Heaven is a place on earth with you, tell me all the things you want to do

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He waited two weeks. Two weeks since the fucking farce at the premiere of Sean's The Odyssey, when he has brought his 'boyfriend', both of them with matching rings and holding hands, Sean's head ducked down and Mortensen's eyes flashing, defiant, daring people to comment, to insult. That pictures and the video of their brief kiss was one of the hottest materials in town, simply because they were both actors. Both A-listers, an Oscar winner and a two-time nominee, both married men with children. The uproar was tremendous.

Christian had been watching every single second of it.

And he had been waiting for Sean to call even as the reporters and the tabloids scramble at him to get a comment, a quotable quote- what did he think of the new development, what was his opinion, how should David be watched and looked at given what was now known about Sean Bean? Had his opinion of his costar change? What about the rumours, the jokes they made what seemed eons ago- that he had been sleeping with Bean since 2002, since Equilibrium?

His team had been fending them off so far, because Christian refused to say a single word until Sean decided to talk to him. It's a good thing that he's filming right now, and filming with a director who knew him and was used to him. Christian had been walking around the set with a barely-controlled temper, and it was a damn, damn good thing that Sibi and Emmeline weren't here, because the last thing he ever wanted to do is to fly off the handle at them. Not when they didn't deserve a single whit of it.

No, the anger was all for Sean. Christian hated being replaced; hated being forgotten. And that was what happened to him over the past two years or so, wasn't it? Since the Oscars. Since Viggo goddamn fucking Mortensen had stepped in next to Sean and taken the place that Christian should have. Sean's was Christian's; he owned him, possessed him, claimed him and Sean had wanted it and accepted it- and now this. This, and without a word to him. Not a single word, not even when Sean wouldn't have that Oscar if not for Christian forcing the director to accept him as Lucas Shaw; not even when if not for Christian, Sean wouldn't even have the chance to reconnect with Mortensen because they wouldn't have been at the same place.

Christian's list of grievances were long, and he was so angry that even his team was starting to avoid him. Surely Julie contacted Sibi about it, and Sibi spoke to Sean somehow- why the hell else would Sean contact him? Christian had been forgotten and replaced, hadn't he? Why would Sean even bother with him, nowadays? Why would he want to meet?

It was a good thing they're not meeting anywhere public, instead choosing a hotel room, one of the many anonymous, discreet little places littered around LA. Christian wouldn't like having to restrain himself. He wanted to remind Sean of the claim he made, because even if Sean has forgotten, even if Sean has been completely swept up by Viggo Fucking Mortensen, Christian still remembered .

And it wasn't going to be easy to make him forget.

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Sean was enjoying just watching them kiss; he could have stayed here all day and just watched that, watched Christian and Viggo melt into each other with wet lips and exploring fingers through soft hair that up until now only he had touched, could have stayed and watched it all and never been bored, never need to come, because there was a different kind of pleasure that he felt, a contentment, a happiness that was undeniable.

When Viggo turned to kiss him, Sean bore it for only a second or two, letting Viggo's teeth graze his lip but slipping back out of reach before he could do much more.

"I think it's time to get you outta those cuffs," he purred, reaching forn for Viggo's arm and heaving the other man up onto Christian's other knee, giving Christian a reprimanding look for even thinking about complaining - which Sean knew he was - and taking the key out of his pocket in order to reach around and unlock Viggo. He tossed the cuffs and the key aside backhandedly, without letting go of Viggo's wrists, and then carefully reached both arms around him, guiding Viggo's hands to where he wanted them, and not where Viggo wanted them to be.

His right went around Christian's waist to help keep his balance. The left went to the center of Christian's chest, and Sean looped his arm around Christian too, his other hand still over the back of Viggo's, guiding both down to the other man's waist. Christian's slacks were still crumpled around his knees, so Sean curled both his and Viggo's hand firmly around Christian's erection, and from there found Christian's eyes again.

"Much better."

He grinned.

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Christian made a soft little noise, an oof when he Viggo landed on him, and his hand immediately went up to steady him, palm flattening up against his back. It was a good thing that he had already gotten Viggo's pants off, and now he kicked them off with the little movement he had left on his feet. They were heavy men, but he took one look at Sean and clapped his mouth shut at the complaint that was hovering at the edge of his lips. He swallowed it back and signed instead, his lips quirking upwards- a little amused at Sean's actions.

Then he gasped, his head thrown back against his cushions as his hips thrust upwards into those joined hands. Eyes lidded, he couldn't see who leaned in to kiss him- but he knew Sean's taste, and he had an inkling as to what Viggo tasted like, and he opened his mouth to Viggo's tongue, his breath speeding up as he felt callused, paint-stained hands in his hand, cupping the back of his head and pulling him forward.

When did this become about him? When did the two of them decided to focus on him- instead of Sean, as it should be? Christian took a shaking breath through his teeth as Viggo broke the kiss, and he opened his eyes to see the briefest smirk on the other man's lips before Viggo ducked down his head and started kissing against his neck, one hand dancing down his side.

"As Sean commands," Viggo said, and there was humour in his voice. Humour and anticipation, his teeth grazing against Christian's throat. And Christian's breath hitched, all of the sudden, because this wasn't a man he trusted, and he had his teeth so close to his windpipe that his head spun from the sudden roar of his heartbeat. He focused his eyes, reaching up and carded his hand through Viggo's hair before grabbing onto the strands, pulling his head back up.

"Keep talking," he said, and his voice was almost nothing but a growl. "You promised sonnets, Mortensen," he smirked at the use of the last name, his finger reaching up to trace a deep-set wrinkle, from the side of Viggo's eye to his jaw. "I haven't heard anything yet."

"That's for Sean to choose," Viggo said, and he tilted his head up, drawing Christian's finger between his own lips to nip against the skin. His eyes flickered to Sean, but Christian wasn't looking anymore. He was rocking his hips up gently - as much as he could when pinned down by two full-grown men - and his eyes were fixed upon Sean.

A sonnet. Any one of them. There were plenty, Christian thought, that would fit way too well.

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The two of them could give him everything in the world he wanted; that was the truth. Sean was overwhelmed by the wealth that he possessed, honestly believing that at any moment he would mess up and lose it just like he had with all of his other relationships, but no matter what these men had stayed with him--and there had been tough times, really tough times. There was no love in his heart greater than the love he had for them both, and that was why they were still together even now; it was how he had weathered this whole thing with Viggo and the press, exposing the deepest part of himself to people who only ever saw what the paparazzi and journalists published about him, that couldn't understand the heart of him. He had hurt, and struggled, and now there was this, and it was more beautiful than he had ever imagined he deserved. He imagined it should fall apart, because it was like a dream, Christian and Viggo both, and neither of them insisting that he go without the other.

He was so distracted by how lucky he was, just caught in the spell of watching them, that he almost didn't know what they were talking about when they looked back up at him. He blinked back in startled confusion. Choose? Choose what? His mind had been elsewhere, and he strained to work out what they'd just been talking about. Fortunately it looked like he was thinking about sonnet numbers, because when he finally realised what it was he'd been asked, he let out a sharp laugh, looked back down to Viggo and then laughed again.

A sonnet. Of course he was asking for a bloody sonnet. And when his mind was so far outside of his head that he wasn't sure he'd know one if it bit him in the ass. He looked up at the cracked ceiling, as though in prayer or mere exhasperation, then dropped his eyes back to Christian.

"The one that's about the fella in love," he challenged, because most of them were, and he was just being damned cheeky.

[honestlyyours]

Viggo snorted quietly at the answer, because it was just like Sean. To give a cheeky answer that was no answer at all when he was at a loss of words instead of saying that his mind had been wandering elsewhere. Viggo's eyes flickered to Christian, and Christian shrugged. He was to do what he liked, and Viggo leaned in, brushing his lips against the side of Sean's mouth, slowly kissing against him u to his hairline, then down back again down his neck.

When he spoke, it was a particularly apt sonnet. It had lingered in his head since the plane ride, when he had brought his battered and scribbled book of sonnets with him to read.

"O truant Muse what shall be thy amends," he murmured against Sean's neck, nipping against the strong tendon there even as he moved his lips down gently. "For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?"

His fingers danced down Sean's spine, and he turned to look at Christian again. There was no recognition in those eyes - this wasn't a sonnet that Christian knew. That was fine; it was one that was rather obscure, to be honest, especially in comparison to the one he had chosen before. That was fine- Christian was trying to peel himself away, shooting him a look. Viggo nodded, and slid off his thigh, putting his hands on Sean's hips. He kept talking, distracting him even as he licked gently against one nipple then the other.

"Both truth and beauty on my love depends; So dost thou too, and therein dignified." He chuckled lightly, and leaned in to draw one nipple between his teeth. At the same time, he closed his fingers over Sean's hips. Christian's fingers closed over his own, and the two of them lifted Sean up a little - like he was a doll - and placed him on the arm of the chair.

Christian leaned in and kissed the side of his throat as Viggo recited the next line: "Make answer Muse: wilt thou not haply say,
'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fixed; Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay; But best is best, if never intermixed'?" Viggo's finger dragged down Sean's leg, and Christian was already pulling himself back and padding off towards the bathroom. What for? Supplies, most likely. Toys, maybe. Viggo continued, moving down Sean's chest as he kept speaking. He licked against that little dip of the sternum.

"Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?" Viggo lifted his eyes, and pressed his tongue against Sean's lips. Seeking entrance as his fingers walked down his side. Christian reappeared again, this time behind Sean.

"Excuse not silence so, for't lies in thee / To make him much outlive a gilded tomb / And to be praised of ages yet to be," his breath had sped up, because there was lube on the floor with a row of condoms, and Christian's fingers seemed to have disappeared inside Sean. Viggo smiled, his lips parting against Sean's thigh, licking against the skin and humming quietly against the junction.

When he spoke, he made sure his breath gust over Sean's cock. "Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how / To make him seem, long hence, as he shows now."

Three fingers now, Viggo was sure. Christian had three fingers in Sean now, and Viggo wondered if that was enough. Enough for Christian, perhaps. But- for them both?

Perhaps.