through the window and hit his bare feet, warming them slightly, and he could hear Viggo humming and making a right mess of the kitchen as he prepared their dinner. He had a book propped against one knee and was resting his head against an arm folded behind his shoulders. His damp hair tickled at his wrist, but he was in no hurry to move. This was just the right place.