"Everything I touch, I break" Dominic stood at the threshold of Viggo's door, hand poised to knock. He could hear the sounds of Stabbing Westward coming from within. Sean had warned them all about disturbing Viggo when he was listening to this album. Which was constantly. It was always on his CD player at the house, always in his car, always in the personal player he brought with him to the set. Dom had never seen a man so obsessed with a piece of music. But it seemed to fit Viggo perfectly. He had no real idea why Viggo appealed to him so much. Melancholy, brooding men weren't his type. Still, something about Viggo's quiet torment and silent pain called to him. From that first moment when he'd shaken Viggo's hand, he'd known his heart was lost. And also knew it would come back to him shattered. He'd kept his fascination mostly to himself. Told only Billy, who'd grown as close to him as his brother. When Dom had poured his heart out one drunken evening, Billy had listened. And made no judgments -- only offered a bit of sound advice. "I wo'nae go there if I was you, Sblomie," he'd said, accent thicker than usual from too much ale. "Man's got deahmans, if you get me." Dom had agreed. But couldn't keep away. He'd even tried listening to the CD himself, just to get inside Viggo's head. He'd put on his headphones and listened to songs filled with self-loathing and dashed hopes and tried to figure out what it was Viggo was running from. And how he could stop it. But, mostly, for the last 15 months of filming, Dom had kept his distance. He'd hung out with the other Hobbits, played soccer with the other Brit and Kiwi cast members, gone canoeing with Elijah, took surfing lessons from Karl, went bungee jumping with Orlando and camping with Bean and David. Sometimes Viggo had joined in the excursions. They'd even gone fishing a few times. But Dom was careful to keep his thoughts hidden, his heart to himself. It had taken him all that time to get up the nerve to get here -- to Viggo's cabin. But after tonight, there would be no more opportunities. Tomorrow was the last day of filming and, aside from the usual rounds of promotion and quick re-shoots, they'd never be together like this again. That thought alone was enough to get Dom to knock on the door. Viggo needed him, needed what he could give. And Dom was going to give it to him, whether he wanted it or not. * * * It wasn't that Viggo loved this CD so much as it was cheaper therapy than a shrink. And just as effective. The angsty emotion served as a visceral cleansing of the violent thoughts that always raged within him. And God alone knew he needed to be as pure as possible. He'd spent most of his adult life keeping people at bay -- it was why his wife had left him, why his cherished son barely knew him, why he hadn't kept a serious relationship in years. And it was why he was considered to be such a good actor. The ability to show everything while revealing nothing was a talent he'd learned a long time ago. And then Dominic had come into his life. Sweet, angelic Dominic with his laughing gray eyes and impulsive generosity and thoughtful words. Viggo had no idea why this...boy, really...had affected him so badly, but from his first day on the set, he'd been entranced. Oh, he'd done his best not to show it. hHe'd been polite, friendly even, to everyone. It was hard not to like the rest of the cast, with all their friendliness and open affection. But Dominic had touched something inside him that was buried so deep Viggo didn't even know it existed. And it scared him to death. He wasn't fit to be near that innocence, that purity. The doorbell rang, shaking him from his thoughts. Who the fuck would be bothering him now? He didn't have many visitors -- mostly Sean and Ian. People who were used to his long silences and didn't mind that he was poor company most of the time. But Sean wasn't due in until the morning and Ian had made plans to go to dinner with Pete. The bell rang again. It was probably Orlando, ready to drag him out to some bar or another with the guys. After all, last day of shooting was tomorrow. Even Sean was flying back for the wrap party. But that didn't mean the other members of the Fellowship wouldn't be celebrating a bit early. Viggo opened the door. It wasn't Orlando. He stood, dumbfounded for a second -- was he dreaming this? -- and then Dominic spoke. "Mind if I come in?" he shouted over the music. Yes, actually, Viggo did mind. This was not a good night for an unannounced visit. When these hellishly foul moods came upon him (and it seemed to be more frequent of late), Viggo knew he wasn't fit company for anyone. But he didn't shut the door. And he didn't turn Dom away. "Sure, come in," he said and opened the door a little wider. Dom squeezed past him and he closed his eyes, inhaling Dom's scent as he brushed by. He felt like a dirty old man. This was a bad idea. Viggo walked over to the stereo, turned down the ear-splitting volume until Christopher Hall's screams were reduced to a mere hum. "What brings you to my doorstep?" he asked, turning, hoping it was something simple. Dom stood by the door, hands in jean pockets. He shuffled his feet for a second, looked at the hardwood floors like there was something of vast importance on them. Viggo resisted the urge to look down himself. "Dom?" Dom's head snapped up, and he focused those lovely gray eyes on Viggo. "Sorry," he said. "I was uh...thinking...that I'd...well, I just popped over to say goodbye." Viggo didn't point out that they'd be seeing each other tomorrow. They still had a scene to shoot together. "Well, goodbye then." He deliberately made his voice harsh. He couldn't have Dom here -- not in the mood he was in. "I thought we were friends." Dom's wounded words pierced Viggo's heart. He felt like he just kicked a puppy. Christ, couldn't Dom see Viggo was doing this for his own good? "Yeah," he finally admitted. "We're friends." He could give Dom that much, at least. "You know, I used to be so envious of Sean," Dom mused. "You two are so close." Sean -- Viggo's father confessor, his rock, his personal demon catcher. This shoot would have been a Dante-like hell without him. "Sean would tell you not to be envious," he said aloud. "I'm a moody bastard and he's caught the brunt of that more than once." "Everyone has dark days, Vig." "Yes, but some have dark lives." "I could bring you light." Dom's voice was so low, Viggo wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly. "Don't shut me out." Dom took a step toward him, seemed to read his thoughts. "I'm not asking for your undying love. I know better than that. But you need someone. And I'm here." Did Dom even know how hard it was for Viggo to resist that soft plea? The images that churned inside him left him weak at the knees -- the thought of that sweet, muscled body against him was his nightly fantasy. And his nightly shame. "You feel it," Dom continued, taking another step. "I know I'm not alone here." "Whatever I feel is mine. I won't subject you to me." He wasn't that depraved. "And what about what I want? Would you deny me the choice?" Viggo closed his eyes so he wouldn't see the pleading in Dom's. "Yes, dammit, I would," he answered. "I'm damaged. I have nothing to offer you." Dom's slight laugh was bittersweet. "You have this moment. And it's enough." He took another four steps and stood in front of Viggo. "It's enough," he repeated, turning Viggo's chin to him. For moment that seemed like an eternity, Viggo stood, unresisting, as Dom pulled off Viggo's shirt and trailed kisses over his chest and shoulders. Butterfly kisses, so light they hurt. Dom's own shirt fluttered to the floor and the sight of that naked skin aroused a hunger like Viggo had never known. "Let me help you," Dom begged. "Use me. Hide in me." "I don't want to taint you." "We'll taint each other." At that soft statement, something broke, shattered inside Viggo's soul. He clutched Dom's waist like a lifeline, clinging, bruising, and his kiss was frantic, furious, and full of pain. He drew back the slightest bit, looking for some sign that Dom was horrified, that he didn't want this. And saw only want. "I'll only hurt you." "Then give me a reason to embrace the pain." "You don't know what you're asking." "Yes, I do." But Viggo could tell he really didn't. God, he was so tired -- so alone. It was wrong to use this pure soul to erase his pain, but he was tired of fighting. He wasn't aware he was crying until he saw the tears on Dom's chest. They trailed over flat nipples and light hair, winding their way down flesh Viggo knew he wasn't fit to touch. "I don't deserve this." "Nobody thinks they deserve love, Vig. But everyone does." "Don't call this love. I'm not capable of it." Dom's smile was gentle. He brushed away Viggo's remaining tears with light fingers. His kiss was as soft as spring rain -- and just as cleansing. Viggo had never felt so open, so vulnerable, so alive than at this moment with silken lips on his and warm breath mingled with his own. The pressure was unbearable. How could such an innocent kiss make him need like this? He ran his hands over smooth flesh, almost undone at the simple contact. Dom shuddered, leaned into the caress. So naive, so trusting -- he no idea how hard it was for Viggo to keep his touch light, to smooth his fingers over arms and back. He had no idea how much Viggo longed to crush Dom to him, to devour, to bring him down to his level. But he didn't. He still had a shred of decency left and he would not dishonor this precious gift. He would be gentle. He would take this moment frozen in time and pretend, just for the night, that he was whole. "Stay with me tonight." Viggo barely recognized his own voice. Dom put his hand on Viggo's cheek. "Of course." "I still can't promise you anything." "I know. But it's enough."
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