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May. 27th, 2004 10:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cathybitesonychophagia
DM/VM
R
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lotrpschallenge: bad habits.
It's been years since Viggo has bitten his nails. A nervous habit he'd had when he was a child, fingers flying up to his mouth at the slightest feeling of unease, he remembers his mother trying to get him to stop, constantly pulling his hands down and admonishing him.
"Viggo, honey," she'd say, "don't do that. It's unsightly."
It would never be long, though, before his fingers were back in his mouth, teeth tearing into his nails, and his mother would sigh and reach for his hands again. Soon it became less of a nervous habit and more of a thing he knew he could use to irk her. He made a game of it, making sure that she was looking his way before bringing his fingers to his mouth.
But eventually she gave up on nagging him about it, moving on to other areas such as his hair and his clothes. And eventually he gave up on trying to get a rise out of her and he stopped chewing his nails.
All of that comes to mind right now because Dom's fingers are fluttering at the edge of his vision, and if anyone has ever had unsightly nails, it's Dominic Monaghan. His nails are bitten down to the quick, ragged and rough and covered in chipped nail polish. They're blue at the moment but Viggo is sure that they had been pink the day before and that they will probably be another color tomorrow. And Viggo is also certain that no matter how often Dom repaints his nails, the polish will always be chipped.
So Viggo tries to pay no attention to Dom's hands or finger or nails, or the way they're flying over his skin. It's hard because the flashes of blue are distracting, but, he tells himself, they're no more distracting than the way Dom's teeth press down into the swell of his lower lip, or the slick sheen of sweat that covers Dom's chest. They certainly can't be more distracting than the way Dom hisses in appreciation when Viggo shifts back a little and pulls him closer.
But then his fingers are tap-tap-tapping at Viggo's face, his knuckles rubbing across Viggo's cheek, and the fingers are skating down and pressing against Viggo's lips.
There's only a moment's hesitation before Viggo opens his mouth and Dom's fingers slide in, his nails scraping at Viggo's tongue. Viggo pulls back, just enough to catch Dom's fingertips, and bites down,
the polish cracking and chipping under his teeth as Dom shudders beneath him.
DM/VM
R
for
lotrpschallenge: bad habits.It's been years since Viggo has bitten his nails. A nervous habit he'd had when he was a child, fingers flying up to his mouth at the slightest feeling of unease, he remembers his mother trying to get him to stop, constantly pulling his hands down and admonishing him.
"Viggo, honey," she'd say, "don't do that. It's unsightly."
It would never be long, though, before his fingers were back in his mouth, teeth tearing into his nails, and his mother would sigh and reach for his hands again. Soon it became less of a nervous habit and more of a thing he knew he could use to irk her. He made a game of it, making sure that she was looking his way before bringing his fingers to his mouth.
But eventually she gave up on nagging him about it, moving on to other areas such as his hair and his clothes. And eventually he gave up on trying to get a rise out of her and he stopped chewing his nails.
All of that comes to mind right now because Dom's fingers are fluttering at the edge of his vision, and if anyone has ever had unsightly nails, it's Dominic Monaghan. His nails are bitten down to the quick, ragged and rough and covered in chipped nail polish. They're blue at the moment but Viggo is sure that they had been pink the day before and that they will probably be another color tomorrow. And Viggo is also certain that no matter how often Dom repaints his nails, the polish will always be chipped.
So Viggo tries to pay no attention to Dom's hands or finger or nails, or the way they're flying over his skin. It's hard because the flashes of blue are distracting, but, he tells himself, they're no more distracting than the way Dom's teeth press down into the swell of his lower lip, or the slick sheen of sweat that covers Dom's chest. They certainly can't be more distracting than the way Dom hisses in appreciation when Viggo shifts back a little and pulls him closer.
But then his fingers are tap-tap-tapping at Viggo's face, his knuckles rubbing across Viggo's cheek, and the fingers are skating down and pressing against Viggo's lips.
There's only a moment's hesitation before Viggo opens his mouth and Dom's fingers slide in, his nails scraping at Viggo's tongue. Viggo pulls back, just enough to catch Dom's fingertips, and bites down,
the polish cracking and chipping under his teeth as Dom shudders beneath him.
