�But this room�s horrible. We can�t stay here,� Orlando says, sniffling at the stale air. �Everything smells of plastic. And it�s humid somehow.�
�We�re not going anywhere else. With this rain I really don�t feel like looking for another place to stay. If there is even another place. We were lucky to find this one. Unless you�d rather sleep in the car.�
�Then at least let�s get another room,� Orlando sighs, frustrated, picking up things here and there as if he expects to make some unpleasant discoveries under the sofa cushions or in the drawers. A dead rat, perhaps, or some dusty dried-up cockroaches.
Orlando doesn�t feel like being grateful that the overhead lights don�t work so that he can�t see how dirty and sordid this motel in the middle of nowhere actually is. He points to the window where the neon lighting of the motel�s name merrily glimmers away in the rainy darkness, a constant red, whereas the blue sign �vacancies� flashes up at irregular intervals, apparently functioning little better than the overhead lights. �These lights are driving me mad already.�
�Orlando, the motel manager wasn�t exactly happy that we dragged him out of bed at this time of the night. Let the poor man sleep. It�s not so bad, after all. You�ll see,� Viggo replies quietly, turning to pull up the window and let in some fresh air.
�And regarding the lights,� he says, turning to see Orlando bathed in blue, thinking how good blue looks on the boy. �The lights will be fun.�
�Fun?�
�Yeah,� Viggo grins and all of a sudden there�s this crazy sparkle in his eyes reminding Orlando that even staying at a cheap, slightly run-down motel can be an extraordinary experience when shared with Viggo Mortensen.
�D�you know Twister?�
�Viggo,� Orlando rolls his eyes. �I�m not 12 anymore. Neither are you.�
�As if I needed you to remind me of that,� Viggo growls, faking annoyance while pulling Orlando closer with a firm grip on the front of Orlando�s shirt.
�Besides, we�re going to play an adult version of Twister,� Viggo adds nonchalantly, nodding towards the window. �Combined with Red Light, um � Blue Light. Which means I�m only allowed to �� Orlando smiles as he feels Viggo�s lips on his own,� Kiss you while the blue light�s on.�
�That was a bit short,� protests Orlando. �And what am I �allowed� to do according to your twisted rules?�
�You,� answers Viggo, his tongue circling a blue Orlando ear. �You can only touch or kiss the red light parts of me. The blue ones are taboo. Whereas I �,� he quickly flips open the buttons on Orlando�s shirt, �I can touch, but not kiss you, at any time. No matter which light�s on.�
�This is silly,� says Orlando, but he feels a shiver running down his spine as Viggo nudges him to sit on the table so that it�s easier for him to lick Orlando�s blue nipples. �Besides, it�s �. ah �.. it�s unfair. I don�t get to do anything when you�re with your back to the red light all the time.�
�Who says life�s always fair,� chuckles Viggo, using the time while the blue light�s still off to quickly divest Orlando of jeans and underwear, spreading him out on the wooden table like a delicious late-night supper. �You�d better enjoy the good things while they last.�
�Yeah,� Orlando groans, a long drawn-out sigh, when Viggo�s tongue and lips withdraw from his sun-tattoo that has suddenly turned from blue to red again. �Pity, these good things don�t last very long.�
He buries his hands in Viggo�s hair, urging him down on him, and purrs, �Close your eyes now and imagine I�m as blue as I can be. And not just for a few seconds.�
Well, rules are rules, thinks Viggo, but sooner or later they�re meant to be broken, the temptation�s simply � Impatiently, Orlando�s cock jumps up against Viggo�s lips. Too big to resist.
With closed eyes, Viggo traces the length of Orlando, cheeks, lips ghosting over firm warm flesh, a tongue licking, tasting, here and there experimentally, before he finally takes him deep.
And Orlando moans louder now, spreading his legs further. Doesn�t notice how hard the table is against his back, has forgotten about red and blue lights and imaginary cockroaches somewhere in the room. Through the half-opened window he only hears the rain coming down outside, a low constant splatter, and Viggo�s harsh breathing, warm on his skin. And is short of losing it when Viggo whispers, �Come for me.�
Slowly, Orlando�s eyes open again and he sees Viggo looking up at him, Viggo�s face suddenly bathed in red, blue glowing on the side of his face, rain-wet hair damp on his neck, and, pushing himself up from the table, he takes Viggo�s face in his hands and kisses him. Tastes himself on Viggo�s lips mingled with raindrops and says, �I will. But not inside your mouth.�
Orlando feels Viggo shiver against him at these words. Folding his long legs around Viggo, he sits up on the table. �And certainly not while you�re still fully dressed.�
At that moment, Viggo�s left shoulder is conveniently drenched in red light, so Orlando one-handedly yanks Viggo�s rain-soaked t-shirt over Viggo�s head before they quickly resume what they were doing, Orlando kissing Viggo and Viggo kissing Orlando and somehow, in between, Viggo manages to get rid of his shirt.
�But now, I�m afraid you have to get undressed yourself,� Orlando sighs dramatically, leaning back on the table, propped up on his elbows. �Unfortunately, I�m not allowed to do that.�
Viggo looks down at his body. True, only his arms are covered in red, while the rest remains in darkness. He winks at Orlando. �Could it be you�re getting the hang of this game now?�
So Viggo turns around and steps from the shadows into the criss-cross colour pattern in front of the window, the light not dimmed by any curtains or shutters. But although his back is red now � and red looks good on him, Orlando thinks - Orlando prefers to stay where is. He just watches Viggo. Hears him unzip his trousers, sees the jeans slide down to his feet and Viggo step out of them, barefoot as almost always.
�Lie down on the bed,� Orlando commands and is surprised when Viggo obeys. The worn-out mattress instantly goes down under Viggo�s weight as he climbs the bed, lies down on his stomach and stretches lasciviously, grinding his hips against the bed sheets, apparently as hard as Orlando by now.
Orlando smirks. �What would you say now if I told you I couldn�t touch your nice little arse, not to mention other things, as it�s all blue now?�
Without looking up, Viggo groans into the mattress. �I�d say fuck the rules.�
Orlando laughs, getting off the table to jump on the bed next to Viggo. �There�s nothing I�d rather do than that.�
