Unexpected Gift 1/1 NC17 AU
Nov. 12th, 2011 09:44 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorlinother repost from a past SeSa.
Author: Lara
Rating: NC17 eventually
Disclaimer: This is all made up with no knowledge of true events
Note: The request was for a Christmas AU w/top!Orlando. Angst okay, with a happy ending.
Note #2: If memory serves, this was something I threw together when another author dropped out. It was longer than I planned, but I like it :)
One
“That will be all, gentlemen, thank you.” Viggo Mortensen closed the portfolio in front of him and stood. Everyone at the conference table stood as well, packing up their briefcases.
“Viggo, a minute of your time before you run out?” A good-looking man of Viggo’s age, speaking with a British accent, put a hand on Viggo’s arm.
“Of course, Mr. Bean. Why don’t you wait in my office? Angelina will let you in.” Viggo turned away from the man to smile at the man on his other side. “Ian.”
“Happy holidays, my boy. Your father would be proud.” He shook Viggo’s hand.
“Thank you, Ian. That’s the best compliment I can ever hope to hear.”
Viggo shook hands around the room, giving and receiving holiday greetings. He was the last one out of the conference room, turning off the lights and throwing away empty coffee cups. “Victoria, why don’t you go home?” He stopped by the secretary’s desk. “It looks like snow out there.”
The pretty young receptionist leaned back to look out the window. A ray of sunlight illuminated her face as she smiled. “Yes, Mr. Mortensen. Have a nice holiday.”
“You, too. I don’t want to see your face in here before Wednesday,” he ordered with a smile. It was three days before Christmas, and everyone in the office was off for five days.
“Mr. Mortensen, your brother called,” his personal secretary announced as soon as he got to the outer part of his personal office suite. “Your mother called. Ms. Bello called. Ms. Lane called. Ms. Tyler called. Mr. Bean is in your office.”
Viggo sighed as he took the pile of messages she handed to him. “I was only in the meeting for two hours,” he muttered, shuffling through the pink pieces of paper. “Please return the calls to my family and let them know I’ll be out the rest of today and tonight, and I’ll call them back.”
“And the others?”
Viggo smiled, a smile that turned his face even more handsome than usual. “Angelina, why do you think they called?”
The beautiful woman behind the desk smiled, tapping her finger on her chin. “Oh, I’m thinking because they want you to escort them to
various functions and Christmas parties.”
“And THAT is why you are my right hand woman, and why I trust you to do all my thinking for me. Toss their messages in the garbage.” He started for his office. “No, wait. That will make them think you haven’t done your job. Tell them I’m serving in a soup kitchen over the holiday. Not only will they believe it, but they’ll think it could possibly rub off on them, so they’ll leave me alone until at least the second week in January.”
“Yes, sir,” Angelina said with a laugh.
“And get out of here! Go home.”
“I have a few more things…”
“Angelina,” Viggo said in a warning tone.
“I have a few more things to do here, and then I’ll go,” she promised.
“Say hello to Brad for me, and kiss the little ones,” Viggo said over his shoulder, entering the office and shutting the door. “Sean. Thanks for waiting.” He walked over to the tiny bar along the wall. “Bourbon?”
“Please,” Sean Bean said, loosening his tie. “Vig, I’ve gotta tell you…I don’t know if it’s wise to go through with this.”
“This firm’s been in my family for over a hundred years, Sean.” Viggo handed Sean a glass. “If I go public, it will destroy everything my father worked so hard to keep.”
“It’s the smartest thing to do,” Sean continued.
“Are we struggling?”
“No.”
“Anywhere close to bankruptcy?”
“We’re flying high and you know it. But these days…”
“Maybe I don’t like these days. Maybe I like old days, when a man’s word and his handshake were enough to seal a deal,” Viggo interrupted. He sighed, sitting on the edge of his desk. “I’m sorry, Sean. It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe you need to get laid,” Sean said carefully. He and Viggo were good friends, roommates from college, but Viggo was still his boss.
He was rewarded with Viggo’s laughter. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you, Beanie? I know I need that. Hell, it’s been so long since I had sex that I’m wondering if they’ve changed it. But a man in my position…I can’t just go pick someone up. I’d be on the front page of every rag in town.”
“I told you, my sister has a lot of gay friends. I could…”
“No, thank you,” Viggo said quietly. “Appreciate the thought, though.” He finished his own drink. “I’m going to work for a bit, then grab a bite to eat.”
“The offer for Christmas is still open. Cate and I would love to have you.”
“Maybe I’ll stop by after dinner,” Viggo said. “To say hello.”
“And spoil my children,” Sean added. Viggo smiled innocently. Sean finished his drink and came over to hug his old friend. “Happy Christmas, Viggo.”
Two
“You’re late.”
The barking words, though expected, still caught Orlando unawares. “Christ, Sean, scare me to death!” Orlando exclaimed, one hand over his heart. “Were you lurking here, waiting to do just that?”
“No, because then someone would have to cover your shift.” Orlando’s manager glared at him. “You’re five minutes late. Get in there. You already have someone at the counter.”
“Okay, okay,” Orlando muttered, hurrying in the back door of the restaurant. He quickly clocked in, tying the black apron around his slender waist as his eyes scanned the schedule. He knew he’d be closing, but it was always nice to know who he’d be working with. “Fuck,” he muttered, realizing that not only was Sean Astin, the pickiest manager on the payroll, working until close, but he was stuck with another unwanted coworker: Kate Bosworth. She had an immense crush on him, and spent most of the shift flirting with him instead of working. He didn’t encourage it but could not bring himself to out and out refuse her. She was sweet, in her own way.
Orlando hurried out of the kitchen and into the dining room of the small family restaurant. He enjoyed his job, though at times it really wore him down. He worked five nights a week, plus every other Sunday morning, and attended university during the day. He stopped to pick up his pager, made sure his pens all worked, and headed for his first customer, a smile on his face.
Two hours later, the smile was almost gone. There were three servers on that night, and they were all running at top speed. Even Sean had to come down from his high horse to bus and set tables. There was a pro wrestling match that night at the nearby arena, and everyone arrived at once, expecting to eat immediately. Orlando was stuck with a bunch of rowdy men in the back of the room, a group of five men his own age whose purpose in life seemed to be to harass him endlessly.
“Hey, we need more water!” One of them called.
“In a minute,” Orlando said hurriedly, running a hand through his curls to push them off his face. “Hot fudge sundae, diet soda, cream of mushroom soup,” he muttered to himself.
“Bloom, what did I tell you about your hair?” Sean snapped in passing.
“Yeah, yeah, tie it back,” Orlando said. “You’re just jealous you’re losing yours,” he mumbled when Sean was out of earshot.
Orlando returned to the table with a pitcher of water. “Here you go, guys.”
“We need ketchup. This is empty.” Another man waved the empty bottle in the air. Orlando looked down at the table, where a huge pile of ketchup sat on a side plate. He sighed.
“Of course, sir.” He returned to the service area to grab another bottle.
“How’re you doing?” Kate asked as she flew by. Orlando groaned and rolled his eyes. “I understand,” she said sympathetically, eyeing up the back table. “Hey, how about a drink after work? We’ll need it.”
“Sorry. I have to get up early tomorrow,” he said with an apologetic smile. He returned to his table.
“Did that cutie just ask you out?” One of the men said.
“Uh, just for a drink. Anything else?”
“You said no?” Orlando shrugged. “What’s wrong with you? You some sort of queer?”
“If there will be nothing else, I’ll leave your check. You guys have a good night.” Orlando dropped the check onto the table and left without another word.
“Table four’s been waiting, Orlando!” Sean yelled.
Orlando stopped walking, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He desperately wished the ground would just swallow him whole. It was nights like this that he wished he had stayed in England. He turned the corner, a weary greeting on the tip of his tongue. He stopped short as table four came into sight. He stood a bit taller, straightened his apron, and wished that he hadn’t wiped his hands all over it for the last hour.
The man at table four was a regular who came in every night. He was quite a bit older than Orlando, with piercing blue-grey eyes and a cleft in his chin. His hands were calloused and often paint-splattered. He had told Orlando that he painted to live, and Orlando believed it by the way he looked when he came in. His name was Peter, and Orlando had a crush on him as big as the Pacific. Orlando took a deep breath. “Peter…hi.”
“Hey, Orlando.” The man’s greeting was quiet, as always, but his face was open and kind. He was nothing short of courteous to Orlando, which was a welcome relief. Orlando often had customers who wanted nothing but a servant. It was nice to be treated as a human being simply doing his job. “You look busy. I can wait.”
“No, it’s fine.” Orlando shot a look over his shoulder as his back table broke into raucous laughter. “Hot tea?”
“Am I so predictable?” Peter looked slightly embarrassed.
“You do always get the same thing, but I like to ask. I never know when you might surprise me.” Orlando spoke lightly, trying to keep a firm check on his feelings. He didn’t want to out and out flirt with Peter, but it was hard sometimes. Peter was just so damned nice.
“Our Orlando isn’t bothering you, is he?” Sean glided over, speaking in an oily-sweet voice. Orlando rolled his eyes and went for Peter’s tea.
“Of course not, Mr. Astin. He’s just being his normal friendly self. He’s genuinely nice. That’s what keeps me coming back,” Peter said pointedly. Sean got a bit flustered and went away.
“Thanks,” Orlando murmured as he came back with herbal tea, hot water and a mug. “He’s been on my shite…I mean, case, all night.”
“Looks like it’s been a bad one,” Peter said sympathetically.
“Oh, if you only knew.” Orlando whipped out a check and a pen. “Usual?”
“I think I’ll go out on a limb. How about a corn muffin with my chili?” Peter smiled up at him, eyes sparkling.
Once more, Orlando placed a hand over his heart, though this time he had a smile on his face. “Be still my heart. I may pass out from the sudden shock.”
“Hey, pretty boy, we need more water!”
“Chin up,” Peter said, meeting Orlando’s gaze. Orlando smiled and nodded.
Three
Viggo left work around six, heading for home to change clothes. He also changed cars, trading in the chauffeured Cadillac for his older sports car. It was slightly beat up, totally lived in, and one of his favorite possessions on the planet. He drove to his usual eating place, his heart rolling from his stomach to his throat and back again. He told himself that the diner was convenient, that it was good food for a good price. Bullshit, he argued in his mind as he turned into the parking lot. You’re here to see Orlando.
Orlando was one of the servers in the tiny restaurant, and he was the reason Viggo left the office with a spring in his step four nights a week. He forced himself to stay out of the restaurant a few nights; no need for anyone to think anything odd. He made sure, though, that the nights he stayed away were Orlando’s nights off. Orlando was about twenty years his junior, with a long lithe body, sparkling dark eyes, and riotous brown curls that framed his slender face, bouncing when he laughed. Orlando was beauty personified, and seemed to be a genuinely nice person, something Viggo saw very rarely in his line of work. Orlando didn’t KNOW Viggo’s line of work, didn’t know that Viggo was number twenty on the list of wealthiest people in the United States. Orlando thought Viggo was an artist named Peter. That wasn’t an EXACT lie; Viggo’s middle name WAS Peter, and he WAS an artist. He did need his art to live, or he’d go insane. He didn’t need it for a living, and that was where he had fibbed slightly.
The restaurant was packed, but it was open until eleven, and Viggo had nothing to do that night. Wild horses wouldn’t have dragged him away from the chance to see Orlando, but he didn’t admit that to himself. He mentally groaned, for Orlando’s sake, when he saw Sean Astin behind the register. The manager was an annoying ass-kisser who seemed determined to find a reason to get rid of Orlando. Viggo secretly thought it was because Sean was jealous; all eyes went to Orlando, whether male or female. Sean was always nice to Viggo, though, due to the fact that he was a VERY regular customer. Sean also knew that Viggo preferred Orlando to wait on him, basically because Viggo had hinted once that one of the waitresses, Kate, tended to flirt with him a bit too much. It wasn’t true; she flirted madly with Orlando, NOT with him, but Viggo didn’t tell Sean that.
“Evening,” Sean said with a smile.
“I’ll seat myself,” Viggo said. “I see you’re busy.” He grabbed a menu and headed for the back corner, where he could see Orlando involved with a group of loud and obnoxious men. He opened up the magazine he had brought along, shrugging off his coat. He could wait. He’d wait forever for one smile from Orlando.
Orlando said a silent prayer of thanks when the group of men finally left the restaurant. He looked around his section, eyes widening when he realized that Peter was sitting at a table with only his tea and water. “Fuck.” He quickly warmed up the corn muffin, ladled out some chili, and hurried back. “I’m so sorry, Peter. I got caught up and…”
“Relax.” Peter briefly touched Orlando’s hand. “I had a big lunch. No hurry.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “Anything else right now?”
“More hot water when you swing by again, and that’s it.” Peter put the paper napkin on his lap and picked up his spoon. Orlando nodded, and couldn’t find any other reason to linger.
He went back to the empty table, thankful that the restaurant was emptying out. He cleared silverware and glasses, pushing the money onto a small pile. And after everything was said and done, that’s all it was: a small pile. The bill was over sixty dollars, which, taken at 15%, should have left him with at least an eight dollar tip. He counted out four dollars in change, sadly sliding it into the palm of his hand. “Mother FUCKERS,” Orlando growled to himself. He finished cleaning the table, wiped and set it, and went back to Peter, pasting a sunny smile on his face. “How’s the chili?”
“Good, as usual.” Peter looked around the restaurant. “Did I chase everyone away?”
“If that’s true, I could kiss you for it,” Orlando said, then blushed. “I, I mean, no, of course not.” He moved away before his foot could slide into his mouth any further.
Viggo watched the back table run Orlando a bit more before they finally left. He watched Orlando clean off the table, then slide the change into his hand, counting it as he went. He read Orlando’s lips, frowning at the obvious expletive. Viggo wasn’t surprised; they didn’t look like really big spenders. Orlando came back to check on him, saying something about kissing him when Viggo asked if he’d chased everyone away. Viggo didn’t notice much after that, except that Orlando turned bright red once the words were out of his mouth. His mind automatically went to the idea of kissing Orlando, hands twining up through those curls. Viggo was grateful for the napkin over his lap. His cock had jumped to immediate and needy attention at the simple thought.
He finished his chili and sipped at his tea, waiting for Orlando to come back. Orlando reappeared a few minutes later and cleared away his bowl. “Anything else?”
Viggo glanced at the clock on the wall behind Orlando. Almost eight. He knew that Orlando worked until close, normally not getting out of the restaurant until eleven-thirty on a weeknight. He knew this because, unknown to Orlando, Viggo often sat in the parking lot in his car, making sure that Orlando made it safely into his well-worn Toyota. There was something about Orlando that made Viggo want to reach out and hold him close, protecting him from the world. Not that Orlando was helpless or naïve; it was just the way Viggo felt about him. It would embarrass him to death if Orlando knew.
“What kind of pie do you have?”
“Pie?” Orlando stared at him blankly. Peter never ordered dessert.
“Yes, pie. You know.” Peter smiled up at him teasingly. “Pie. That stuff with a bottom crust, and then some sort of filling, and then a topping, maybe another crust, or crumbs, or cream?”
“Yes, I know pie. Sorry. I just…” Orlando laughed out loud, a merry sound. “You’re all about surprises tonight, aren’t you?”
Peter shrugged. “So. What kind?”
“Apple, cherry, blueberry, peach. Pumpkin, mincemeat, peanut butter. Coconut cream, coconut custard, banana cream.”
“What do you recommend?” Peter propped his chin in one hand, gazing up at Orlando.
Orlando felt as if he could get lost in that gaze. “Uh, well, I’m into cream pies myself. The, uh, banana looks good.”
“Then that’s what I’ll have. And more hot water and another teabag.”
“Of course.” Orlando hurried off to the pie case.
“You know, we’d like to get out of here before tomorrow,” Sean whispered. “Quit flirting and get your sidework done.”
“Sean, I’m not…” Orlando counted to ten. Though no one knew for a fact that he was gay, it had never really come up, and he wasn’t about to start anything now, especially with his manager. “Of course.”
He sliced an abnormally large piece of pie for Peter, making sure to hide it from Sean, who kept a close eye on cost. He grabbed a handful of teabags and another pot of hot water. “Jesus,” Peter gasped when he set down the plate.
“It’s on the house,” Orlando said, turning to glare at his manager’s back. “Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you. Wow, Orlando, I’m gonna gain a ton, thanks to you.” But Peter dug his fork in and took a bite. “Mm…you weren’t lying,” he said, a look of bliss on his face.
Orlando watched him eat, wanting nothing more than to lick the little bit of cream from Peter’s lips. “Glad you like it,” he said weakly.
“So, speaking of Christmas.” Peter steeped his teabag. “Going back to England?”
“No. I’d love to, because I haven’t been back in three years, but it’s just too damn expensive.” Orlando watched Sean head for the back office before he leaned against the other side of Peter’s booth. “I’ll just hang at home, probably. Watch old movies or something.”
“That sounds fantastic. I LOVE old black and whites,” Peter said.
“How about you?”
Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m duty bound to visit my mother, but after that, I think I’ll follow your example and curl up in front of the TV. I don’t normally watch the thing, but old movies are an exception.” He smiled up at Orlando.
“Well, I have a ton of work to do if I want to get out of here before Christmas,” Orlando said. He slid the check to the table, face down. “Have a nice night, Peter.”
“You, too, Orlando, and if I don’t see you, Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you.” Orlando paused for one last moment, then went back to the kitchen. He didn’t want to watch Peter leave the restaurant.
Viggo watched Orlando’s retreating form, sighing at the way the black dress pants hugged the slim waist. He finished his pie and picked up the check. He threw down a bill without even looking at the total, and then went to pay.
“You have a nice holiday,” Sean told him, giving him his change.
“You, too,” Viggo said automatically. He went out to his car and started it. He pulled around the side of the building near the employee parking, underneath one of the lights. He shut off the engine and pulled out his magazine. Every once in a while he’d turn on the car to get some heat, but otherwise he simply sat and waited for Orlando to finish work.
Four
Orlando whistled as he went back out to the dining room to clear his remaining tables. He picked up Peter’s empty mug with one hand and the tip with the other. Only when the mug was safely in the dishpan did Orlando look at the money in his hand. He stared as he saw President Ulysses S. Grant looking up at him. “It has to be a mistake!” He gasped out loud. Fifty dollars?
“What, Bloom?” Sean asked, appearing out of nowhere. “You don’t complain about tips in front of customers.”
“I’m not bloody complaining,” Orlando growled, shoving the bill into his pocket. No need for Sean to think he was kissing up for tips. “Forget I said anything.”
The rest of the night seemed to fly by. He wasn’t his usual happy self to his remaining customers, but tonight, it didn’t matter. He had a fifty-dollar bill in his pocket. He cheerfully offered to mop the floor, though it was technically Kate’s sidework. He had a fifty in his pocket!
Soon only he and Sean were left in the restaurant. Orlando took care to do a good job; no matter how late it was, or how eager he was to leave, if it wasn’t done right, he’d either be stuck doing it again or he’d get a good earful from Sean. He made sure to prop up wet floor signs, even though they were the only ones left, and finally punched out. “Good night, Sean!” He called over his shoulder.
“Hey, Bloom!”
Orlando ignored him, yanking on his coat as he let the door slam behind him. He dug for his keys as he walked, an extra bounce in his step. He was wondering if he should splurge on something or immediately put the extra money in the bank when he heard voices behind him. “Hey, it’s the pretty boy.”
Orlando slowly turned around to see two of the men from his earlier table. “Uh, can I help you guys?”
“We were just wondering how in the world you could say no to a pretty little thing like that chick inside.”
“What have you done to Kate?” Orlando gasped.
“We didn’t touch her,” the other man promised. “We’re waiting for you. We wanted to see if you were really a fairy.”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business. Have a good night.” Orlando fumbled with his keys, praying he could find the right one and get out of there. He was by no means weak, but the two men were both taller than he, outweighing him by a good forty pounds each.
One of them leaned forward, one hand on Orlando’s car door, pinning Orlando between him and his friend. “I think we’ll make it our business. Tell me, pretty, do you suck dick?”
“Are you any good?” The other man chimed in.
The first man grabbed Orlando by the curls. “Why don’t we find out?” His grip was unyielding as he forced Orlando to his knees.
Viggo put the magazine down when he heard the back door of the restaurant slam shut. He smiled as he saw Orlando bounce across the parking lot. Obviously he had gotten the money. His smile froze as two figures appeared out of nowhere. “Shit,” Viggo said. He should have been paying attention, not reading the damn magazine. His eyes widened as one of the men got close to Orlando, pinning him to the car. Orlando’s knees had barely hit the ground before Viggo was out of the car like a shot.
“You fellas need any help?” He called in what he hoped was a casual manner, walking quickly across the parking lot. “Car won’t start?”
Orlando’s heart leapt when he heard a set of footsteps coming across the lot. The voice was familiar, but he didn’t care who it was. “No, we’re fine.” He felt himself dragged back up by the hair, then the man smoothed his coat. “My friend just fell.”
Orlando turned around and saw Peter standing there. “You okay?” Peter asked.
“Sure. I…”
“He said he fell, old man,” the other man said. “Why don’t you beat it?”
Peter raised his eyes at the comment, and smiled. “Why don’t you just get your friend in his car and we’ll all call it a night, okay?”
“Sure,” the first man said, giving Orlando a friendly clap on the back. Peter met Orlando’s gaze, and Orlando shrugged.
“Night.” Peter slowly turned and began to walk back to his car.
The man holding Orlando waited for Peter to make it halfway across the lot before he snarled, “You’re not getting out of this that quickly, pretty boy.” He backhanded Orlando across the face, sending Orlando to the ground. Orlando gasped for breath, trying to yell. Before he could make a sound, he was being dragged across the lot by his coat. The men were heading for the large green dumpsters, a perfect hiding place for whatever they wanted to do to him.
“Now, that’s no way to treat a friend.” Suddenly Peter was there again, the palm of his hand catching the man under the chin. Orlando was dropped to the ground, and he slowly crawled away. He watched in awe as Peter made short work of both men with a series of punches and kicks. They soon lay motionless on the ground, and Peter had hardly broken a sweat. “Guess those hours of working out finally paid off,” Peter said to himself, shaking his hand. “You okay?” He held a hand out to Orlando.
Orlando stared up at him, face throbbing with pain even as it burned with embarrassment. “Fine,” he said, wincing at the pain. He took the hand and got up. “Thank you.”
“Don’t talk. You need ice on that,” Peter said. He seemed to think for a moment. “Look, Orlando, what I’m about to do…you need to understand that I never meant to hurt or mislead you, okay? Never. I’d never intentionally do that.”
Orlando took a step back, fear still running high in his veins. “What…what are you doing to do to me?”
“Nothing like that,” Peter said soothingly. “Let me take you to my place, get you cleaned up, okay? That’s all.”
“Okay,” Orlando said finally, following Peter to his car.
Five
Viggo made sure Orlando could walk well on his own before quickly leading the way across the parking lot. He unlocked the passenger door, shoved the magazine and some other things to the floor, and waited for Orlando to climb in before closing the door behind him. He rubbed at his face as he walked around the car. Things were going to get very interesting very quickly.
Viggo got into the car and started the engine. “What are you still doing here?” Orlando asked.
“Hmm?” Viggo said vaguely.
“You left hours ago. Why are you still here?” Orlando leaned against the car door.
Viggo sighed. There was no good way to get out of this. If he told the truth, he’d seem like a psycho. If he lied, it would just dig the hole deeper, and he really didn’t feel like lying to Orlando any longer. “Look, Orlando, let me just say one thing, okay? I never ever meant to hurt you.”
“You said that already. What’s going on, Peter?”
“My name isn’t Peter. I mean, it is, but it’s my middle name.” Viggo took the highway out of the city, heading for the wealthier section of town. “I usually don’t use my first name.”
“What is your first name?”
Viggo ignored him. “I find that I get judged by my name, just as I’m sure you get judged by your pretty face, right?” Orlando shrugged. “Those men judged you by your looks. They assumed you were gay.”
“They were right,” Orlando said without thinking, then clapped a hand over his mouth.
Viggo clenched the steering wheel. He didn’t need to hear that. He didn’t need to know that he had one tiny slim chance with Orlando. “My name is Viggo,” he said as he turned into his development.
“Viggo. I’ve heard that name before. The man who runs Mortensen Enterprises has the name Viggo. I remember it because I always thought it was such an unusual…” Orlando stared at the gated estate looming ahead of them. “…lovely name,” he finished, eyes wide. “Holy fuck.”
Viggo rolled down his window and entered a few numbers on a keypad. The iron gates swung open. He nodded at the security guard. “Evening, Dave.”
“Mr. Mortensen.” The guard nodded back. “Have a good evening.”
Viggo drove the car up to the house, opening the garage with the remote clipped to his sun visor. He carefully pulled in, the heavy door closing behind them. “Now…about that ice. We can go into the kitchen from here.” As soon as his car door opened, the garage was flooded with light.
“Holy fuck,” Orlando whispered again, staring at the Ferrari and the Rolls Royce.
Viggo smiled timidly. “The Rolls was my father’s. I can’t bring myself to get rid of it.” He unlocked the door to the building. “Right through here.” Orlando followed at his heels as Viggo flicked on the light. “Have a seat.” He pointed to a long island in the middle of the giant kitchen. Viggo obviously used this kitchen on a regular basis; he moved with ease and immediately found what he was looking for. He handed Orlando a dishtowel filled with ice. “Put this on your face.”
“Do you have…uh…staff?” Orlando asked weakly.
“A housekeeper and a butler,” Viggo said, smiling. “I really only need the housekeeper, but John’s been with the family forever, and I can’t bear to let him go. I let him think he’s necessary.” Viggo sat across from him. “Just let me talk, okay, and then I will listen to whatever you have to say. I’ll also drive you home as soon as I’m done talking, if it’s what you want.”
“Okay.”
“Do you want anything to drink?” Viggo asked suddenly. “I could use something.”
“Yeah. Something strong,” Orlando requested, and Viggo smiled faintly. He went to a cabinet, coming back with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He poured one and gave it to Orlando, who sipped at it.
“Obviously you know my family. Even if the family name wasn’t so incredibly high profile in this area, my first name is less than common.” Viggo grinned. “You’d understand what it’s like to have a unique first name.” Orlando barely nodded. “I need time to be Viggo. Not Viggo Mortensen, just Viggo. Not a lot of people know Viggo; my friend Sean does, my brother does. My mother does, though she doesn’t really like him. Viggo sits around in his boxers and watches baseball. Viggo works on his car.”
“Viggo paints,” Orlando said softly.
“Viggo paints,” Viggo repeated, nodding. “I have a studio upstairs. It’s my favorite room in this whole damn place.” He finished his drink and poured another. “I was still there tonight because I stay every night you work, as long as I don’t have to be somewhere very early the next morning.” Orlando choked on his drink. “I stay to make sure that you’re okay, that you’re safely in your car and on your way home.” Viggo shook his head. “Tonight I wasn’t paying attention. I was reading that stupid magazine.” He clenched his hands into fists.
“You saved me,” Orlando said softly. “If it wasn’t for you…”
“You wouldn’t have that bruise,” Viggo interrupted.
“If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be in that parking lot, a dick in my mouth, maybe even another one up my arse,” Orlando said bluntly. “Thank you. Thank you SO much. You…you…”
“I did what anyone would do,” Viggo said. Orlando raised an eyebrow. “I know I’ve lied to you, Orlando, but it was never with malicious intent. I just wanted you to like me for me. And I’m not some kind of stalker, that I promise you. Everything I’ve done has been with the very best of intentions.”
Orlando sighed, shaking his head. “This has been a very enlightening evening.” Viggo snorted but didn’t reply. “You say you wanted me to like you?” Viggo nodded. “How?” Viggo looked at him strangely. “Sorry. That made no sense. Are you just looking for a new friend, someone to be Viggo with instead of Mr. Mortensen?” Orlando poured himself another shot, then downed it quickly. “Or are you looking for something more?” He watched Viggo swallow deeply. “I don’t go around blowing men I hardly know, in parking lots or otherwise, Viggo.”
“No! I never thought that! Never wanted that!” Viggo protested violently. “I mean, I want it, have thought about it…I mean, I’m interested…oh, fuck.” Viggo closed his eyes.
Orlando chuckled. “And you run a business? I can’t imagine you giving a speech in a boardroom, saying “oh fuck” when it’s not going your way.” He touched Viggo’s hand. “I’m assuming you’re gay.”
“Yes,” Viggo said softly. “Another thing I pretty much have to hide right now. If I had something concrete, a true relationship, I’d come out. But right now I can’t just go to a gay bar and try to connect with someone…it looks really bad.”
“Understandable. I don’t like those places myself.” Orlando put down the towel and slowly walked around the counter to stand by Viggo. “I have been nursing the most amazing crush on you for weeks now. You come into the restaurant, and it’s like a weight lifts off of me for that short time you’re there.”
“What?” Viggo whispered.
“You make it all go away, just by smiling at me,” Orlando said shyly.
“Seeing you helps me sleep at night,” Viggo confided quietly. Orlando blushed.
“Well, looks like we’re in the same boat, then.” Orlando took Viggo’s face in his hands and gently kissed him. “Except that your boat is a yacht, and my boat is more like a dinghy.”
Viggo didn’t smile. “I can’t erase what I am, Orlando. This is part of me, too.” He waved a hand at the lavish house. “But it’s not all of me.”
“I can’t erase what I am, either. I refused to be a kept man, not working just because you have money.”
“You make it sound like something’s going to happen between us,” Viggo said, trying hard not to sound too hopeful.
“I’d like something to happen,” Orlando admitted. “How about you?”
“I don’t have any long-term goals,” Viggo said, ever the businessman. “But short-term? I’d love nothing more than to take you through this house to show you my studio, and maybe even my bedroom.” He took Orlando’s slender hand in his. “However, I am totally fine with just showing you the studio, then taking you home.”
Orlando tugged Viggo off the stool. “Lead me to your studio, Michelangelo.”
They held hands as Viggo led him through the large house and up the stairs. He didn’t bother pointing things out; much of it had been left to him by his father, and he didn’t feel like changing anything. The second floor was more his domain. “Okay.” Viggo took a deep breath, smiling at Orlando. “Not many people get to see this. Be kind.” He turned on the light and let Orlando walk in ahead of him.
“Oh, Viggo.” Orlando walked up to the three easels in the middle of the room. Various finished and unfinished paintings leaned against the walls. “I don’t know much about art, but I love them. The colors…”
“I’m glad,” Viggo said, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I love it. I’ve had a showing or two, mostly charity things, but I’d love to actually fill a whole gallery for a serious show.”
“You could. This stuff is great.” Orlando turned around, a brilliant smile on his face. “You really are an artist.”
Viggo colored slightly, scuffing his foot on the ground. “Not really, but thank you. Your approval means a lot. I’m just so glad you’re not angry at me for lying.”
“Like you said, it wasn’t malicious.” Orlando walked over and took Viggo’s hands. He wove Viggo’s arms around his own waist, pressing his body against Viggo’s. “You said something about showing me your bedroom.”
Six
Viggo stared at Orlando for a long moment, then let his fingers do what they had wanted to do for so long: stroke through Orlando’s curls. Orlando purred, letting his head rub against the touch. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Orlando pulled Viggo down for a passionate kiss. “I want to be inside you. Can I?”
“Oh, sweet Jesus, yes,” Viggo sighed against Orlando’s mouth. Everyone assumed that due to his position in life, Viggo wanted to be on top sexually as well. It couldn’t have been further from the truth. He finally pulled away, leading Orlando down the hall to a set of double doors.
A giant oak bed built into the wall dominated the large bedroom. Large bookshelves framed the headboard, and white gauzy drapes were tied back at the columns of the frame. “That’s some bed,” Orlando said nervously.
Viggo grinned. “The story is that every Mortensen heir for the past five generations was conceived in that bed.”
“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about THAT happening tonight,” Orlando said with a grin. Viggo reached out for him, and he took a step back. “I’m…” Orlando held up his hands, staring at the splatters of hot fudge that dotted his wrists and forearms.
“As much as I’d love to lick food off your body, I’d prefer it to be fresh,” Viggo said. Orlando shivered at the kinky thought. “Bathroom’s in there.” Viggo motioned to a door. “Why don’t you get cleaned up, and I’ll run down and grab us a snack, okay?”
“Thank you,” Orlando said. “Hurry back.”
“Oh, I plan on it.” Viggo pulled Orlando close for a bruising kiss.
“Hurry,” Orlando repeated breathlessly. Viggo practically ran out of the room.
Normally after a long hard shift, Orlando stood for at least a half-hour under a scalding hot shower. Tonight was not one of those nights. He did let the water stream over him for about ten minutes, but his cock wouldn’t let him dream of wasting time in the shower when the man of his dreams was waiting in the bedroom. Orlando scrubbed himself clean, then toweled off with a fluffy green towel. He wrapped the towel around his slender waist, realizing he had nothing to change into. The thought made him smile. He was pretty sure he’d be spending the next few hours, if not all night, totally naked.
He opened the door and went out, ruffling his curls with a smaller towel of the same color. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I brought up a bit of everything,” Viggo said when the door opened, arranging some fruit on a tray. “Did you…” Viggo turned to look at him, and all rational thought died. Stray drops of water slid down Orlando’s bare torso to land in the bunch of fabric at his waist. “Oh, fuck me,” Viggo whispered, sitting down hard on the bed.
“That’s the plan, right?” Orlando padded over to stand in front of Viggo. Viggo’s large hands slowly came up to tug at the towel until it puddle on Orlando’s feet. Those same hands slowly slid up Orlando’s body, from his knees to his thighs to his hips, thumbs dancing just around the patch of dark hair framing the thick cock.
“I cannot wait to have this inside of me,” Viggo said, finally taking it in his hand and stroking gently.
Orlando’s fingers dug into Viggo’s clothed shoulders, his head falling back. “If you keep that up…it won’t make it inside,” Orlando gasped. “You need to be naked pretty damn quick.”
Viggo stood, stripping as they kissed. His hands soon returned to Orlando’s cock, stroking and caressing until Orlando was moaning and gasping into his mouth. Viggo pulled them down to the bed, and it was then that Orlando saw the condom and lube waiting by the pillows. “I’ve laid in this bed dreaming about this,” Viggo told him, biting on Orlando’s neck as their naked cocks rubbed together. “Woke up hard thinking about it.”
“You don’t look like the type to have a dirty mouth,” Orlando said, his hands rubbing across the fur of Viggo’s chest as he sat up to straddle Viggo’s waist.
“Fine. I won’t tell you how I’ve touched myself, imagining your tongue on me.” Viggo’s fingers pinched at his own nipples. “I won’t bother describing how I’ve fucked myself with my fingers, pretending it was your dick.”
“You’re a slut,” Orlando moaned, fisting his cock as Viggo spoke.
“I can be. Do you like sluts, Orlando?” Viggo’s voice was low. He batted Orlando’s hands away. “None of that. You’ll come long before you’re inside me, and we can’t have that.”
“You’re evil.” Orlando bent down to kiss Viggo, his body rolling over Viggo’s. “You can choose,” Orlando panted, licking Viggo’s ear. “Do you want to be under me, or riding me?”
“Now who has the dirty mouth?” Viggo gasped, arching up to meet Orlando’s rolling body. “I want you over me.”
“Good. I like the other just as well, but the first time…I want to look down into your eyes as I fuck you.” Orlando reached for the lube, hissing as Viggo’s mouth latched onto one dark nipple. “Viggo…Christ, you’re killing me.”
“Good. Makes up for all the nights I had to sit and watch you walk around the restaurant, looking so sexy.”
Orlando sat back up, lube in hand. “You really thought that? I was always filthy, covered in food.”
“But your smile…” Viggo smiled tenderly, the mood totally changed. “You just…I don’t know. Entranced me, I think.”
“Entranced. I like that.” Orlando dipped his head down to kiss him. “Makes me sound all mysterious.”
He quickly coated his fingers and teased at Viggo’s opening. “Go slow,” Viggo asked softly. “It’s been a while.”
“We have all night,” Orlando reminded him. One slender finger slowly pushed inside. Viggo moaned, bringing his legs up so his feet were flat and his knees were bent. Soon his body was arching up to meet the second finger Orlando added. “You’re so gorgeous,” Orlando whispered.
“Fuck me, Orlando, please,” Viggo begged. “I’m ready…please…”
“I don’t know…” Orlando twisted in a third finger. “I really like hearing you beg.”
Viggo groaned. “You trying to kill an old man, here?”
“You’re definitely not old. Mature, maybe.” Orlando slowly removed his fingers, opening the condom and sliding it on. He propped himself over Viggo, one hand reaching down to guide himself inside. He bent down to suck on Viggo’s tongue as he slid in.
Viggo gasped into Orlando’s mouth, hands clenching at the sheets. Orlando held back, wanting desperately to thrust home but needing to know that Viggo could handle it. “Please,” Viggo finally whimpered, and Orlando gave in. His slender hips pistoned in and out, seeking that perfect angle to get Viggo where he needed to be. Viggo’s hands clutched at Orlando’s backside, urging him in again and again. “Feel so good…better than I thought possible…”
“My thoughts exactly,” Orlando panted. He could feel sweat forming along his spine. He was surprised that it wasn’t over already; he had dreamt of this moment for so long, he was afraid that the mere idea of it would bring him to the edge far too quickly.
Viggo wrapped one leg around Orlando, bringing him even deeper. “You…are…amazing…” Viggo murmured, kissing Orlando’s chin. Orlando’s back arched as his hips swiveled. Viggo suddenly let out what Orlando could only call a squeak as his eyes fluttered shut.
“Mmm…good…found it.” Orlando kept that rhythm, eyes widening as Viggo’s hand reached down to stroke his own cock. “Yeah, Vig, that’s it. Come for me, baby…come…”
“Orlando, Orlando…yes….” Viggo’s breathing stuttered as he came, shooting hot and white onto his stomach. Orlando thrust a few more times then came, head falling down onto Viggo’s chest. They stayed that way for a long moment, trying to catch their breath. Orlando finally slid to roll onto his back, and Viggo got out of bed. He gently slid the condom from Orlando’s wilting cock and disposed of it, then headed to the bathroom for a cloth. He cleaned them both, then tossed the cloth in the bathroom hamper. When he returned to the bedroom, Orlando was sitting up, knees curled to one side, heels by his backside. He was biting at one fingernail. “Are, uh, you okay?” Viggo asked, concerned.
“M’fine,” he answered quickly. “I should be asking you that.”
“It’s a welcome ache,” Viggo said with a smile. He pulled the covers back and slipped inside, but Orlando continued to sit up. “You’re having second thoughts,” Viggo said sadly. “I know we kinda did this in the wrong order…me baring all my secrets and then jumping right into bed, but I thought…I thought we were on the same page.”
“No, Vig, it’s not like that at all.” Orlando lay down, though he remained on top of the covers. “I don’t see it as anything bad, I just don’t want…I don’t want you to see me as the person you were trying to avoid. I’m far from wealthy, but I’m no gold digger.” Orlando shrugged. “I just want you to know that.”
“I do, Orlando.” Viggo kissed Orlando’s cheek, and Orlando was touched by the sweet gesture. “Now, like I said, I have no long-term goals here.”
“Ever the businessman,” Orlando said with a smile.
“But my agenda is this,” Viggo continued. “You’re going to get under these covers with me, because it’s late, and I’m cold just looking at you out there. Tomorrow I’m cooking you an amazing breakfast, unless you have somewhere to be.”
“Nothing I’m aware of,” Orlando said, climbing under the covers.
“Are you working this weekend?”
“We’re open until six on Christmas Eve, and then closed on Christmas, of course.”
“I want you here. After work Christmas Eve. All day on Christmas. That is, if you want to.”
Orlando gaped. “What about your family?”
“You can come with me to my mother’s, and if you feel uncomfortable with that idea, you can just bum around here until I get back. We have movies to watch, remember?”
Orlando snuggled into the crook of Viggo’s arm. “God…this…this is the best gift I could have ever gotten for Christmas.”
“Me, too, Orlando.” Viggo kissed Orlando’s forehead. “Me, too.”
The End
Author: Lara
Rating: NC17 eventually
Disclaimer: This is all made up with no knowledge of true events
Note: The request was for a Christmas AU w/top!Orlando. Angst okay, with a happy ending.
Note #2: If memory serves, this was something I threw together when another author dropped out. It was longer than I planned, but I like it :)
One
“That will be all, gentlemen, thank you.” Viggo Mortensen closed the portfolio in front of him and stood. Everyone at the conference table stood as well, packing up their briefcases.
“Viggo, a minute of your time before you run out?” A good-looking man of Viggo’s age, speaking with a British accent, put a hand on Viggo’s arm.
“Of course, Mr. Bean. Why don’t you wait in my office? Angelina will let you in.” Viggo turned away from the man to smile at the man on his other side. “Ian.”
“Happy holidays, my boy. Your father would be proud.” He shook Viggo’s hand.
“Thank you, Ian. That’s the best compliment I can ever hope to hear.”
Viggo shook hands around the room, giving and receiving holiday greetings. He was the last one out of the conference room, turning off the lights and throwing away empty coffee cups. “Victoria, why don’t you go home?” He stopped by the secretary’s desk. “It looks like snow out there.”
The pretty young receptionist leaned back to look out the window. A ray of sunlight illuminated her face as she smiled. “Yes, Mr. Mortensen. Have a nice holiday.”
“You, too. I don’t want to see your face in here before Wednesday,” he ordered with a smile. It was three days before Christmas, and everyone in the office was off for five days.
“Mr. Mortensen, your brother called,” his personal secretary announced as soon as he got to the outer part of his personal office suite. “Your mother called. Ms. Bello called. Ms. Lane called. Ms. Tyler called. Mr. Bean is in your office.”
Viggo sighed as he took the pile of messages she handed to him. “I was only in the meeting for two hours,” he muttered, shuffling through the pink pieces of paper. “Please return the calls to my family and let them know I’ll be out the rest of today and tonight, and I’ll call them back.”
“And the others?”
Viggo smiled, a smile that turned his face even more handsome than usual. “Angelina, why do you think they called?”
The beautiful woman behind the desk smiled, tapping her finger on her chin. “Oh, I’m thinking because they want you to escort them to
various functions and Christmas parties.”
“And THAT is why you are my right hand woman, and why I trust you to do all my thinking for me. Toss their messages in the garbage.” He started for his office. “No, wait. That will make them think you haven’t done your job. Tell them I’m serving in a soup kitchen over the holiday. Not only will they believe it, but they’ll think it could possibly rub off on them, so they’ll leave me alone until at least the second week in January.”
“Yes, sir,” Angelina said with a laugh.
“And get out of here! Go home.”
“I have a few more things…”
“Angelina,” Viggo said in a warning tone.
“I have a few more things to do here, and then I’ll go,” she promised.
“Say hello to Brad for me, and kiss the little ones,” Viggo said over his shoulder, entering the office and shutting the door. “Sean. Thanks for waiting.” He walked over to the tiny bar along the wall. “Bourbon?”
“Please,” Sean Bean said, loosening his tie. “Vig, I’ve gotta tell you…I don’t know if it’s wise to go through with this.”
“This firm’s been in my family for over a hundred years, Sean.” Viggo handed Sean a glass. “If I go public, it will destroy everything my father worked so hard to keep.”
“It’s the smartest thing to do,” Sean continued.
“Are we struggling?”
“No.”
“Anywhere close to bankruptcy?”
“We’re flying high and you know it. But these days…”
“Maybe I don’t like these days. Maybe I like old days, when a man’s word and his handshake were enough to seal a deal,” Viggo interrupted. He sighed, sitting on the edge of his desk. “I’m sorry, Sean. It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe you need to get laid,” Sean said carefully. He and Viggo were good friends, roommates from college, but Viggo was still his boss.
He was rewarded with Viggo’s laughter. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you, Beanie? I know I need that. Hell, it’s been so long since I had sex that I’m wondering if they’ve changed it. But a man in my position…I can’t just go pick someone up. I’d be on the front page of every rag in town.”
“I told you, my sister has a lot of gay friends. I could…”
“No, thank you,” Viggo said quietly. “Appreciate the thought, though.” He finished his own drink. “I’m going to work for a bit, then grab a bite to eat.”
“The offer for Christmas is still open. Cate and I would love to have you.”
“Maybe I’ll stop by after dinner,” Viggo said. “To say hello.”
“And spoil my children,” Sean added. Viggo smiled innocently. Sean finished his drink and came over to hug his old friend. “Happy Christmas, Viggo.”
Two
“You’re late.”
The barking words, though expected, still caught Orlando unawares. “Christ, Sean, scare me to death!” Orlando exclaimed, one hand over his heart. “Were you lurking here, waiting to do just that?”
“No, because then someone would have to cover your shift.” Orlando’s manager glared at him. “You’re five minutes late. Get in there. You already have someone at the counter.”
“Okay, okay,” Orlando muttered, hurrying in the back door of the restaurant. He quickly clocked in, tying the black apron around his slender waist as his eyes scanned the schedule. He knew he’d be closing, but it was always nice to know who he’d be working with. “Fuck,” he muttered, realizing that not only was Sean Astin, the pickiest manager on the payroll, working until close, but he was stuck with another unwanted coworker: Kate Bosworth. She had an immense crush on him, and spent most of the shift flirting with him instead of working. He didn’t encourage it but could not bring himself to out and out refuse her. She was sweet, in her own way.
Orlando hurried out of the kitchen and into the dining room of the small family restaurant. He enjoyed his job, though at times it really wore him down. He worked five nights a week, plus every other Sunday morning, and attended university during the day. He stopped to pick up his pager, made sure his pens all worked, and headed for his first customer, a smile on his face.
Two hours later, the smile was almost gone. There were three servers on that night, and they were all running at top speed. Even Sean had to come down from his high horse to bus and set tables. There was a pro wrestling match that night at the nearby arena, and everyone arrived at once, expecting to eat immediately. Orlando was stuck with a bunch of rowdy men in the back of the room, a group of five men his own age whose purpose in life seemed to be to harass him endlessly.
“Hey, we need more water!” One of them called.
“In a minute,” Orlando said hurriedly, running a hand through his curls to push them off his face. “Hot fudge sundae, diet soda, cream of mushroom soup,” he muttered to himself.
“Bloom, what did I tell you about your hair?” Sean snapped in passing.
“Yeah, yeah, tie it back,” Orlando said. “You’re just jealous you’re losing yours,” he mumbled when Sean was out of earshot.
Orlando returned to the table with a pitcher of water. “Here you go, guys.”
“We need ketchup. This is empty.” Another man waved the empty bottle in the air. Orlando looked down at the table, where a huge pile of ketchup sat on a side plate. He sighed.
“Of course, sir.” He returned to the service area to grab another bottle.
“How’re you doing?” Kate asked as she flew by. Orlando groaned and rolled his eyes. “I understand,” she said sympathetically, eyeing up the back table. “Hey, how about a drink after work? We’ll need it.”
“Sorry. I have to get up early tomorrow,” he said with an apologetic smile. He returned to his table.
“Did that cutie just ask you out?” One of the men said.
“Uh, just for a drink. Anything else?”
“You said no?” Orlando shrugged. “What’s wrong with you? You some sort of queer?”
“If there will be nothing else, I’ll leave your check. You guys have a good night.” Orlando dropped the check onto the table and left without another word.
“Table four’s been waiting, Orlando!” Sean yelled.
Orlando stopped walking, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He desperately wished the ground would just swallow him whole. It was nights like this that he wished he had stayed in England. He turned the corner, a weary greeting on the tip of his tongue. He stopped short as table four came into sight. He stood a bit taller, straightened his apron, and wished that he hadn’t wiped his hands all over it for the last hour.
The man at table four was a regular who came in every night. He was quite a bit older than Orlando, with piercing blue-grey eyes and a cleft in his chin. His hands were calloused and often paint-splattered. He had told Orlando that he painted to live, and Orlando believed it by the way he looked when he came in. His name was Peter, and Orlando had a crush on him as big as the Pacific. Orlando took a deep breath. “Peter…hi.”
“Hey, Orlando.” The man’s greeting was quiet, as always, but his face was open and kind. He was nothing short of courteous to Orlando, which was a welcome relief. Orlando often had customers who wanted nothing but a servant. It was nice to be treated as a human being simply doing his job. “You look busy. I can wait.”
“No, it’s fine.” Orlando shot a look over his shoulder as his back table broke into raucous laughter. “Hot tea?”
“Am I so predictable?” Peter looked slightly embarrassed.
“You do always get the same thing, but I like to ask. I never know when you might surprise me.” Orlando spoke lightly, trying to keep a firm check on his feelings. He didn’t want to out and out flirt with Peter, but it was hard sometimes. Peter was just so damned nice.
“Our Orlando isn’t bothering you, is he?” Sean glided over, speaking in an oily-sweet voice. Orlando rolled his eyes and went for Peter’s tea.
“Of course not, Mr. Astin. He’s just being his normal friendly self. He’s genuinely nice. That’s what keeps me coming back,” Peter said pointedly. Sean got a bit flustered and went away.
“Thanks,” Orlando murmured as he came back with herbal tea, hot water and a mug. “He’s been on my shite…I mean, case, all night.”
“Looks like it’s been a bad one,” Peter said sympathetically.
“Oh, if you only knew.” Orlando whipped out a check and a pen. “Usual?”
“I think I’ll go out on a limb. How about a corn muffin with my chili?” Peter smiled up at him, eyes sparkling.
Once more, Orlando placed a hand over his heart, though this time he had a smile on his face. “Be still my heart. I may pass out from the sudden shock.”
“Hey, pretty boy, we need more water!”
“Chin up,” Peter said, meeting Orlando’s gaze. Orlando smiled and nodded.
Three
Viggo left work around six, heading for home to change clothes. He also changed cars, trading in the chauffeured Cadillac for his older sports car. It was slightly beat up, totally lived in, and one of his favorite possessions on the planet. He drove to his usual eating place, his heart rolling from his stomach to his throat and back again. He told himself that the diner was convenient, that it was good food for a good price. Bullshit, he argued in his mind as he turned into the parking lot. You’re here to see Orlando.
Orlando was one of the servers in the tiny restaurant, and he was the reason Viggo left the office with a spring in his step four nights a week. He forced himself to stay out of the restaurant a few nights; no need for anyone to think anything odd. He made sure, though, that the nights he stayed away were Orlando’s nights off. Orlando was about twenty years his junior, with a long lithe body, sparkling dark eyes, and riotous brown curls that framed his slender face, bouncing when he laughed. Orlando was beauty personified, and seemed to be a genuinely nice person, something Viggo saw very rarely in his line of work. Orlando didn’t KNOW Viggo’s line of work, didn’t know that Viggo was number twenty on the list of wealthiest people in the United States. Orlando thought Viggo was an artist named Peter. That wasn’t an EXACT lie; Viggo’s middle name WAS Peter, and he WAS an artist. He did need his art to live, or he’d go insane. He didn’t need it for a living, and that was where he had fibbed slightly.
The restaurant was packed, but it was open until eleven, and Viggo had nothing to do that night. Wild horses wouldn’t have dragged him away from the chance to see Orlando, but he didn’t admit that to himself. He mentally groaned, for Orlando’s sake, when he saw Sean Astin behind the register. The manager was an annoying ass-kisser who seemed determined to find a reason to get rid of Orlando. Viggo secretly thought it was because Sean was jealous; all eyes went to Orlando, whether male or female. Sean was always nice to Viggo, though, due to the fact that he was a VERY regular customer. Sean also knew that Viggo preferred Orlando to wait on him, basically because Viggo had hinted once that one of the waitresses, Kate, tended to flirt with him a bit too much. It wasn’t true; she flirted madly with Orlando, NOT with him, but Viggo didn’t tell Sean that.
“Evening,” Sean said with a smile.
“I’ll seat myself,” Viggo said. “I see you’re busy.” He grabbed a menu and headed for the back corner, where he could see Orlando involved with a group of loud and obnoxious men. He opened up the magazine he had brought along, shrugging off his coat. He could wait. He’d wait forever for one smile from Orlando.
Orlando said a silent prayer of thanks when the group of men finally left the restaurant. He looked around his section, eyes widening when he realized that Peter was sitting at a table with only his tea and water. “Fuck.” He quickly warmed up the corn muffin, ladled out some chili, and hurried back. “I’m so sorry, Peter. I got caught up and…”
“Relax.” Peter briefly touched Orlando’s hand. “I had a big lunch. No hurry.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “Anything else right now?”
“More hot water when you swing by again, and that’s it.” Peter put the paper napkin on his lap and picked up his spoon. Orlando nodded, and couldn’t find any other reason to linger.
He went back to the empty table, thankful that the restaurant was emptying out. He cleared silverware and glasses, pushing the money onto a small pile. And after everything was said and done, that’s all it was: a small pile. The bill was over sixty dollars, which, taken at 15%, should have left him with at least an eight dollar tip. He counted out four dollars in change, sadly sliding it into the palm of his hand. “Mother FUCKERS,” Orlando growled to himself. He finished cleaning the table, wiped and set it, and went back to Peter, pasting a sunny smile on his face. “How’s the chili?”
“Good, as usual.” Peter looked around the restaurant. “Did I chase everyone away?”
“If that’s true, I could kiss you for it,” Orlando said, then blushed. “I, I mean, no, of course not.” He moved away before his foot could slide into his mouth any further.
Viggo watched the back table run Orlando a bit more before they finally left. He watched Orlando clean off the table, then slide the change into his hand, counting it as he went. He read Orlando’s lips, frowning at the obvious expletive. Viggo wasn’t surprised; they didn’t look like really big spenders. Orlando came back to check on him, saying something about kissing him when Viggo asked if he’d chased everyone away. Viggo didn’t notice much after that, except that Orlando turned bright red once the words were out of his mouth. His mind automatically went to the idea of kissing Orlando, hands twining up through those curls. Viggo was grateful for the napkin over his lap. His cock had jumped to immediate and needy attention at the simple thought.
He finished his chili and sipped at his tea, waiting for Orlando to come back. Orlando reappeared a few minutes later and cleared away his bowl. “Anything else?”
Viggo glanced at the clock on the wall behind Orlando. Almost eight. He knew that Orlando worked until close, normally not getting out of the restaurant until eleven-thirty on a weeknight. He knew this because, unknown to Orlando, Viggo often sat in the parking lot in his car, making sure that Orlando made it safely into his well-worn Toyota. There was something about Orlando that made Viggo want to reach out and hold him close, protecting him from the world. Not that Orlando was helpless or naïve; it was just the way Viggo felt about him. It would embarrass him to death if Orlando knew.
“What kind of pie do you have?”
“Pie?” Orlando stared at him blankly. Peter never ordered dessert.
“Yes, pie. You know.” Peter smiled up at him teasingly. “Pie. That stuff with a bottom crust, and then some sort of filling, and then a topping, maybe another crust, or crumbs, or cream?”
“Yes, I know pie. Sorry. I just…” Orlando laughed out loud, a merry sound. “You’re all about surprises tonight, aren’t you?”
Peter shrugged. “So. What kind?”
“Apple, cherry, blueberry, peach. Pumpkin, mincemeat, peanut butter. Coconut cream, coconut custard, banana cream.”
“What do you recommend?” Peter propped his chin in one hand, gazing up at Orlando.
Orlando felt as if he could get lost in that gaze. “Uh, well, I’m into cream pies myself. The, uh, banana looks good.”
“Then that’s what I’ll have. And more hot water and another teabag.”
“Of course.” Orlando hurried off to the pie case.
“You know, we’d like to get out of here before tomorrow,” Sean whispered. “Quit flirting and get your sidework done.”
“Sean, I’m not…” Orlando counted to ten. Though no one knew for a fact that he was gay, it had never really come up, and he wasn’t about to start anything now, especially with his manager. “Of course.”
He sliced an abnormally large piece of pie for Peter, making sure to hide it from Sean, who kept a close eye on cost. He grabbed a handful of teabags and another pot of hot water. “Jesus,” Peter gasped when he set down the plate.
“It’s on the house,” Orlando said, turning to glare at his manager’s back. “Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you. Wow, Orlando, I’m gonna gain a ton, thanks to you.” But Peter dug his fork in and took a bite. “Mm…you weren’t lying,” he said, a look of bliss on his face.
Orlando watched him eat, wanting nothing more than to lick the little bit of cream from Peter’s lips. “Glad you like it,” he said weakly.
“So, speaking of Christmas.” Peter steeped his teabag. “Going back to England?”
“No. I’d love to, because I haven’t been back in three years, but it’s just too damn expensive.” Orlando watched Sean head for the back office before he leaned against the other side of Peter’s booth. “I’ll just hang at home, probably. Watch old movies or something.”
“That sounds fantastic. I LOVE old black and whites,” Peter said.
“How about you?”
Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m duty bound to visit my mother, but after that, I think I’ll follow your example and curl up in front of the TV. I don’t normally watch the thing, but old movies are an exception.” He smiled up at Orlando.
“Well, I have a ton of work to do if I want to get out of here before Christmas,” Orlando said. He slid the check to the table, face down. “Have a nice night, Peter.”
“You, too, Orlando, and if I don’t see you, Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you.” Orlando paused for one last moment, then went back to the kitchen. He didn’t want to watch Peter leave the restaurant.
Viggo watched Orlando’s retreating form, sighing at the way the black dress pants hugged the slim waist. He finished his pie and picked up the check. He threw down a bill without even looking at the total, and then went to pay.
“You have a nice holiday,” Sean told him, giving him his change.
“You, too,” Viggo said automatically. He went out to his car and started it. He pulled around the side of the building near the employee parking, underneath one of the lights. He shut off the engine and pulled out his magazine. Every once in a while he’d turn on the car to get some heat, but otherwise he simply sat and waited for Orlando to finish work.
Four
Orlando whistled as he went back out to the dining room to clear his remaining tables. He picked up Peter’s empty mug with one hand and the tip with the other. Only when the mug was safely in the dishpan did Orlando look at the money in his hand. He stared as he saw President Ulysses S. Grant looking up at him. “It has to be a mistake!” He gasped out loud. Fifty dollars?
“What, Bloom?” Sean asked, appearing out of nowhere. “You don’t complain about tips in front of customers.”
“I’m not bloody complaining,” Orlando growled, shoving the bill into his pocket. No need for Sean to think he was kissing up for tips. “Forget I said anything.”
The rest of the night seemed to fly by. He wasn’t his usual happy self to his remaining customers, but tonight, it didn’t matter. He had a fifty-dollar bill in his pocket. He cheerfully offered to mop the floor, though it was technically Kate’s sidework. He had a fifty in his pocket!
Soon only he and Sean were left in the restaurant. Orlando took care to do a good job; no matter how late it was, or how eager he was to leave, if it wasn’t done right, he’d either be stuck doing it again or he’d get a good earful from Sean. He made sure to prop up wet floor signs, even though they were the only ones left, and finally punched out. “Good night, Sean!” He called over his shoulder.
“Hey, Bloom!”
Orlando ignored him, yanking on his coat as he let the door slam behind him. He dug for his keys as he walked, an extra bounce in his step. He was wondering if he should splurge on something or immediately put the extra money in the bank when he heard voices behind him. “Hey, it’s the pretty boy.”
Orlando slowly turned around to see two of the men from his earlier table. “Uh, can I help you guys?”
“We were just wondering how in the world you could say no to a pretty little thing like that chick inside.”
“What have you done to Kate?” Orlando gasped.
“We didn’t touch her,” the other man promised. “We’re waiting for you. We wanted to see if you were really a fairy.”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business. Have a good night.” Orlando fumbled with his keys, praying he could find the right one and get out of there. He was by no means weak, but the two men were both taller than he, outweighing him by a good forty pounds each.
One of them leaned forward, one hand on Orlando’s car door, pinning Orlando between him and his friend. “I think we’ll make it our business. Tell me, pretty, do you suck dick?”
“Are you any good?” The other man chimed in.
The first man grabbed Orlando by the curls. “Why don’t we find out?” His grip was unyielding as he forced Orlando to his knees.
Viggo put the magazine down when he heard the back door of the restaurant slam shut. He smiled as he saw Orlando bounce across the parking lot. Obviously he had gotten the money. His smile froze as two figures appeared out of nowhere. “Shit,” Viggo said. He should have been paying attention, not reading the damn magazine. His eyes widened as one of the men got close to Orlando, pinning him to the car. Orlando’s knees had barely hit the ground before Viggo was out of the car like a shot.
“You fellas need any help?” He called in what he hoped was a casual manner, walking quickly across the parking lot. “Car won’t start?”
Orlando’s heart leapt when he heard a set of footsteps coming across the lot. The voice was familiar, but he didn’t care who it was. “No, we’re fine.” He felt himself dragged back up by the hair, then the man smoothed his coat. “My friend just fell.”
Orlando turned around and saw Peter standing there. “You okay?” Peter asked.
“Sure. I…”
“He said he fell, old man,” the other man said. “Why don’t you beat it?”
Peter raised his eyes at the comment, and smiled. “Why don’t you just get your friend in his car and we’ll all call it a night, okay?”
“Sure,” the first man said, giving Orlando a friendly clap on the back. Peter met Orlando’s gaze, and Orlando shrugged.
“Night.” Peter slowly turned and began to walk back to his car.
The man holding Orlando waited for Peter to make it halfway across the lot before he snarled, “You’re not getting out of this that quickly, pretty boy.” He backhanded Orlando across the face, sending Orlando to the ground. Orlando gasped for breath, trying to yell. Before he could make a sound, he was being dragged across the lot by his coat. The men were heading for the large green dumpsters, a perfect hiding place for whatever they wanted to do to him.
“Now, that’s no way to treat a friend.” Suddenly Peter was there again, the palm of his hand catching the man under the chin. Orlando was dropped to the ground, and he slowly crawled away. He watched in awe as Peter made short work of both men with a series of punches and kicks. They soon lay motionless on the ground, and Peter had hardly broken a sweat. “Guess those hours of working out finally paid off,” Peter said to himself, shaking his hand. “You okay?” He held a hand out to Orlando.
Orlando stared up at him, face throbbing with pain even as it burned with embarrassment. “Fine,” he said, wincing at the pain. He took the hand and got up. “Thank you.”
“Don’t talk. You need ice on that,” Peter said. He seemed to think for a moment. “Look, Orlando, what I’m about to do…you need to understand that I never meant to hurt or mislead you, okay? Never. I’d never intentionally do that.”
Orlando took a step back, fear still running high in his veins. “What…what are you doing to do to me?”
“Nothing like that,” Peter said soothingly. “Let me take you to my place, get you cleaned up, okay? That’s all.”
“Okay,” Orlando said finally, following Peter to his car.
Five
Viggo made sure Orlando could walk well on his own before quickly leading the way across the parking lot. He unlocked the passenger door, shoved the magazine and some other things to the floor, and waited for Orlando to climb in before closing the door behind him. He rubbed at his face as he walked around the car. Things were going to get very interesting very quickly.
Viggo got into the car and started the engine. “What are you still doing here?” Orlando asked.
“Hmm?” Viggo said vaguely.
“You left hours ago. Why are you still here?” Orlando leaned against the car door.
Viggo sighed. There was no good way to get out of this. If he told the truth, he’d seem like a psycho. If he lied, it would just dig the hole deeper, and he really didn’t feel like lying to Orlando any longer. “Look, Orlando, let me just say one thing, okay? I never ever meant to hurt you.”
“You said that already. What’s going on, Peter?”
“My name isn’t Peter. I mean, it is, but it’s my middle name.” Viggo took the highway out of the city, heading for the wealthier section of town. “I usually don’t use my first name.”
“What is your first name?”
Viggo ignored him. “I find that I get judged by my name, just as I’m sure you get judged by your pretty face, right?” Orlando shrugged. “Those men judged you by your looks. They assumed you were gay.”
“They were right,” Orlando said without thinking, then clapped a hand over his mouth.
Viggo clenched the steering wheel. He didn’t need to hear that. He didn’t need to know that he had one tiny slim chance with Orlando. “My name is Viggo,” he said as he turned into his development.
“Viggo. I’ve heard that name before. The man who runs Mortensen Enterprises has the name Viggo. I remember it because I always thought it was such an unusual…” Orlando stared at the gated estate looming ahead of them. “…lovely name,” he finished, eyes wide. “Holy fuck.”
Viggo rolled down his window and entered a few numbers on a keypad. The iron gates swung open. He nodded at the security guard. “Evening, Dave.”
“Mr. Mortensen.” The guard nodded back. “Have a good evening.”
Viggo drove the car up to the house, opening the garage with the remote clipped to his sun visor. He carefully pulled in, the heavy door closing behind them. “Now…about that ice. We can go into the kitchen from here.” As soon as his car door opened, the garage was flooded with light.
“Holy fuck,” Orlando whispered again, staring at the Ferrari and the Rolls Royce.
Viggo smiled timidly. “The Rolls was my father’s. I can’t bring myself to get rid of it.” He unlocked the door to the building. “Right through here.” Orlando followed at his heels as Viggo flicked on the light. “Have a seat.” He pointed to a long island in the middle of the giant kitchen. Viggo obviously used this kitchen on a regular basis; he moved with ease and immediately found what he was looking for. He handed Orlando a dishtowel filled with ice. “Put this on your face.”
“Do you have…uh…staff?” Orlando asked weakly.
“A housekeeper and a butler,” Viggo said, smiling. “I really only need the housekeeper, but John’s been with the family forever, and I can’t bear to let him go. I let him think he’s necessary.” Viggo sat across from him. “Just let me talk, okay, and then I will listen to whatever you have to say. I’ll also drive you home as soon as I’m done talking, if it’s what you want.”
“Okay.”
“Do you want anything to drink?” Viggo asked suddenly. “I could use something.”
“Yeah. Something strong,” Orlando requested, and Viggo smiled faintly. He went to a cabinet, coming back with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He poured one and gave it to Orlando, who sipped at it.
“Obviously you know my family. Even if the family name wasn’t so incredibly high profile in this area, my first name is less than common.” Viggo grinned. “You’d understand what it’s like to have a unique first name.” Orlando barely nodded. “I need time to be Viggo. Not Viggo Mortensen, just Viggo. Not a lot of people know Viggo; my friend Sean does, my brother does. My mother does, though she doesn’t really like him. Viggo sits around in his boxers and watches baseball. Viggo works on his car.”
“Viggo paints,” Orlando said softly.
“Viggo paints,” Viggo repeated, nodding. “I have a studio upstairs. It’s my favorite room in this whole damn place.” He finished his drink and poured another. “I was still there tonight because I stay every night you work, as long as I don’t have to be somewhere very early the next morning.” Orlando choked on his drink. “I stay to make sure that you’re okay, that you’re safely in your car and on your way home.” Viggo shook his head. “Tonight I wasn’t paying attention. I was reading that stupid magazine.” He clenched his hands into fists.
“You saved me,” Orlando said softly. “If it wasn’t for you…”
“You wouldn’t have that bruise,” Viggo interrupted.
“If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be in that parking lot, a dick in my mouth, maybe even another one up my arse,” Orlando said bluntly. “Thank you. Thank you SO much. You…you…”
“I did what anyone would do,” Viggo said. Orlando raised an eyebrow. “I know I’ve lied to you, Orlando, but it was never with malicious intent. I just wanted you to like me for me. And I’m not some kind of stalker, that I promise you. Everything I’ve done has been with the very best of intentions.”
Orlando sighed, shaking his head. “This has been a very enlightening evening.” Viggo snorted but didn’t reply. “You say you wanted me to like you?” Viggo nodded. “How?” Viggo looked at him strangely. “Sorry. That made no sense. Are you just looking for a new friend, someone to be Viggo with instead of Mr. Mortensen?” Orlando poured himself another shot, then downed it quickly. “Or are you looking for something more?” He watched Viggo swallow deeply. “I don’t go around blowing men I hardly know, in parking lots or otherwise, Viggo.”
“No! I never thought that! Never wanted that!” Viggo protested violently. “I mean, I want it, have thought about it…I mean, I’m interested…oh, fuck.” Viggo closed his eyes.
Orlando chuckled. “And you run a business? I can’t imagine you giving a speech in a boardroom, saying “oh fuck” when it’s not going your way.” He touched Viggo’s hand. “I’m assuming you’re gay.”
“Yes,” Viggo said softly. “Another thing I pretty much have to hide right now. If I had something concrete, a true relationship, I’d come out. But right now I can’t just go to a gay bar and try to connect with someone…it looks really bad.”
“Understandable. I don’t like those places myself.” Orlando put down the towel and slowly walked around the counter to stand by Viggo. “I have been nursing the most amazing crush on you for weeks now. You come into the restaurant, and it’s like a weight lifts off of me for that short time you’re there.”
“What?” Viggo whispered.
“You make it all go away, just by smiling at me,” Orlando said shyly.
“Seeing you helps me sleep at night,” Viggo confided quietly. Orlando blushed.
“Well, looks like we’re in the same boat, then.” Orlando took Viggo’s face in his hands and gently kissed him. “Except that your boat is a yacht, and my boat is more like a dinghy.”
Viggo didn’t smile. “I can’t erase what I am, Orlando. This is part of me, too.” He waved a hand at the lavish house. “But it’s not all of me.”
“I can’t erase what I am, either. I refused to be a kept man, not working just because you have money.”
“You make it sound like something’s going to happen between us,” Viggo said, trying hard not to sound too hopeful.
“I’d like something to happen,” Orlando admitted. “How about you?”
“I don’t have any long-term goals,” Viggo said, ever the businessman. “But short-term? I’d love nothing more than to take you through this house to show you my studio, and maybe even my bedroom.” He took Orlando’s slender hand in his. “However, I am totally fine with just showing you the studio, then taking you home.”
Orlando tugged Viggo off the stool. “Lead me to your studio, Michelangelo.”
They held hands as Viggo led him through the large house and up the stairs. He didn’t bother pointing things out; much of it had been left to him by his father, and he didn’t feel like changing anything. The second floor was more his domain. “Okay.” Viggo took a deep breath, smiling at Orlando. “Not many people get to see this. Be kind.” He turned on the light and let Orlando walk in ahead of him.
“Oh, Viggo.” Orlando walked up to the three easels in the middle of the room. Various finished and unfinished paintings leaned against the walls. “I don’t know much about art, but I love them. The colors…”
“I’m glad,” Viggo said, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I love it. I’ve had a showing or two, mostly charity things, but I’d love to actually fill a whole gallery for a serious show.”
“You could. This stuff is great.” Orlando turned around, a brilliant smile on his face. “You really are an artist.”
Viggo colored slightly, scuffing his foot on the ground. “Not really, but thank you. Your approval means a lot. I’m just so glad you’re not angry at me for lying.”
“Like you said, it wasn’t malicious.” Orlando walked over and took Viggo’s hands. He wove Viggo’s arms around his own waist, pressing his body against Viggo’s. “You said something about showing me your bedroom.”
Six
Viggo stared at Orlando for a long moment, then let his fingers do what they had wanted to do for so long: stroke through Orlando’s curls. Orlando purred, letting his head rub against the touch. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Orlando pulled Viggo down for a passionate kiss. “I want to be inside you. Can I?”
“Oh, sweet Jesus, yes,” Viggo sighed against Orlando’s mouth. Everyone assumed that due to his position in life, Viggo wanted to be on top sexually as well. It couldn’t have been further from the truth. He finally pulled away, leading Orlando down the hall to a set of double doors.
A giant oak bed built into the wall dominated the large bedroom. Large bookshelves framed the headboard, and white gauzy drapes were tied back at the columns of the frame. “That’s some bed,” Orlando said nervously.
Viggo grinned. “The story is that every Mortensen heir for the past five generations was conceived in that bed.”
“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about THAT happening tonight,” Orlando said with a grin. Viggo reached out for him, and he took a step back. “I’m…” Orlando held up his hands, staring at the splatters of hot fudge that dotted his wrists and forearms.
“As much as I’d love to lick food off your body, I’d prefer it to be fresh,” Viggo said. Orlando shivered at the kinky thought. “Bathroom’s in there.” Viggo motioned to a door. “Why don’t you get cleaned up, and I’ll run down and grab us a snack, okay?”
“Thank you,” Orlando said. “Hurry back.”
“Oh, I plan on it.” Viggo pulled Orlando close for a bruising kiss.
“Hurry,” Orlando repeated breathlessly. Viggo practically ran out of the room.
Normally after a long hard shift, Orlando stood for at least a half-hour under a scalding hot shower. Tonight was not one of those nights. He did let the water stream over him for about ten minutes, but his cock wouldn’t let him dream of wasting time in the shower when the man of his dreams was waiting in the bedroom. Orlando scrubbed himself clean, then toweled off with a fluffy green towel. He wrapped the towel around his slender waist, realizing he had nothing to change into. The thought made him smile. He was pretty sure he’d be spending the next few hours, if not all night, totally naked.
He opened the door and went out, ruffling his curls with a smaller towel of the same color. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I brought up a bit of everything,” Viggo said when the door opened, arranging some fruit on a tray. “Did you…” Viggo turned to look at him, and all rational thought died. Stray drops of water slid down Orlando’s bare torso to land in the bunch of fabric at his waist. “Oh, fuck me,” Viggo whispered, sitting down hard on the bed.
“That’s the plan, right?” Orlando padded over to stand in front of Viggo. Viggo’s large hands slowly came up to tug at the towel until it puddle on Orlando’s feet. Those same hands slowly slid up Orlando’s body, from his knees to his thighs to his hips, thumbs dancing just around the patch of dark hair framing the thick cock.
“I cannot wait to have this inside of me,” Viggo said, finally taking it in his hand and stroking gently.
Orlando’s fingers dug into Viggo’s clothed shoulders, his head falling back. “If you keep that up…it won’t make it inside,” Orlando gasped. “You need to be naked pretty damn quick.”
Viggo stood, stripping as they kissed. His hands soon returned to Orlando’s cock, stroking and caressing until Orlando was moaning and gasping into his mouth. Viggo pulled them down to the bed, and it was then that Orlando saw the condom and lube waiting by the pillows. “I’ve laid in this bed dreaming about this,” Viggo told him, biting on Orlando’s neck as their naked cocks rubbed together. “Woke up hard thinking about it.”
“You don’t look like the type to have a dirty mouth,” Orlando said, his hands rubbing across the fur of Viggo’s chest as he sat up to straddle Viggo’s waist.
“Fine. I won’t tell you how I’ve touched myself, imagining your tongue on me.” Viggo’s fingers pinched at his own nipples. “I won’t bother describing how I’ve fucked myself with my fingers, pretending it was your dick.”
“You’re a slut,” Orlando moaned, fisting his cock as Viggo spoke.
“I can be. Do you like sluts, Orlando?” Viggo’s voice was low. He batted Orlando’s hands away. “None of that. You’ll come long before you’re inside me, and we can’t have that.”
“You’re evil.” Orlando bent down to kiss Viggo, his body rolling over Viggo’s. “You can choose,” Orlando panted, licking Viggo’s ear. “Do you want to be under me, or riding me?”
“Now who has the dirty mouth?” Viggo gasped, arching up to meet Orlando’s rolling body. “I want you over me.”
“Good. I like the other just as well, but the first time…I want to look down into your eyes as I fuck you.” Orlando reached for the lube, hissing as Viggo’s mouth latched onto one dark nipple. “Viggo…Christ, you’re killing me.”
“Good. Makes up for all the nights I had to sit and watch you walk around the restaurant, looking so sexy.”
Orlando sat back up, lube in hand. “You really thought that? I was always filthy, covered in food.”
“But your smile…” Viggo smiled tenderly, the mood totally changed. “You just…I don’t know. Entranced me, I think.”
“Entranced. I like that.” Orlando dipped his head down to kiss him. “Makes me sound all mysterious.”
He quickly coated his fingers and teased at Viggo’s opening. “Go slow,” Viggo asked softly. “It’s been a while.”
“We have all night,” Orlando reminded him. One slender finger slowly pushed inside. Viggo moaned, bringing his legs up so his feet were flat and his knees were bent. Soon his body was arching up to meet the second finger Orlando added. “You’re so gorgeous,” Orlando whispered.
“Fuck me, Orlando, please,” Viggo begged. “I’m ready…please…”
“I don’t know…” Orlando twisted in a third finger. “I really like hearing you beg.”
Viggo groaned. “You trying to kill an old man, here?”
“You’re definitely not old. Mature, maybe.” Orlando slowly removed his fingers, opening the condom and sliding it on. He propped himself over Viggo, one hand reaching down to guide himself inside. He bent down to suck on Viggo’s tongue as he slid in.
Viggo gasped into Orlando’s mouth, hands clenching at the sheets. Orlando held back, wanting desperately to thrust home but needing to know that Viggo could handle it. “Please,” Viggo finally whimpered, and Orlando gave in. His slender hips pistoned in and out, seeking that perfect angle to get Viggo where he needed to be. Viggo’s hands clutched at Orlando’s backside, urging him in again and again. “Feel so good…better than I thought possible…”
“My thoughts exactly,” Orlando panted. He could feel sweat forming along his spine. He was surprised that it wasn’t over already; he had dreamt of this moment for so long, he was afraid that the mere idea of it would bring him to the edge far too quickly.
Viggo wrapped one leg around Orlando, bringing him even deeper. “You…are…amazing…” Viggo murmured, kissing Orlando’s chin. Orlando’s back arched as his hips swiveled. Viggo suddenly let out what Orlando could only call a squeak as his eyes fluttered shut.
“Mmm…good…found it.” Orlando kept that rhythm, eyes widening as Viggo’s hand reached down to stroke his own cock. “Yeah, Vig, that’s it. Come for me, baby…come…”
“Orlando, Orlando…yes….” Viggo’s breathing stuttered as he came, shooting hot and white onto his stomach. Orlando thrust a few more times then came, head falling down onto Viggo’s chest. They stayed that way for a long moment, trying to catch their breath. Orlando finally slid to roll onto his back, and Viggo got out of bed. He gently slid the condom from Orlando’s wilting cock and disposed of it, then headed to the bathroom for a cloth. He cleaned them both, then tossed the cloth in the bathroom hamper. When he returned to the bedroom, Orlando was sitting up, knees curled to one side, heels by his backside. He was biting at one fingernail. “Are, uh, you okay?” Viggo asked, concerned.
“M’fine,” he answered quickly. “I should be asking you that.”
“It’s a welcome ache,” Viggo said with a smile. He pulled the covers back and slipped inside, but Orlando continued to sit up. “You’re having second thoughts,” Viggo said sadly. “I know we kinda did this in the wrong order…me baring all my secrets and then jumping right into bed, but I thought…I thought we were on the same page.”
“No, Vig, it’s not like that at all.” Orlando lay down, though he remained on top of the covers. “I don’t see it as anything bad, I just don’t want…I don’t want you to see me as the person you were trying to avoid. I’m far from wealthy, but I’m no gold digger.” Orlando shrugged. “I just want you to know that.”
“I do, Orlando.” Viggo kissed Orlando’s cheek, and Orlando was touched by the sweet gesture. “Now, like I said, I have no long-term goals here.”
“Ever the businessman,” Orlando said with a smile.
“But my agenda is this,” Viggo continued. “You’re going to get under these covers with me, because it’s late, and I’m cold just looking at you out there. Tomorrow I’m cooking you an amazing breakfast, unless you have somewhere to be.”
“Nothing I’m aware of,” Orlando said, climbing under the covers.
“Are you working this weekend?”
“We’re open until six on Christmas Eve, and then closed on Christmas, of course.”
“I want you here. After work Christmas Eve. All day on Christmas. That is, if you want to.”
Orlando gaped. “What about your family?”
“You can come with me to my mother’s, and if you feel uncomfortable with that idea, you can just bum around here until I get back. We have movies to watch, remember?”
Orlando snuggled into the crook of Viggo’s arm. “God…this…this is the best gift I could have ever gotten for Christmas.”
“Me, too, Orlando.” Viggo kissed Orlando’s forehead. “Me, too.”
The End
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Date: 2011-11-13 08:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-13 09:57 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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