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vigorliTitle: Zurich
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC 17
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Beta: And Muse![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silvan_lady Thank you
Disclaimer: This is a work of complete fiction. No offence is intended and no profit is being made
Word Count:3,955
Author’s Note:This was inspired by the pictures coming out of the Zurich Film Festival
Orlando was in bed, sprawled out face down on the pillows, the sheet drawn up only far enough to cover the base of his spine. It wasn’t a deliberate attempt to entice Viggo, really it wasn’t, that was hardly necessary. They’d already fucked this evening, as soon as Orlando had arrived at the hotel. The banter and innuendo during the phone conversation they’d had while he was in the taxi from the airport had been enough to get them both worked up and horny. It had been fast and hard; they’d barely made it to the bed, both still dressed, Viggo cursing as he fumbled with the condom, Orlando urging him to ‘hurry the fuck up’. And it had been good, really good, but over much too soon, enough to take the edge off his need, but that was all.
Viggo had left while Orlando was still struggling to just breathe, jeans around his ankles, arse in the air; because he needed to shower and dress for that evening’s reception or presentation or whatever the fuck it was that was depriving Orlando of his company. Orlando had lain there alone for several minutes; if he didn’t move then he could still feel the grip of Viggo’s fingers on his hips, the warm, weight of his body pressed against his back and the overwhelming pain fuelled pleasure of Viggo slamming into him. Just remembering it had made his dick jerk and leak even more fluid onto the wet patch spreading out beneath him on the satin bedspread.
He could have gone out, after he’d pulled himself together and showered, there were many people here that he knew and who would have been happy to share a beer with him. He could have mingled with the crowds, joined in with the general razzmatazz that surrounded any film festival, but instead he’d ordered room service and watched a film. Half watched really, because his mind was constantly drawn back to the present; the rash stupidity of being here at all, and Viggo; Viggo, Viggo, Viggo.
He’d lied to Viggo about his reason for being in Zurich; just a twenty-four hour stopover, supposedly seeing a director who was also attending the festival about a role in a minor art house film, this was the only time they were going to be on the same continent and both available to talk. It was only a half lie; this time. The director was a friend, Orlando would see him tomorrow, but there was no film. Orlando had been in southern europe, only a short plane ride away. He’d seen that they were showing Green Book at the Zurich Film Festival and the temptation of seeing Viggo had been too great to resist. He didn’t feel guilty about the subterfuge, he’d passed that point a long time ago.
Viggo had taken the spare keycard, so all he had to do was sit here and wait. He’d tried meditating and then another beer from the minibar, but neither had helped, so he’d thrown himself into bed and closed his eyes. Sleep was something he was low on, he’d been ricocheting around the world for weeks, and he easily drifted into a light doze. The opening door woke him instantly.
“Orlando? Are you awake?” Viggo asked in a low voice.
Orlando didn’t move but his heart rate had already risen. “Yeah, I’m awake.”
“Awake enough?” Viggo asked, his tone amused now.
“Always.” Without lifting it from the pillow, Orlando turned his head to look at Viggo; and fuck but the man was stunning. He was wearing a dark suit and tie and a white shirt, a look that he didn’t often adopt but which suited him, especially with the greying hair. Orlando’s dick had begun to fill at the sound of Viggo’s voice but now it really took notice. Orlando was conflicted; he would have liked Viggo naked and in bed with him right now, but he would also have liked to sink to his knees, slowly unzip the smart dress pants and suck Viggo off, with his face pressed against the smooth fabric and his hands scrunching up the fine cotton shirt as he gripped Viggo’s torso.
“Are you sure?”
“Just get over here.”
Viggo laughed, but toed off his shoes and tossed his jacket over a chair. “I don’t want you blaming me if you’re half asleep at your meeting tomorrow,” he said as he unbuttoned his shirt.
“I won’t,” Orlando replied, still not moving, just watching, as Viggo slowly removed the rest of his clothes.
“How’s the girlfriend?” Viggo’s mouth twitched into a lopsided grin.
“She’s fine,” Orlando replied; he still didn’t move, but his erection wilted slightly. He wouldn’t ask about Ariadna, he wouldn’t. He knew she wasn’t in Zurich and that was all he cared about. They hadn’t exchanged social niceties earlier. He’d texted Viggo his room number when he’d checked in and the man had met him at the door. The fierce kissing had precluded all conversation. His conscience prompted him to play nice now though. “How’s…,” dammit, he refused to say her name, “…yours?” he finished lamely.
“Also fine,” Viggo replied lightly, pulling off his boxers and then sitting down on the bed to remove his socks. That accomplished, he bent over and kissed the nape of Orlando’s neck. Orlando shuddered at the gentle touch. He felt Viggo smile against his skin and then his mouth travelled slowly down over his spine, licking, nipping. By the time Viggo pulled the sheet away Orlando was quivering with needy anticipation. Viggo’s tongue slid between his buttocks and flattened over his hole and he clawed at the pillows and tried to just breathe as the wet muscle finally pushed inside. He attempted to raise himself off the bed a little so that he could slide a hand beneath his body and get hold of his erection which was now painfully hard and begging for attention, but Viggo splayed a hand across his back and forced him to stay where he was. He huffed his annoyance but Viggo’s responding chuckle only heightened the already overwhelming pleasure of being rimmed and forced a wailing moan out of him.
Viggo withdrew. “Too much?” he asked smugly.
Orlando moaned again. “You’re a fucking tease.”
Viggo massaged his back with the restraining hand. “I know. Do you want to pass me a condom?”
Orlando reached under the pillow and passed over the packet and a bottle of lube. He heard the foil being ripped open and the snap of latex as Viggo rolled it on.
“Do you want to turn over?”
“No.” Orlando pressed his face into the pillow. He did desperately want to turn over, to watch Viggo as they fucked, to stroke Viggo’s face, tangle his fingers in his hair, to watch him come, to watch as his own release sprayed across Viggo’s chest. It wasn’t a good idea. That was too much, and he’d feel compelled to say all the things he shouldn’t say. “No, I’m good like this.”
“Orlando?” Viggo’s voice was suddenly sharper, concerned. “Are you okay?”
Orlando tried not to let the sigh escape. “I’m good, just get to it.”
“Are you sure? Do you want to switch? I know I was a bit rough earlier?”
“I notice you’re only asking me this after you’ve got the condom on,” Orlando replied, forcing himself to sound amused.
Viggo chuckled and squeezed Orlando’s buttock. “Alright then, spread for me huh?”
Orlando obligingly parted his thighs and Viggo’s finger slipped inside; when it found little resistance another followed almost at once, and Orlando panted through the sting even while impaling himself, trying to take them deeper.
“Hey, steady,” Viggo admonished. “I don’t want you having to stand up all day tomorrow.”
Orlando again huffed his annoyance. Viggo probably should have thought of that earlier this evening when he’d rammed into him after the briefest of preparation. “I can take you right now, so for fuck’s sake just get on with it,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Viggo had been in the act of twisting the fingers, but he paused and then withdrew them.
“Okay, if that’s what you want.” Viggo pulled at Orlando’s hips raising him off the bed slightly and Orlando immediately grabbed his own dick and squeezed, distracting himself as Viggo pushed into him. He’d expected fast, fast would have been easier to deal with, but Viggo had opted for slow, halting every time Orlando’s breath hitched, every time he cursed. When Viggo finally bottomed out they were both drenched in sweat but as Orlando became accustomed to having him there, filling him, it felt so fucking good.
Viggo, breathing heavily, stretched himself out over Orlando’s back. Orlando could feel his heartbeat, could feel his own blood pounding in his ears. He had stopped fisting himself but Viggo’s hand snaked round to cover his own. For what seemed like aeons neither of them moved. This was the closeness he craved, the completeness, he wanted to preserve it; this here, this now, this forever. Viggo pulled out, adjusted his position, and pushed back in, deeper, so much deeper, and they both groaned. Then he started to thrust, setting at first a measured, even pace, their entwined fingers on his penis giving Orlando exactly the friction he needed, then faster, harder until they were rocking together, oblivious to anything but the need to chase this to the inevitable conclusion.
“Come for me,” Viggo gasped out, “come for me now!” He increased the pressure and speed and Orlando’s control shattered, Viggo’s name spilling from his lips in gulping sobs as he came. And Viggo continued to just fuck him through it, holding him and alternately spitting out curses and words of reassurance until he too climaxed.
“I love being inside you like this,” Viggo panted in Orlando’s ear, as they collapsed onto the bed, “feeling your body pulsating around me.”
Orlando bit his lip so hard he could taste blood. Almost the words he wanted to hear, but not. He flexed his muscles against Viggo, still rigid inside him, and was gratified by the response he dragged from Viggo’s heaving lungs. And why would Viggo say them now when he’d never said them before? If he’d ever been going to say them surely he would have done it in New Zealand when they were together all the time. Why would he, during the subsequent, what was it now, eighteen years, suddenly decide that he loved Orlando? And in the face of that indifference why did Orlando keep putting himself through this, because with every encounter he was finding it harder and harder not to say the words himself, not to scream it as he climaxed, not to whisper it as they lay together like this, in post coital complicity. Wasn’t this the definition of insanity; to keep repeating the same action time after time, expecting a different result? Expecting that after all these years, all these fucks; this time, Viggo would say, ‘I love you, Orlando’.
Viggo extricated himself and then rolled off the bed and headed to the ensuite. Orlando heard the toilet flush and the taps running as Viggo rinsed himself off.
“I better go,” Viggo said when he came back into the bedroom, and he began picking up his clothes.
Orlando swallowed all the things he wanted to scream and just nodded, and smiled. “Yeah, sure.”
Viggo never stayed the night, not since they left New Zealand. It had seemed logical at first, during the LOTR premieres; getting caught in bed together would not have been a great idea. Imagine the PR department having to spin that one. As a young actor in his first major role that thought had certainly made Orlando nervous. He wouldn’t care about that these days, hell there were hardly any PR faux pas he hadn’t made. Viggo was half dressed now, shirt unbuttoned, jacket over his arm.
“Will I see you at breakfast?” Viggo asked.
Orlando wondered how he was going to be able to eat, his lip was almost bitten through, but he couldn’t stop himself asking for more. “You could see me before breakfast, if you like.”
Viggo half smiled. “I could. What time would be good for you?”
Orlando was about to respond with ‘anytime you like’ when he remembered that he was supposed to be on a schedule. “About eight?”
Viggo nodded. “Sure.” Then he bent down and kissed him, softly, on the lips, then on the forehead. “Sleep well.”
“You too,” Orlando managed to respond, then he watched Viggo leave, without ever turning around for a last look. “I love you,” he whispered as door clicked shut.
*********************************
Viggo paused, keycard halfway to the pad. What the fuck was he doing? In less than a month he would be sixty, he shouldn’t still be fucking younger men. He smiled wryly to himself; the statement so misleading, there was no plural involved, there was just Orlando. But still, he was getting too old for this shit. He should have stopped it, this whole friends with benefits in perpetuity. He should have stopped it as soon as they left New Zealand, or at least after the LOTR promotion rollercoaster had finished. Certainly he should have stopped it after Orlando had married and had Flynn, after he himself had moved in with Ariadna; he should have stopped it. It was just that the ‘benefits’ were so fucking addictive. Sometimes, even rolling Orlando’s name around on his tongue could make him hard. And now, it was a deeply embedded Pavlovian response.
This afternoon, seeing Orlando’s number on his ringing phone, his dick had swelled inconveniently. He’d gestured to the rest of the guests that he had to take this call and hurried outside. And hearing his voice, bright and eager, as always, he’d been incapable of saying no. He was in Zurich, Viggo hadn’t really listened, to the reason, a meeting maybe, he hadn’t really cared. Orlando was in Zurich, would be at the hotel shortly, could they meet? Could they meet? His head said, No! No! No! His dick said, Yes! Yes! Yes!
It had been all over in a matter of minutes. They’d stumbled into Orlando’s room, attempting to extract each others tonsils with their tongues and simultaneously negotiate the complication of zips. Orlando had handed him a condom and Viggo had bent him over the bedframe and fucked him. Then he’d left, because his schedule at this jamboree didn’t allow for private time until midnight.
But now he was here, and off duty. He’d actually escaped early, snuck out like a horny teenager, hoping no one would notice and really the only reason he was still on this side of the door was because he thought Orlando might not even be in. This was a film festival; Orlando would know lots of people here. He would surely have gone out, met up with a younger crowd, be partying until the early hours. Only, when he’d handed Viggo the keycard he’d said, ‘I’ll be here, come by, whatever time you’re done, it doesn’t matter’.
He closed his eyes and took several deep, calming breaths, he could do this, he was an actor, he could give Orlando what he so obviously wanted. Yeah, okay, he wanted it too. But this time, this time, he would finish it. He snapped the keycard against the pad and turned the handle.
Fuck! His eyes immediately took in the scene. Orlando, apparently sleeping, naked, the sheet only just covering his ass, all that glorious, lightly bronzed muscle on full display, and the shaved head, hair just starting to grow back. His heart skipped a beat and his dick filled. If he hadn’t wanted it before he certainly did now.
“Orlando? Are you awake?” he asked, half reluctant to disturb him.
“Yeah, I’m awake,” Orlando replied drowsily.
“Awake enough?”
“Always.” Orlando turned his head and Viggo felt the full power of those deep, liquid, brown eyes on him.
“Are you sure?”
“Just get over here.”
Viggo laughed. “I don’t want you blaming me if you’re half asleep at your meeting tomorrow,” he said as he began to dispense with his clothes.
“I won’t,” Orlando replied, watching him.
Viggo felt almost intimidated by the scrutiny. Cruelly, to try and regain some control, he went for the jugular. “How’s the girlfriend?”
A scowl flitted across Orlando’s face. “She’s fine,” he replied. Then after a pause added. “How’s…,” another pause, “…yours?”
“Also fine,” Viggo replied guiltily, sitting down on the bed to remove his socks.
He hadn’t needed to ask how the girlfriend was; he already knew. He’d seen the recent pictures of them both on the internet, seen the expression on her face as she gazed at Orlando, the woman was completely besotted. He could quite imagine that if Orlando had said to her, ‘I’m going to Zurich and while I’m there I might fuck Viggo Mortensen’ she would have replied, ‘oh that’s alright Darling, I know that you boys must have your fun’. Ariadna, if she found out, and fuck knows she usually did, would be a lot less forgiving. What was he doing here? What the fuck was he doing here?
What he was doing, right now, was dipping his tongue into the dark, musky cleft between Orlando’s tanned cheeks. He loved how Orlando tasted there, loved how he could slip his tongue deep into his channel and make Orlando moan. Orlando was also wriggling, trying to lift himself off the bed and Viggo pressed a firm hand down on his back, keeping him in place. Orlando objected, Viggo laughed, and Orlando’s moan turned in to a trembling wail.
“Too much?” he asked. He didn’t want to stop but he knew from long experience that Orlando couldn’t take this much intensity for very long.
“You’re a fucking tease,” Orlando said, crossly.
“I know.” He still felt smug about it. “Do you want to pass me a condom?”
Orlando unearthed both condom and lube and handed them back to him.
“Do you want to turn over?”
“No,” Orlando replied, sounding like he didn’t really mean it. Sounding almost like he didn’t want to do this at all. “No, I’m good like this.”
Viggo wasn’t sure how to interpret this response. “Orlando? Are you okay?”
He heard exasperation in Orlando’s voice this time. “I’m good, just get to it.”
Viggo wanted to get to it, he really did, but he also wanted to be certain the Orlando was comfortable with the situation. “Are you sure? Do you want to switch? I know I was a bit rough earlier?” Rough! That was something of an understatement. He’d slicked up a couple of fingers but barely given Orlando time to adjust before he’d replaced them with his dick. On the other hand, Orlando had been the one begging him for, ‘faster, harder, right fucking now’.
“I notice you’re only asking me this after you’ve got the condom on,” Orlando said, sardonically.
Viggo was not completely reassured, but he also knew that Orlando did not respond well to being interrogated. “Alright then, spread for me huh?”
He’d barely managed to get the second finger inserted before Orlando was grinding down on them, his breathing coming in quick erratic bursts. “Hey, steady, I don’t want you having to stand up all day tomorrow.”
“I can take you right now,” Orlando hissed, “so for fuck’s sake just get on with it.”
Orlando was always a pushy bottom, and Viggo always gave in. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” He manoeuvred Orlando into a better position and pushed in, but slowly; he wasn’t going to cede all control. He would have preferred doing this face to face this time, so that he could cradle Orlando’s shorn head, be able to kiss him, see him in those final moments when he just let go and abandoned himself to his orgasm. But Orlando had wanted it this way and so this was how it would go. He stopped every time he felt Orlando tense up, every time he tried to suppress a curse; the effort of holding back was so great that by the time he was fully inside him the sweat was dripping off his forehead and pooling on Orlando’s skin.
Viggo, lowered himself down so that he was flush against Orlando’s back and he reached round to grasp his penis, the younger man’s hand was already there so he just closed his own hand over it. He didn’t want to move, it felt so fucking great, being like this but it was all so transient, these few hours together in this city, in this hotel room, these few minutes when they were fused together, when they seemed like one being. One being, but in essence two opposite poles that could never fully connect.
Orlando fidgeted, needing momentum, Orlando always needed momentum and Viggo, shaken out of his reverie responded. He pulled out, rearranged their limbs to get a better angle and then plunged back in, over and over, increasing the speed and pressure until he felt his own climax hovering. “Come for me, come for me now,” Viggo pleaded, he was so close himself but he wanted, needed Orlando to come first. And Orlando came, shuddering in his arms and spilling over their entwined hands. Viggo pushed on relentlessly until he too tumbled over the edge, desperately biting back the feelings he wanted to express but didn’t want Orlando to hear, feelings that didn’t fit into their ‘fuck buddies’ arrangement.
He couldn’t help it though, couldn’t not say at least something. “I love being inside you like this,” he said, as they collapsed onto the bed still locked together, “feeling your body pulsating around me.” He felt Orlando tense, felt the pressure on his softening penis, it was too intense and he let out an involuntary, ragged moan. He didn’t want this to end, not yet, not ever, didn’t want to abandon Orlando’s still fluttering channel, but it was becoming inevitable. He gently pulled out, holding on to the condom and quickly retreating into the ensuite to clean himself up.
“I better go,” he said when he came back into the bedroom, and he started to collect his clothes. He knew better than to linger, Orlando would get restless, almost impatient with him. He used to wonder if he’d done something wrong but now he just accepted that Orlando preferred him not to stick around after sex. He’d never expected that things would be easy, like they had been in New Zealand. Orlando was always destined for fame. Now he had a career, a family, a reputation to preserve, a whole other life. Viggo loved him, but he had nothing to offer him, other than an occasional fuck. Maybe if he just told him how he felt, Orlando would finish this for him.
“Yeah, sure,” Orlando said.
But he still couldn’t quite let go, couldn’t resist dragging this out. “Will I see you at breakfast?” he asked.
“You could see me before breakfast, if you like.” Orlando said, the invitation clear.
He would like, he would like very much. Because apparently he could take as much torture as Orlando was willing to mete out and any idea of him ending this had evaporated. “I could. What time would be good for you?”
“About eight?”
“Sure.” He bent down, and kissed Orlando, softly, on the lips, then on the forehead. “Sleep well.”
“You too,” Orlando said.
Viggo got to the door and through it without looking back. That was something. He let the door swing shut behind him and then turned and pressed his forehead against the wood. “I love you,” he whispered.
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC 17
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Beta: And Muse
silvan_lady Thank you Disclaimer: This is a work of complete fiction. No offence is intended and no profit is being made
Word Count:3,955
Author’s Note:This was inspired by the pictures coming out of the Zurich Film Festival
Orlando was in bed, sprawled out face down on the pillows, the sheet drawn up only far enough to cover the base of his spine. It wasn’t a deliberate attempt to entice Viggo, really it wasn’t, that was hardly necessary. They’d already fucked this evening, as soon as Orlando had arrived at the hotel. The banter and innuendo during the phone conversation they’d had while he was in the taxi from the airport had been enough to get them both worked up and horny. It had been fast and hard; they’d barely made it to the bed, both still dressed, Viggo cursing as he fumbled with the condom, Orlando urging him to ‘hurry the fuck up’. And it had been good, really good, but over much too soon, enough to take the edge off his need, but that was all.
Viggo had left while Orlando was still struggling to just breathe, jeans around his ankles, arse in the air; because he needed to shower and dress for that evening’s reception or presentation or whatever the fuck it was that was depriving Orlando of his company. Orlando had lain there alone for several minutes; if he didn’t move then he could still feel the grip of Viggo’s fingers on his hips, the warm, weight of his body pressed against his back and the overwhelming pain fuelled pleasure of Viggo slamming into him. Just remembering it had made his dick jerk and leak even more fluid onto the wet patch spreading out beneath him on the satin bedspread.
He could have gone out, after he’d pulled himself together and showered, there were many people here that he knew and who would have been happy to share a beer with him. He could have mingled with the crowds, joined in with the general razzmatazz that surrounded any film festival, but instead he’d ordered room service and watched a film. Half watched really, because his mind was constantly drawn back to the present; the rash stupidity of being here at all, and Viggo; Viggo, Viggo, Viggo.
He’d lied to Viggo about his reason for being in Zurich; just a twenty-four hour stopover, supposedly seeing a director who was also attending the festival about a role in a minor art house film, this was the only time they were going to be on the same continent and both available to talk. It was only a half lie; this time. The director was a friend, Orlando would see him tomorrow, but there was no film. Orlando had been in southern europe, only a short plane ride away. He’d seen that they were showing Green Book at the Zurich Film Festival and the temptation of seeing Viggo had been too great to resist. He didn’t feel guilty about the subterfuge, he’d passed that point a long time ago.
Viggo had taken the spare keycard, so all he had to do was sit here and wait. He’d tried meditating and then another beer from the minibar, but neither had helped, so he’d thrown himself into bed and closed his eyes. Sleep was something he was low on, he’d been ricocheting around the world for weeks, and he easily drifted into a light doze. The opening door woke him instantly.
“Orlando? Are you awake?” Viggo asked in a low voice.
Orlando didn’t move but his heart rate had already risen. “Yeah, I’m awake.”
“Awake enough?” Viggo asked, his tone amused now.
“Always.” Without lifting it from the pillow, Orlando turned his head to look at Viggo; and fuck but the man was stunning. He was wearing a dark suit and tie and a white shirt, a look that he didn’t often adopt but which suited him, especially with the greying hair. Orlando’s dick had begun to fill at the sound of Viggo’s voice but now it really took notice. Orlando was conflicted; he would have liked Viggo naked and in bed with him right now, but he would also have liked to sink to his knees, slowly unzip the smart dress pants and suck Viggo off, with his face pressed against the smooth fabric and his hands scrunching up the fine cotton shirt as he gripped Viggo’s torso.
“Are you sure?”
“Just get over here.”
Viggo laughed, but toed off his shoes and tossed his jacket over a chair. “I don’t want you blaming me if you’re half asleep at your meeting tomorrow,” he said as he unbuttoned his shirt.
“I won’t,” Orlando replied, still not moving, just watching, as Viggo slowly removed the rest of his clothes.
“How’s the girlfriend?” Viggo’s mouth twitched into a lopsided grin.
“She’s fine,” Orlando replied; he still didn’t move, but his erection wilted slightly. He wouldn’t ask about Ariadna, he wouldn’t. He knew she wasn’t in Zurich and that was all he cared about. They hadn’t exchanged social niceties earlier. He’d texted Viggo his room number when he’d checked in and the man had met him at the door. The fierce kissing had precluded all conversation. His conscience prompted him to play nice now though. “How’s…,” dammit, he refused to say her name, “…yours?” he finished lamely.
“Also fine,” Viggo replied lightly, pulling off his boxers and then sitting down on the bed to remove his socks. That accomplished, he bent over and kissed the nape of Orlando’s neck. Orlando shuddered at the gentle touch. He felt Viggo smile against his skin and then his mouth travelled slowly down over his spine, licking, nipping. By the time Viggo pulled the sheet away Orlando was quivering with needy anticipation. Viggo’s tongue slid between his buttocks and flattened over his hole and he clawed at the pillows and tried to just breathe as the wet muscle finally pushed inside. He attempted to raise himself off the bed a little so that he could slide a hand beneath his body and get hold of his erection which was now painfully hard and begging for attention, but Viggo splayed a hand across his back and forced him to stay where he was. He huffed his annoyance but Viggo’s responding chuckle only heightened the already overwhelming pleasure of being rimmed and forced a wailing moan out of him.
Viggo withdrew. “Too much?” he asked smugly.
Orlando moaned again. “You’re a fucking tease.”
Viggo massaged his back with the restraining hand. “I know. Do you want to pass me a condom?”
Orlando reached under the pillow and passed over the packet and a bottle of lube. He heard the foil being ripped open and the snap of latex as Viggo rolled it on.
“Do you want to turn over?”
“No.” Orlando pressed his face into the pillow. He did desperately want to turn over, to watch Viggo as they fucked, to stroke Viggo’s face, tangle his fingers in his hair, to watch him come, to watch as his own release sprayed across Viggo’s chest. It wasn’t a good idea. That was too much, and he’d feel compelled to say all the things he shouldn’t say. “No, I’m good like this.”
“Orlando?” Viggo’s voice was suddenly sharper, concerned. “Are you okay?”
Orlando tried not to let the sigh escape. “I’m good, just get to it.”
“Are you sure? Do you want to switch? I know I was a bit rough earlier?”
“I notice you’re only asking me this after you’ve got the condom on,” Orlando replied, forcing himself to sound amused.
Viggo chuckled and squeezed Orlando’s buttock. “Alright then, spread for me huh?”
Orlando obligingly parted his thighs and Viggo’s finger slipped inside; when it found little resistance another followed almost at once, and Orlando panted through the sting even while impaling himself, trying to take them deeper.
“Hey, steady,” Viggo admonished. “I don’t want you having to stand up all day tomorrow.”
Orlando again huffed his annoyance. Viggo probably should have thought of that earlier this evening when he’d rammed into him after the briefest of preparation. “I can take you right now, so for fuck’s sake just get on with it,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Viggo had been in the act of twisting the fingers, but he paused and then withdrew them.
“Okay, if that’s what you want.” Viggo pulled at Orlando’s hips raising him off the bed slightly and Orlando immediately grabbed his own dick and squeezed, distracting himself as Viggo pushed into him. He’d expected fast, fast would have been easier to deal with, but Viggo had opted for slow, halting every time Orlando’s breath hitched, every time he cursed. When Viggo finally bottomed out they were both drenched in sweat but as Orlando became accustomed to having him there, filling him, it felt so fucking good.
Viggo, breathing heavily, stretched himself out over Orlando’s back. Orlando could feel his heartbeat, could feel his own blood pounding in his ears. He had stopped fisting himself but Viggo’s hand snaked round to cover his own. For what seemed like aeons neither of them moved. This was the closeness he craved, the completeness, he wanted to preserve it; this here, this now, this forever. Viggo pulled out, adjusted his position, and pushed back in, deeper, so much deeper, and they both groaned. Then he started to thrust, setting at first a measured, even pace, their entwined fingers on his penis giving Orlando exactly the friction he needed, then faster, harder until they were rocking together, oblivious to anything but the need to chase this to the inevitable conclusion.
“Come for me,” Viggo gasped out, “come for me now!” He increased the pressure and speed and Orlando’s control shattered, Viggo’s name spilling from his lips in gulping sobs as he came. And Viggo continued to just fuck him through it, holding him and alternately spitting out curses and words of reassurance until he too climaxed.
“I love being inside you like this,” Viggo panted in Orlando’s ear, as they collapsed onto the bed, “feeling your body pulsating around me.”
Orlando bit his lip so hard he could taste blood. Almost the words he wanted to hear, but not. He flexed his muscles against Viggo, still rigid inside him, and was gratified by the response he dragged from Viggo’s heaving lungs. And why would Viggo say them now when he’d never said them before? If he’d ever been going to say them surely he would have done it in New Zealand when they were together all the time. Why would he, during the subsequent, what was it now, eighteen years, suddenly decide that he loved Orlando? And in the face of that indifference why did Orlando keep putting himself through this, because with every encounter he was finding it harder and harder not to say the words himself, not to scream it as he climaxed, not to whisper it as they lay together like this, in post coital complicity. Wasn’t this the definition of insanity; to keep repeating the same action time after time, expecting a different result? Expecting that after all these years, all these fucks; this time, Viggo would say, ‘I love you, Orlando’.
Viggo extricated himself and then rolled off the bed and headed to the ensuite. Orlando heard the toilet flush and the taps running as Viggo rinsed himself off.
“I better go,” Viggo said when he came back into the bedroom, and he began picking up his clothes.
Orlando swallowed all the things he wanted to scream and just nodded, and smiled. “Yeah, sure.”
Viggo never stayed the night, not since they left New Zealand. It had seemed logical at first, during the LOTR premieres; getting caught in bed together would not have been a great idea. Imagine the PR department having to spin that one. As a young actor in his first major role that thought had certainly made Orlando nervous. He wouldn’t care about that these days, hell there were hardly any PR faux pas he hadn’t made. Viggo was half dressed now, shirt unbuttoned, jacket over his arm.
“Will I see you at breakfast?” Viggo asked.
Orlando wondered how he was going to be able to eat, his lip was almost bitten through, but he couldn’t stop himself asking for more. “You could see me before breakfast, if you like.”
Viggo half smiled. “I could. What time would be good for you?”
Orlando was about to respond with ‘anytime you like’ when he remembered that he was supposed to be on a schedule. “About eight?”
Viggo nodded. “Sure.” Then he bent down and kissed him, softly, on the lips, then on the forehead. “Sleep well.”
“You too,” Orlando managed to respond, then he watched Viggo leave, without ever turning around for a last look. “I love you,” he whispered as door clicked shut.
*********************************
Viggo paused, keycard halfway to the pad. What the fuck was he doing? In less than a month he would be sixty, he shouldn’t still be fucking younger men. He smiled wryly to himself; the statement so misleading, there was no plural involved, there was just Orlando. But still, he was getting too old for this shit. He should have stopped it, this whole friends with benefits in perpetuity. He should have stopped it as soon as they left New Zealand, or at least after the LOTR promotion rollercoaster had finished. Certainly he should have stopped it after Orlando had married and had Flynn, after he himself had moved in with Ariadna; he should have stopped it. It was just that the ‘benefits’ were so fucking addictive. Sometimes, even rolling Orlando’s name around on his tongue could make him hard. And now, it was a deeply embedded Pavlovian response.
This afternoon, seeing Orlando’s number on his ringing phone, his dick had swelled inconveniently. He’d gestured to the rest of the guests that he had to take this call and hurried outside. And hearing his voice, bright and eager, as always, he’d been incapable of saying no. He was in Zurich, Viggo hadn’t really listened, to the reason, a meeting maybe, he hadn’t really cared. Orlando was in Zurich, would be at the hotel shortly, could they meet? Could they meet? His head said, No! No! No! His dick said, Yes! Yes! Yes!
It had been all over in a matter of minutes. They’d stumbled into Orlando’s room, attempting to extract each others tonsils with their tongues and simultaneously negotiate the complication of zips. Orlando had handed him a condom and Viggo had bent him over the bedframe and fucked him. Then he’d left, because his schedule at this jamboree didn’t allow for private time until midnight.
But now he was here, and off duty. He’d actually escaped early, snuck out like a horny teenager, hoping no one would notice and really the only reason he was still on this side of the door was because he thought Orlando might not even be in. This was a film festival; Orlando would know lots of people here. He would surely have gone out, met up with a younger crowd, be partying until the early hours. Only, when he’d handed Viggo the keycard he’d said, ‘I’ll be here, come by, whatever time you’re done, it doesn’t matter’.
He closed his eyes and took several deep, calming breaths, he could do this, he was an actor, he could give Orlando what he so obviously wanted. Yeah, okay, he wanted it too. But this time, this time, he would finish it. He snapped the keycard against the pad and turned the handle.
Fuck! His eyes immediately took in the scene. Orlando, apparently sleeping, naked, the sheet only just covering his ass, all that glorious, lightly bronzed muscle on full display, and the shaved head, hair just starting to grow back. His heart skipped a beat and his dick filled. If he hadn’t wanted it before he certainly did now.
“Orlando? Are you awake?” he asked, half reluctant to disturb him.
“Yeah, I’m awake,” Orlando replied drowsily.
“Awake enough?”
“Always.” Orlando turned his head and Viggo felt the full power of those deep, liquid, brown eyes on him.
“Are you sure?”
“Just get over here.”
Viggo laughed. “I don’t want you blaming me if you’re half asleep at your meeting tomorrow,” he said as he began to dispense with his clothes.
“I won’t,” Orlando replied, watching him.
Viggo felt almost intimidated by the scrutiny. Cruelly, to try and regain some control, he went for the jugular. “How’s the girlfriend?”
A scowl flitted across Orlando’s face. “She’s fine,” he replied. Then after a pause added. “How’s…,” another pause, “…yours?”
“Also fine,” Viggo replied guiltily, sitting down on the bed to remove his socks.
He hadn’t needed to ask how the girlfriend was; he already knew. He’d seen the recent pictures of them both on the internet, seen the expression on her face as she gazed at Orlando, the woman was completely besotted. He could quite imagine that if Orlando had said to her, ‘I’m going to Zurich and while I’m there I might fuck Viggo Mortensen’ she would have replied, ‘oh that’s alright Darling, I know that you boys must have your fun’. Ariadna, if she found out, and fuck knows she usually did, would be a lot less forgiving. What was he doing here? What the fuck was he doing here?
What he was doing, right now, was dipping his tongue into the dark, musky cleft between Orlando’s tanned cheeks. He loved how Orlando tasted there, loved how he could slip his tongue deep into his channel and make Orlando moan. Orlando was also wriggling, trying to lift himself off the bed and Viggo pressed a firm hand down on his back, keeping him in place. Orlando objected, Viggo laughed, and Orlando’s moan turned in to a trembling wail.
“Too much?” he asked. He didn’t want to stop but he knew from long experience that Orlando couldn’t take this much intensity for very long.
“You’re a fucking tease,” Orlando said, crossly.
“I know.” He still felt smug about it. “Do you want to pass me a condom?”
Orlando unearthed both condom and lube and handed them back to him.
“Do you want to turn over?”
“No,” Orlando replied, sounding like he didn’t really mean it. Sounding almost like he didn’t want to do this at all. “No, I’m good like this.”
Viggo wasn’t sure how to interpret this response. “Orlando? Are you okay?”
He heard exasperation in Orlando’s voice this time. “I’m good, just get to it.”
Viggo wanted to get to it, he really did, but he also wanted to be certain the Orlando was comfortable with the situation. “Are you sure? Do you want to switch? I know I was a bit rough earlier?” Rough! That was something of an understatement. He’d slicked up a couple of fingers but barely given Orlando time to adjust before he’d replaced them with his dick. On the other hand, Orlando had been the one begging him for, ‘faster, harder, right fucking now’.
“I notice you’re only asking me this after you’ve got the condom on,” Orlando said, sardonically.
Viggo was not completely reassured, but he also knew that Orlando did not respond well to being interrogated. “Alright then, spread for me huh?”
He’d barely managed to get the second finger inserted before Orlando was grinding down on them, his breathing coming in quick erratic bursts. “Hey, steady, I don’t want you having to stand up all day tomorrow.”
“I can take you right now,” Orlando hissed, “so for fuck’s sake just get on with it.”
Orlando was always a pushy bottom, and Viggo always gave in. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” He manoeuvred Orlando into a better position and pushed in, but slowly; he wasn’t going to cede all control. He would have preferred doing this face to face this time, so that he could cradle Orlando’s shorn head, be able to kiss him, see him in those final moments when he just let go and abandoned himself to his orgasm. But Orlando had wanted it this way and so this was how it would go. He stopped every time he felt Orlando tense up, every time he tried to suppress a curse; the effort of holding back was so great that by the time he was fully inside him the sweat was dripping off his forehead and pooling on Orlando’s skin.
Viggo, lowered himself down so that he was flush against Orlando’s back and he reached round to grasp his penis, the younger man’s hand was already there so he just closed his own hand over it. He didn’t want to move, it felt so fucking great, being like this but it was all so transient, these few hours together in this city, in this hotel room, these few minutes when they were fused together, when they seemed like one being. One being, but in essence two opposite poles that could never fully connect.
Orlando fidgeted, needing momentum, Orlando always needed momentum and Viggo, shaken out of his reverie responded. He pulled out, rearranged their limbs to get a better angle and then plunged back in, over and over, increasing the speed and pressure until he felt his own climax hovering. “Come for me, come for me now,” Viggo pleaded, he was so close himself but he wanted, needed Orlando to come first. And Orlando came, shuddering in his arms and spilling over their entwined hands. Viggo pushed on relentlessly until he too tumbled over the edge, desperately biting back the feelings he wanted to express but didn’t want Orlando to hear, feelings that didn’t fit into their ‘fuck buddies’ arrangement.
He couldn’t help it though, couldn’t not say at least something. “I love being inside you like this,” he said, as they collapsed onto the bed still locked together, “feeling your body pulsating around me.” He felt Orlando tense, felt the pressure on his softening penis, it was too intense and he let out an involuntary, ragged moan. He didn’t want this to end, not yet, not ever, didn’t want to abandon Orlando’s still fluttering channel, but it was becoming inevitable. He gently pulled out, holding on to the condom and quickly retreating into the ensuite to clean himself up.
“I better go,” he said when he came back into the bedroom, and he started to collect his clothes. He knew better than to linger, Orlando would get restless, almost impatient with him. He used to wonder if he’d done something wrong but now he just accepted that Orlando preferred him not to stick around after sex. He’d never expected that things would be easy, like they had been in New Zealand. Orlando was always destined for fame. Now he had a career, a family, a reputation to preserve, a whole other life. Viggo loved him, but he had nothing to offer him, other than an occasional fuck. Maybe if he just told him how he felt, Orlando would finish this for him.
“Yeah, sure,” Orlando said.
But he still couldn’t quite let go, couldn’t resist dragging this out. “Will I see you at breakfast?” he asked.
“You could see me before breakfast, if you like.” Orlando said, the invitation clear.
He would like, he would like very much. Because apparently he could take as much torture as Orlando was willing to mete out and any idea of him ending this had evaporated. “I could. What time would be good for you?”
“About eight?”
“Sure.” He bent down, and kissed Orlando, softly, on the lips, then on the forehead. “Sleep well.”
“You too,” Orlando said.
Viggo got to the door and through it without looking back. That was something. He let the door swing shut behind him and then turned and pressed his forehead against the wood. “I love you,” he whispered.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-06 08:04 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it though.