Deja Vu

Recipient: rian219
Author: nessa_t
Pairing: Sean Bean / Marton
Rating: R
Summary: Because sometimes some things just happen twice for some strange reason.


Judging from the strange appearance of the little red marks imprinted upon his inner thighs, Sean reckoned someone must have taken advantage of him at the pub the night before. The only problem was, of course, he had been too wasted to remember much of what happened, what more identify the face behind the foggy haze of alcohol.

He had only wanted to have a pee, if truth be told. Booze usually had that effect on a man, so after one or two shots of tequila and several pints of beer, one would understand that a nice, long pee was bound to happen one time or another. At least that was the excuse he gave the redhead who wore no underwear.

For some reason, Viggo found it fit to ditch his best friend in a crowded pub in some god-forsaken part of New Zealand with some woman he had gotten to know. Viggo, being Viggo, probably thought that Sean needed a shag more than he needed an animated conversation about football with his mate. So, that left Sean with a lapful of woman and a rising blood pressure that had nothing to do with passion.

Still, that did not explain the red marks on his inner thighs. He vaguely remembered extricating himself from Lefty and Righty and Two Lips (they are all aspects of one entity, naturally), mumbling apologies to False Lashes before lumbering towards the nearest gents. As luck would have it, all the lights in the gents were busted, save one solitary, flickering bulb at the far end of the loo.

It was there that Sean allowed himself to engage in a powerful sulk in the semi-darkness of the room. All he had wanted was a pint or two, and perhaps a nice, long conversation. Christ, he hadn't been able to just talk to anyone these days and he would do anything just to sit with someone and just talk.

"But for now," he remembered thinking, taking the urinal (for some strange, perverse reason) at the darkest end of the loo, "I need to go take a pee." Later, perhaps, he might beat Viggo up just for the hell of it. Lord knows the man deserved it and more, but for now, a good pee seemed to be just the thing to do.

And so he did. Or he tried to at least. He had his zipper down, his cock in hand and everything, yet his pee would not come and Sean sulked a bit more before a warm hand reached from behind to clasp the limp stem of his cock.

Now, although Viggo would not believe it (and frankly, no one did), Sean believed that if he had been less drunk, the hand colder or he had been less preoccupied with his thoughts, Sean would have taken drastic actions against such liberties - like turning around, giving the bastard a shiner and a fat nose.

Yet, the hand was warm and soothing, and body that pressed in from behind, solid and reassuring. Besides, everyone knew that if you were drunk when you get jerked off in the gents by someone you couldn't see, it wouldn't count against you in the least. So he remained quiet, feeling that strange flutter developing in the pits of his stomach before he was pulled into the darkest end of the row of cubicles and given the B.J. of his life.

It was then, Sean thought, that the marks must have appeared. He remembered that much at least, almost feeling the pressure of teeth upon his sensitive skin. He didn't think they would leave marks like that, obviously, because after gently scraping his teeth against Sean's skin, the stranger had soothed the area with the flat planes of his tongue, taking away some of the hurt. Then he had -

"Sean, are you with us?"

Alright. That was Pete and he had just spoken to him, bringing him back to the present. Sean was supposed to be pretending to listen to some discussion that Pete was having with the Fellowship. Something regarding the scene that they were going to do the following day, perhaps. Sean couldn't care less. But judging from the highly confused looks on their faces, Sean reckoned that he wasn't doing a good job at pretending to pay attention. Not a good job at all.

Bloody hell.

"Sorry about that Pete. Sean here probably had a rough day last night," came the explanation and Sean felt the telling signs of a blush creeping up to his face as he struggled with his apologies.

It was Viggo who had replied to Pete's enquiry. So. Sean hadn't beaten him up last night after all. That could be remedied, of course, if Mr. Mortensen wouldn't stop giving him sly looks and a knowing grin.

"I would say most probably," Marton replied, shooting a quick look towards Viggo before looking down at his feet, smiling to himself.

"You wooould, would you? And how wooould you know that, eh?" Viggo asked, the word "would" spoken like it was the most erotic word in the world.

"I just do."

"Oh my God, you sly dog!" Viggo crowed, proceeding to laugh like a loon.

"Wait a minute, are we still talking about this scene or what?" Elijah interrupted, looking increasingly puzzled as he observed Viggo's smugness, Marton's serene expression and the suspiciously purple hue of Sean's ever-changing visage.

"What," Sean muttered.

"What?" Elijah asked, perplexed.

Sean swore colourfully under his breath.

"What," Marton repeated.

"What what?"

"Oh for Christ's sake, leave me alone for a bit! I need to go have a pee."

So that, was that, and ten minutes later, Sean found himself in the loo near his trailer with his cock in his hand and no pee to contend with. He was just thinking that he must be experiencing a bad case of deja vu when the door to the gents creaked open and Marton stepped through it, clearing his throat before locking the door behind him.

"Hi," he began, looking a little too tall and a little too awkward in the small space of the loo.

"Hi," Sean answered shortly, still trying to pee. He wished Marton would stop looking his way. How was a man supposed to have a pee if the other couldn't take their eyes off his penis, pray tell?

"Still no pee?" Marton asked politely, edging his way towards Sean, hands stuffed primly in his pockets.

Sean, obviously, could not work around the sudden dryness of his mouth. So he said nothing, merely stared at Marton with his mouth opened like a dying fish as the younger man gave a quick smile, gently took Sean's cock in his hand and led him towards an empty cubicle.

"Just like last night, eh Sean?" Marton was saying.

"Yeah. Deja vu," he answered, feeling Little Sean grew hard in Marton's hand.

The door to the cubicle closed with a soft click and before Sean knew what he was getting himself into, Marton had him pinned up to the wall and started unbuttoning Sean's shirt with his teeth. What was it with this man and his teeth anyway?

"Just like Jaws," Sean muttered.

"What?" Marton breathed, his voice muffled as he busied himself with the last button that refused to come off.

"Nothing," he began but fell silent when Marton slid his tongue over Sean's nipples and made a slow, elaborate descent down to his cock.

Sean decided that he loved it when Marton gave head. Like the awkward manner in which the man knelt for instance, and the way his long, lanky frame almost folded into itself, trying to find the most comfortable position possible while his hands supported his weight by resting themselves upon Sean's thighs.

"Bloody brilliant," he choked out.

"Isn't it though?" Marton replied, pausing a while to come up for air. "Been wanting to do that for months now."

"Really? Why didn't you say something earlier?"

Marton paused again, still holding onto Sean's cock, stroking it thoughtfully.

Bloody hell. Is the man trying to kill me?

"I didn't think you liked men," he answered, warily eyeing the blond.

Oh for fuck's sake.

"I like men well enough," Sean answered, pulling the other man to his feet. "And," he continued, gently nipping at Marton's smoothly shaven chin, "I'd definitely fuck you."

And that he did, thoroughly and passionately. Sean was glad about it too because Marton was heat, wet lips, light musk and a shuddering, writhing mass of enthusiasm. It was awkward fucking in the cramped area of the cubicle, of course, because the man was all legs (he had one wrapped snugly around Sean's waist) and flailing arms (he wouldn't stop making grabbing motions at Sean's shoulders, the wall and everywhere else). Nevertheless, that very enthusiasm made up for a lot of the awkwardness and it didn't take long before Sean's mind blanked out to everything except the slow, firey burn of his loins, the increasing cadence of Marton's breaths and the strange, clicking sounds that the younger man emitted from the back of his throat whenever Sean's lips latches upon Marton's nipples.

Orgasm came to them a lot quicker than he was prepared for, but Sean reckoned that it did not matter because there was nothing in the world that even came close to hearing Marton giving a short exclamation behind clenched teeth, proceeding to become stiff as a rod before going limp, propped up against the wall like a rag doll. Then it just took several desperate thrusts of Sean's hips (once, twice) before he murmured a silent prayer (almost) and followed suit, resting his heated forehead against Marton's.

There was a short, amiable silence before Marton had to ruin it all by speaking.

"Mmmm?" Sean murmured against Marton's temples, refusing to engage in any kind of conversation.

"I said, I could do this all day," Marton repeated, giving him a wry smile and an amused glance from beneath his lashes.

"Oh, that" he answered, pulling slowly away, secretly relishing the gentle tug upon his cock as Marton's flesh clung to him still.

Marton remained patient though, watching him steadily with those eyes of his, sending a fresh wave of something right down the length of Sean's spine.

"Well, I could do this all day too," Sean murmured, kissing Marton's neck...

"...and all night..." (moving down to his nipples now)

"... and all morning..." (down down down to press a kiss on the head of Marton's cock)

"...until we can barely move or even talk..." (took Marton's cock into his mouth)

And so they did. Back at their trailers obviously. And they did it all day, all night and right into the early morning when they finally curled up together and refused to move for a long, long time.

The End.


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