In Search of Fireworks
Warning: This story contains slash, that is, a graphic relationship
involving two men.
Author: Ariel Tachna
Author's e-mail: arieltachna@y...
Author's website: www.geocities.com/arieltachna
Type: RPS
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warning: Just sex
Disclaimer: I don't know them. I make no claims about them. I just want
to have fun.
Feedback: Don't be gentle. Just be honest.
Beta: The incomparable Jean
Archive: VOLA Slash, Innate Desires, everyone else, just ask I'll
surely say yes.
A/N: This piece can be read as a stand-alone piece, but it is also part
of the backstory to French Lessons.
Summary: Orlando wants some fireworks in his life.
Winner of the VOLA July Challenge.
When he joined the cast of Lord of the Rings, fresh out of drama
school, Orlando Bloom had considered himself pretty worldly for a
twenty-one year old. He’d had his share of girlfriends, and he’d
discovered that guys were interesting, too. He’d given and received his
share of handjobs and blowjobs. But he’d never been in love, and he’d
never gone all the way with a guy. His mates at Guildhall had
been willing to experiment, but only up to a point. And some mostly
buried, old-fashioned part of Orlando’s soul told him to wait for the
right moment. And the right man.
Out of habit, he’d checked out his castmates upon arrival, but nobody
had particularly caught his eye. Then, Pete had decided to recast
Aragorn, giving Orlando one more person to consider. He’d taken an
instant liking to Viggo, but that had been the end of it. No vibe. No
jolt, just a warm friendship that Orlando had come to treasure, as he
did all his friendships with the cast. Except that Viggo’s had
become the most important. And Orlando had realized that he wasn’t very
worldly at all. Not next to Viggo.
Then, two weeks ago, everything had changed. Orlando and the
Hobbits had gone out clubbing as usual, dragging Viggo along this
time. They had all been drinking and all of them except Viggo had
been dancing. Orlando had gotten tired of seeing Viggo sitting
off to the side by himself and had dragged the older man onto the dance
floor, rubbing up against him provocatively. He hadn’t really meant
anything by it; he’d just been dancing. But suddenly, he had heard
Viggo mutter something under his breath, something that sounded vaguely
like, “Fuck it,” and then Viggo had grabbed him by the shoulders and
latched his mouth onto Orlando’s. Shock had kept Orlando from
reacting at first, but the kiss had continued anyway until Orlando’s
brain caught up with reality and he had kissed Viggo back. It wasn’t a
tentative kiss. Viggo didn’t do things halfway. No, it was a
full-bore possession of his mouth, a kiss so deep Orlando swore he
could feel it in his toes. Then Viggo had pulled away abruptly and left
the bar. Orlando had been trying since then to figure out what had
happened and to talk to Viggo about it. He hadn’t succeeded in doing
either. Which meant he needed a plan.
The only problem was who to ask for help. It had to be somebody
Viggo wouldn’t suspect, which left out the Hobbits and Ian. If
Beanie had still been around, Orlando would have asked him, but Beanie
had gone home, his part in the filming finished. Orlando didn’t
think John would help either, just because John seemed to disapprove of
on-set relationships on principle. Which was probably good advice
that Orlando would have followed. Until Viggo kissed him. He didn’t
really know the newcomers, Craig or David or Karl, well enough to ask
them. That meant throwing himself on Liv’s mercy and paying the price
she set. He only hoped it was something he was willing to give.
He caught up with her at the end of filming the next day. “Hey,
princess,” he called after her, “let me buy you dinner.” The offer was
unusual enough to catch her interest. She often went out with her
castmates, but rarely did they treat her to dinner or drinks. That
would be too much like dating, and they all knew she was engaged to Roy
back home.
When they settled into a booth at a little Italian restaurant, Liv
fixed Orlando with a commanding stare. “What do you want?” she asked.
“To have dinner with a pretty girl,” he said defensively.
“Try again,” she answered. “If that’s what you wanted, you would
have called up some girl you met at a bar. That way, you’d have a
chance of getting some action after dinner. Tell me the truth this
time.”
“Fine,” he pouted. “I need some help, and you’re the only one who
can give it.”
“Help with what?” Liv asked, intrigued.
“Help with Viggo. Two weeks ago, he kissed me. Since then, he’s been
avoiding me except when we have a scene together. I need to talk
to him, but he won’t let me catch up with him. I need a plan.”
“What kind of kiss?” Liv wanted to know.
“What do you mean, what kind of kiss?”
“Men,” she sighed. “It obviously wasn’t a quick peck on the cheek
cause you guys do that all the time. Was it a light, I’m a good friend
kind of kiss? Or an I want to screw you through the carpet kind of
kiss?”
Orlando blushed. “I’m pretty sure it was an I want to screw you
through the carpet kind. But he hasn’t come near me since. I’m a little
confused.”
Liv thought about it for a minute. It was July 1 and she knew the
effects crew was planning a fireworks display for the Americans to
celebrate the 4th. Fireworks, a blanket, a dark night. Sounded
perfect to her. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll ask Viggo to meet a
group of us to watch the fireworks in three days. I’ll just
forget to include anyone else but you. What you do with him once you
get him alone is up to you.”
“And if he mentions it to anyone else?” Orlando wanted to know.
“I’ll tell him I just want to invite the other Americans. That’s just
Lij, and Sean A and his family. I have enough blackmail on Lij to
make him keep his mouth shut, and Sean will play along if I ask.
They might give you hell about it later, but they won’t tip your hand.”
“Okay,” Orlando agreed. “Where are you going to tell him to meet you? I
mean me.”
Liv picked a sufficiently secluded spot and told Orlando. He
agreed and they finished their meals, discussing what Orlando should
bring along.
On the way out, Liv said, “Oh, and I’ll want details the next day.”
There it was. The price. He supposed it was a reasonable one. He
could still decide what to tell her and what not to.
Orlando made a point of not being seen talking to Liv over the next
three days. He didn’t want to do anything to make Viggo
suspicious. He’d searched around and found a couple of thick
blankets, one they could sit on and one they could wrap up in for the
fireworks display. He had a bottle of decent wine picked out, a kind
he’d seen Viggo order when they were all out together. Now it just
needed to get dark so Orlando could get everything ready for the
evening.
When dusk came, Orlando gathered his supplies and headed out to the
spot Liv had chosen. It was definitely isolated, so if Viggo
came, they wouldn’t have to worry about anyone disturbing them, but it
also gave a good view of the area where the fireworks would take
place. Orlando was looking forward to watching the
fireworks. He loved fireworks displays. The thought brought
an old, half-forgotten memory to mind. He’d had a friend in school who
had always used the expression “fireworks” when she wanted to talk
about sex. He would ask her how her evening was and she would say
something about there being fireworks and he would know what had
happened. The expression had always amused him, though, because,
while he enjoyed sex as much as the next man, he’d never equated it
with the stunning beauty and power of fireworks.
Orlando arranged the blanket on the ground and opened the picnic basket
Liv had found for him, uncorking the wine so it would have a chance to
breathe. There were other goodies in the basket as well: cheese,
crackers, pâté, designed for easy eating. He could get
those out later, if he got Viggo to stay. He shivered a little in
the cool air. It wasn’t freezing, but it was definitely not summer. He
hoped Viggo would get there soon. He wanted to wrap them up in the
spare blanket and share some body heat. Of course, that assumed Viggo
didn’t take one look at the situation and run.
A few moments later, he heard footsteps in the woods and Viggo appeared
out of the shadows into the clearing. “Orlando,” he said,
surprised, “what are you doing here?”
“Liv said it would be a good place to watch the fireworks,” Orlando
replied. “Join me, why don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Viggo hesitated.
“Please,” Orlando asked.
Viggo couldn’t resist that word on Orlando’s lips. He sank to the
blanket, but as far away from the younger man as possible.
Orlando was less than thrilled at that, but at least Viggo had agreed
to stay. By Orlando’s estimates, they had about ten minutes until
the fireworks began. He really wanted to sit and enjoy the show. That
meant clearing the air with Viggo first.
“Would you like some wine?” Orlando offered.
“Sure,” Viggo said, latching onto an excuse that would keep his hands
busy. If he had wine in his hands, he wouldn’t be reaching compulsively
for his costar.
Orlando poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Viggo. Viggo
tasted it and looked at Orlando in surprise.
“This is my favorite,” Viggo exclaimed.
“I know,” Orlando replied. “That’s why I bought it.”
Viggo didn’t respond to that immediately. Finally he said, “Liv and the
others aren’t coming, are they?”
“I certainly hope not,” Orlando answered. “I only have two
glasses.”
Viggo laughed at that before falling silent again.
Orlando screwed up his courage and finally asked, “Why have you been
avoiding me?”
“Orlando,” Viggo said discouragingly.
“No,” Orlando insisted, “I have a right to know. We were friends. Best
friends, I thought, right up until the moment you kissed me. Since
then, you’ve been treating me like I have the plague. The least
you could do is give me an explanation.”
“I don’t trust myself anymore,” Viggo answered softly.
“What does that mean?” Orlando wanted to know.
“I had no right to touch you the way I did in that bar. There’s
no excuse for it. If I stay away from you, I’m less tempted to do it
again.”
For all of thirty seconds, Orlando was completely speechless. Viggo
misunderstood his lack of reaction. “I should go,” he said, starting to
rise.
“No!” Orlando cried lunging for him and grabbing his arm. “Don’t run
from me again. Why do you think you have no right to touch me?”
“Look at you, Orlando! And look at me. You’re twenty-two and I’m
not. I haven’t been for years. You deserve someone your own age, not
some eccentric old man who…” Viggo didn’t finish his sentence. He
couldn’t. He had his arms full of Orlando. And his mouth as well.
Orlando was kissing him with the same, single-minded determination that
he had used two weeks ago and it broke down Viggo’s barriers. He found
himself returning the kiss without conscious thought, lips and tongue
moving of their own accord to meet Orlando’s.
“Did it ever occur to you,” Orlando asked when he broke the kiss and
came up for air, “that I might have enjoyed the kiss we shared? Might
have even wanted more?”
“No,” Viggo replied honestly.
Orlando stared at him, dumbfounded. “How much more strongly did I need
to react when you kissed me the first time? I thought I’d made my
response pretty clear.”
“You were drunk. You had no idea what you were doing.”
“I wasn’t that drunk,” Orlando retorted. “I knew exactly what I was
doing and with whom. And I’ve been trying for the past two weeks
to tell you that, but you’ve been avoiding me.”
“Lot of good that did me,” Viggo muttered, but there was no anger, only
resignation in his tone.
The first shower of fireworks went off just at that moment. Orlando
turned in Viggo’s arms so that his back was pressed against the older
man’s chest, his hands firmly clasping Viggo’s wrists so he could not
remove his arms from around Orlando. With a contented sigh,
Orlando settled in to watch the display.
The colors and patterns were beautiful, as always: showers and blooms,
sprays and stars, in blue and green, red and orange, white and even
purple. The particular combination was unique, but the individual
rockets were all things Orlando had seen before. But Viggo’s arms
around him and Viggo’s heat behind him made it a magical experience.
Viggo stared blindly at the fireworks, not actually seeing them.
Orlando was in his arms. That was all he knew. All he cared
about. Through some miracle that he could not possibly deserve,
the young man returned his interest. At least partially. Viggo doubted
Orlando was ready to make declarations of undying love, or to hear them
for that matter, but he clearly felt something beyond simple friendship
for Viggo or he wouldn’t have kissed him earlier. Not like that.
Despite the warmth of Viggo’s embrace, Orlando shivered when a cool
breeze kicked up. Viggo glanced around and spied the extra blanket
sitting nearby. He grabbed it and wrapped them in it, shutting
out the breeze and shutting them in their own little world.
“Mmm. Feels good,” Orlando murmured when the blanket closed around
them. He sank further into Viggo’s arms, completely relaxed as he
observed the pyrotechnics.
Viggo was caught between heaven and hell. He had what he had wanted for
a long time. Not since they first met. It hadn’t started that long ago,
but he had wanted Orlando for far longer than the two weeks since he
had kissed him. But he’d convinced himself that the younger man
was off-limits. Now Orlando seemed to be saying the opposite, and
his current position, in Viggo’s arms, practically lying on top of him,
certainly seemed to corroborate his words. But the fears that had held
Viggo back, besides the fear of rejection, were still there.
Orlando clearly wanted something, but did he really want Viggo or was
this just a phase, an experiment? He had no way to tell, and it
really bothered him. And even if he wanted Viggo now, what
happened when he stopped wanting him?
Orlando suppressed a sigh when Viggo didn’t take advantage of their
situation. How much more obvious could he be, Orlando wondered,
short of stripping naked, and it was too cold for that. Well, if Viggo
wouldn’t start this, Orlando would. He might have been waiting for the
right moment with the right man before sleeping with a guy, but he had
plenty of experience with foreplay. And no qualms about using it! Viggo
wouldn’t know what hit him.
Viggo’s arms were still around him, his hands resting at Orlando’s
waist. Orlando decided this was as good a time as any to see if
artist’s hands were really more sensitive than other people’s
hands. He started slowly, just intertwining his fingers with
Viggo’s, his thumb resting on the palm of Viggo’s hand. When that
caress wasn’t rejected, he circled his thumb slowly, exploring Viggo’s
calluses with the pad of his finger. Behind him, he heard the
slightest hitch in Viggo’s breathing, just enough to let Orlando know
that the other man was indeed susceptible to that kind of touch.
Emboldened, he separated their hands to trail his fingers across the
back of Viggo’s hand and around his wrist to the sensitive
underside. That resulted in an indrawn hiss of breath, but still
no indication that Orlando should stop. He grinned into the
darkness and raised the hand he had been caressing to his lips, drawing
one finger into his mouth as his fingers continued to trace random
figures on Viggo’s wrist.
Viggo froze when he felt Orlando’s fingers in his, tensed when Orlando
started caressing his palm, and melted when he lifted Viggo’s hand to
his mouth. The shot of pure lust coursing through him was way out
of proportion with the relative innocence of Orlando’s actions. But
then, Viggo had often thought that his hands were the second most
sensitive part of his body, and Orlando was doing a superb job of
making love to his fingers. If the wet heat of his mouth felt
that good on his hands, Viggo could only imagine how good it would feel
on his cock. He tried to remind himself that he wasn’t supposed
to be having such thoughts about the young Brit, but it was a little
difficult with Orlando sucking his fingers deeper into his mouth.
His fist clenched convulsively when Orlando’s tongue lapped at the
calluses from sword fighting.
The teasing tongue paused for a minute as Orlando spoke, one hand
enfolding Viggo’s fist. “You’re allowed to touch me,” Orlando
assured him with a reassuring squeeze. Then his mouth went back to
business with Viggo’s hand, biting gently at the heel of his
hand. Viggo let a little moan escape.
Viggo hesitated a minute more before deciding to take advantage of
Orlando’s offer. Maybe this wasn’t permanent. Maybe it didn’t
mean to Orlando what it meant to him. But if tonight was all he was
going to have, he intended to make it the best night of his life.
He relaxed his fist and raised his hand to Orlando’s neck, feeling the
smooth skin above the collar of the sweater he wore. Orlando
tilted his head back, keeping Viggo’s other hand at his mouth.
Knowing artist’s fingers explored the sensitive skin, the tendons and
muscles of Orlando’s neck before sliding down over cloth to trace the
muscles of his chest. When the fingers lingered around his right
nipple, it was Orlando’s turn to moan before biting more firmly at
Viggo’s other hand and moving on to his wrist.
Viggo’s hand slid down, finding the hem of Orlando’s sweater and moving
beneath in search of bare skin. He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of
Orlando’s neck and slipped his other hand from Orlando’s grasp. “Watch
the fireworks,” he whispered, nibbling on Orlando’s ear as he spoke.
Orlando tried to focus outward, to see the fireworks as Viggo
requested, but it was hard to do with Viggo’s lips on his ear and
Viggo’s fingers on his skin. He had to force his eyes to stay
open when Viggo sucked gently on his earlobe. And when he
combined that caress with a gentle pinch of Orlando’s nipples, Orlando
failed entirely, eyes closing in bliss.
“Watch the fireworks,” Viggo repeated. Orlando levered his eyes open
again, trying to take in the colors and shapes in the sky in front of
him.
Viggo waited, timing his next caress to the wave of sound from the next
rocket, so that his fingers and the show assaulted Orlando’s senses at
the same time.
Orlando was trapped in the sensual world of Viggo’s making. He knew
what Viggo was doing, using the fireworks as part of the seduction.
Some still-rational part of his brain even admired the strategy, but it
didn’t help him resist it. He arched into Viggo’s hands as they
kneaded and caresses his muscles, playing languidly over his nipples,
all in time to the release of the fireworks. Then one hand moved
lower, finding and releasing the button on his jeans. Orlando braced
himself for the feel of Viggo’s hand on him, anticipating the caress as
the next rocket shot into the sky, but nothing prepared him for Viggo’s
touch. When Viggo’s fingers closed around his erection, he felt the
fireworks inside him.
Then Viggo’s other hand joined the first, setting up a rhythm that
pushed Orlando to the edge of ecstasy. Between the bursts of
fireworks, Viggo’s fingers would stroke teasingly over the head of his
arousal, its length, his balls. Then, when the burst came, his fist
would close around Orlando, pulling strongly, making his hips jerk in
pleasure. As the display built toward the finale, the rhythm of
Viggo’s hands also increased. Boom, stroke, boom, stroke, until
there was no time between them and Orlando was teetering on the edge of
release. He had no idea what was babbling out of his mouth:
pleas, obscenities, Viggo’s name. He was aware of only two things: the
fireworks in the sky and Viggo’s hand on his cock.
“Let go,” Viggo whispered in his ear, and Orlando did, abandoning
control and giving in to release. As the last of the fireworks crashed
in the sky, his body convulsed, covering his lap and Viggo’s hand with
sticky fluid.
Orlando lay in Viggo’s arms, on the edge of unconsciousness,
aftershocks running through him, as the smoke cleared from the
sky. Viggo just held him, waiting patiently for his heartbeat to
slow, his breathing to calm, awareness to return. Orlando was
loath to move, to break the spell that held him, but he couldn’t hold
reality at bay forever.
“Don’t run from me this time,” he pleaded when he felt Viggo finally
shift behind him.
“I don’t think I could if I tried,” Viggo replied honestly.
Orlando twisted in Viggo’s arms and kissed him tenderly. “Thank
you,” he said. “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”
The words were little arrows in Viggo’s heart. It hurt to think of
others touching Orlando the way he had just done. It hurt to think that
Orlando only saw the physical side of what they’d just shared.
“You made me feel like the center of the universe,” Orlando added.
Okay, Viggo admitted to himself, maybe Orlando saw more than just the
physical.
“You are,” Viggo replied softly, “at least of mine.”
“I… I had no idea,” Orlando stuttered. “I didn’t know you felt that
way. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Lots of reasons, the first being the difference in our ages. I’m old
enough to be your father.”
“But you’re not my father. You’re my friend, a friend I have respected
and admired since we met.”
“Yeah, I know,” Viggo said. “That’s another reason. I didn’t want
you to confuse hero worship with love.”
“I’m not that young,” Orlando snorted. “I know the difference.
What else?”
“Your career. Mine, though to a lesser degree. You have a chance
to be a real celebrity. Being in a gay relationship isn’t going
to help that. I’m old enough and established enough that I could
probably get away with it, but I don’t want to drag you down.”
“Isn’t that my choice to make?” Orlando asked.
“I just don’t want you to regret it. I’m afraid if you had to choose
between your career and me that your career would win.”
Orlando sighed. “Let’s cross that bridge when, no, if we come to
it. What’s to say that you won’t be bored with me long before we ever
leave here?”
“Which is yet another reason. We have to work together, no matter what
happens between us. We can’t let anything interfere with that.”
“We worked together these past two weeks when you weren’t speaking to
me. We’re actors. We’ll deal with it if it comes to that. Any more
excuses?” Orlando challenged.
The choice of words was enough to jerk Viggo out of his train of
thought. They were excuses, he realized. Slightly different
ones than in past relationships, but excuses nonetheless. If he found
enough excuses not to get involved, he didn’t get hurt. He also didn’t
get to live.
“No,” he said firmly. “No more excuses.”
Orlando smiled, though Viggo could barely see it in the moonlight. “I
think there are napkins in the basket. So we can clean up a bit.”
Viggo reached for the basket and retrieved the napkins, using them to
gently wipe Orlando’s skin and his own hand.
Orlando straightened his clothes and looked back at the now silent
sky. “I think the show is over. Shall we go home?”
Viggo nodded and helped Orlando with the blankets. As they walked down
the hill, Orlando reached out and took Viggo’s hand.
“Where’s your car?” Viggo asked, looking around.
“I walked,” Orlando replied. “I was afraid if you saw my car, you
wouldn’t come.”
“Let me give you a ride home, then,” Viggo offered.
Orlando didn’t speak, just helped Viggo put their things in the
trunk. As they drove back toward town, he debated with
himself. Viggo had given him release on the hill but hadn’t found
his own. As he stared at Viggo’s profile, he knew he’d found the right
man and the right moment. “Can we go to your place?” he asked
softly.
Viggo had to concentrate on keeping the car on the road. Orlando’s
words sent shock waves through him, dulling his senses to everything
else. Including the road in front of him.
“If that’s what you want,” Viggo replied, trying not to read too much
into Orlando’s offer. For all Viggo knew, he could just want to talk
some more.
When they reached Viggo’s house, Orlando headed to the trunk. “We
should take the basket inside. There’s food in it. It would be a shame
to waste it.”
“Oh?” Viggo asked. “What did you bring?”
“Pâté, cheese, some crackers, but we didn’t get around to
eating them.”
“Are you complaining?”
“God, no!” Orlando exclaimed. “But we can eat them later if we put them
in the refrigerator.”
Viggo nodded and unlocked the door. Orlando followed him inside and
moved comfortably to the kitchen. It was hardly the first time he’d
been at Viggo’s house, and for a few moments, normalcy set in, as if
their encounter with the fireworks hadn’t occurred. When Orlando
came back in from the kitchen, he found Viggo standing in the living
room, waiting for him. Suppressing the nerves that assailed him, he
walked straight to Viggo and tilted his head to kiss the older man.
Viggo let Orlando have his way with his mouth, standing still as
Orlando kissed him.
At first, it was just a brushing of lips. Then Orlando licked softly at
Viggo’s mouth, tasting him before nibbling gently at the full lower lip
and sucking it into his mouth. Viggo’s arms came around him as
the kiss continued, but he made no move to take control of it.
Orlando lapped at Viggo’s lips with his tongue before beginning a
gentle invasion of his mouth. Slowly, almost reverently, he
explored Viggo’s teeth and tongue, the roof of his mouth. It was a
claiming kiss, an inflaming one, and Orlando could feel Viggo’s arousal
pulsing against his stomach as they pressed together.
He undulated slowly against Viggo, increasing the pressure on the other
man’s erection. “We should do something about that,” Orlando murmured,
ending the kiss.
“You don’t have to,” Viggo said.
“But I want to,” Orlando assured him. “I want you to show me what
I’ve been missing.’
Viggo didn’t know what to make of Orlando’s words at first. Then
realization dawned. Orlando was a virgin, at least to this kind of sex.
That didn’t bother Viggo, but he didn’t want to be just an
experiment. “Why?” he said without elaborating.
Orlando understood. He and Viggo had become good at guessing each
other’s thoughts. That was what had made the kiss and the past two
weeks so strange. “I wanted to wait,” Orlando said, “for the
right moment, with the right man. I’ve found what I was waiting
for.”
Those words shattered Viggo’s resolve. If Orlando thought he was the
right man and that this was the right moment, then Orlando thought this
was special. Maybe not head over heels, falling in love special, but
still special. And since that was the case, since this wasn’t just
another fling, Viggo wanted the night to live up to those expectations.
He kissed Orlando tenderly, pouring all the love he was feeling into
the kiss along with the passion. He would show Orlando what it meant to
be cherished. Treasured.
Loved.
His thoughts raced as he tried to decide how to achieve that goal. He
had candles in the kitchen he could light to set the mood. The sheets
on his bed weren’t fancy, but they were clean. He’d changed them that
morning, fortunately. Music. His tastes in music were eclectic and he
had a large number of choices at hand. The only question was what to
play. Something by which he could make love to Orlando.
“Give me five minutes,” he asked.
Orlando agreed. He thought about telling Viggo that he didn’t need to
do anything special, that just being together made it special enough,
but he didn’t say anything. Why settle for special enough when Viggo
seemed determined to make it extraordinary? He sat on the couch
and closed his eyes, trying to imagine what the next few hours would
bring. He wasn’t scared; he knew Viggo would take care of him. It was
just a big step, one he had deliberately not taken before. Then he
reminded himself whom he was with. He reminded himself of how he had
always admired and respected Viggo. He reminded himself of the feelings
evoked by that first kiss in the smoky club and of all the feelings
that had coursed through him since then. He reminded himself of the
power of Viggo’s touch, discovered only that night. No one had ever
made him feel the way Viggo had made him feel while watching the
fireworks. It should have been no different than any other hand
job he’d gotten, but it was different. Viggo touched him differently.
As if all that mattered was his pleasure. Orlando’s pleasure. Viggo
hadn’t asked for anything in return. They were here, about to make love
because he had asked for it, not because Viggo had. Viggo would
have taken him home, dropped him off with a good night kiss, probably,
but no pressure to do anything else. Orlando didn’t know if he could
promise Viggo forever. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to make
that promise. But he did know, without a doubt, that he cared more
about Viggo, and in a different way, than he had ever cared about
anyone else. He wanted Viggo to be the one to show him what magic
they could create with their bodies and their hearts.
When Viggo came back into the room, Orlando opened his eyes and sent
Viggo what he hoped was an inviting smile. “Make me a promise,”
Viggo said, dropping one knee to the couch beside Orlando and kissing
his lips.
“What promise?” Orlando asked, a little warily.
“That you will tell me to stop if you change your mind,” Viggo
answered. “I need to know that you want this, want me, as much as
I want you.”
“I promise,” Orlando replied. He certainly didn’t expect to change his
mind, but he would tell Viggo if that somehow happened.
“Then come upstairs,” Viggo suggested, rising back to his feet and
offering a hand to Orlando.
The nerves came back as Orlando rose, but when he put his hand in
Viggo’s, they all fell away again. All that mattered was Viggo’s hand
in his. Orlando didn’t know when Viggo’s touch had become so
reassuring, but he decided it didn’t matter. He let Viggo lead
him up the stairs to his bedroom.
Orlando took in the candles set out to give the room a soft glow, the
music playing in the background with a sultry rhythm that pulsed in the
air and in his blood. This was a scene for seduction. “You don’t
have to seduce me,” he told Viggo. “I’m already here and willing.”
“Maybe I want to seduce you,” Viggo replied. “First times are special
in a relationship. Our first kiss didn’t happen the way I wish it
had, but our first night together is going to. If that’s all
right with you?”
Orlando couldn’t answer at first. He was too overwhelmed. He couldn’t
quite take in that Viggo wanted to go to all this trouble for
him. “It’s all right with me,” he said finally.
“Good,” Viggo said, pulling Orlando into his arms and beginning to move
slowly to the seductive beat of the music that filled the room.
Orlando relaxed into Viggo’s embrace. There were a lot of things he
didn’t know, but he knew how to dance. He let Viggo lead, but he
took advantage of every opportunity to brush against Viggo, to let him
feel the effect that he was having on Orlando.
It didn’t take long before dancing wasn’t enough for either of
them. Viggo lowered his head to Orlando’s neck, kissing the
elegant curve of muscle before nipping at it, just hard enough to leave
a little mark. Orlando moaned. It felt so good, so right to be held in
Viggo’s arms, to be kissed by Viggo’s lips. He thought they’d
left the fireworks behind on the hill, but they seemed to have followed
the two men home and were now going off inside Orlando. When Viggo’s
hands slid under his sweater and up his back, Orlando gave up even
trying to dance. He just leaned against Viggo and let the older man do
what he wanted.
What he wanted, though, appeared to be simply to touch Orlando’s skin,
to trace the lines of his muscles, up his back and down again, fingers
finding and caressing his scar as if that gentle touch could erase the
mark and all the pain that had accompanied it. When Orlando
thought he’d go mad if he didn’t get more, Viggo trailed one hand
lower, cupping Orlando’s behind, pulling their groins into
alignment. Orlando moaned again. “Take me to bed,” he
pleaded, suddenly unable to wait any more.
As if those words were the signal Viggo had been waiting for, he began
moving toward the bed, still in time with the music, but no longer the
directionless swaying from before. When they reached the bed,
Orlando would have fallen back across it, but Viggo stopped him, hands
going to the hem of Orlando’s sweater and pulling it over his
head. “Is that all right?” he asked.
“Are you kidding?” Orlando rasped as he attacked the buttons on Viggo’s
shirt. When both of them were naked to the waist, Viggo pulled Orlando
back against him, bare skin coming into contact with bare skin.
Orlando’s hiss of indrawn breath mirrored Viggo’s as they assimilated
the new sensations.
Viggo took off his shoes as he undid Orlando’s belt and the button on
his jeans. He knelt and removed Orlando’s shoes and socks before
helping him step out of his jeans so he was left wearing only his
boxers.
Orlando could feel the heat of Viggo’s gaze and read appreciation in
the cerulean depths as the older man nudged him to sit on the
bed. Orlando complied, scooting back until he was sitting against
the headboard. He watched eagerly as Viggo removed his own
jeans. He’d seen Viggo in various states of undress before – they
shared a trailer, after all – but it had always been out of the corner
of his eye or with his attention elsewhere. He’d never had the
opportunity or the reason to study the man before him. He took it now,
relishing every inch of the broad chest, trim waist, long, lean,
powerful thighs as they were revealed. And though it was still
veiled, he could see the outline of Viggo’s erection tenting his
boxers. It appeared that his cock was just as well proportioned as the
rest of him. Orlando licked his lips in anticipation.
“Keep looking at me like that,” Viggo warned, “and I might forget what
I’m trying to do here.”
“I’ll remind you if you forget,” Orlando assured him.
“Cheeky Elf,” Viggo retorted.
“Filthy human.”
Viggo smiled as he joined Orlando on the bed, crawling on all fours
until he could sit facing Orlando, straddling his thighs. With an
almost frightening look of concentration, Viggo began caressing
Orlando, starting at his neck, working his way down his arms and back
up again before exploring his chest and stomach, fingers sliding the
edge of Orlando’s boxers down to reveal his tattoo.
“How many times have you come in a row?” Viggo asked conversationally.
His eyes never stopped their perusal of Orlando’s body.
“Just…just one,” Orlando stuttered. “Come and you’re finished, right?”
Viggo smiled again, predatorily this tune. Orlando shivered. “Right?”
“Ask me again in the morning,” Viggo answered. “Well see what you say
then.”
Orlando shivered again. Viggo had more control than anyone he knew and
from the sound of it, he planned to use that control to wring as many
orgasms as possible out of Orlando. Come to think of it, that didn’t
sound bad at all. He grinned at Viggo and leaned his head back against
the headboard, eyes closing.
Viggo’s fingers continued to drift delicately over Orlando’s body as
they learned his every contour. Orlando relaxed into the touches. They
were just firm enough to avoid tickling, all the while heightening his
senses. Viggo urged him to bend his knees so that he was sitting with
his knees almost to his chest, legs spread, a posture that would have
been terribly vulnerable if he’d been completely naked. With his boxers
still in place, though, Orlando was perfectly comfortable as Viggo
caressed his calves, the sensitive sides of his knees, his thighs,
tracing the edges of his shorts, but never straying inside.
Orlando’s cock throbbed, bereft as it was of attention. “Touch
me,” Orlando pleaded.
“I am touching you,” was Viggo’s reply.
Orlando let out a needy moan, one hand capturing Viggo’s and guiding it
to his erection. Viggo bestowed a single caress before returning to his
earlier fascination with the inside of Orlando’s elbow. Before Orlando
could protest, Viggo leaned forward suddenly and took one of Orlando’s
nipples between his teeth, not biting, just holding. A hand moved to
catch the other nipple in an equivalent vice. The intensity of
the sensation was more than he was expecting. Apparently Viggo’s gentle
caresses had sensitized more than just Orlando’s cock.
He let out a sharp cry at the pleasure that ran through him even before
Viggo began sucking at his dusky brown nipple. He arched his
back, pushing eagerly into Viggo’s caress. Viggo pulled harder,
drawing more of Orlando’s flesh into the hot cavern of his mouth,
circling the taut peak with his tongue, teasing and laving it with
alternately gentle and firm caresses. Orlando squirmed under the
lash of feelings. He’d never much cared for having his nipples
sucked, preferring to have his cock sucked instead, but then, no one
had ever lavished attention on him the way Viggo was.
Just when he thought he couldn’t stand any more, Viggo’s lips slid
lower, playing across the ridges of his stomach to his navel. Viggo’s
tongue thrust playfully into Orlando’s belly button, tickling even as
it mimicked the action that Orlando fervently hoped their bodies would
soon be engaged in. Then the seeking tongue moved even
lower to lap at Orlando’s tattoo. The skin under the tattoo
wasn’t really more sensitive than the skin around it, but Orlando had
always found that attention paid to the tattoo was more erotic than
attention paid to the rest of his skin. Viggo seemed to
realize that instinctively, focusing his attention on that one patch of
skin, nipping and biting, licking and sucking, until Orlando was
quivering in delight.
Then his head moved lower, his breath hot on Orlando’s erection through
the fabric of his boxers. “Viggo!” Orlando pleaded. Viggo gave
in, at least a little, mouthing Orlando through his shorts.
Orlando raised his hips and grabbed the waistband of his boxers,
pulling them down. If Viggo wouldn’t do it, he’d do it himself.
Seeing Orlando’s determination, Viggo helped free the younger man from
his boxers, tossing them carelessly aside and gazing down on the
perfection spread out before him. He had such plans for his lover
– oh, he liked the sound of that word! He only hoped his control held
long enough to carry them all out. He grinned and got back to the
very pleasurable task at hand. The longer he delayed, after all, the
more precarious his control would become.
Viggo’s fingers were back to their wandering games, Orlando discovered
as soon as his boxers were removed, skimming back over his chest, his
hips, his legs, studiously avoiding the one spot that wanted attention.
Then they were there, skimming over his cock with the same delicacy
that they had used on the rest of his body. Orlando’s hips bucked up
into the touch, wanting more than just that fleeting contact.
Viggo complied, closing his fingers around Orlando’s erection, lifting
it away from his stomach so he could bend and flick his tongue over the
weeping tip. Orlando shrieked. There was no other word for the
sound that came out of his mouth as he threw his head back in
ecstasy. Such a minute touch, and yet so powerful. Anticipation
was an incredible aphrodisiac.
When Viggo’s lips closed around the head of his erection and began to
draw on him, Orlando thought he’d found paradise. When Viggo
sucked him deep, swallowing him whole, he realized he’d never felt
anything so intense. When he climaxed in Viggo’s mouth moments later,
he understood that he hadn’t known the first thing about pleasure.
Until now.
“That’s one,” Viggo said when he had licked Orlando clean. He
didn’t count the orgasm on the hill watching the fireworks. There had
been too much time between then and now. “How much more can you
take?”
Orlando didn’t know, but he was ready to find out. “Try me,” he
replied.
Viggo grinned at the challenge as he reached inside the drawer of the
bedside table and withdrew some lube. He couldn’t help but wonder
how long Orlando’s cockiness would last. All the way to the end,
he hoped. He coated his fingers and went back to the gentle
caresses, over Orlando’s balls and down into the cleft of his ass this
time. Orlando immediately slid down on the bed, opening himself
more completely to Viggo’s exploration.
Orlando started to lose patience with those slowly questing fingers,
until they started circling his puckered hole. That was a new
sensation, one Orlando didn’t mind savoring slowly. “Relax,” he
heard Viggo murmur before one finger breached him, just up to the first
knuckle. To Orlando, it felt huge. His sphincter spasmed around
Viggo’s finger. “Relax,” Viggo whispered again, patiently waiting
for Orlando to do as he said. When the tension eased, Viggo
slid his finger in a little more, curling it just enough to brush
Orlando’s prostate. That took care of the remaining tension as
pleasure so intense it stole his breath washed through Orlando.
“What was that?” he asked when he caught his breath again.
“Your prostate,” Viggo told him, rubbing it again.
Orlando could feel himself getting hard again from the stimulation on
his prostate and from the rhythm of Viggo’s finger as it thrust and
withdrew from his body. After a few minutes, the finger withdrew
completely. Orlando whimpered at the loss of contact. Then, the fingers
were back, two of them this time, stretching him a little more as they
immediately sought his pleasure spot to help counteract any burn.
Orlando was panting by that point, completely lost in the feelings
Viggo was inspiring. Viggo scissored his fingers gently, stretching
Orlando’s entrance even as he continued to stimulate his prostate.
Orlando rocked his hips in time with Viggo’s fingers, pushing back
against them as they pushed into him, learning the rhythm of their
bodies. His cock was starting to throb again in time with Viggo’s
thrusting fingers, each brush of his prostate sending another burst of
desire through his veins and his erection. When Viggo added a
third finger, Orlando writhed with pleasure on the bed, his
over-stimulated nerves crying out for completion again. “Finish me
off,” he begged.
Viggo took pity on him and fisted his cock in time with his thrusting
fingers, pushing Orlando over the edge for a second time. He
continued his stroking as Orlando’s tremors subsided, leaving him limp
and completely open to Viggo. He reached back in the drawer and
pulled out a condom. He was about to open it when Orlando took it
from his hand. “I’m clean,” he said softly. “You don’t need
it.”
Viggo trembled at the trust Orlando was showing. Fortunately for the
younger man, it wasn’t misplaced trust. “You trust me that much?”
he marveled.
“With my life,” Orlando answered, throwing the condom on the floor. He
spread his legs a little wider, offering himself to Viggo. Then
he reached for the lube and spread it on Viggo’s erection.
Viggo took him up on his invitation, sliding Orlando down to lie flat
on the bed and moving over him so that their bodies aligned from mouths
to chests to groins. Cautiously, Viggo positioned himself at
Orlando’s entrance and pushed inside, moving slowly, trying to let the
younger man set the pace. Another time, Orlando might have
hesitated, but not this time. All he wanted was to finally feel Viggo
inside him. He felt the penetration, partial at first, then the
gentle thrusting of Viggo’s hips that took him deeper each time.
After what seemed like an eternity, Viggo was finally seated all the
way, and for the first time in his life, Orlando felt complete.
“Move,” he urged Viggo. Viggo did as he asked, setting a steady
pace. Orlando felt his prostate come to life again as Viggo’s cock
brushed it with every thrust. Soon he was matching Viggo’s
rhythm, driving them toward the brink. Their release came
simultaneously.
Viggo collapsed on top of Orlando, struggling to breathe
normally. When he could, he rolled to one side, bringing Orlando
with him and snuggling them together. “Stay,” Viggo said softly.
“For as long as you’ll have me,” Orlando replied, drifting off to
sleep. His last conscious thought was of his friend who had used
fireworks as a euphemism for sex. He finally understood.
Epilogue
Orlando managed to avoid Liv all morning, but she cornered him at
lunch. “So?” she asked. “What happened?”
Orlando gave her a big grin, telling in and of itself, he was
sure. “Fireworks,” he said and walked away laughing.