If Music be the Food of Love
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vigorliTitle: If Music be the Food of Love
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Beta: Thanks to the inimitablegattodoro for the inspiration and the beta ; but as always, the author cannot leave well alone, so all mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: Sadly – this is a work of complete fiction
Word Count: 4,420
Summary: A little something for Valentine’s Day
Written in ‘The Conductor & The Concert Violinist’ universe.
It isn’t strictly necessary to be familiar with this universe, but it probably helps.
For those who aren’t: Viggo is a conductor and classical composer and Orlando is a concert violinist. They live in London and have been together for several years. Orlando is in his early thirties and Viggo his late forties.
******************************************
Orlando groaned and burrowed down deeper into the warm nest provided by his capacious duvet, but his mobile phone continued to ring. He was sure it was still too early to be up; his alarm had certainly not gone off yet and although the heavy drapes cut out all light making it difficult to distinguish between night and day he was sure it must still be dark out there. The shrill ringing stopped and Orlando breathed a happy sigh and snuggled back into his pillows. The mobile rang again.
“Bugger, bugger, bugger!” he cursed as he stretched out an arm and fumbled for the bedside table. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He finally located the mobile and dragging it beneath the covers swiped the screen to answer the call. “Whadda you want?” he barked in annoyance. Orlando liked his sleep and he was not disposed to be pleasant to anyone who disturbed it at stupid o’clock in the morning.
There was a low chuckle on the other end of the line then Viggo’s deep melodious voice, “Well, good morning to you too.”
The sound went straight to Orlando’s groin, sometimes it amazed him that this still happened. Even though they’d been living together for nearly six years now, Viggo could still turn him on with just the tone of his voice, or a smile, or the briefest of touches; well, pretty much anything really. “What time is it?” he asked curtly, he still wasn’t prepared to be agreeable, it wasn’t like Viggo was physically in the room and so available for actual sex.
“It’s seven a.m.,” Viggo said.
“Seven!” Orlando gasped, “Why are you calling me in the middle of the fucking night? Did the flat burn down?”
“The apartment is fine,” Viggo chuckled again; he’d known that he would get this kind of reaction. “I’m ringing to find out where you are?”
“What? Why?”
“Just tell me where you are,” Viggo persisted, his tone still one of amusement.
Orlando pulled his head above the duvet and surveyed the room. It was a standard hotel room, bed, wardrobe, and desk. It looked exactly like the hundreds of other hotel rooms he’d ever stayed in. “Errr…,” he said, trying to recall in which City this hotel might be located. He was definitely in England, definitely.
“Did you play last night?” Viggo prompted gently.
“Errrr… yes,” Orlando tried to visualise the concert hall. Big, modern, airy, lovely audience; could be absolutely anywhere. He rubbed a hand over still bleary eyes, he hadn’t been exceptionally late to bed but he had had a few drinks after the performance, with the orchestra, before they’d all gone home; because they were a local orchestra, that narrowed it down. “Manchester!” he declared triumphantly, “I’m in Manchester, with the Hallé.”
“And are you staying in Manchester tonight?”
“Emm…,” Orlando groaned, this was way too many questions for so early in the morning. He thought about suggesting that Viggo ring his agent. “Oh wait, yes, I’m here for two nights. Although we’re playing this afternoon not this evening.”
“Excellent!” Viggo said happily. “That’s perfect.”
“Is it?” Orlando said, bewildered. He had no idea why his lover was so pleased that he was in Manchester. He tried to remember where Viggo was scheduled to be today, he tried to remember what the date was? He failed. “Where are you then?”
“I, am in London,” Viggo said, with dramatic emphasis.
“That’s nice,” Orlando responded, still confused, then some of his brain cells finally began to function, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be going to the US, today, or maybe yesterday?”
“I was,” Viggo confirmed, “but the damn studio called last night and cancelled the meeting, I hate writing for the movies.”
Orlando snorted, “You like the Oscar nominations though.”
Viggo laughed, “That is sadly true, I am a vain man.”
Orlando’s hand strayed towards his groin; Viggo’s laughter wasn’t helping to quell his growing arousal. “Vain, but also very sexy,” he said huskily.
“Hold onto that thought,” Viggo chuckled, “because I will be with you in a couple of hours.”
“What? Why? I’ll be heading home tomorrow anyway…, I think,” Orlando paused, “no wait I’m sure I will.”
“But tomorrow is not today, and I want to see you today.”
Orlando tried to focus, not that he wouldn’t very much like to see Viggo today, in fact immediately would have been his preference, he was having a hard time resisting just taking his growing erection in hand, but rushing up to Manchester seemed a little rash; was he missing something, it wasn’t his birthday, was it an anniversary? He gave up, again. “That will be lovely but, why?”
“You do know what today is don’t you?”
Orlando decided to not even try this time. “Wednesday?” he offered, “Or, maybe Thursday, I know I’m in London for the weekend.”
Viggo’s patience finally gave out. “It’s Valentine’s Day!” he said, “and I’m coming up there so that we can have a romantic dinner together because that’s what couples do.” He waited for Orlando to respond but continued when there was only silence. “Happy Valentine’s Day by the way.”
“It would have helped enormously, if you’d started with that,” Orlando said, slowly and sternly, but then he sniggered. “Happy Valentine’s Day to you too. When will you be here?”
“The ten o’clock from Euston will get me in at noon, where is your hotel?”
“It’s the Malmaison, and it’s right across from the station. I’ll be at rehearsals, but I’ll arrange to have a keycard ready for you at the desk.”
“Thank you. What about your concert? I’d like to hear you play if I can.”
“I’ll arrange that too, just go to the box office, it’s a two thirty start… I think.”
Viggo laughed, “You’re hopeless but I’ll check the time, thank you again.”
“Oh wait!”
“Problem?”
“Yes, it’s Valentine’s Day; we’ll never get a decent table at such short notice.”
“Ahh, I confess, I hadn’t thought of that,” Viggo said, “but don’t worry, I’ll get Liv on to it, if anyone can find one it’s her.”
“Oh, yes, that’s true,” Orlando agreed. He had discovered over the years that Liv, Viggo’s incredibly efficient P.A. could indeed accomplish the impossible on very short notice.
“Do you have a preference, Italian, French?”
“I think it’s way too late to be fussy,” Orlando replied, “anywhere she can get a booking at a reasonable time will be fine.”
“I’ll call her now,” Viggo said.
“Noooo,” Orlando protested, “don’t go yet, I need you to talk to me.”
“Talk to you? What about? I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Orlando sighed theatrically, “I need you to talk dirty to me.”
“Oh, Good Lord, Orlando, It’s seven in the morning!” Viggo protested, albeit with a chuckle.
“And exactly whose fault is that?” Orlando retorted, “You woke me up, now you have to play with me.”
*******************************************
“Are we nearly there?” Orlando asked, “I’m starving.”
The afternoon concert at Manchester’s Bridgewater Hall had been a selection of light pieces performed in a more relaxed atmosphere than the formal concert of the evening before. Viggo had enjoyed it, he always did enjoy hearing Orlando play but it was a pleasure he rarely managed outside of London and even less so with such an informal programme, so this had been an especial treat.
They had intended to go back to the hotel before dinner, but Sir Mark, the Director and principal conductor of the resident Hallé orchestra, had spotted Viggo in the audience and had refused to let him leave until they had spent some time catching up. Sir Mark was always amusing company and he had produced a very acceptable bottle of red, so neither Viggo nor Orlando had complained but their dinner booking was for seven o’clock and so they had regrettably had to excuse themselves before the second bottle appeared. According to Liv’s instructions their restaurant was relatively central, somewhere between the concert hall and their hotel and so they had opted for a brisk walk rather than a taxi.
“We’ll be there anytime now,” Viggo replied,
“What’s it called?”
Viggo checked his phone “It’s called Greggs,” he said.
Orlando stopped walking, “Greggs?”
“Yes,” Viggo stopped too and turned back to him with a frown, “what’s the matter?”
“G. R. E. G. S?” Orlando enunciated hopefully.
Viggo checked his phone again, “No it has a double G.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Viggo, have you done something to upset Liv, recently?”
“No, of course not, I would never upset Liv.” Despite this assertion Viggo paused and gave it serious consideration, “Not knowingly anyway. Why do you ask?”
“Okay. What time did you call her this morning? Was it right after you spoke to me? So, like seven a.m.”
“It was more like eight by the time I had finished pandering to your needs.” Viggo grinned.
“But did she sound annoyed?”
“No. What is this about? Do you know this Greggs? Have you been there before? Is it bad?”
Orlando tried, very hard, not to laugh. He wasn’t hugely surprised that his lover didn’t recognise the name. He couldn’t imagine the man had ever set foot in one. “I’ve been to Greggs many times, they have them everywhere.”
“So, it’s a chain. Alright, that’s not so bad is it?”
“It’s a chain of… well…, pastry shops.”
“Oh, like Patisserie Valerie? I agree, that’s not exactly fine dining, but it’s…,” Viggo waved his hand vaguely in the air searching for a phrase to reassure his lover, “acceptable enough.”
“No, not really like that,” Orlando shook his head, he was beginning to think that this was a huge practical joke on Liv’s part, “it’s more like, just a takeaway, they don’t usually do… well…, whole dinners.”
“Ah, alright, I think Liv did mention that it was a new venture, so, perhaps they are branching out.”
Orlando, sighed heavily, he was still sceptical and he could see their anticipated romantic dinner sinking very quickly over the horizon, he pulled his phone from his pocket and began to search, “Ahhh!” he said having found what he wanted to know, “Liv is quite right, certain Greggs in select locations, are putting on a Valentine’s Day dinner as a one off event, including here in Manchester.”
“Well there you are,” Viggo beamed, “it’s a unique opportunity. I don’t mind trying something different.”
Orlando continued reading but then after getting the gist he looked up at his lover and tried to decide exactly how to pitch this, “Right, well, the good news is, it won’t cost us a lot.”
“I don’t really care what it costs,” Viggo frowned, “but I assume you are about to deliver the bad news. So?”
“There won’t be a wine list.”
“No wine?” Viggo finally appeared disconcerted by the prospect of a Greggs’ dinner.
“There’s prosecco,”
Viggo hesitated but then shrugged, “Well, that will do, I suppose.”
Orlando tried desperately to contain his rising mirth, “The only dessert is doughnuts.”
“Doughnuts?”
“‘Fraid so.”
Viggo looked less happy at this revelation but he shrugged again, “I’m sure I can cope.”
“I’m guessing you’ve never been to a Greggs.” Orlando said, smiling consolingly.
Viggo pondered the question, “Not that I recall. They have them in London do they?”
“Oh yes.”
“And you go there?”
“I’m afraid their gingerbread men are one of my many guilty pleasures.”
“Ah,” Viggo brightened, “more like Pret a Manger then?” He was quite fond of Pret’s charmingly named ‘Godfrey’ gingerbread men himself.
Orlando shook his head sorrowfully, “If only.”
Viggo smiled at his young lover, sometimes Orlando believed him to be slightly out of touch with the less privileged side of life, Viggo liked to prove that he wasn’t. “How bad can it be? There’ll be food and wine, well prosecco, and you, that’s all I need.”
Orlando grinned and then linking his arm through Viggo’s propelled them onwards.
“Hold that thought lover.”
As they continued down the street Orlando raised his arm towards a building they were approaching.
“Voila! Our restaurant.”
This time it was Viggo who stopped. “Ah,” he said, “I do recognise the logo now.”
“They’re hard to miss.”
“I have been in to one of those.”
“Really? How was it?”
“It was… alright,” Viggo said hesitantly. “I remember that the staff were extremely friendly but there was a lot of pastry on display.”
“Do you want to go back to the hotel? We could order room service and I could molest you over the coffee.”
Viggo thought about it. “No, I promised you a Valentine’s dinner date. We’re here now and I’m hungry, let’s go in… although.”
“Yes?”
“Can you call the hotel and get them to leave a bottle of champagne in your room, a very good bottle.”
Orlando just nodded and after a quick search dialled the hotel’s number, he made his request and then after listening to the response he grinned at Viggo, “Do we want roses and chocolates as well? There is a Valentine’s package apparently.”
Viggo nodded. “Why not. Tell them, I’ll settle the bill for it separately. I wouldn’t want your agent to think that this is how you entertain yourself when you’re on tour.
******************************
When they entered the hotel room, it was only shortly after nine and after shrugging off his coat and uncharacteristically tossing it over the nearest chair, Viggo made straight for the champagne standing in the ice bucket. He pulled out the bottle, studied the label, emitted a relieved sigh and then opened it with a practised hand.
Orlando took one of the glasses Viggo had filled and stood for a moment, contemplating a toast. It had been an interesting evening, and he was enumerating now just how many times Viggo’s behaviour or reaction had made his heart swell with affection.
He had initially thought that, given their dining destination, it was fortunate that they hadn't had time to return to the hotel and change in to smarter clothes but it turned out that all the other diners had risen to the occasion and Orlando had decided that being underdressed in a Greggs was possibly the most bizarre experience he had ever had. But Viggo, being Viggo, had ignored the functional décor of pastry ovens and drink fridges and had behaved exactly the way he would if they had been dining at the Ritz, he smiled and nodded his thanks at the surprisingly, elegantly attired waiter every time he had laid down yet another plate of something encased in pastry or topped up their exceedingly indifferent prosecco; he’d tasted each dish with serious consideration, as if he might really return it to the kitchen if it were not up to scratch; kept up a lively conversation about Orlando’s performance that afternoon, his own memories of conducting at the Bridgewater and some wild nights out with Sir Mark and he had only been diverted from an enthusiastic appreciation of the mini doughnuts and butterscotch sauce because the classical music that was being piped out through tinny speakers changed to Rachmaninov’s second piano concerto and he’d looked up, smiled and said ‘Ah, Ashkenazy. I do like this particular recording.’ It had also been the first time that Orlando had ever seen Viggo look stunned when perusing the check and he was pretty sure that the tip he had left was actually larger than their bill.
“What are you thinking about?” Viggo asked smiling fondly at his lover as he placed the bottle back in the ice bucket.
“I’m thinking how lucky I am,” Orlando said, “to have you.”
Viggo raised his eyebrows, “Thank you, but I choose to think that I’m the lucky one.”
Orlando raised his glass, “Here’s to us both being lucky men then.”
Viggo clinked his glass against Orlando’s and then swallowed most of the contents in one gulp.
Orlando picked up the box of elegant handmade chocolates that had been placed on the desk. “Would you like a chocolate?”
“I really don’t think I could eat another thing.”
Orlando burst out laughing. “I would imagine not, dinner was certainly... filling.”
“I’m sorry,” Viggo’s shoulders dropped as the pretence that he’d been having a good time finally slipped, “that wasn’t the way I had planned to wine and dine you.”
Orlando shrugged and moved towards his lover. “It wasn’t that bad, there was a great atmosphere,” this was certainly true, all the other diners, presumably having known what to expect, seemed to be enjoying their evening immensely. “And the food was OK, heavy on the pastry admittedly, but I’ve had worse meals, I’ve certainly had worse dates.” He raised a hand to stroke his lover’s cheek. “I was with you, that was the important thing.”
Viggo turned his head so that he could kiss Orlando’s palm. “You’re right of course, this was by no means the worst experience of my life either, I was once forced to play the piano in a railway station.”
“Will you never let that drop!” Orlando said, but he was laughing. Viggo had conducted in most of the major concert halls and opera houses across the globe, and he had been horrified when Orlando had made him play on one of the concourse pianos at St Pancras station.
“I can’t really, not now that you can hold this evening against me.”
“I promise that I will never mention it, well not often anyway.”
They both laughed again and moved closer together, not quite touching, deferring that moment when they would kiss, seeking to increase the pleasure by anticipation.
“I suppose,” said Orlando with a tilt of his head, “that since you took me out to dinner and then paid for this extortionately expensive champagne and the chocolates and flowers you’ll be expecting sex.”
“The flowers are nice,” Viggo said, gazing thoughtfully, at the crystal vase on the side table that contained a dozen long stemmed red roses.
“If you are thinking of making a grand romantic gesture by scattering rose petals on the bed, forget it.”
Viggo chuckled, “Spoilsport?”
“The only thing I want on those sheets is you,” Orlando said softly, leaning forward and brushing his lips against Viggo’s, “so come to bed before the magic of our candlelight dinner wears off.” And he took his lover by the hand and urged him towards the bed.
Orlando had managed to get rid of his clothes and throw himself onto the bed before Viggo had even finished unbuttoning his shirt. He liked to watch Viggo undress, the older man would soon turn fifty but he had a great body and seeing it gradually revealed like this was yet another thing that turned him on.
Viggo knew that his lover liked this little display and took his time, folding each item carefully, trying to pretend that he wasn’t also watching, as Orlando slowly stroked himself, his other arm resting behind his head as he stretched out provocatively on the mattress, so beautiful. Finally naked, Viggo crawled up the bed on all fours and settling between Orlando’s parted thighs, he pulled the younger man’s hand away and greedily swallowed down his cock.
Orlando moaned, and let Viggo suck on his prize for a few minutes before grabbing at his hair. “That’s really great but I want you up here.”
Viggo let Orlando’s cock slip from between his lips and Orlando briefly wished he hadn’t said anything; the man had a talented mouth. Viggo grinned up at him, “I’ll be up there in a minute or two, but this is the best thing I’ve had in my mouth all evening, please just let me enjoy it.”
Orlando tried, unsuccessfully, not to laugh but he obediently sank back into the soft mound of pillows with a groan that turned to a grateful moan as Viggo took him back into his mouth and sucked, not hard, but tantalising enough to bring Orlando to the edge of urgent need.
Viggo, knowing from Orlando’s writhing and panting that his lover was becoming impatient, finally drew back and wiped the saliva from his lips with the back of his hand.
Orlando whimpered at the loss of stimulation but then scrabbled for the bottle of lube he’d left under the pillow and passed it to his lover. “Prep me, quickly, I need you.”
Viggo moved up the bed until he could kiss Orlando on the lips, deeply, hungrily, then he pulled back and placed a hand under the younger man’s chin. “I think, tonight, I need you more,” he whispered huskily, “please,”
Viggo’s plea only served to make Orlando’s cock throb more urgently, but he understood the significance of the request, Viggo wanted to abandon himself to Orlando, this day had not gone as planned and he wanted Orlando to take charge and make it all better and much as Orlando wanted to be fucked, he wanted, even more to give pleasure to his partner. He took a couple of deep breaths and then pushed his lover back into the pillows. “Turn over,” he said, “on your side, so I can hold you.”
“But I want to see you,” Viggo protested.
“I swear Viggo, if I look at you I’ll come before I get inside you, now roll over.”
Viggo rolled and Orlando pumped some of the liquid on to his fingers before sliding them between Viggo’s buttocks.
“Get on with it,” Viggo said impatiently when Orlando seemed content just to stroke teasingly up and down his crease.
“Desperate, are we?” Orlando chuckled, but he pressed the first finger against the ring of muscle; Viggo was tight and he had to twist and manoeuvre to get fully inside. Viggo was panting sharply and Orlando kissed his neck, “I think this is going to take a while,”
“No, just fucking do it.’
“You know I’m not going to do that,” Orlando said.
In his working life his lover was used to being in control and having his orders immediately executed. In the bedroom, as Orlando knew, he quite enjoyed being denied. Viggo sighed his resignation and as a reward Orlando attempted another finger. It seemed like an age though, before he could get him to accept the third and then twist them, occasionally bumping against Viggo’s gland just to let him know who was in charge. But finally, he withdrew the fingers and squeezed out more lube to cover his cock. The effort of concentration had taken the edge off his own arousal and he had to give his member a couple of swift tugs before pulling Viggo back towards his chest and pressing gradually inside. Viggo turned his head, and searched for Orlando’s mouth, the kiss was uncoordinated, their lips more often encountering ear or chin but they finally connected and Orlando could feel more than hear, Viggo moaning around his tongue as he pushed deeper into his lover. He paused and there was a whimper of complaint from Viggo.
“Just give me a minute” Orlando said, “I like to feel you like this,” he had one arm across Viggo’s shoulder and he slid the other hand round to grasp Viggo’s hard heavy cock. Viggo hummed in agreement but clamped his internal muscles around Orlando’s cock making the younger man gasp at the pressure. “Stop doing that,” he ordered shoving hard into Viggo, “I love being inside you and having my hand on your dick, knowing that I’m going to make you come apart, so that I feel every tremor, but I want it to fucking last.”
Viggo closed his own hand around the one Orlando had on his cock squeezing gently “Please,” he said, “Make me come for you, now.”
Viggo begging was too much. Orlando pressed his forehead against his lover’s neck and pulled out, gradually, making Viggo grind his teeth, then pushed back in, slowly at first but picking up speed and force until he was pushing his lover across the bed with the power of his thrusts, his own pleasure building to a critical level so that he was functioning mostly on instinct and his hand was only still clenched around Viggo’s dick because Viggo was holding it there with his own, guiding their movements. Viggo came first, erupting over their entwined hands, his body shuddering against Orlando’s and Orlando held on, his movements becoming increasingly uncoordinated as he clung to his lover’s convulsing frame and then as Viggo collapsed, finally spent, Orlando pushed him on to his front and shoved into him roughly, once, twice, three times before coming, gratefully, deep inside his exhausted lover.
*******************************************
They had recovered enough to finish the bottle of champagne and Orlando was now enjoying having Viggo’s chest as a convenient pillow as they reflected on their evening in Manchester.
“I still can’t decide if Liv was misled or if she was toying with us,” Viggo said, “surely that wasn’t the only restaurant in the City with a free table.”
“Well, actually, I’ve been thinking about that all evening,” Orlando said, rolling over so that he was facing his lover. “When I was checking out the details on my phone, it said that there were only five venues, all in different cities and only one sitting at each and very limited places. I mean it wasn’t very big was it, and I don’t suppose any of the others were any bigger. It also said that all the places had been booked up within twenty minutes of the site opening last week. They were overwhelmed with requests apparently, so there must have been a waiting list in case of cancellations. So, the question really, is how on earth did she manage to get a table at all.”
“You’re saying that we were lucky to get a table there tonight?” Viggo said, slightly aghast.
“I think I am,” Orlando scrunched up his face, “it seems we got in to one of the most sought after venues in the country. It would have been easier to get into the Gordon Ramsay restaurant in Chelsea.”
“Well I’ve always thought that Liv could do anything, but I don’t know if I want to congratulate her over this one or not.”
“It would be ungrateful of us to criticise her for achieving the impossible, but I really want to know how she did it.”
“I do too now,” Viggo agreed, “and first thing tomorrow I’m going to ring her and ask, but right now I just want to sleep. Although I may have to take an indigestion tablet first, I’m not used to eating quite that much pastry in one evening.”
****************************************************************
Greggs Valentine Dinner plan
https://inews.co.uk/inews-lifestyle/food-and-drink/greggs-offering-four-course-valentines-day-dinner-prosecco/
The actual menu
Manchester – City Tower - 15a City Tower, Manchester, M1 4BT
Starter : A composition of canapés - seasoned pork and puff pastry slider, steak & blue cheese en croute, katsu tortilla wrap, Mexican chicken chipotle spoon, béchamel toasted honey cured ham square and tomato gazpacho
Main: Your choice of signature Greggs puff pastry parcel, freshly baked to order, accompanied by oven roasted spiced potato slices and a garnish of fresh Apollo and spinach leaves and sunblush tomatoes
Dessert : A brochette of miniature doughnuts paired with a rich butterscotch flavoured dipping sauce
Petits Fours and Coffee : Belgian dark chocolate brownie, raspberry and almond bite and caramel shortbread. Accompanied by freshly ground Fairtrade coffee made using our own unique blend of mild Arabica beans from Peru and Colombia and rich tasting Robusta beans from Tanzania
To drink : Italian Prosecco, soft drinks, still or sparkling mineral water
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Beta: Thanks to the inimitable
gattodoro for the inspiration and the beta ; but as always, the author cannot leave well alone, so all mistakes are mine.Disclaimer: Sadly – this is a work of complete fiction
Word Count: 4,420
Summary: A little something for Valentine’s Day
Written in ‘The Conductor & The Concert Violinist’ universe.
It isn’t strictly necessary to be familiar with this universe, but it probably helps.
For those who aren’t: Viggo is a conductor and classical composer and Orlando is a concert violinist. They live in London and have been together for several years. Orlando is in his early thirties and Viggo his late forties.
******************************************
Orlando groaned and burrowed down deeper into the warm nest provided by his capacious duvet, but his mobile phone continued to ring. He was sure it was still too early to be up; his alarm had certainly not gone off yet and although the heavy drapes cut out all light making it difficult to distinguish between night and day he was sure it must still be dark out there. The shrill ringing stopped and Orlando breathed a happy sigh and snuggled back into his pillows. The mobile rang again.
“Bugger, bugger, bugger!” he cursed as he stretched out an arm and fumbled for the bedside table. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He finally located the mobile and dragging it beneath the covers swiped the screen to answer the call. “Whadda you want?” he barked in annoyance. Orlando liked his sleep and he was not disposed to be pleasant to anyone who disturbed it at stupid o’clock in the morning.
There was a low chuckle on the other end of the line then Viggo’s deep melodious voice, “Well, good morning to you too.”
The sound went straight to Orlando’s groin, sometimes it amazed him that this still happened. Even though they’d been living together for nearly six years now, Viggo could still turn him on with just the tone of his voice, or a smile, or the briefest of touches; well, pretty much anything really. “What time is it?” he asked curtly, he still wasn’t prepared to be agreeable, it wasn’t like Viggo was physically in the room and so available for actual sex.
“It’s seven a.m.,” Viggo said.
“Seven!” Orlando gasped, “Why are you calling me in the middle of the fucking night? Did the flat burn down?”
“The apartment is fine,” Viggo chuckled again; he’d known that he would get this kind of reaction. “I’m ringing to find out where you are?”
“What? Why?”
“Just tell me where you are,” Viggo persisted, his tone still one of amusement.
Orlando pulled his head above the duvet and surveyed the room. It was a standard hotel room, bed, wardrobe, and desk. It looked exactly like the hundreds of other hotel rooms he’d ever stayed in. “Errr…,” he said, trying to recall in which City this hotel might be located. He was definitely in England, definitely.
“Did you play last night?” Viggo prompted gently.
“Errrr… yes,” Orlando tried to visualise the concert hall. Big, modern, airy, lovely audience; could be absolutely anywhere. He rubbed a hand over still bleary eyes, he hadn’t been exceptionally late to bed but he had had a few drinks after the performance, with the orchestra, before they’d all gone home; because they were a local orchestra, that narrowed it down. “Manchester!” he declared triumphantly, “I’m in Manchester, with the Hallé.”
“And are you staying in Manchester tonight?”
“Emm…,” Orlando groaned, this was way too many questions for so early in the morning. He thought about suggesting that Viggo ring his agent. “Oh wait, yes, I’m here for two nights. Although we’re playing this afternoon not this evening.”
“Excellent!” Viggo said happily. “That’s perfect.”
“Is it?” Orlando said, bewildered. He had no idea why his lover was so pleased that he was in Manchester. He tried to remember where Viggo was scheduled to be today, he tried to remember what the date was? He failed. “Where are you then?”
“I, am in London,” Viggo said, with dramatic emphasis.
“That’s nice,” Orlando responded, still confused, then some of his brain cells finally began to function, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be going to the US, today, or maybe yesterday?”
“I was,” Viggo confirmed, “but the damn studio called last night and cancelled the meeting, I hate writing for the movies.”
Orlando snorted, “You like the Oscar nominations though.”
Viggo laughed, “That is sadly true, I am a vain man.”
Orlando’s hand strayed towards his groin; Viggo’s laughter wasn’t helping to quell his growing arousal. “Vain, but also very sexy,” he said huskily.
“Hold onto that thought,” Viggo chuckled, “because I will be with you in a couple of hours.”
“What? Why? I’ll be heading home tomorrow anyway…, I think,” Orlando paused, “no wait I’m sure I will.”
“But tomorrow is not today, and I want to see you today.”
Orlando tried to focus, not that he wouldn’t very much like to see Viggo today, in fact immediately would have been his preference, he was having a hard time resisting just taking his growing erection in hand, but rushing up to Manchester seemed a little rash; was he missing something, it wasn’t his birthday, was it an anniversary? He gave up, again. “That will be lovely but, why?”
“You do know what today is don’t you?”
Orlando decided to not even try this time. “Wednesday?” he offered, “Or, maybe Thursday, I know I’m in London for the weekend.”
Viggo’s patience finally gave out. “It’s Valentine’s Day!” he said, “and I’m coming up there so that we can have a romantic dinner together because that’s what couples do.” He waited for Orlando to respond but continued when there was only silence. “Happy Valentine’s Day by the way.”
“It would have helped enormously, if you’d started with that,” Orlando said, slowly and sternly, but then he sniggered. “Happy Valentine’s Day to you too. When will you be here?”
“The ten o’clock from Euston will get me in at noon, where is your hotel?”
“It’s the Malmaison, and it’s right across from the station. I’ll be at rehearsals, but I’ll arrange to have a keycard ready for you at the desk.”
“Thank you. What about your concert? I’d like to hear you play if I can.”
“I’ll arrange that too, just go to the box office, it’s a two thirty start… I think.”
Viggo laughed, “You’re hopeless but I’ll check the time, thank you again.”
“Oh wait!”
“Problem?”
“Yes, it’s Valentine’s Day; we’ll never get a decent table at such short notice.”
“Ahh, I confess, I hadn’t thought of that,” Viggo said, “but don’t worry, I’ll get Liv on to it, if anyone can find one it’s her.”
“Oh, yes, that’s true,” Orlando agreed. He had discovered over the years that Liv, Viggo’s incredibly efficient P.A. could indeed accomplish the impossible on very short notice.
“Do you have a preference, Italian, French?”
“I think it’s way too late to be fussy,” Orlando replied, “anywhere she can get a booking at a reasonable time will be fine.”
“I’ll call her now,” Viggo said.
“Noooo,” Orlando protested, “don’t go yet, I need you to talk to me.”
“Talk to you? What about? I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Orlando sighed theatrically, “I need you to talk dirty to me.”
“Oh, Good Lord, Orlando, It’s seven in the morning!” Viggo protested, albeit with a chuckle.
“And exactly whose fault is that?” Orlando retorted, “You woke me up, now you have to play with me.”
*******************************************
“Are we nearly there?” Orlando asked, “I’m starving.”
The afternoon concert at Manchester’s Bridgewater Hall had been a selection of light pieces performed in a more relaxed atmosphere than the formal concert of the evening before. Viggo had enjoyed it, he always did enjoy hearing Orlando play but it was a pleasure he rarely managed outside of London and even less so with such an informal programme, so this had been an especial treat.
They had intended to go back to the hotel before dinner, but Sir Mark, the Director and principal conductor of the resident Hallé orchestra, had spotted Viggo in the audience and had refused to let him leave until they had spent some time catching up. Sir Mark was always amusing company and he had produced a very acceptable bottle of red, so neither Viggo nor Orlando had complained but their dinner booking was for seven o’clock and so they had regrettably had to excuse themselves before the second bottle appeared. According to Liv’s instructions their restaurant was relatively central, somewhere between the concert hall and their hotel and so they had opted for a brisk walk rather than a taxi.
“We’ll be there anytime now,” Viggo replied,
“What’s it called?”
Viggo checked his phone “It’s called Greggs,” he said.
Orlando stopped walking, “Greggs?”
“Yes,” Viggo stopped too and turned back to him with a frown, “what’s the matter?”
“G. R. E. G. S?” Orlando enunciated hopefully.
Viggo checked his phone again, “No it has a double G.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Viggo, have you done something to upset Liv, recently?”
“No, of course not, I would never upset Liv.” Despite this assertion Viggo paused and gave it serious consideration, “Not knowingly anyway. Why do you ask?”
“Okay. What time did you call her this morning? Was it right after you spoke to me? So, like seven a.m.”
“It was more like eight by the time I had finished pandering to your needs.” Viggo grinned.
“But did she sound annoyed?”
“No. What is this about? Do you know this Greggs? Have you been there before? Is it bad?”
Orlando tried, very hard, not to laugh. He wasn’t hugely surprised that his lover didn’t recognise the name. He couldn’t imagine the man had ever set foot in one. “I’ve been to Greggs many times, they have them everywhere.”
“So, it’s a chain. Alright, that’s not so bad is it?”
“It’s a chain of… well…, pastry shops.”
“Oh, like Patisserie Valerie? I agree, that’s not exactly fine dining, but it’s…,” Viggo waved his hand vaguely in the air searching for a phrase to reassure his lover, “acceptable enough.”
“No, not really like that,” Orlando shook his head, he was beginning to think that this was a huge practical joke on Liv’s part, “it’s more like, just a takeaway, they don’t usually do… well…, whole dinners.”
“Ah, alright, I think Liv did mention that it was a new venture, so, perhaps they are branching out.”
Orlando, sighed heavily, he was still sceptical and he could see their anticipated romantic dinner sinking very quickly over the horizon, he pulled his phone from his pocket and began to search, “Ahhh!” he said having found what he wanted to know, “Liv is quite right, certain Greggs in select locations, are putting on a Valentine’s Day dinner as a one off event, including here in Manchester.”
“Well there you are,” Viggo beamed, “it’s a unique opportunity. I don’t mind trying something different.”
Orlando continued reading but then after getting the gist he looked up at his lover and tried to decide exactly how to pitch this, “Right, well, the good news is, it won’t cost us a lot.”
“I don’t really care what it costs,” Viggo frowned, “but I assume you are about to deliver the bad news. So?”
“There won’t be a wine list.”
“No wine?” Viggo finally appeared disconcerted by the prospect of a Greggs’ dinner.
“There’s prosecco,”
Viggo hesitated but then shrugged, “Well, that will do, I suppose.”
Orlando tried desperately to contain his rising mirth, “The only dessert is doughnuts.”
“Doughnuts?”
“‘Fraid so.”
Viggo looked less happy at this revelation but he shrugged again, “I’m sure I can cope.”
“I’m guessing you’ve never been to a Greggs.” Orlando said, smiling consolingly.
Viggo pondered the question, “Not that I recall. They have them in London do they?”
“Oh yes.”
“And you go there?”
“I’m afraid their gingerbread men are one of my many guilty pleasures.”
“Ah,” Viggo brightened, “more like Pret a Manger then?” He was quite fond of Pret’s charmingly named ‘Godfrey’ gingerbread men himself.
Orlando shook his head sorrowfully, “If only.”
Viggo smiled at his young lover, sometimes Orlando believed him to be slightly out of touch with the less privileged side of life, Viggo liked to prove that he wasn’t. “How bad can it be? There’ll be food and wine, well prosecco, and you, that’s all I need.”
Orlando grinned and then linking his arm through Viggo’s propelled them onwards.
“Hold that thought lover.”
As they continued down the street Orlando raised his arm towards a building they were approaching.
“Voila! Our restaurant.”
This time it was Viggo who stopped. “Ah,” he said, “I do recognise the logo now.”
“They’re hard to miss.”
“I have been in to one of those.”
“Really? How was it?”
“It was… alright,” Viggo said hesitantly. “I remember that the staff were extremely friendly but there was a lot of pastry on display.”
“Do you want to go back to the hotel? We could order room service and I could molest you over the coffee.”
Viggo thought about it. “No, I promised you a Valentine’s dinner date. We’re here now and I’m hungry, let’s go in… although.”
“Yes?”
“Can you call the hotel and get them to leave a bottle of champagne in your room, a very good bottle.”
Orlando just nodded and after a quick search dialled the hotel’s number, he made his request and then after listening to the response he grinned at Viggo, “Do we want roses and chocolates as well? There is a Valentine’s package apparently.”
Viggo nodded. “Why not. Tell them, I’ll settle the bill for it separately. I wouldn’t want your agent to think that this is how you entertain yourself when you’re on tour.
******************************
When they entered the hotel room, it was only shortly after nine and after shrugging off his coat and uncharacteristically tossing it over the nearest chair, Viggo made straight for the champagne standing in the ice bucket. He pulled out the bottle, studied the label, emitted a relieved sigh and then opened it with a practised hand.
Orlando took one of the glasses Viggo had filled and stood for a moment, contemplating a toast. It had been an interesting evening, and he was enumerating now just how many times Viggo’s behaviour or reaction had made his heart swell with affection.
He had initially thought that, given their dining destination, it was fortunate that they hadn't had time to return to the hotel and change in to smarter clothes but it turned out that all the other diners had risen to the occasion and Orlando had decided that being underdressed in a Greggs was possibly the most bizarre experience he had ever had. But Viggo, being Viggo, had ignored the functional décor of pastry ovens and drink fridges and had behaved exactly the way he would if they had been dining at the Ritz, he smiled and nodded his thanks at the surprisingly, elegantly attired waiter every time he had laid down yet another plate of something encased in pastry or topped up their exceedingly indifferent prosecco; he’d tasted each dish with serious consideration, as if he might really return it to the kitchen if it were not up to scratch; kept up a lively conversation about Orlando’s performance that afternoon, his own memories of conducting at the Bridgewater and some wild nights out with Sir Mark and he had only been diverted from an enthusiastic appreciation of the mini doughnuts and butterscotch sauce because the classical music that was being piped out through tinny speakers changed to Rachmaninov’s second piano concerto and he’d looked up, smiled and said ‘Ah, Ashkenazy. I do like this particular recording.’ It had also been the first time that Orlando had ever seen Viggo look stunned when perusing the check and he was pretty sure that the tip he had left was actually larger than their bill.
“What are you thinking about?” Viggo asked smiling fondly at his lover as he placed the bottle back in the ice bucket.
“I’m thinking how lucky I am,” Orlando said, “to have you.”
Viggo raised his eyebrows, “Thank you, but I choose to think that I’m the lucky one.”
Orlando raised his glass, “Here’s to us both being lucky men then.”
Viggo clinked his glass against Orlando’s and then swallowed most of the contents in one gulp.
Orlando picked up the box of elegant handmade chocolates that had been placed on the desk. “Would you like a chocolate?”
“I really don’t think I could eat another thing.”
Orlando burst out laughing. “I would imagine not, dinner was certainly... filling.”
“I’m sorry,” Viggo’s shoulders dropped as the pretence that he’d been having a good time finally slipped, “that wasn’t the way I had planned to wine and dine you.”
Orlando shrugged and moved towards his lover. “It wasn’t that bad, there was a great atmosphere,” this was certainly true, all the other diners, presumably having known what to expect, seemed to be enjoying their evening immensely. “And the food was OK, heavy on the pastry admittedly, but I’ve had worse meals, I’ve certainly had worse dates.” He raised a hand to stroke his lover’s cheek. “I was with you, that was the important thing.”
Viggo turned his head so that he could kiss Orlando’s palm. “You’re right of course, this was by no means the worst experience of my life either, I was once forced to play the piano in a railway station.”
“Will you never let that drop!” Orlando said, but he was laughing. Viggo had conducted in most of the major concert halls and opera houses across the globe, and he had been horrified when Orlando had made him play on one of the concourse pianos at St Pancras station.
“I can’t really, not now that you can hold this evening against me.”
“I promise that I will never mention it, well not often anyway.”
They both laughed again and moved closer together, not quite touching, deferring that moment when they would kiss, seeking to increase the pleasure by anticipation.
“I suppose,” said Orlando with a tilt of his head, “that since you took me out to dinner and then paid for this extortionately expensive champagne and the chocolates and flowers you’ll be expecting sex.”
“The flowers are nice,” Viggo said, gazing thoughtfully, at the crystal vase on the side table that contained a dozen long stemmed red roses.
“If you are thinking of making a grand romantic gesture by scattering rose petals on the bed, forget it.”
Viggo chuckled, “Spoilsport?”
“The only thing I want on those sheets is you,” Orlando said softly, leaning forward and brushing his lips against Viggo’s, “so come to bed before the magic of our candlelight dinner wears off.” And he took his lover by the hand and urged him towards the bed.
Orlando had managed to get rid of his clothes and throw himself onto the bed before Viggo had even finished unbuttoning his shirt. He liked to watch Viggo undress, the older man would soon turn fifty but he had a great body and seeing it gradually revealed like this was yet another thing that turned him on.
Viggo knew that his lover liked this little display and took his time, folding each item carefully, trying to pretend that he wasn’t also watching, as Orlando slowly stroked himself, his other arm resting behind his head as he stretched out provocatively on the mattress, so beautiful. Finally naked, Viggo crawled up the bed on all fours and settling between Orlando’s parted thighs, he pulled the younger man’s hand away and greedily swallowed down his cock.
Orlando moaned, and let Viggo suck on his prize for a few minutes before grabbing at his hair. “That’s really great but I want you up here.”
Viggo let Orlando’s cock slip from between his lips and Orlando briefly wished he hadn’t said anything; the man had a talented mouth. Viggo grinned up at him, “I’ll be up there in a minute or two, but this is the best thing I’ve had in my mouth all evening, please just let me enjoy it.”
Orlando tried, unsuccessfully, not to laugh but he obediently sank back into the soft mound of pillows with a groan that turned to a grateful moan as Viggo took him back into his mouth and sucked, not hard, but tantalising enough to bring Orlando to the edge of urgent need.
Viggo, knowing from Orlando’s writhing and panting that his lover was becoming impatient, finally drew back and wiped the saliva from his lips with the back of his hand.
Orlando whimpered at the loss of stimulation but then scrabbled for the bottle of lube he’d left under the pillow and passed it to his lover. “Prep me, quickly, I need you.”
Viggo moved up the bed until he could kiss Orlando on the lips, deeply, hungrily, then he pulled back and placed a hand under the younger man’s chin. “I think, tonight, I need you more,” he whispered huskily, “please,”
Viggo’s plea only served to make Orlando’s cock throb more urgently, but he understood the significance of the request, Viggo wanted to abandon himself to Orlando, this day had not gone as planned and he wanted Orlando to take charge and make it all better and much as Orlando wanted to be fucked, he wanted, even more to give pleasure to his partner. He took a couple of deep breaths and then pushed his lover back into the pillows. “Turn over,” he said, “on your side, so I can hold you.”
“But I want to see you,” Viggo protested.
“I swear Viggo, if I look at you I’ll come before I get inside you, now roll over.”
Viggo rolled and Orlando pumped some of the liquid on to his fingers before sliding them between Viggo’s buttocks.
“Get on with it,” Viggo said impatiently when Orlando seemed content just to stroke teasingly up and down his crease.
“Desperate, are we?” Orlando chuckled, but he pressed the first finger against the ring of muscle; Viggo was tight and he had to twist and manoeuvre to get fully inside. Viggo was panting sharply and Orlando kissed his neck, “I think this is going to take a while,”
“No, just fucking do it.’
“You know I’m not going to do that,” Orlando said.
In his working life his lover was used to being in control and having his orders immediately executed. In the bedroom, as Orlando knew, he quite enjoyed being denied. Viggo sighed his resignation and as a reward Orlando attempted another finger. It seemed like an age though, before he could get him to accept the third and then twist them, occasionally bumping against Viggo’s gland just to let him know who was in charge. But finally, he withdrew the fingers and squeezed out more lube to cover his cock. The effort of concentration had taken the edge off his own arousal and he had to give his member a couple of swift tugs before pulling Viggo back towards his chest and pressing gradually inside. Viggo turned his head, and searched for Orlando’s mouth, the kiss was uncoordinated, their lips more often encountering ear or chin but they finally connected and Orlando could feel more than hear, Viggo moaning around his tongue as he pushed deeper into his lover. He paused and there was a whimper of complaint from Viggo.
“Just give me a minute” Orlando said, “I like to feel you like this,” he had one arm across Viggo’s shoulder and he slid the other hand round to grasp Viggo’s hard heavy cock. Viggo hummed in agreement but clamped his internal muscles around Orlando’s cock making the younger man gasp at the pressure. “Stop doing that,” he ordered shoving hard into Viggo, “I love being inside you and having my hand on your dick, knowing that I’m going to make you come apart, so that I feel every tremor, but I want it to fucking last.”
Viggo closed his own hand around the one Orlando had on his cock squeezing gently “Please,” he said, “Make me come for you, now.”
Viggo begging was too much. Orlando pressed his forehead against his lover’s neck and pulled out, gradually, making Viggo grind his teeth, then pushed back in, slowly at first but picking up speed and force until he was pushing his lover across the bed with the power of his thrusts, his own pleasure building to a critical level so that he was functioning mostly on instinct and his hand was only still clenched around Viggo’s dick because Viggo was holding it there with his own, guiding their movements. Viggo came first, erupting over their entwined hands, his body shuddering against Orlando’s and Orlando held on, his movements becoming increasingly uncoordinated as he clung to his lover’s convulsing frame and then as Viggo collapsed, finally spent, Orlando pushed him on to his front and shoved into him roughly, once, twice, three times before coming, gratefully, deep inside his exhausted lover.
*******************************************
They had recovered enough to finish the bottle of champagne and Orlando was now enjoying having Viggo’s chest as a convenient pillow as they reflected on their evening in Manchester.
“I still can’t decide if Liv was misled or if she was toying with us,” Viggo said, “surely that wasn’t the only restaurant in the City with a free table.”
“Well, actually, I’ve been thinking about that all evening,” Orlando said, rolling over so that he was facing his lover. “When I was checking out the details on my phone, it said that there were only five venues, all in different cities and only one sitting at each and very limited places. I mean it wasn’t very big was it, and I don’t suppose any of the others were any bigger. It also said that all the places had been booked up within twenty minutes of the site opening last week. They were overwhelmed with requests apparently, so there must have been a waiting list in case of cancellations. So, the question really, is how on earth did she manage to get a table at all.”
“You’re saying that we were lucky to get a table there tonight?” Viggo said, slightly aghast.
“I think I am,” Orlando scrunched up his face, “it seems we got in to one of the most sought after venues in the country. It would have been easier to get into the Gordon Ramsay restaurant in Chelsea.”
“Well I’ve always thought that Liv could do anything, but I don’t know if I want to congratulate her over this one or not.”
“It would be ungrateful of us to criticise her for achieving the impossible, but I really want to know how she did it.”
“I do too now,” Viggo agreed, “and first thing tomorrow I’m going to ring her and ask, but right now I just want to sleep. Although I may have to take an indigestion tablet first, I’m not used to eating quite that much pastry in one evening.”
****************************************************************
Greggs Valentine Dinner plan
https://inews.co.uk/inews-lifestyle/food-and-drink/greggs-offering-four-course-valentines-day-dinner-prosecco/
The actual menu
Manchester – City Tower - 15a City Tower, Manchester, M1 4BT
Starter : A composition of canapés - seasoned pork and puff pastry slider, steak & blue cheese en croute, katsu tortilla wrap, Mexican chicken chipotle spoon, béchamel toasted honey cured ham square and tomato gazpacho
Main: Your choice of signature Greggs puff pastry parcel, freshly baked to order, accompanied by oven roasted spiced potato slices and a garnish of fresh Apollo and spinach leaves and sunblush tomatoes
Dessert : A brochette of miniature doughnuts paired with a rich butterscotch flavoured dipping sauce
Petits Fours and Coffee : Belgian dark chocolate brownie, raspberry and almond bite and caramel shortbread. Accompanied by freshly ground Fairtrade coffee made using our own unique blend of mild Arabica beans from Peru and Colombia and rich tasting Robusta beans from Tanzania
To drink : Italian Prosecco, soft drinks, still or sparkling mineral water
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Date: 2018-02-15 07:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-19 02:23 pm (UTC)I loved the playfulness between them. They know each other well. ;)
Thanks for sharing!
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Date: 2018-02-20 09:48 am (UTC)and this one was quite funny, too, I wish I could have seen virgo's face during the dinner :p