Original story: Oh, Brother! series by stormatdusk
Pairing: Sean Bean/David Wenham with an appearance by Viggo Mortensen
Summary: Sean and Dave explore their fantasies. In his head, Sean explores something else entirely-but that isn't them.
Warnings: BDSM. A light incest kink (no actual incest in the story).
Pre-reveal Notes: Since the original was a fun, playful, dialogue-driven romp, I thought I'd play around with using the exact same basic plot but making it a more serious kind of sexy, with some of the blanks filled in (and some new blanks tucked in as well).
Post-reveal Notes: I'll add that in one of my remixes a couple of years ago, I tried keeping the dialogue exactly the same while changing the mood, but this time I wasn't quite able to swing that. I hope it still does the original justice :) Beta and Britpick by the unmatchable rainbowcobweb
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
"You shouldn't indulge me," Sean murmurs into the phone, swirling the whisky in his glass and glancing down again at the photograph before ignoring it entirely, rising to his feet and going to the window instead, watching a sunset mostly obscured by clouds.
"I thought it was a bit strange," Dave admits on the other end of the line. His voice alone makes Sean ache, and he takes a healthy swallow of whisky rather than voice that particular emotion. It wouldn't go along well with his slightly closed-off, in control toppy role, though in truth there's so much more to him-more that he wants Dave, in time, to see. "I thought that at first," Dave continues, his voice a sexy low murmur. Sean cups himself loosely just to feel the pressure of his palm. "But the more I think about it... the more fucking... hot it is," Dave admits quietly. Sean inhales sharply and presses his palm against the window-glass, the phone cradled between his shoulder and ear. He exhales slowly and puts the glass back down on the hotel room's desk, next to the photograph. Pacing along the length of the room, he unbuttons the top few buttons of his crisp white shirt, calming himself with the routine hand-motion.
"You think so?"
"Yeah," Dave whispers. "Yeah," he repeats in a fuller voice, pitched for seduction. "It's a change from our normal... thing. What you do when you... spank me, or fuck me. It's a different game."
"It's not a game," Sean replies, a little harshly.
"No," Dave agrees softly. "I don't know what to call it. But the point is... this is different. Your fantasy, it's interesting. It puts us on a different footing. It's not just taboo, I mean... there's something hot about taboos. Something about camaraderie, brotherhood... mixed with sex. Did you ever jerk off with your mates, when you were a boy?"
"Christ, David," Sean whispers, urgently.
"Tell me," Dave insists. "Tell me now."
"I... yeah," Sean breathes. "Yeah."
"I can picture us together," Dave murmurs. "Underneath the sheets, in our parents' house. Teenagers, trying not to get caught. You lick my hand and guide it to my dick, show me what to do."
"Dave," Sean whispers, pressing his forehead against the wall as he pulls his cock out one-handed.
"Yeah," Dave replies in a hoarse whisper. "It doesn't go beyond that, in my head. It's too scary, for both of us, but especially for me. But I trust you, because you're my brother, and you've never hurt me in a way that I can't recover from it. I'd trust you with my life," Dave murmurs, and Sean doesn't know whether he's speaking as the fantasy brother or as himself. Right now, gripping his cock in spit-slicked hand, jerking it quickly, he doesn't fucking care.
"It's just jerking off," Dave continues, his breathing uneven. Sean knows that Dave is doing the same thing he is, on the other end of the phone. He wishes, from some carnal place in the pit of his stomach, that he could forbid Dave from coming without his permission, that he could control that the way he controls Dave's pleasure when he's bound and begging for it. But that isn't them. He keeps the thought in his head.
"But it's not just jerking off," Dave amends. "Not for me. We whisper to each other, and I peek down at your dick, even though it's dim under the blanket and I can't see clearly. I can still see your fist moving so fast, up and down, in time with your little gasps as you get close, and I feel how fucking hot it is in our little cave, it's fucking burning up, and the head of your cock brushes against mine and it's like this little pain, this fucking brilliant little sensation that I cling to, and I stare straight into your eyes as I come and I whisper your name. And you're not too far behind me, and you touch my cheek, like you always do, just a friendly, brotherly touch, but now it's fucking significant..."
"Dave," Sean groans, the sound choked, his eyes closed as he grits his teeth and shoots onto the wallpaper with its non-descript pattern of vines and leaves. He watches the thick, viscous fluid slowly drip down the wallpaper, and he wishes he could press Dave's face against it, order him to lick the milky trail away with the flat of his tongue. But that isn't them, and so he swipes ineffectually at it with a tissue as he listens to his boyfriend come on the other end of the line.
"Fuck, Sean," Dave murmurs after a long silence, just heavy breathing and the weight of the fantasy between them.
"Yeah," Sean agrees gruffly, tosses the wad of tissue in the bin and tucks himself back in, reclining on the bed with the phone in one hand. "Fucking tease."
Dave laughs shortly. "What, are you going to punish me for that?" he teases in a put-on sultry tone.
"Too right," Sean mutters, picking at the bedspread.
"I'll have the toys ready for you, then."
"Hmph," Sean grumbles, though he's still a bit uncomfortable with the thought of toys, with the gay campiness of their sex life if he thinks of it that way. He likes it better in his head as a fantasy world of belt-spankings and blowjobs behind a pub, working class and uncomplicated. He won't think too deeply about how complicated this has become.
"You'd better," he says simply, and calls it a night.
"I shouldn't have told you," Dave sighs as Sean shoves the bed against the big picture window, his shoulders straining slightly though he doesn't ask for help. What he wants to do is order Dave to cut his cheek, to get to his knees and say he'll take anything Sean will give him, but that isn't them.
"Payback's a bitch," he says instead, tossing a grin over his shoulder and patting the mattress with his hand. Dave sighs again and walks over to it, slowly pulling his shirt over his head, drawing it out so that Sean has to look. Dave's tanned and gorgeous, muscular, like something he'd wank off to after a session at the gym if he were just a bit more stereotypically gay. He thumbs his fly open and licks his lips, and Sean raises an eyebrow, refusing to capitulate at this stage. "On your stomach," he says once Dave's dropped his jeans and BVDs, and Dave crawls up on the bed, rolling his eyes.
"You know, you enjoyed that too," Sean points out. "You were as into it as I was."
"Maybe I was, brother," Dave says cheekily, giving Sean one of his own grins. Sean purposefully does not meet it and ties Dave wrist and ankle to the bed, quickly, efficiently. He removes his belt and brings it down lightly at first, a warning slap to Dave's bare arse. Dave grits his teeth and groans lightly, not nearly enough. Sean is patient enough for five more gently taps, and then he puts a bit more into it, his knee braced firmly on the bed. Dave grunts a little louder, and Sean smiles. There's enough slack in the bondage to prop Dave's arse up, just the way he likes it. Once Dave's starting to relax into the belting, Sean tugs the cord and the curtain flies up.
"Like that, slut?" he growls under his breath. Dave gasps in surprise, and then moans, clutching the chains linked to his padded leather wrist cuffs. Sean knows that in his arousal and in Sean's focus on the fantasy, Dave has forgotten that they're high up enough not to be seen, and Sean intends to exploit that.
"All your little girly-fans would be shocked, seeing you baring your arse to me right in front of the window like this. You really do have no shame, David."
"Fuck, Sean," he whispers, closing his eyes.
"Think of all the people walking by. I see someone looking up, David. Can't tell if it's a woman or a man," Sean lies, and to his satisfaction Dave doesn't open his eyes and look or contradict him. He's in that place that Dave sometimes goes, that place where truth and logic aren't as important as sensation and the heights that Sean will take him to when he surrenders himself into the bonds that trust has forged.
"Sean," Dave whispers again, and Sean continues, watching the pink lines intersect and grow darker on that perfect arse.
"You're fucking gorgeous like this, slut," Sean murmurs, and he drops the belt along with his trousers, grabbing his erection and stroking it several times in quick succession, rubbing his palm along the pink skin before him before he slips under Dave's body, barely fitting underneath.
"What... what are you doing?" Dave whispers, breathlessly.
"Spanking you," Sean murmurs against his lips, bringing his hand up to pop one down, hard, so that Dave drops into the tiny space between them, his cock next to Sean's, hard against their bellies. "In front of everyone," he adds, holding Dave's head in place with the other hand and kissing him slowly, sensuously, before he continues to hit his arse, rapidly.
"Oh... oh fuck, Sean, I..."
"Come for me, David," Sean murmurs, meeting his eyes with a harsh stare and continuing to pop his arse though Sean's wrist is starting to ache. "Rub against me and come for me."
Dave moans and presses his cheek against Sean's, the touch astonishingly intimate for Sean and his own fragile senses, his commitment to this thing, whatever it is. He gasps lightly and they move together, Sean's palm marking time in sharp, reverberating slaps as their bodies rub fluidly and their hearts beat a rapid counterpoint. Dave's breath hitches and his throat makes a strained, pleading sound as he comes, warm and wet against Sean's belly. Sean can only cradle him, press his whole body to Dave's and cry out into his lover's neck as he comes, rubbing messily, like a teenager. His own fantasy comes back to him as an echo, and he exhales in a deep, shuddering sigh.
"You didn't... use the toys," Dave realises, after a long silent minute.
Sean rubs his back gently.
"Couldn't be arsed. Besides," he adds sharply, clinging to the last fibres of his dignity. "I don't need toys to make you mine."
Dave smiles and rubs Sean's cheek with his own. He sighs and makes the mental stretch towards relaxation.
"Fuck, Sean, I'm aching."
"I know," Sean says simply. He stares, his hunger naked and unmasked, at Dave, in his bed, tied firmly, slick and open and trembling. Dave's eyes are half-lidded and his cock stands proudly against his belly, the tip wet and nearly purple. Sean wants to worship it with his mouth, but more he wants to capture this moment another way. Dave's arsehole, pink and sloppy with lubricant, winks at him. He groans and clutches his cock.
"Sean," Dave growls. "Fuck me."
He likes his boy feisty. Sean doesn't know where he gets this term of endearment, "his boy." The diminutive, the possessive, he doesn't know the root of either and he doesn't care to interrogate his psyche at the moment. Some things are better left unsaid. Some things aren't them.
But he likes this.
"No," he murmurs, reaching out and brushing his finger lightly over the perineum, the tight band of skin that makes Dave shudder so beautifully. "I like looking at you."
"Then take a fucking picture," Dave growls, and Sean grins.
"I can't think of a more perfect segue myself," he says with an evil grin. Half of him, a half buried deep that is more sensitive and more caring than he immediately lets on with anyone, even with Dave, worries that this is too much, that the way he is doing this might be wrong. The other half smacks the first upside the head, tells it that they are men, and that they think with their cocks. He turns towards the kitchen and shouts.
Dave's eyes widen, but in shock rather than chilling, abject fear. They've considered this possibility before, and Sean knows him well enough to know the difference.
Viggo strides into the room confidently, grinning and holding up his camera as if it were a fucking bar mitzvah, rather than an elaborate kinky fuck session.
"What the fuck?" Dave whispers. His mouth is slightly open, his cheeks are pink, and Sean wants nothing more than to kiss him senseless and fuck him into oblivion, with Viggo watching. He restrains himself.
"I'm here to take pictures," Viggo explains, sitting down on a chair and fiddling with settings, and Sean grins and strokes Dave's flank, calming him.
"And have his cock sucked," Sean adds, reaching out and touching Dave's reddened lips, blood-swollen from earlier kisses.
Viggo grins and lifts the camera to his eye, depresses a button with his finger. Nothing happens. Viggo frowns and inspects the camera again, and Sean sighs impatiently, bends and kisses Dave thoroughly on the mouth until he's sure his lover's thoughts are full of nothing but him. A possessive jolt rises in his belly and his fist tightens in Dave's hair.
"What?" Sean sighs, standing up and looking over at Viggo. "Something wrong?"
"I forgot the film," Viggo says with an embarrassed smile-and-shrug.
"You forgot the bloody..."
Dave smiles and shushes him. "It's okay," he murmurs, diplomatically. "Get naked. Come here."
Sean frowns and looks up as Viggo laughs and strips, comes towards the bed on the other side and bends to kiss Dave long and slow. Sean clutches Dave's hip, and he fantasizes about shoving Viggo aside, or perhaps feeding Dave both their cocks, drugging him into a submissive frenzy with only the smell of semen and the promise of later that has Dave begging, calling Sean Master.
But, he reminds himself, stroking Dave's chest, watching them kiss-that isn't them.