I feel so good right now. I am a Boy Scout in training and am flying thousands of miles to bring good cheer and glitter to my friend Sean. And sex. Mmm, yes, glitter sex. Purely for his benefit of course. I mean, handjobs, blowjobs, kisses, fondling, showers. Cheered me up and I didn't even know I was depressed. I feel so virtuous. Excuse me while I adjust my halo. The glow from it sets off the hot pink hair nicely, don't you think? I'll just snag a few more baby rums while the attendant is here and I'm good. Just time for a nice nap before we land. I bet Sean will be so surprised to see me. I'm sure it will take some convincing before he'll be receptive to all of the Roos' lovely cheering up methods, but hey, I'm Pink Viggo, just starting my solo tour in London. I can do anything. I'm an internationally famous, um, Boy Scout glam rocker. Or something. Yeah, just a little nap. Very good thing I got those mini-bottles. Long ride from Heathrow to Battersea. At least for me. Those damn Roos have rubbed off on me, and I'm all Tigger-squirmy in anticipation of seeing Sean. I must calm down. More rum. Can't bounce into Sean's house. Must attempt to be dignified when seducing good friend with glitter and lipstick. I am dignified. As dignified as I can be with my neon hair. But I don't have lipstick on. That will come later. Wish Dom were here to help with that bit though. I didn't pay too much attention to the actual makeup application. I was rather busy with thoughts of lips and hands and other body parts. Oh well, we can improvise. Wearing the lipstick, painting it all over his naked body, whatever. Same difference. I wonder why Sean's depressed. Maybe he doesn't even know it just like I didn't. Oh, I'm so glad that I came. Can't have him drifting into a deep depression just because he doesn't realize that's what it is. I think he's lonely. All alone here in London. Well, I mean, he's got his family, but he doesn't have someone. Everyone needs someone. The way Tigger has Roo. Okay, so maybe not with so much perkiness and the whole overflowing with love stuff. But the shagging senseless part. And the glam part too. And of course, the rum stuff too. Or something. Linear thought's not really working for me right now. Rum is so I'll just stick with that. Finally! We're at Sean's! Maybe just one quick bounce as I get out of the cab. Just to get it out of my system. Right. And the glitter and I are on our way up Sean's steps. What time is it? I know it's early here. Hope he's awake already. It's time to party. Around this time yesterday, unless my watch is wrong, we were just starting to get ready. With that delicious hand massage and those hot, sweet kisses, and.… I wonder how Sean kisses? I don't think he's got the innocence of the Roos, too much experience for that. But then again, maybe he does. We haven't talked much about it, but I know he's been with men. I think he still chooses women first though. But then again, he hasn't seen Pink Viggo yet. International man of mystery. Or glitter. Or something. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's pretty damn good. I think. I hope. We traded a few light flirts in New Zealand, a few suggestive comments, but nothing ever came of it. Neither one of us was looking. Well, we were looking, at least I was. Looking at that body. That hair, jawline, green eyes. Can't wait to see the eyes with my Soot smudged all around them. Watch them watching me. Watch them get closer as I lean in. Dark red on his lips. Lips that are right there in front of me. But not burgundy. Just regular Sean coloured. Because there he is in front of me. Did I ring the bell? I don't think so, but maybe I did and got distracted by lips...those lips and that chest...bare chest. Yeah, I'm staring but I'm allowed. I'm Pink Viggo. Sean doesn't know this yet though. He will. I smile at him. He's staring too. Oh yeah, the pink hair. Wait until he sees the blue the Roos and I picked out for him. But maybe green to match his eyes. Or burgundy. Good thing I have a couple of options with me. He's talking, oh yes, I need to actually pay attention to the words, not just stare at his lips and imagine what they could do to me. I can do that. "Hello, Sean."
I glance outside the window on my way to the kitchen. There's a pink-haired man outside my door...hold on. Back up. Yes, yes, that is a pink-haired man bouncing on my doorstep. Bloody hell. Bright, vivid pink. God, I thought punk was over years ago. Perhaps whoever it is will go bother someone else with whatever it is they're trying to sell. Only...there's something familiar about...I step closer to the window. Bloody hell, is that...Viggo? With neon-pink hair? Viggo, in London? I must still be sleeping But, just in case, I pull open my front door. Yes, it's Viggo. Yes, he's got pink...pink, of all the colours, hair. And yes, he is most assuredly bouncing. Reminds me a bit of Tigger in those Pooh cartoons my daughters used to watch. Pink, bouncing, Viggo in London. Definitely still dreaming. "Viggo?" "Hello, Sean." Sounded like Viggo. Only perky. Perky Viggo. My brain can't accept the concept. "What're you doing here?" Bounce, bounce. Jesus, I'm getting to be a bit dizzy.
"Are you going to invite me in?" Yes, manners. He is ever the gentleman, and of course looks vaguely, sleepily scandalized that he might've neglected his manners. He lets me in, repeating his question as he does. I proceed to go into his living room. Or is it his sitting room? Or lounge? I don't know. I suppose I should have paid more attention to Clue the last time I played it with Henry. Anyway, there's some lovely sofas and chairs so we'll just go with living room. "Why do you have pink hair?" Of course, very good question Sean. Ever the observant one. He'd make a good Boy Scout. "The Wonder Boys did it. I think it rather suits me. I'm Pink Viggo now. They're the Roos of course. Backing band extraordinaire, though my European dates are solo, of course. It was Orli's idea, of course, but Dom's the one who did it. And the nails to match too." I hold out my hand, showing off my delicious blue nails. "Don't worry, I have plenty for you too. But first, rum. We need rum. Is the off license open this early? If it's not, that's okay, because I have some baby bottles from on the plane. Well, not baby bottles as in the kind you give to babies, obviously, but the little bottles of alcohol they give you." I pull some out of my bag, spotting the bar and going to fetch glasses. I settle in on the couch, clearing off the coffee table so that I have enough room. Then, ah, nice swig of rum, and I'm ready to start setting up my supplies. I empty out my bag, lining up all the nail polishes and mascaras and eyeliners. And lipsticks. I line them up even though I know exactly which one I want to use on Sean. The others may come in handy though. I haven't had a chance to paint in a few days. And that chest...what a canvas it would make. Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows? I'll just keep the hair colour in the bag for now. Again, lead up to it. I think Sean will take some convincing. Perhaps a lot of convincing. I can only hope. I sit back, notice that he's not yet drunk his rum. "Drink up, Sean. We've got the whole day ahead of us." I smile at him again. I really have missed him. "I'm glad to see you. I've missed you. Catch me up on what you've been up to."
Right, so it's real, he's here, he's kissing my cheek, giving me a very long hug. Hmm. And still bouncing. With pink hair. I pinch myself just to make sure. Ouch, right, not dreaming. Unless I'm into pain these days. "Are you going to invite me in?" Oh right. Bloody hell. He's flown all the way from Los Angeles, I'm sure he wants to come in for a bit. Perhaps he's got pink hair for a role. Some cyber-pink villain or another, although I don't remember him talking about coming to London to film a movie. "What are you doing here?" I ask again, as I let him in. I honestly couldn't think of a single reason that made any sense. Not with the hair. Speaking of..."Why do you have pink hair?" God, he's bouncing again. And looking at me with extremely sparkly eyes. Is that...no, I'm hallucinating. That is not glitter on his eyebrow. I'm not at my best in the mornings, so I must be seeing things. He sits and answers my question. At least, I think he is. Wonder Boys? Roos? On tour? Solo? Blue nails? What the fuck? And all the while he's babbling non-stop, full on Viggo Mortensen babble, Good Lord, will wonders never cease, he's pulling out rum bottles. The sample kind you get on the airplanes. Lots of them. Good Christ...I stop counting at ten. He bounces to the bar, bounces back, Christ, he looks like a human pogo stick, sits back down, and starts pulling out...okay, I am still dreaming. Pinching myself or not. Although I'm not quite sure of the significance of a dream about my pink-haired best friend pulling out various cosmetics while drinking straight rum at eight a.m. and telling me he's missed me. Right. Dream. Play along, maybe it will change. "It's eight a.m." I point this out merely to remind my Dream-Viggo that, even in dreams, I don't drink this early. Dream-Viggo simply winks. "Not where I've just been. Now, drink up, we've got a lot of things to do today, and I won't have you being depressed for another minute. Now, where is that...yes!" He pulls out a bottle of sparkly pink nail polish with a flourish and smiles up at me. "I'm not depressed." And I'm not. A bit overworked, a bit tired, but not depressed. Why the hell would I be depressed? Was my sub-conscious trying to tell me something? Perhaps a nice holiday, recharge my batteries. The coast is lovely this time of year, and I haven't spent nearly enough time with the girls. "Sure you are. You practically hung up on Dominic. He's very concerned." Pink-haired- Dream-Viggo is still staring up at me with sparkly eyes...I am now convinced that, yes, that is glitter...waving this bottle of nail polish at me like he's going to hypnotize me. And even sitting down, he's vibrating with energy. "I did not practically hang up on Dominic." Why I'm arguing with my dream, I don't know. But, somehow, it's very important that I convince Pink-haired-Dream-Viggo that I'm not depressed. "I was busy when he called last week. I was planning on calling him later on, having a nice chat." Maybe my sub-conscious had guilt. I was rather short to him over the phone. And I like Dom, I really do. Even if he has become a bit unbearable at times, since he's shacked up with Orlando. Cute couple or not, I'm still not quite sure how a metropolis as large as L.A. handles all that damn cooing twee-ness of theirs. Adorable, but damn sickening at times. "Yes, well, I didn't realize I was depressed either until they pointed it out to me, and look at me now, not depressed, not even a little bit, actually pretty fucking happy and you would be too if you'd had the day I did yesterday. God, I love the Boy Scout and his Elf-bitch." He pats the seat next to him and even though I know it's Viggo and, even in a twisted Da-da-esque dream he'd never hurt me, I place some distance between us as I sit down. I want the handy escape route just in case this dream turns all Nightmare on Elm Street on me.
I wonder if he has any idea how completely adorable his confusion is? Irrefuckingsistible. Fuck playing villains, he should get romantic leads, the kind where the girl (or guy for that matter) sweeps him away and he's left trying to work out exactly what happened. It suits the hell out of him. I must remember to tell him to call his agent. I lean over and kiss his cheek again. My sudden appearance has thrown him for a loop, and he's looking at me as if I might attack him. Perhaps later, Sean. But not now. Relax, he needs to relax. "Do you have orange juice?" I get up to check. Yes, he does. I pour it into a glass, take it back to the living room and add a nice amount of rum to it. Breakfast of champions. I hand it over and now he's looking at the glass as if it might attack him. He is much too tense. Come on, Bean, just a sip. I tell him that he needs to relax, and he opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but then just shuts it. He mumbles something about dreams and takes a drink. There you go. It must be bad if he's been having nightmares. Probably why he's awake so early. We'll start slow. He seemed to like the nail polish I showed him, the one that matches my hair. Let's start there. "Come on then, join me." I slide to the floor, waving the nail polish at him again so he knows I'll use the colour he likes. "We don't want to get nail polish on your sofa." I pat the carpet next to me, shift the coffee table so there's room for him. He's still looking at me with wide eyes, but he slides down as well, taking another swig of his drink as well. Oh good, he needs to catch up to me. I get the lotion and squeeze a little bit onto my hands, warming it up before taking his right hand and starting to massage it. It's been a while since I've given a hand massage but I think I'm doing okay. He's looking a bit calmer, but still rather spooked. "Sean, relax. We're going to have a fun day, and you'll forget all about being depressed." I hold up a hand when it looks like he's going to protest. "I know, you're not depressed. Right. But just let me do this for you. Trust me, you'll enjoy it." He sighs, shaking his head, but he's letting me massage his hands. I try not to get too distracted by how good they feel, how good our hands look together. He's not one of the Roos, and, regretfully, I can't just jump on him, no matter how much I want to. He's Sean, dignified and proper and very British, and so he's going to require a bit of work. Oh fuck, I know what I forgot. Music! The Wonder Boys very kindly let me borrow that Madonna CD, so I stop the massage for a minute, dropping a quick kiss onto the top of Sean's hand so he'll know I'll be back, and rummage around my bag until I find it. I show it to Sean before going over to put it in his stereo. There we are! Much better. Quick stop for a refill on my drink, top off Sean's with a bit more rum, and now I can concentrate on painting his nails. And tell him a bit about my day yesterday and why I'm choosing to share the cheer with him. "That colour looks good on you." I smile at him again. I really am so glad I came. I had no idea how much I'd missed him. Oh, right, explanations. "Okay, so here's what happened. DomandOrli came over...ha...sounds like a pasta dish, doesn't it? Would you like some marinara sauce with your DomandOrli? Anyway, they came over, took me shopping for all of this," I gesture to the bottles, tubes and pencils scattered over his table. "Then we went to the movies, and then they coloured my hair. That's how I got to be Pink Viggo. And they're the Roos, my backing band. Later, they dressed me up, made me up so glam I think Bowie himself would've been jealous, and we went out to a club." I'll leave the other details for later. "It cheered me up immensely. They mentioned that you were depressed, and I thought I should pass along the happiness. Damn Boy Scout, rubbing off on me. Or just rubbing on me." I stifle a laugh. "Boy Scout? Roos? Vig, what the hell are you talking about? What did they do to you that's got you so..." He's at a loss for words and just waves his hand at me. That colour does suit him. Oh Sean, you have no idea how very much I want to show you exactly what they did to me. Well, except for that hand thing of Dominic's that I'm sure is illegal and that I just can't seem to do. Yet. I stare at him for a long while. I know. I open the gold glitter, and take a tiny little pinch in my fingers. I sprinkle it over his chest, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Fairy dust, Sean. It's magic. Just wait." I can't resist one little light kiss, okay two, to his neck before pulling away. "Trust me?" I look him in the eyes.
Okay, so the first sip of the drink tastes real enough, though horrid, and Pink-haired-Dream-Viggo's still there, now sitting on the floor, waving that damned glitter nail polish at me, talking about my sofa. What the hell did I have to eat last night? I certainly don't remember anything pink. Maybe I'm in a coma. I could have had a horrible accident, could now be lying in a hospital room, surrounded by pink-haired old lady nurses, and this could just be my sub-conscious' way of dealing with it. Still doesn't explain Viggo. Or the damn rum. Or the glitter nail polish. But, okay, I can still play along. So far Pink-haired-Bouncy-Perky-Dream-Viggo has been rather harmless, even sweet. Although I'm pretty sure this drink is more rum than OJ. I slide to the floor, take a longer sip of this still surprisingly real tasting, foul drink, and hold out my hand. Um...that feels rather nice, actually. Very nice. Who knew Vig had such a magic touch? I can just feel my hand relaxing degree by degree. But the rest of me is still alert and wary. Dream-Massaging-Viggo tells me to relax, that I'll forget about being depressed. I am not fucking depressed! Thankfully he realizes his mistake, I'd hate to think I was yelling at myself. That would just be too odd for words. It's easy to sit back and let him work that whatever magic he's doing to my hand, to sip this foul tasting, but getting more palatable all the time drink, to watch him. Jesus, he's still bouncing. What the fuck did he eat for breakfast, raw cocaine? And now he's playing...Madonna? Madonna? I'm dreaming about Madonna. Sean, I don't think we're in London anymore. Definitely Twilight Zone, even for dreams. Madonna, of all people. I must be really sick. And now I'm getting my nails painted while an incredibly bouncy man is talking about Boy Scouts and Roos again. And Bowie. I try to follow the conversation, but I think I've left my translator back on the mother ship, 'cause I have not one blessed clue as to what he's yammering on about. And instead of explaining it to me in plain English, he sprinkles gold dust on my chest. And kisses my neck. His lips feel very warm, very soft, very nice. And very fucking real. "I'm not dreaming this, am I?" He beams at me, actually beams, cool, composed Viggo Mortensen beaming, and shakes his head. Nope, no dream. He caught the first flight from L.A. to London this morning all for the express purpose of cheering me up. Why his version of cheering up involves glitter nail polish and purple mascara is anyone's guess. "Okay, I'm awake." I test the words, and find they feel good, they feel okay. "Now, slowly" and I look at him sternly as I'm saying this, 'cause he's still a bit bouncy, even though the hand currently applying the second coat of paint to my nails is steady enough, "explain to me what happened to you yesterday and what this has to do with the children." "Well, they came by yesterday, God was it only yesterday, Jesus, wow..." "Vig?" The look he gives me is incredibly sweet and so full of bouncy energy that it makes me tired just to look at him. "Yeah." "Try to keep it under 1000 words, okay?" I'm not quite sure my brain can handle Viggo on a tangent right now. "Right. Reader's Digest, got it." He nods, starts massaging my other hand. And proceeds to tell me an only somewhat convoluted story involving Dom, Orli, glitter, hair dye, movies, make-up and a loud techno-club Vig keeps referring to as Neon Primal Urge. Horrid name for a club. I get the feeling there's something Vig isn't telling me, as he pauses in his story every once in awhile, blushes...Viggo blushing, God, this is a day for firsts, looks pretty cute with the hair...and starts talking faster. By the time he's finished, both my hands have lovely pink glitter nail polish on them and I'm on my second rum/OJ concoction. And it still isn't making much sense. "Dyeing your hair and putting on nail polish turned you into..." I wave my hands at him "...this?" He laughs, blushes again. "Not quite. They...um...oh fuck it, I absolutely cannot resist that damn look of yours anymore." And suddenly I find my lips under a pair of very nice, very warm, very soft, very, very fucking real Viggo lips. And tongue. Which is moving in slow circles in my mouth in this vaguely obscene motion I'm certain isn't legal in Britain, but feels heavenly. Damn, if I'd know Viggo could do that with his tongue, I'd have made a stronger play for him a few years ago. Fuck me.
"Well, they came by yesterday, God was it only yesterday, Jesus, wow..." Where to start? Oh, he wants the condensed version. Probably better that way. Just the high points. I truly feel like a manicurist as I talk and massage at the same time. His hands are so soft. What do I need to tell him about? Movies, glitter, my pink hair, makeup, clothes, the lovely time at Neon Primal Urge. Well, not the full story, he did ask for the Reader's Digest version. All in good time. I have another drink, and see that, good, so does he. The rum will help him to relax, and to eventually understand fully the Bloom/Monaghan Cheering Up Program that he's been signed up for. I tried. I really, truly did try to resist him. I know that he's confused, and I know that I don't want to frighten him away by making too much of a move, but I just couldn't not kiss him any longer. I'll stop, really I will. But I just have to kiss him a little while longer. That rumpled hair, that puzzled look on his face as if I'm speaking a different language, even the ratty sweats -- they're all just turning me on. And having to look at his bare chest, now sparkling and shiny with the glitter, I just can't stop myself. And it is an important part of the cheering up process. Somehow I wind up sitting on his lap, straddling his legs as he leans back against the couch. Much better. Want to feel his skin under my hands. Rum and orange juice and Sean. Not a bad combination. Very sticky sweet. He kisses very well. I waited so long to do this why? I don't know, but again, the Roos are right. This was a very good idea. Breakfast in Britain is a very good idea. Sounds like a television show. Perhaps Pink Viggo and the Roos can be the house band. And the show will start with drinks all around and then I'll kiss Sean. That'll be the show. Drinks, kissing Sean and, of course, glitter. What more do you need? It'll be a huge success, I'm sure. The Roos can make us over in between bouts of kissing. Mmm, although since we're in Britain, they'd call it snogging. I like that word. Sounds more wicked and more fun. I want to 'snog' Sean good and proper. During Breakfast In Britain, the newest hit morning show. That'd be unique. I'm sure the Roos are quite talented and I wouldn't have to lift my lips from Sean's for the entire show. Makeovers while 'snogging'. Maybe we'd have to stop for our musical numbers, but we could just have the Roos snog too and perform live porn instead. Yes, definitely. Sean's chest is just lovely, all warm and firm and pliant under my hands, which have just gone exploring and are very happy with what they've found. I lean over to kiss his neck for a while because it's a lovely place to be too, and he just makes the most lovely rumbling noises in his throat and chest. I can feel them under my lips, and I like them. I have to look at him a bit more, even though this means I have to temporarily stop kissing him. Mmm, being 'snogged' suits him. He looks even better with his eyes half-open, lips all moist and tender, that gold glitter sparkling on his chest. I smooth it out, and watch his eyes close all the way. There's not nearly enough though. He has a broad chest. Was it always this way, or has he been working out? I reach behind myself and get more glitter, spreading it over his chest, watching it sparkle and glow on his skin. He has fabulous skin, just the right shade, not too tan, but just warm enough to go perfectly with the glitter. My blue nail polish looks good with the gold too. Yes, this Boy Scout thing is really quite nice. I'll be ready for a merit badge quite soon. He's managed to get his eyes half-open again and has that 'what's going on?' sort of look again. Doesn't he know that I can't stop kissing him when he does that? Glitter massage can wait, I need those lips again. Better than Eggs Benedict for breakfast. Time passes slower here in England I think, and I'm happy for that. I can just kiss him for a few hours, and it'll only be a few minutes in real time. It's different than kissing the Roos. Not better, just different. Delightfully so. But it is a reminder that he's not Tigger or Roo. He's not a perky, bouncy young thing, and though at this moment, I'm ever so thankful for that, I need to slow things down a bit. We have all day, hell, if we want, several days. I wouldn't mind having an extended cheering-up weekend with him. But I don't think that I need to molest him right here on his living room carpet. Well, I mean, the idea is damn nice but he needs seducing. Or maybe I need to seduce him. Either way, I'm going to stop kissing him. Soon. Very soon. Okay, now. Maybe just in a few minutes. Okay, now for sure. Just one more minute. Or two. Right. Pulling away. Need alcohol right the hell now if not sooner. I crawl off his lap, snatch up another bottle, chugging it down in one gulp, while handing one to him and watching him do the same as he gasps for breath. "What the hell was that?"
His weight is a comfortable thing over me, hard thighs pressed against mine, warm palms pressing into my chest, his hair tickling my cheeks as it falls around us, cocooning us. Mmmm, kissing my neck now, and that feels so heavenly, those incredible lips on my skin, pleasuring me, and now I'm wondering what else he could do with those lips and that tongue, and it's enough to shake me out of whatever sexual fog I've just been in. Except he's kissing me again, that mouth over mine again, and the fog surrounds me again, slams into me, through me, until I am the goddamn fog and I want Viggo naked and under me, hot and trembling, all skin and muscle rippling under my hands. Fuck all, but Vig can kiss. Finally, finally, yet too damn soon 'cause I'm really not ready to let go of those lips yet, okay just a minute, yes, another, okay, fine pull away. Damn. The loss is almost unbearable. He slides off my lap, sits and looks at me with darkened blue eyes and I want to paint him just as he is this minute, with pink hair and cloudy eyes and sculpted cheekbones and jaw sprinkled with gold glitter and those full lips curving in the sexiest smile I have ever seen. I want the memory of this moment to be crystal clear in my head for all time. Then reality rushes back, oh great, where the hell have you been all morning anyway, and I'm knocking back straight rum now, forget the fucking orange juice. The kick to my system is a welcome thing. And now I remember that Viggo is my good friend and not a shag buddy. And he's never, not in all the time I've known him, made a play for me. Which begs the question, "What the hell was that?" "A welcome kiss?" "Vig, I've known you for almost four years and you have never kissed me hello like that." Although, at the moment, I'm wondering why the hell not. The idea that we could have been kissing like this all the time is starting to grow in my head until it blocks out almost everything else. Almost. He smiles, lips all full and bee-stung from our kiss and tells me it's part of the Cheer-Sean-Up-Therapy. Okay, fine, cheer me up, but I'm still wondering what this has to do with kisses...oh hello, wait a minute, kisses. Cheering up. Viggo. Dom and Orli cheering Viggo... "You let the children kiss you?" He squirms, and it would be a delightful, almost sexy thing, except now I'm getting a mental image of the kids and Vig sharing a kiss, with Vig doing that tongue thing to them and for some odd reason, I'm getting jealous. Jealous. I roll the feeling around on my tongue, yes, it is jealousy, imagine that. Me jealous that my good friend Viggo has apparently had one hell of a day yesterday, judging from his stammered explanation that includes, at last count, one handjob at the movies, one blowjob while getting dressed, a handjob again at the club, a shower (and another handjob) and masturbating while watching our good friends Dom and Orli, very cute and apparently exhibitionist couple, shag each other. God, and he's still all bouncy and full of energy? When did he start mainlining Viagra? "You did all of that yesterday?" Another sheepish smile, hair falling in his face, and I want to brush it back, except I'm a bit annoyed with him. Feel a bit betrayed and I don't even know why. Not like I blame him, precisely. Dom and Orli are both beautiful blokes, and if they were willing, which I guess they most certainly were, I'd have been hard-pressed to say no to them either. No one's ever offered to cheer me up quite like that. Except, of course, now. Viggo. Cheering me up. Once I get over this jealous fit I'm having, I might like that idea.
I share it all -- the Orli Handjob Special, the Dom Blowjob Special and all of the other tasty treats available at the Wonder Boys Diner. Just in case he ever finds himself in LA and needing a 'snack'. Although, I'd rather he comes to me for his snack. But hey, Tigger and Roo are damned attractive, and, although Sean kissed me back rather enthusiastically, I don't want to make any assumptions. He's still looking all confused and shocked and...something else that I can't put my finger on. I have a momentary twinge of doubt. Maybe he doesn't want me here. Maybe this was a stupid idea, and I let myself be taken over by Pink Viggo and forgot that I really am just Viggo, slightly glittery, drunk, horny guy. "Do you want me to cheer you up, Sean?" Fuck all, when did I get shy? I swig more rum, feel it spreading its liquid courage through my veins. "Because I want to cheer you up. Really." I reach over to brush his face with my hand. I don't know what it is about him that makes me just have to keep touching him. He's got glitter on his face now, and I need to kiss it, just to taste the sparkles. Taste the Sparkles. Yes, that should be the title of Pink Viggo's first album. I laugh into the kiss, and he pulls away a bit, wanting to know what's so funny. "I'm just tasting the sparkles." Yeah, it's okay, Sean, I really am Zaphod, and yes, those are two heads on my shoulders. You don't have to understand. But he apparently understands quite well as he leans forward, pressing his own lips to my jaw. Oh, that's nice. He pulls back, smiling at me. His turn to be shy. But not too shy to tell me that the sparkles taste good. I offer him another drink, sharing my bottle with him, then move in to kiss him again. I remember watching Orli sip rum from Dom's mouth, and have a real craving for Sean flavoured rum. Mmmm....delicious. Rich and smooth and much more intoxicating than just plain rum. I'm back in his lap again. I like his lap. Wonder if he ever played Santa for a department store? Or even just for his kids? I think he'd make a wonderful Santa, and personally I'd like to sit on his lap for quite a long while and detail all of the gifts I'd like to give him and to receive from him. I really need that time machine to go back and get all the kissing time that we've missed. Maybe Santa could do that for me. But first there are a lot of things I'm ever so eager to do to Santa Sean right here in front of me. Other than find a way to persuade him to let me colour his hair. Much better than colouring his hair. I moan at the thought of that, and it distracts Sean, makes him pull away a bit, and look me in the eyes. "Are you going back to see them when you get home?" What? Who? Where? When? Why? What is he talking about? Why is he talking instead of kissing me? I wiggle a bit so that I can feel his hands on my ass better, and hopefully get across the message of not talking. He sees that it's my turn to be confused. "The children, the Roos, whatever you call them. Dom and Orli. Are you going to see them? Is this going to be a regular thing with you all?" Is he...? He's all intense and staring at me. Looks almost angry. Is he...jealous? No, he can't be. But it looks like he is. "I don't know. We hadn't talked about it. They just came by and swept me along, and things happened. And they're the ones who suggested that I come to cheer you up. And here I am. With you. Because I want to cheer you up. You." I look at him, framing his face in my hands. "And if that takes a long time, then so be it." I smile. "By the time I get back to LA, I think I'll be still rather cheered up myself and won't need any Boy Scout or Elvish magic. They've got each other, and they don't particularly need to add a geezer into their mix. Not that I'd be looking to get added into the mix. Sweet kids, but too much sweetness can rot your teeth. Eeyore needs his own patch, not to become part of what Tigger and Roo have." I smile again. It looks like the look on his face, whatever it was, is fading a bit. Can he not see how much I want him? I have to kiss him again, hard and deep. I want to cheer him up better than anyone has ever cheered up anyone in the history of the world. What's better than Eagle Scout? I want to be that, get that badge, designation, whatever, from cheering up Sean. I sit up a bit, still kissing him, but pulling him up so that I can wrap my arms around him and hold him tighter.
Of course, I want him to cheer me up. I just don't want anyone else cheering him up. If he'd been depressed, why didn't he fly out here sooner? I'm pretty good at cheering people up. And if cheering him up involves the odd handjob or blowjob or two, hey, I've got a mouth. And hands. Been told I'm pretty good with both. He leans in, kisses me, laughs, and when I ask him why, he says something about tasting the sparkles. Sparkles, yes. That's what Viggo is right now...sparkling. Eyes, face, shirt, hands, hair...all of it covered in sparkles, and I want to kiss every one of them. Starting with this one, right here on his jaw. Tastes good and I tell him so. We share another bottle, losing count of how many I've had, but I know I'm not drunk yet. Tastes pretty good, though, especially without the horrid OJ mucking things up. Wonder what rum would taste like mixed with Viggo? Apparently, he has the idea at the same time I do, 'cause now we're kissing again and he's back on my lap, all familiar weight and tongue, and Jesus, but I've already missed this taste. My hands move down his back to cup his ass, and it's very nice ass. Firm, solid, muscled...wonder if he's still running, he must be, because his ass is like granite. Only supple. Christ, but that tongue of his is going to kill me. He moans, and the sound is needy, low, beautiful, mine...no, not mine. He moaned like this for the kids, I'm sure. Fuck. Jealous again. My mouth is not pleased with me, but I have to leave his mouth and ask if he's planning on going back to do this again with them. "Who?" The Roos, the whatever the fuck, the kids, Dom and Orli, that's who. I don't like this whole jealousy thing. It's severely cutting down on my kissing time, and I've got so much time to make up for. Years. A lifetime. He gives me the sweetest look, so full of shy tenderness that my heart just melts. And, somewhere in all the rambling, God, he's back to rambling again, sweet, drunken, Viggo, he tells me exactly what I need to hear. He wants me. Geezer with mileage and mistakes and a life that's more behind him than in front. I know the lure of youth is a strong one, and God, I don't blame him, but right now I'm not in the mood to be rational. I just want him. I look at him, all sparkly and shy and beautiful and male and so goddamn Viggo on my lap, and I realize that he really is everything I've ever wanted...friend, lover, companion. And, for the moment, even if it really is just this one day and we go back to being really good friends later...for this moment, he's mine. In the most elemental way. Mine. Someone moved, not sure who, but yes, those are his lips on mine, and that beautiful, talented tongue is tangling with mine, and now we're sitting up a bit and his hands race down my back, and I love his hands on my skin. Hmm, reciprocation sounds lovely, but he's wearing too many goddamn clothes. I don't like that, if he's going to come in here to cheer me up, he should be naked. Naked Viggo on my lap would cheer me up immensely. I tell him this, and he laughs against my lips, then wiggles out of his shirt, asks me if that's better. Better? Try best. The very best. Why had I never noticed his chest before, noticed the graceful, clean look of it, noticed the blonde hairs begging for my hands to run through them, noticed the solid slope of his shoulders? Was I blind? Oh well, past is past, at this moment I have a shirtless Viggo sitting on my lap, and I want to explore. His skin is so soft, so warm to my touch, and it's like I've never touched anyone before. And it's kind of true, because I've never touched him before. Never ran my hands down his chest, like I'm doing now, making him moan again, making those light eyes darken. He's got gold glitter on his chest from my hands, and the shimmer of it echoing from the sunlight streaming into the room is absolutely breath-taking. "You are so beautiful, Vig." And it's the truth. Even though it does cause him to blush in the most delightful way. So sweet that he can still blush, especially considering everything he'd been up to...and into...yesterday. They may have had him first, but I'm going to have him last. And I can make him blush. Now let's see if I can make him burn. I put my lips on his neck, suckle the sweet flesh, and lower him to the floor underneath me. His jeans and shoes and socks are easily gotten rid of, though it takes a bit longer than it should have, considering how much time I take going over every bit of flesh I uncover. But now he's naked. And he's so lovely naked. Just beautiful all over and so ready for anything I might want to do. I sit back a bit, admire the long, lean form of him...and my gaze strays to the array of assorted make-up and glitter that's still carelessly strewn on the coffee table. I wonder... Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab a small jar of red glitter gel and open it. "Let's see how well red goes with pink," and my voice is full of promise of all the naughty things I want to do to him. And, sure enough, red glitter gel glides on his cock just fine, and just stroking it on him makes me ache too, in the most delicious way. The feel of him under my hand is just so incredible, and I wonder why I've never done this before either. He's writhing under me, sighing my name, and I capture one of those sighs with my mouth. The gel is warming up under my fingers as I move them up and down his cock, warming on his flesh, and I swallow his groan when he comes, and that sound is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. I look down at my hand and his cock, all glittery and sticky, and it's just as beautiful as I thought it would be. I smile up at him, watch his answering smile. He's got the loveliest smile. "I'm supposed to be cheering you up, Sean," he tells me in a voice still husky from moaning and coming under my hand. Sounds good. He should sound like that all the time, bet his female fans would be very pleased. "Well, it cheered me up immensely to do that, so you are." I kiss him again, lightly, just because I can, and get up to get a towel to clean the both of us. I can't resist kissing him again when I come back, and I'm almost sorry to have to wipe away the glitter. Oh well, the day is still very young. I can always do it again. "You know what I think?" No, Viggo, but I'd love to. I'd love to know every stray, weird-ass, trippy, convoluted thought in your head right now because somewhere between the glitter on your chest and the glitter on your cock I realized that I want to be the glitter in your life. I want to make your eyes sparkle and your skin shimmer and your laugh shine. So, tell me everything. "No, what?" "It would probably cheer you up immensely if you were naked too." And there's a distinctive Viggo chuckle in his voice, and I love that, too. Yes, naked me with naked you would cheer me up immensely, come to think of it. Off with the sweats, who needs clothes anyway? Only want to cover myself with Viggo. And maybe some of that blue glitter gel I spotted a minute ago. God, the pink of Vig's hair must be rubbing off on me. But I don't mind. I've got a gorgeous, naked man still under me looking at me like I'm the answer to all of his prayers, and I really can't think of a single better thing in the entire world.
He lowers me to the floor, still kissing me, which is good because we haven't even begun to make a dent in all those back-logged kisses. Those talented hands are soon stripping off my clothes, stopping to touch and explore and make me even happier than I already was. Youth is wonderful and beautiful, and I wouldn't change a thing about yesterday, but experience is just a completely new and delectable thing in itself. He's so utterly focused on me and my body, and it nearly undoes me. I don't have to share now. I can have him all to myself, and he can have me the same way. Before my brain can even focus, he's saying something about seeing how red goes with pink, and oh, opens up some red glitter gel and scoops some up in his hand. Sweet mother, his glittery gelled hand is on my cock, and I think I'm going to scream at how amazing it feels. I'm getting a glitter hand job from a glittery, incredibly sexy man who's looking at me like I'm the cream in his coffee. Or should that be the rum in his OJ? And who has the most perfect lips that are lowering onto mine, and kissing me and stroking me, and I'm just helpless to do anything but let the fire sweep through my body, devastating everything in its path, but it's okay because Sean's there with water to soothe it in the form of sweet, tender kisses and touches. I blink, unable to tear my eyes from him. Wait, this was supposed to be for him. "I'm supposed to be cheering you up, Sean," I remind him. "Well, it cheered me up immensely to do that, so you are." And then he's kissing me more, good, 'cause I was getting twitchy for my Sean fix, and then goes to get a towel to clean me up. Hmm, never thought I'd have glitter there. But, it made him happy, and hey, I'm sure as hell not going to complain. He's so tender as he cleans me. He was definitely a Boy Scout, very prepared and very concerned with others. I love that about him. Ah, but I cannot forget my own training! "You know what I think?" Because yes, you may have melted my brain with that glitterjob, but I am still Pink Viggo, master Boy Scout on a mission. He wants to know what, so I tell him, smiling madly. "It would probably cheer you up immensely if you were naked too." And it would do wonders for me as well. I think the 'take things slowly' portion of the day has just been sped up, and now we can safely move to the 'give Sean a wicked blowjob' portion. But first, I want to enjoy the feeling of all that naked, glittery, skin against mine. And I definitely need a lot more of those lips on mine. I haven't quite learned every corner of his mouth, every inch of his body. And I fully intend to even if it takes me a few days. Or weeks. Or maybe months. He's more addicting than rum. "Hello, my name is Pink Viggo, and I'm a Seanaholic." Not that I want to be cured. I want to slide deeper into this addiction, drinking him in every day so that my very veins are filled with Sean-ness, and my body and soul are...his. Yes, I want to be his. And I want him to be mine. That's an interesting development. But not one that I mind. Our lips are fused together, and our bodies are sliding along one another, and our hands are touching and caressing and stroking. Not a developement I mind at all. I shift so that I'm looking down on him now, and I just touch his face for a while, memorizing the feel of it. Slowly, tasting each square inch of him as I go, I make my way down his body. I haven't done this in a while, and I want it to be good for him. Actually, I want it to be incredible for him. I want him to scream and shiver and call out my name over and over as I watch him and suck him dry. I think we're trying for some sort of world record for smiling at each other, and I think that we really should call Guinness, but they'll just have to wait. I'm busy with other things. We'll rack up a few hundred more smiles as we go and then call them. Right now, there is a firm, shimmery-glittery, naked body beneath my hands and mouth that needs my full attention. He's trying to watch every move I make, eyes slipping closed and being forced open, his hands reaching for me frantically as if he can't bear to lose contact. I move one hand up to link our fingers, and he quiets somewhat. Good relax Sean, I want you to enjoy every minute of this. I don't want to tease him, but I want to draw out every minute that I possibly can so that we'll have plenty of visual footage to memorize. I want him to squirm for me, call out my name, needing me, only me, my touch, my mouth, my hands to bring him over, claiming his orgasm as I claim him. Okay, I can't take it anymore, I can't go this slow. I have to taste him, lick him, like his cock is a melting chocolate bar and I'm trying not to let one sweet drop escape me. Our hands are still locked together, and I can feel his grasp tighten as I take him completely into my mouth. Been a while since I've done this, but that's good, because I want to learn what he likes, I want to see what I can do to make him moan, and I damn sure don't mind having lots of practice time to get it right. I think I remember enough of what to do so that he won't be complaining. Right now, I don't think he could form a complete sentence even if he wanted to, and I think that's a pretty good start. I close my eyes, wanting to just let the feel of him guide me, his hand in my hand, his cock in my mouth, his body under me. I can watch him the next time. I shiver at the thought of that. Next time. Oh yes. Next time I'll set the digicam on timer and let it take lots of pictures of me with his cock down my throat. He's quivering, body vibrating as I lick and suck and savor him, drawing out a lovely groan with a flick of my tongue. He's repeating my name over and over now, and I like the sound of it as it comes out of his mouth in whispered whimpers. I know what he wants, and oh yes, that's what I want to give him. I want him to shake for me. I want him to come with my name on his lips. I want his come in my mouth, warm and salty smooth down my throat. And then, now, I want to kiss my way back up his body and lie in his arms for a while. He's nearly asleep, eyes closed, hair mussed, smile on his face, lips half-open. If I had any inkling that this was how incredible he looked after a good blowjob, I would have done it years ago. Would have kept doing it for years. I kiss those amazing lips once again, and he lets out a contented sigh. I smile, glancing up at the coffee table. "Burgundy." I say decisively. He mumbles a question mark, cracking one eye open to stare at me. "I want to see your lips burgundy, a beautiful, deep burgundy with gold shimmer in it. That would be perfect." "Are you still on about that? Believe me, I'm cheered up, Vig. Way the hell cheered up. I don't need shiny lipstick to help with that. I mean, I wouldn't turn down another blowjob later..." he laughs,"...but I do not need lipstick." He holds me tighter, hands stroking my back. "You didn't let me finish." I play-smack his chest, letting my fingers wander a bit to his nipples. "I want to colour your lips burgundy...." "And?" "Because I think it would look incredible as I watched them swallow my cock." This draws out another moan from him, and I'm summarily crushed in his embrace and smothered in another lengthy kiss. Good, that was my goal. In the back of my mind I hear that Spanish or Brazilian or whatever soccer announcer yelling "Gooooooooooooooooooooooooalllll." I think I could stop kissing him. Really, I could. On say, the twelfth of never.
Because right now his lips are moving across my body, and I'm trying to watch every single second I can. He's just so...tuned. Tuned to me, tuned to my body, tuned to my wants, like the hair dye is really just an antenna that let him cable into my brain to figure out my every desire. I can't keep my eyes open, have to close them to better feel what he's doing, but the not looking is driving me crazy, and his body is too far away. Have to touch him, need my hands on him. Don't quite know when my hands got so used to the feel of him, but I don't care...just...need. And that antenna must be working overtime because he clasps my hand in one of his, linking our fingers and the contact soothes my hunger for Vig's skin. I love that he knows what I want, even without me saying anything. He's just that damned attentive. Exquisitely so, and it's driving me crazy, making me sweat and... Oh. Oh God. Now his mouth is on my cock, and he's licking and sucking and moving, and I think more stars, bodies of stars, entire multi-verses are bursting behind my eyes. I'm trying not to crush his hand in mine, but it's almost impossible. I whisper, then chant, then groan his name over and over as he moves over me, swallows me whole, taking me deep in his throat, loving my cock with everything in him. My cock is his universe, my pleasure is his, and it's just the hottest thing, so hot...hot mouth, hot tongue, hot feel, want to take off my skin, let cool air race over my nerves, because I have never been this hot before in my entire life. I come shouting his name, and he goes full-tilt, swallowing, milking every drop, and, God, you know, I could really die happy right now. Happy with his kiss, tasting of semen and Viggo, our tastes combined together that simply sings to my Neanderthal nature. Happy holding him, letting my heart rate settle down a bit. We kiss, cuddle a bit, and I'm drifting in that almost-asleep post-coital, post-oral, post-orgasmic, whatever the fuck you want to call it bliss, when he lifts his head, looks at me and says "Burgundy." Burgundy? Why does he want wine right now? Thought we were drinking rum? I open my eyes, okay one, too much energy to open both, and thankfully, he takes the hint and explains. Wants to paint my lips burgundy. With gold shimmer. What in the world did DomandOrli do to him, replace part of his brain cells with those of Ziggy Stardust? I do not need make-up to be cheered up. All I need is right here in my arms, looking down at me with that damn love-like look in those shimmery eyes. "Are you still on about that? Believe me, I'm cheered up, Vig. Way the hell cheered up. I don't need shiny lipstick to help with that. I mean, I wouldn't turn down another blowjob later..." okay, perhaps sooner rather than later, I wonder how long before I can talk him into giving me another one,"...but I do not need lipstick." Period. "You didn't let me finish." And his fingers are doing delicious things to my nipples and my mind starts drifting again. "I want to colour your lips burgundy...." God, that feels good. "And?" "Because I think it would look incredible as I watched them swallow my cock." Blink. Oh hello, there's an image. Dark-red on tanned skin, marking it, claiming it. I think back to the glitter on his cock, and yes...burgundy lips wrapped around him would look incredible. The thought makes me moan, makes my kiss a bit harder than the previous ones have been, but he doesn't seem to mind. Just gives back, doing that tongue thing again. He really should patent it. "Alright, but only make-up. Eyes and lips," I clarify, not liking the unholy gleeful look in his eyes. "I am not dyeing my hair for you, that's final. I have rehearsals starting Wednesday." He nods, sits up, rummages through that bag, and I'm thinking it must be like Mary Poppins' bag and he'll start pulling out pieces of furniture next. Of course, all he pulls out is a slender tube and hands it to me. 'Glitter-hair-mascara'. Huh? "It's like mascara...only you brush it through your hair," he explains, taking the tube from me, shaking it and unscrewing the handle. Sure enough, there's a long mascara-like brush on the end, in blue sparkly. "Washes out thoroughly." "I'm not going to ask how you know this." "Sean," and I fucking love the way my name sounds on his lips, have I mentioned that yet? "think of the fun we could have washing it off." Okay, he's got a point. A damn good one. I look over his nude body, so beautiful and at ease and at home in my living room, and I honestly just want to lock him up here and keep him. And if glitter hair mascara and burgundy lipstick will make him happy, then I'm all for that, too. I sit up and scoot closer to the table. "I trust you," and my voice is light, though I mean the words with everything in me. His grin could honestly light up all of Piccadilly, and he's kneeling in front of me, doing that Viggo-tongue thing to my mouth, telling me it's to soften my lips for the lipstick. I wonder if he fell for that line yesterday and ask him, grinning outright when he blushes. And he's got a lovely blush, it goes all over his tanned skin. I want to kiss his blush, but then we'd never get to the make up portion, and I know it's something Vig really wants to do. I sit quietly while he fusses with this shade, that eyeliner, looking over everything, selecting just the right tools. It's kind of cute. And his hands on my face are soothing as he applies lip liner, then lipstick, drawing everything out until it becomes a kind of foreplay. Never really thought of make up as seduction, but I suppose I'll have to owe the children an apology, because this is wildly erotic. I'm so attuned to his fingers on me, the soft draw of soot eyeliner under my eyes, the feel of mascara gently rolling on my eyelashes, the soft glide of lipstick on my lips...and all the while, he's talking to me, nonsense really, chatting about his flight, his latest paintings, his next film role...I love his voice. Could listen to him forever, even if he has more tangents than Pythagoras ever even thought about. Hair is last, and he fusses with it like a Hollywood hairdresser on Oscar night. Ever the artist, that's Vig, and now he's babbling about lighting and contrast and highlights and neon and lithographs, and I'm lost again, but I don't mind as long as he's there with me. "Yes," he says, sitting back, tilting my face to and fro between his long fingers "absolutely stunning." He hands me a mirror, and, you know, it's not bad. The blue is really more highlights than outright dye, and it's shiny. Glittery...I like it...I kind of look like a disco ball, only cool. And he's done something with my eyes to make them all smoky and full and exotic, and my lips...wow. Never realized how full they were, how lush. Pretty sexy. Wonder if it's weird to be lusting after your own lips, but hey, they really are nice. Burgundy, just like Vig said, with some sort of gold shimmer gloss on them and they look wet and inviting...and yeah, I definitely want to see this. "I'll be right back," I tell him and run up to the bedroom, coming back with a digicam I just bought the other week. I'm all about my instant gratification. His eyes are almost Christmas tree bright as he surveys his new toy, pushing this button, that one, purring like a cat. You can make the boy up like a tart, but he'll still be a boy nevertheless...and boys love their toys. "So...come on, take a few really quick," I tell him. Because, see, I've got plans. And he needs to hurry up if he wants any pristine pics. I honestly should know better than to think Vig will do anything artistic fast, but I really don't mind posing for him, don't mind him tilting my head at this angle and that, taking picture after picture, capturing moment after moment with the morning sun his only light. But, finally, I need to do this. Want to do this. His body is driving me crazy, and it's been years, at least, since I've tasted him and I have to have him now. I push him on his back, crawl over him. "Now, keep the camera steady because I want to see this," I say and lower my mouth on his cock. He stiffens, jerks, shudders beneath me, but his cock gets hard in my mouth, stretching it, and he just tastes fucking wonderful. I really hope Vig is at least getting some shots of this because I love my burgundy lips on his cock, love my tongue laving his skin, love sucking on him like the world's most interactive lollipop. It's been quite awhile since I've had a cock in my mouth, but it's amazing what comes back to you...and Vig certainly doesn't seem to notice that I'm out of practice. Just moans and sighs and bucks and takes pictures with shaking hands until he finally can't focus and simply leans back and enjoys. I love him like this, love him under my tongue, love his cock filling my mouth, love the scratchy hairs of his thighs under my hands. Just...love...him. And I'm still thinking of that amazing concept when he comes down my throat, hot and full and lovely, and I'm still thinking it when I come up to finally kiss those lips again, now mingling our tastes in a different pattern. And I'm thinking it when my eyes stray again to that damn jar of blue glitter gel. "Vig?" "Hmm?" His voice is so fucking sexy...I want him to sound like that all the time, just lazy and content after I've pleasured him. And I want to pleasure him always. "Would you..." I clear my throat "would you let me inside you?" He opens soft eyes, and his fingers trace my cheeks. "Anything you want, Sean. It's your day." "What about tomorrow?" And the next day, and the week after, and the month after...what about forever Vig, because now I want it all. And I want it with you. My best friend. "What about it?" He sounds a bit puzzled, and I hurry to clarify. "When it's not Cheer-Up-Sean-Day anymore, Vig. Would you let me inside you?" His smile is pure sunshine, outrivaling any shiny glitter that might exist anywhere. "Yes." And the way he says it lets me know he understands everything I'm asking. "My body is yours." I love you, only in Viggo-terminology.
I can almost see the wheels turn in his head as he has the same thoughts I was just entertaining. Lovely thoughts, aren't they Sean? I hope he has lot of hot water because I want to make sure that he's very clean. Then I want to dirty him up just so I can clean him off again. He tells me that he trusts me. Somehow I think we're talking about more than just putting on makeup, but I'm not going to ask right now. I'm just going to kiss him again, wondering when his kiss became something that my very blood craves. It softens up his lips nicely for the lipstick, and I take my time, not at all because I like the feel of his face under my hands. Not at all because I'm learning each and every possible line and plane of his face. Not at all because I could just drink the sight of him for the rest of my life and never get tired of it. He looks even more beautiful in makeup. Perhaps we could be a duo? Sort of a glammed up, same-sex version of Sonny and Cher? I wonder if he knows the words to "I Got You Babe"? I have the longer hair, which is good since that would mean that I get to be Cher. His hair takes a while, and we chat about everything and nothing. I could just talk to him forever and be happy. His voice is beautiful, and when he listens, he really listens to me. Even though I can tell that I'm rambling as I tend to do, he still listens, smiling as if I'm saying something of real importance to him. Oh, the blue really does suit him. I wish I could take a photo of this, damn me for not remembering my camera. "Yes, absolutely stunning." And he does. Stun me with his beauty. The real beauty. The stuff that's inside of him as well as the more obvious external beauty. The makeup just brings out his inner sparkle. As I hope that I can help to do. I don't think I'd need glitter if he were around all the time. Well, perhaps just to spread on him and watch him spread on me. The way he did that red glitter gel. I'm lost in that memory as he races away. Where's he going? Don't run away, Sean. But wait, what's this. Oh, he is so fucking amazing. He has a digicam. And a new one at that. The kind that takes mini-movies. Pink Viggo Porn is in business. Oh Sean, you have no idea the pictures I want to take of you. Of us. Or maybe you do. This is amazing and wonderful and so is he. "Sean! This kicks so much ass!" Yes, I have been hanging around the Roos too much. Next thing you know I'll be calling him 'dude'. "Do you know how long I've been meaning to get one of these? Oh, and it has the extra large memory stick. You have to pose for me." He tells me to be quick. I'll try, but I can't make any promises. He's so incredible, and I'm ecstatic at being able to capture it. I wonder if he has a printer? Because I want to start putting these shots together. And I wonder if there's a place that will deliver some canvases here because I think I want to use his photos to put with my glitter makeup paintings. They're perfect together. The way that we are. At least I think so. The light is just right, shining off of him, shining out of him. He's like the sun, so bright, so warm, so full of life. I want to just orbit around him, shooting pictures like this. The line of his jaw, the curve of his shoulder, the line of his legs, a close up of those burgundy-gold lips. I love the immediacy of digital. Perfect for my immediate gratification needs. And yes, other needs are growing as well as I watch him through the viewfinder. But I can't seem to stop taking photos. "Now, keep the camera steady because I want to see this," he says, shoving me onto my back, and, oh, I nearly drop the camera as he swallows me whole. I somehow switch the camera to movie mode, as I lose myself in his mouth. His wonderfully talented, sweetly hot mouth. Fastened to my cock, those deep coloured lips wrapped around me looking so much better than I could ever have imagined. Smoky eyes half closed as he focuses on me, hands caressing my hips, my legs, my stomach. I hope that my hands are focusing the camera properly as I try to get as much as possible captured before I can't focus on anything but the feel of his mouth on me. The camera drops away and I lean back, shaking and moaning as he draws me into yet another incredible orgasm. And then, as I'm a blissfully melted puddle, he's taking me in his arms, kissing me again. Good, I needed that. I need to taste him again, taste myself on him as he tasted himself on me, and oh god, that's just the most erotic thought right now. Our tastes mingling in our mouths. I want more. I want our entire bodies to blend together. I want him inside of me, I want me inside of him, I want every possible combination and permutation of bodies, hands, mouths, everything. I want it all, and I want it with him. "Vig?" His hands are tracing my face, and mine are wandering over his back, my eyes still closed. "Hmm?" Whatever you want, Sean, anything. Just ask, and it's yours. "Would you..." He sounds a bit nervous. "...would you let me inside you?" "Anything you want, Sean. It's your day." I would like nothing more than for you to be inside of me. Those smoky eyes sparkle down at me. "What about tomorrow?" "What about it?" I'll still be here tomorrow, unless you chuck me out, and I'll still want you inside of me then. Why would that change? "When it's not Cheer-Up-Sean-Day anymore, Vig. Would you let me inside you?" Ah, he wants to know if this is just a one off, a casual thing. And, from the tone of his voice, I'm thinking that he doesn't want it to be any more than I do. Oh good, because I think I want every day to be Cheer Up Sean Day and Cheer Up Viggo Day, and I want him to sparkle just for me. "Yes. My body is yours." As I am yours. We move together, pressing our bodies tightly together as we kiss. The kiss is slow and long and tender and full of...something more...is it love? I think so, I hope so, at least for me it is. I love him. And I want him to take me fully. Take me beyond the glitter, beyond it all. Show me the world through your eyes, take possession of my body, share my soul. Our hands are moving, lips are moving, bodies already in perfect rhythm together. He reaches up to the table, smiles down at me as I wriggle impatiently under him. He holds up a jar of...hmm...this is interesting. Blue glitter gel. Ah, so that's why he's been looking at it so much. He smiles at me, lips still faintly burgundy, eyes smoldering. I think I've created a monster. Does that make me the Bride of Frankenstein? I'm not getting a white streak in my hair. I've grown quite fond of the pink. I have to smile at that, at him, and then all smiles are gone, replaced by gasps and moans drawn from me by talented, gelled fingers, and I'm imagining what they look like, glittery fingers, moving in and out of me. I close my eyes, feel his lips on mine. "Open your eyes, Viggo." It's whispered onto my lips, more vibrations than spoken words, and I comply, settling for long blinks. He's watching me as he moves. Amazing is too insignificant to describe just how his fingers feel. Please, Sean, please, I need you. "Need you now, Sean, need you always."
I reach for the blue glitter gel, smile at Viggo's raised eyebrow...oh yes, you've completely corrupted me, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Now just lie back, because I can promise I'm going to make this so fucking good for you...I'm going to make it perfect. I open the jar, scoop out some of the gel and start moving a finger slowly inside him...God, he's just so...adjectives are useless, but I have to try. Hot, tight, yet so welcoming as his muscles squeeze around my finger. I move slowly, preparing him, adding another slick finger, and the blue glitter is just as beautiful as I thought it would be. A perfect complement to his tanned skin. I lean up to kiss him, because it's been a few seconds and I need those lips under me again...and I need to look in his eyes as I'm doing these marvelous things to him, to make sure this is as good for him as I think it is. "Open your eyes, Viggo." I could drown in the look in them, simply fucking relax my limbs and sink completely into them. So blue, so perfect, cloudy with passion, sparkly with glitter, bright with love. He breathes into my mouth, sighs that he needs me now...yeah, now sounds good. Now sounds more than good. I withdraw my fingers, hush his whimper with a kiss as I dip my fingers back in the gel, coating my cock with it. It's cool on my skin...the glitter sparkles are just a bit scratchy, but it feels nice. "Look at me, Vig." I have to watch him as I slide my cock inside him, have to freeze this moment, wish I had the digicam nearby so I could record and pause the world, put everything on hold except the feel of him surrounding me, my cock filling him, my hands stroking his chest, his eyes starting to cloud again, his name on my lips, my name on his. I start moving, slow, drawing out every sigh, every moan, wanting this to last an eternity...just Viggo, all masculine grace and rising hips under me...just Sean, all slow thrusts and shaking hands. But, finally, the moment ends, time starts sliding forward, and I need him to come for me, I need to come for him...I need fast, and I know he needs the same. I gel my hand again, stroke his cock in time with my thrusts, and he responds to the new fast tempo with harsh growls and grasping hands on my hips moving me faster and faster. I force my eyes open to watch him as I come, as he comes, both of us beyond words, beyond our bodies, beyond this entire plane of existence. It's beyond soul-shattering, more like soul-reshaping, and the feeling expands and contracts inside me, twisting into something new, something terrifying and beautiful and so fucking right that I'm surprised I never recognized it. Like it's always been there, curled up, waiting for the glitter of Viggo's smile to awaken it. "I love you, Viggo." Words so horribly inadequate...but it's the best I can do, and I hope he hears the sincerity as I kiss him again, pouring everything I ever want to be with him into it. Everything, Viggo. All I am is yours.
He knows what I need as I feel cool gel and warm Sean enter me. His voice keeps my eyes opened, focused on his as he slides inside. Claiming me completely as much with his eyes as with his body. How could I have wanted, needed this for so long and not realized? How could I have lost so much time that I could have spent loving him and being loved by him? Cheer Up Sean Day has become Fall In Love With Sean Day. Does he love me? One look up into those eyes tells me the answer to that. He moves inside me, and all doubt is gone. So slowly, I can feel every inch of him sliding in and out of me, slick with the blue glitter gel. I'll never be able to look at glitter again without thinking of him. Thinking of it on his chest where I sprinkled it, on his jaw, on my hands as I spread it on him, on his hand as he wrapped it around my cock, on his eyes, cheeks and lips, and now, on his cock as it moves in and out of me, as he makes love to me for the first time. He shifts and moves and kisses and strokes, and it's all so incredible. I'm incapable of speech other than repeating his name over and over. He knows though, and somehow it doesn't surprise me. This has always been there, always existed, just waiting for the two of us to stop being so clueless and realize it. He's moving faster now, more cool glitter gel on the soft skin of his hand as it wraps around my cock. Good, faster, Sean, faster, take me over the edge of the world with you, flying out into the nothingness that holds everything within it. I hold tightly onto him, needing the connection to ground me for what I can feel beginning to shudder through me, through us both. He's moving, deeper, faster, yes, take me there, Sean. Every nerve in my body is alight with desire, and I can practically see them, like little white Christmas lights sparkling throughout my body, lit up by Sean's hands, Sean's mouth, Sean's cock buried deep inside of me flicking the switch on, surging power through me with each stroke. I don't know where I end and he begins as the tidal wave of orgasm hits, shorting out all the lights with the fierceness and force of it. We ride it together, clutching each other, murmuring each other's names, and I never want this to end. He leans down to kiss me, stopping just before our lips meet. I look in his eyes, feeling him still shaking as I am. "I love you, Viggo." Before I can say anything, his lips are on mine, his kiss repeating his declaration. Our lips still locked together, he slides out, and I try not to sigh at the feeling of loss, but it doesn't last too long as he stretches out, wrapping himself around me. Oh Sean, Sean, there are no words for what I feel when you make love to me. But there are words, simple and small, that convey feelings that go soul deep. "Sean..." I cradle his face in my hands. I know he can see it in my eyes, but I need to speak the words, throw them out into the world. A talisman, a banner, reality. "I love you." And we're kissing again, speaking more with lips and tongues and slow, gentle strokes of hands on skin. This is why I crave his kiss, why I need his touch. Love. Welcomed home finally with the aid of a little rum and glitter. We're laughing now, kissing and laughing, laughing and kissing, drunk on the feel and taste of each other. We each say the words a few times over and over, shaking our heads in wondrous disbelief at the sound of it. Finally, we come back to earth briefly, laughing at ourselves, bodies sticky and glittery, Sean's eyeliner smudged, both of us still unable to keep our lips off each other for more than a few seconds at a time. "You realize what's happened?" I wait a beat before continuing. "We've turned into an adult version of the Roos. We're more twee than they are now, I think." His eyes narrow, a grin spreading across his face. "Good. We've a few years on them, we should be more twee." He pauses for a swift kiss. "About time they got some of their own back. I think we need to go to LA, go out with them and thoroughly embarrass them with our own cooing and groping. Let them see how it's really done. Although, I've still got issues with them for pawing you all up yesterday when I should've been." He's adorable when he pouts, even playfully, and I have to spend another five or ten minutes kissing the pout away. "Yes, but they're the reason I'm here, so you can't be too mad with them." My grin fades. "In all seriousness, Sean, yesterday, while very nice in its own way, absolutely pales in comparison to today so far with you. And, the day is still young." I wink at him. He smiles, content in my arms as I am in his. "That's right. I seem to remember something about this," he tugs on a piece of blue hair, "washing out. In a nice hot shower, with plenty of soap for a thorough washing off of all this glitter." "You don't like the glitter?" My turn to pout, and, of course, be coaxed out of it by long, soothing kisses. "If it's put on me by you, I love glitter. I'll buy you all the glitter in the world if it makes you happy." I tell him that he makes me happy, and he proceeds to thoroughly kiss each and every inch of glitter covered skin on my body, which makes me very happy. "Good, 'cause once we wash the blue out of your hair, I have this fabulous green that would go so well with your eyes." He groans, pulling me tight against him. "Only you, Viggo, only you." We help each other up, of course, with many long pauses for more kisses and touches, bodies plastered against one another. I smile at him, running my hands over his chest. "I hope you have plenty of hot water." He nods, taking my hand to lead me from the room. I pause near my bag, rummaging around until I find what I want. He raises an eyebrow as I hold it up. "Purple glitter gel, Vig?" I blink in what is so clearly a mockery of innocence. "My turn, Sean." I kiss him hard and fast. "You know what? I think we should buy one of those waterproof throwaway cameras." His eyes widen, and he pulls me from the room, growling.
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