(no subject)

[artemisallen.livejournal.com]

Title: Panda Diplomacy
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC 17ish almost
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Beta: The ever patient gattodoro Thank you dear. But, as usual, I may have just tinkered with it a bit, so all errors are mine.
Disclaimer: This is a work of complete fiction. No offence is intended and no profit is being made
Word Count: 5,800

Dedication:This is a birthday gift for the lovely silvan_lady. Happy Birthday Darling.

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 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 surfaced reluctantly from a weirdly pleasant dream about licking gingerbread men covered in cream and sucking on sticky candy canes, images no doubt prompted by the previous day’s Christmas shopping expedition with his partner. It was obviously well into the morning as there was sunlight, albeit pale and watery, filtering through the curtains but he was warm and cosy in his nest of bedding and in no hurry to abandon it for the chill of a drab November day. He yawned, stretched, and then shuffled across to the other side of the bed expecting to find his lover; but there was no one there and when he extended a hand and ran it over the empty space, the sheets were cold. Orlando frowned and poked his nose above the covers; the door to the en suite was ajar but there was no noise from inside so he concluded that Viggo must be somewhere else in the apartment. Orlando huffed discontentedly and buried his head back beneath the duvet, he had been hoping for a round of early morning, well pre-lunch anyway, sex.


Both of them were currently home and experiencing a brief hiatus in their professional lives. This wasn’t an unusual situation for a musician, but it rarely happened that they were idle at the same time. Neither of them had any engagements or urgent commissions for a couple of weeks, so they had decided to spend this precious time together ‘on vacation at home’ in London. And although Viggo always woke earlier than Orlando, he usually waited for the younger man to surface before getting up, or more usually, staying right where he was for another hour or so.


Orlando closed his eyes and tried to doze in the hope that Viggo had gone to make coffee and would soon return, but he couldn’t settle so he got up and wandered into the bathroom to relieve himself. He debated putting on some clothes before searching for his lover but decided against it; they had given Mrs Jones a few days leave as well, so they were completely alone in the apartment and there was therefore no necessity to dress. Mrs Jones hadn’t exactly embraced the idea of leaving them on their own; there had been a lot of muttering about the amount of laundry that would greet her return, but she had eventually been persuaded that two grown men could, probably, manage for themselves unsupervised for a short period. Orlando also reasoned that on seeing him naked, Viggo might be more easily tempted back to bed. As he pushed open the kitchen door he could certainly smell fresh coffee and also something sweeter. He had a momentary panic that Mrs Jones might have dropped in anyway and cooked them breakfast and he contemplated bolting straight back to the bedroom, but there was none of the usual bustling and banging that accompanied her presence and the tantalising aroma was making his stomach growl so he advanced into the kitchen.

Viggo was sitting at the breakfast bar wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and he was concentrating on his laptop which was open on the counter. Beside it there was a neat pile of paperwork.


“I can smell pancakes,” Orlando said.


Viggo lifted his head and after crooking his eyebrows in mock disapproval at Orlando’s nakedness, nevertheless made a lingering, appreciative perusal of his lover’s form before smiling at him. “Yes, they are in the oven keeping warm. I’ve been waiting for you to surface.”


“Did Mrs Jones come in and cook breakfast?”


“No, I made them.”


Orlando regarded his lover doubtfully, Viggo could certainly cook, but if he had decided to make breakfast, pancakes would not have been his first choice. “Really?”


“Really,” Viggo said but then he burst out laughing. “Well, I heated them up.”


“But where did they come from?”


”From my secret supply of emergency pancakes,” Viggo responded looking smug. “You can make them and freeze them, apparently, so I had Mrs Jones make me a few batches in case I needed them.”


“But you don’t really like pancakes, why would you need them?”


“In case I wanted to soften you up for something,” Viggo said.


Orlando grinned and tilted his head disarmingly. “There are better ways to soften me up,” he said, running a hand over his naked chest and down towards his groin. Then Viggo’s words registered. “Wait, wait, wait…” Orlando straightened up and peered suspiciously at Viggo’s papers, which he could now see were musical scores. “Why are you softening me up? What have you agreed to do?”


Viggo screwed his face into an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry my love, I have to go to Berlin and conduct the Philharmoniker.”


Orlando placed his hands on his hips and scowled menacingly at this lover. “You better be joking.”


Viggo shook his head. “Dudamel was conducting but he has the flu.”


“What about Petrenko, it’s his fucking orchestra now, or Rattle surely he could go?”


“Well, it’s not officially Kirill’s orchestra until next year. And Simon is fully committed to the LSO now, but in any case they are both engaged elsewhere.”


“Of course they are,” Orlando snapped his voice rising, “but so what, it’s the fucking Philharmoniker, if they’re playing something familiar you could stick anyone on the podium, they probably never look anyway!”


“Thank you for making me feel so essential to the process,” Viggo said with a wry smile.


“Well, it’s not fair of you; you promised we could have this time together with no work to distract you. You should have said no. They always come to you because they know you’re a soft touch. You could at least try to resist their begging.”


Viggo listened to Orlando’s rant with a calm expression. “I know, I know, I know,” he said, “but I was thinking that you could come to Berlin with me, it’s only two performances and we could stay an extra few days, see some of the City. Have you ever been to Berlin?”


“You know I have,” Orlando said crossly. He had played at the Philharmonie, Berlin's imposing concert hall, a few times, although never with the illustrious Philharmoniker.


“Let me rephrase that,” Viggo said patiently. “Have you ever seen anything of Berlin other than a hotel room and the Philharmonie?”


“No, not really,” Orlando admitted.


“Well then, this is an opportunity isn’t it?”


“It’s a fucking ambush, is what it is and no amount of pancakes will compensate.”


“And, Lang Lang is appearing with them, playing a Mozart piano concerto,” Viggo said cajolingly.


“So?”


“You always enjoy hearing him play.”


Orlando crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled some more. He did admire the young Chinese pianist, and would generally welcome any opportunity to hear him play, but he wasn’t going to capitulate easily. Viggo was going to have to try much harder. “He’s alright I suppose. I always think he sounds like a panda though.”


Viggo’s eyes widened in confusion. “What?”


Pandas all have double names like that,” Orlando said. “Like Chi Chi and Tian Tian. He even looks a bit like a panda; he’s sort of round and cuddly. And Chinese.”


“Okaaay…,” Viggo said, trying to contain his amusement. “Are you fond of pandas? I didn’t know that.”


“Who doesn’t like pandas, they’re adorable.”


“Well,” Viggo said, with another smug grin, “I happen to know that they have two pandas at the zoo in Berlin. I was conducting at the Philharmonie last June and there were huge celebrations going on all over the City because the bears were arriving that week from China. Apparently, it’s what the Chinese do when they want to soften up the Governments of other countries.”


"Hmmm," Orlando grunted, "that probably works better than pancakes."


Viggo smiled imploringly at his lover. “We could visit them, if we stayed.”


“You can’t tempt me with pandas,” Orlando said pouting.


“Oh come on,” Viggo said. “I’ve made you pancakes, I’m offering to take you on a City break and I’m providing a panda opportunity. What more could you possibly want?”


“Unlimited blow jobs,” Orlando said, still frowning, “starting right now.”


Viggo rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s a blow job and no pancakes then, because Liv has booked us on the twelve forty-five flight from Heathrow. You’ll need to pack and we’ve already wasted time arguing?”


Orlando pondered this dilemma for a few seconds. He wanted sex, obviously, but he was very hungry now and he wanted the pancakes too. Mrs Jones made exceptionally good pancakes. And if he opted for the blow job it would have to be quick, which was alright but not as much fun as the leisurely, indulgent sex he’d been hoping for. Finally he tilted his head and smiled wryly at Viggo. “Are you conducting this evening?”


Viggo shook his head. “No, tomorrow and then the following day. Although I will have to drop in on the Philharmoniker on the way to the hotel.”


“Well then, this isn’t in anyway a reflection of your skill at blow jobs, but I think I’ll have the pancakes.”


“I thought you might say that,” Viggo laughed and sliding off the stool he made his way over to the oven. “And given how fond you are of pancakes, I’m flattered that you even considered the alternative.”


Orlando shrugged. “That’s alright; I’ll have the blow job as soon as we get to Berlin. As long as I get blown within the next twelve hours I’ll be happy.”


***************************************************************************

Orlando dumped his bag on the floor and launched himself onto the bed, face first, limbs outstretched like a starfish, and then bounced experimentally, it was predictably comfortable and he sank into the duvet with a contented sigh. “Nice,” he said, rolling over and surveying their hotel room, “very nice.” The advantage of travelling with Viggo when he was working was that the hotels were so much better than the ones he used himself when touring. This room - or maybe it was a suite, it was certainly vast and Viggo often tended towards extravagance - at the Grand Hyatt, was spacious and airy, with attractive modern furnishings, a king size bed and a separate living area with a large sofa, table and chairs. The huge, picture windows provided a splendid view over the Tiergarten. “So,” he declared, unfastening his jeans and pushing them down, “I need you to blow me, pretty much right now.” his cock was already interested in the proposition but he began to fist it lazily, just to make sure he got Viggo’s attention.


Viggo was hanging up his suit carrier in the closet and only turned around when it was settled to his satisfaction. “You seem to be doing okay on your own,” he said with a quirk of his lips. But Orlando could see his lover’s eyes were fixed on his swelling cock and so he grasped it a little harder and groaned, mostly for effect. “Just get over here, now! You promised.”


Viggo laughed but pulled off his jacket and hung that in the wardrobe too before he made his way, unhurriedly, over to the bed and, climbing onto it, sank down between Orlando’s parted thighs. “Mmm,” he said playfully, batting Orlando’s hand away, “this looks tasty, much better than pancakes.”


Orlando giggled. “I’m going to tell Mrs Jones you think my dick tastes better than her pancakes.”


“I bet you don’t,” Viggo chuckled. He was right of course, Orlando’s strategy with their housekeeper was to pretend that Mrs Jones lived in blissful ignorance of their, very active, sex life. Viggo found this position hilarious.


“Maybe not,” Orlando agreed, “But would you just stop stalling and get it in your fucking mouth.”


Viggo laughed again but bent down and closed his lips over the head of Orlando’s cock. Orlando sighed happily and watched, his breathing quickening as Viggo sucked him further in. The temptation was to lie back, close his eyes and let it happen, but he enjoyed watching too, seeing his dick sliding between Viggo’s stretched lips and becoming increasingly wet with saliva, he felt Viggo’s throat tighten around him and groaned deeply, and he felt rather than saw Viggo grin and then his lover began to hum and his flesh throbbed and swelled inside Viggo’s mouth.



There was a loud knock on the door. They both jumped and Viggo let Orlando slip from between his lips. Orlando voiced his displeasure. “Did you order room service?” he hissed. Viggo shook his head. There was another knock, harder and impatient and then a familiar voice rang out.


“Viggo! Open the bloody door man!”


“Sean!” they both spluttered in unison.


Viggo scrambled backwards off the bed. “I’ll have to let him in, he won’t go away.” he gestured at Orlando’s groin. “Better button up.”


Orlando cursed comprehensively and wrestled with his zip, it wasn’t easy, his erection strenuously objected to being denied release. Viggo paused with his hand on the door handle until Orlando had finished dressing and then as an afterthought pulled one of the silk bed cushions against his groin to cover the still evident bulge.


“What the hell took you so long?” Sean demanded as he blustered into the room and slapped Viggo affectionately on the shoulder.


“We were in the middle of unpacking,” Viggo said smoothly. “What the hell are you doing here Sean?”


“Cate and I are in Berlin considering a potential business opportunity,” Sean replied.


“How did you know we were here though?”


“Ah! Cate spotted you in the foyer when we were coming back from our meeting,” Sean said, waving his arm in the general direction of his assistant, who had advanced more decorously in to the room to stand at a safe distance behind her gesticulating boss.


Cate shrugged apologetically. “I’m so sorry if we’ve interrupted you,” she said, her eyes drifting towards Orlando and fixing on the cushion. She raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly.


Orlando clutched the cushion more closely to him and felt his cheeks flush scarlet. On the plus side, his erection was diminishing at her scrutiny but he still didn’t feel confident enough to abandon the cushion and stand up.


“Cate, it’s lovely to see you.” Viggo kissed her affectionately on both cheeks.


“And you,” Cate replied warmly. Unlike Sean, who, despite his expensive suit, looked slightly dishevelled, Cate was dressed impeccably, wearing an elegant red pencil skirt and short jacket, with high heels and bag to match. Orlando assumed that they had finished business for the day as her blonde hair hung loose on her shoulders, rather than coiled up into a firm chignon; usually a sign that she was off duty. Cate had been Sean’s ‘Personal Assistant’ for many years, the job title really being somewhat misleading. She was as shrewd an operator as Sean himself, so more like his second in command, advisor, confident and friend. When Orlando had first met Cate, after already being acquainted with Sean and very much aware of his tally of ex-wives, he had asked Viggo if there was, or ever had been, anything between Sean and Cate as, in private at least, they behaved very much like an old married couple. Viggo had laughed and assured him that there absolutely wasn’t. Sean could easily fund all the ex-wives but he couldn’t ever afford to lose Cate, and Cate had a, more sense and b, more taste.


“So,” Sean said, rubbing his hands together at this happy coincidence, “we were just on our way to dinner, and thought you might like to join us.”



“Umm,” said Viggo, “we, err...”


“What? Do you have other plans?” Sean asked.


“Err, well…,” said Viggo.


“Umm…, sort of,” said Orlando quickly.


“Perhaps we should leave, Sean. Maybe they were planning a romantic dinner à deux,” Cate suggested, her mouth twitching with suppressed amusement. Orlando cringed and felt his cheeks colour again. Seriously, why did he find this woman so unnerving?


“What?” Sean turned to her. “Don’t be ridiculous.” but then, perhaps conscious, Orlando surmised, that Cate was usually right about everything, he turned back to Viggo. “You weren’t were you?” he smirked.



“Errr…,” Viggo said, “well..., no..., no.”


Orlando rolled his eyes, his lover was hopeless and now the prospect of imminent sex was rapidly disappearing. “Viggo is working tomorrow,” he said, hopefully, “he really should get an early night.” Cate’s lips twitched again.


“Oh, we won’t be staying out late; Cate and I have a dawn flight tomorrow.” Sean slapped Viggo on the back. “So, dinner with us then, and early to bed, hurry up, we have a table booked.”


“Perhaps we should dress?” Orlando blurted out, he still wasn't sure he could release the cushion and if they just had ten minutes to themselves he was certain he could get Viggo’s attention back to the more important stuff.


“No, you’re fine like that,” Sean said with a shrug. “It's a good restaurant but not too formal.”


**************************************************************************************


Orlando opened his eyes and groaned. His head hurt, his stomach was heaving and there was far too much light. He rolled over to bury his face in the pillows but both his head and his stomach reacted badly to the movement and he groaned again.


“Ah, you’re alive then?”


Viggo’s voice was far too loud and definitely laced with amusement.


“What happened?” Orlando whimpered piteously. “I feel awful.”


Viggo snorted. “What happened is that you thought it was a really good idea to help Sean test the local beers.”


“I remember having dinner, but after that it’s all a bit hazy.”


“I’m not surprised. What on earth made you think you could ever keep up with Sean?”


“If it was such a bad idea why didn't you stop me?”


“Because I’m your lover not your mother, you’re old enough to make your own decisions, even the really bad ones!”


“I hate you.”


“And, it’s not my fault that you’re such a lightweight.”


“Bastard!”


“Do you need to throw up now you’re awake?”


Orlando’s brain considered the question but his stomach quickly confirmed that he did. “Yes,” he responded meekly, struggling with the bedclothes.


Viggo pulled the duvet off him in one deft move and pointed at the en suite. “Go!”


The door to the bathroom was already open and Orlando achieved the toilet and vomited noisily.


“Are you alright?” Viggo asked hovering in the doorway.


“Fuck off,” Orlando replied before vomiting again.


Viggo laughed and retreated back to the bed room.


When he thought his stomach was sufficiently empty and stable, Orlando brushed his teeth and rinsed his face before leaving the bathroom. Viggo was sitting on the bed fully dressed and grinning annoyingly. “Feeling better?” he asked.


“A bit.”


“I suggest you go back to bed for a few hours. I’ve put water and painkillers on the nightstand take those now. And I brought some cereal and rolls up from breakfast for you.” Viggo pointed towards the dishes on the table in the seating area. “Or you could call room service for soup if you feel up to it.”


Orlando crawled back into bed pulled the duvet over himself and groaned some more. “I just want to die.”


“You’ll feel better after a nap.” Viggo patted his thigh. “I’ll call you later, see how you’re doing.”


“What? Wait!” Orlando sat up quickly and then very much wished he hadn’t as his head span and his stomach lurched. “Where are you going?”


“I have to go to rehearsals,” Viggo said patiently. “I have a performance tonight.”


Orlando squinted at his lover. “How come you’re not hungover?”


“Because, as you know, I’m not really a beer drinker. So while you and Sean were making your way through the beer menu, Cate and I shared one very good bottle of red wine.”


“Do you think Sean is hungover?” Orlando asked hopefully, he really wanted to know that someone else was feeling as awful as he was.


“Not very likely, he’s had a lot more practice at drinking German beer than you have.”


“I really don’t remember much about last night,” Orlando said slumping back onto the pillows. “How did I get to bed?”


“You fell asleep in the taxi, but fortunately you don't weigh much so Sean and I hauled you upstairs and I put you to bed.”


“Did we have sex?”


Viggo laughed. “Of course not, you were comatose.”


“You still owe me a blow job then, in fact I should have had three or four by now; you promised.”


Viggo grinned. “I did try to wake you earlier this morning with that very purpose in mind but you were amazingly unresponsive, so I abandoned you and went down to breakfast instead.”


“I’m available now,” Orlando said. He fondled himself tentatively, his dick responded, weakly, but it did respond.


“And I have to go to rehearsals; the Philharmoniker will not find me being late at all acceptable. I'll see you later; we can have dinner after the concert.”


“Bugger dinner, you’ll owe me eight by then.”


“How the hell are you reckoning this?” Viggo asked laughing.


“I’m expecting at least four a day during this trip.”


“In that case,” Viggo said as he stood up, “you need to quit drinking.”


“Fuck off.”


“I’m going now.” Viggo leant over and kissed him on the forehead. “Go back to sleep love. I’ll call you later. Shall I arrange a ticket for you?”


“Of course.”


“Alright, but don't doze off during the Mahler, or if you do, please don’t drool.”


“Fuck right off,” Orlando said pulling the duvet over his head, “Or I’ll heckle you.”


******************************************************



It was gone noon when Orlando resurfaced. He swallowed another bottle of water, ate the cereal Viggo had left for him and made a mental note to never, ever again let Sean Bean convince him that drinking lots of beer was a good idea; then he reclined on the sofa where he checked his texts and e-mails and inevitably, dozed off. Later in the afternoon he went up to the hotel’s rooftop Spa for a sauna and massage and then grabbed a couple of energy bars for sustenance, expecting that he and Viggo would eat dinner after the concert. Then, feeling much more like a normal human being, he dressed and headed out to the concert at the Philharmonie. His only consolation for having slept away most of the day was that he hadn’t missed Viggo and he was now well rested and very much looking forward to a splendid concert, an intimate dinner and a night of indulgent sex as Viggo tried to make up for taking on an engagement when they’d both agreed that this was a vacation.


Viggo had texted him a couple of times to check he was ok and to give him details of the concert timings but as he was working, the messages had been brief. Orlando decided not to try and see Viggo before the concert and went straight to his seat, which was quite close to the stage so he had a clear view of his lover when the conductor advanced onto the podium. He looked weary and although he acknowledged the applause that greeted him with a genuine smile, Orlando could see he was tense. He supposed it was hardly surprising; filling in at the eleventh hour like this was not easy even for an experienced conductor like Viggo, and Mahler’s Fifth symphony was a huge work which lasted over an hour and included the famous and very popular Adagietto, so often used in films and advertising, and the subject of much debate as to exactly how slowly it should be played.


The concert went well though; at least Orlando thought it did, and given the enthusiastic applause, it seemed the rest of the audience agreed with him. Not being familiar with security at the Philharmonie Hall, Orlando waited in the foyer for his lover. He had checked out a few venues for their dinner but when Viggo finally arrived he was hunched into his coat and looked completely exhausted; Orlando immediately revised his plans. Viggo, obviously aware that he had dragged Orlando to Berlin with the promise of entertainment, smiled brightly on sighting him and tried to sound genuinely enthusiastic when he said, “So, where shall we go for dinner?”


“I think we should go back to the hotel, and order room service,” Orlando said, linking his arm through Viggo’s and steering him towards the exit.


Viggo looked immensely relieved. “That sounds good,” he admitted, “it’s been a... busy day.”


Viggo had been quiet during the short walk back to the hotel and in the lift, and when they arrived in their room he flung off his coat, kicked off his shoes and sank onto the sofa with a deep sigh.


“Really tough day huh?” Orlando said sympathetically, picking up the coat which Viggo had, uncharacteristically, thrown onto the bed and hanging it in the closet along with his own.


“You could say that,” Viggo replied, flatly. “Obviously Dudamel has his interpretation of how to play the Fifth and I have a slightly different interpretation, but the Philharmoniker didn’t seem to like either of them and finding the middle ground was something of a battle.”


Orlando tried not to smile as he recalled his remark the previous morning about the Berlin orchestra not really needing a conductor. He was also tempted to point out to Viggo that this was the downside of being so willing to step in at short notice, and maybe he should remember it on future occasions; but he couldn’t, Viggo looked thoroughly done in, so instead he moved behind him and began to massage his neck and shoulders.


“Do you really want dinner? Or do you just want to sleep?”


Viggo sighed heavily and reached up to squeeze Orlando’s hand. “I just want to sleep. I’m sorry. Do you mind?”


“Of course I don’t mind.” Orlando leant forward and pressed his lips against the top of Viggo’s head. “You go to bed and I’ll go down and eat in the bar so you get some peace.”


“I’m really sorry Love. I’ll be better tomorrow. We’ll have dinner somewhere special.”


“Shhh, it’s okay,” Orlando chuckled. “I don’t want you wearing yourself out. Especially since by tomorrow you’ll owe me another four blow jobs.”




*********************************************************************


“Hey, sleeping beauty, are you just going to lay in bed this whole trip?”


“Mmmph?” Orlando responded, as Viggo shook him gently.


“If you want any breakfast, you need to get up. It’s nearly ten. The restaurant closes at ten thirty.”


“Okay, in a minute maybe,” Orlando grunted.


“What did you do last night?” Viggo asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.


“I went down to the bar, had dinner and read for a while,” Orlando replied drowsily.


“And so what time did you come to bed?”


“About three, I think. Maybe a bit later.”


“Three?” Viggo said, astonished. “You were in the bar until three?”

“No,” Orlando protested rolling over and pulling himself up in the bed, “it closed at one, but I didn’t feel tired so I went up to the gym.”


“The gym?” Viggo looked even more surprised. “What on earth did you do in the gym?”


“I tried some of the equipment. Well the bits I could understand.” Orlando was not a regular at the gym but having slept most of the previous day he had thought that some exercise might tire him out enough to sleep because he hadn’t wanted to toss and turn restlessly in bed and inevitably disturb Viggo. “And I did a few miles on the treadmill. You get a great view out over the city from up there, and I had my earphones so I could listen to music. I quite enjoyed myself.”


Viggo laughed, “Alright, I can see why you’re still sleepy then.” He leant forward and kissed Orlando on the forehead. “I have to get to the concert hall. What will you do today?”


“I don’t know,” Orlando said, “I suppose I could go and see the pandas, if you’re not bothered about seeing them that is.”


“No!” Viggo said quickly, “I thought we could do the panda thing together. I’ve already arranged tickets for tomorrow.”


“You mean Liv arranged tickets,” Orlando said with a fond smile at his lover.


Viggo looked slightly offended and for a moment Orlando thought he was about to deny it but then he chuckled and said. “Alright, Liv, arranged tickets.”


“Have you arranged anything else?”


“No, just the pandas.”


Now that Orlando was more or less awake he could see that Viggo still looked weary and strained. “I’ll find something to occupy myself, don't worry. And then I’ll see you after the concert, yes?”


Viggo smiled. “Yes.”


Orlando reached out to stroke his lover’s arm. “Expecting another rough day?”


Viggo nodded. “I am. And I have to say that your comparing Lang Lang to a panda will not be helping. I won’t be able to avoid thinking about it.”


Orlando tried not to laugh. “I’m sorry; I’ll try to keep a straight face this evening.”


“I’m not even going to look at you when we come on,” Viggo said, leaning over to kiss him again.


Orlando was again tempted to say that perhaps Viggo would think twice next time he was asked to be a last minute replacement like this but he didn’t want to make his lover any more stressed, so instead he squeezed his hand and said. “Maybe things will go better today.”

*****************************************************************************


Orlando just managed to get down to the restaurant before the breakfast service had finished then he looked up nearby attractions and picked the ones he thought Viggo would find least interesting and so occupied his day with visits to the Spy Museum and the Currywurst Museum. He found the Spy Museum completely absorbing and did think that Viggo would too, so resolved to pay it another visit after they had done the panda thing.


Viggo looked significantly more relaxed when Orlando again met him in the foyer after the second concert. It had been another successful evening and Orlando, and presumably everyone else in the hall given the raucous response, had enjoyed it, especially the piano concerto performed by Lang Lang.


“So, dinner and then sex?” Orlando whispered in his lover’s ear as they embraced.


Viggo laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “Definitely, but I’ve promised to meet some of the orchestra for a drink, so is it okay if we slide that in between the dinner and the sex?”


Orlando rolled his eyes but smiled. “That’s fine. You managed to end the day on good terms then?”


“I think so, or perhaps they’re just glad to get rid of me.”


“I’m sure that’s not true, but I’ll certainly be happy to get you all to myself again.”


Viggo took Orlando’s hand and squeezed it. “Me too.”



****************************************************************


“Oh, good morning!” Orlando grinned at Viggo as he blinked into consciousness and immediately screwed up his eyes against the light. “Feeling a bit under the weather are we?”


“I’m fine,” Viggo replied croakily, but he kept his eyes closed and didn’t even try to raise his head from the pillows. “I think.”


“Well, you don’t deserve to be,” Orlando said, “considering the amount of alcohol you managed to drink last night.”


“I didn’t have much,” Viggo protested weakly. “I only had a couple in the bar where we met up with the orchestra.”


“And the bottle of wine we had at dinner, and the digestif.”


“It was a very nice bottle. I don’t think I was drunk though.”


“You were very... relaxed and very... amorous,” Orlando laughed. “I had to extract you from my lap in the taxi back to the hotel.”


“I thought you wanted a blow job.”


“Not in a taxi!”


“I was just getting into the mood.”


“Well the mood didn’t last did it?” Orlando huffed.


“I was still in the mood when we got back here last night,” Viggo protested. “I distinctly remember kissing you..., we must have had sex.”


“Yes, the kissing was great,” Orlando said wryly, “and mostly on the mouth, but don’t worry I find having your tongue in my ear sexy as well. But then on your way to my dick, you fell asleep with your head on my stomach.”


Viggo covered his face with his hands and groaned, “I am so sorry, I was very, very tired.”


“S’okay,” Orlando grinned at his lover, “it was really funny, but also somewhat frustrating. But, hey.” Orlando had been propped up against the headboard but he slithered down so that he was level with Viggo. “You’re awake now and I’m awake and we have this big bed and nowhere to go.” He nestled closer and planted a couple of light kisses on Viggo’s shoulder. “So...?”


“What time is it?” Viggo asked.


“About ten,” Orlando replied kissing further up Viggo’s collarbone. “I didn’t wake you for breakfast because it was late when we got back last night and I thought you needed to sleep. We can go out for food, or better still just order room service in an hour or so and stay right here.”



“Ah, no!” Viggo struggled into a sitting position. “I think the zoo tickets have a specific time on them, we need to get up.”


“What? Noooo! You have to be fucking kidding me,” Orlando protested raising himself up on one elbow. “This is day four in Berlin and so far I haven’t had any blow jobs. At all!”


“It’s not my fault, Liv booked them,” Viggo reminded him with an apologetic shrug. “So, blow job or panda. It’s your choice. I suppose we’re booked into see panda feeding time or something. You wouldn’t want to miss that.”


Orlando scowled, menacingly. “You don't know much about pandas do you? They eat all day because they’re big animals and they need a lot of bamboo. It’s probably why they never have time for sex. I’m beginning to see how that happens.”


Viggo grinned at him. “I’m good either way, I’m just trying to make you happy. And I’m waiting on a decision here. We can come straight back to the hotel after the zoo.”


“Dammit,” Orlando said rolling out of bed, “It’s the zoo then, but I’m only going because when Liv asks if we enjoyed it I don’t want you telling her that we didn’t get there because I made you suck me off.”


“Trust me, I would never tell her that,” Viggo replied, looking truly horrified at the thought.



“And when we get back here you owe me sixteen blow jobs. And I’m expecting to get every single one.”



“Noted,” Viggo said, as he manoeuvered himself out of bed as well. “But that will take a while. I’ll need recuperation time.”


“Maybe I could get you some panda porn,” Orlando chuckled as Viggo headed for the bathroom.


“Panda porn?”


“Yes they show it to the pandas to encourage them to mate.”


“Oh good god,” Viggo groaned as he pushed open the bathroom door, “please, please, please let them not have any tapes of that in the gift shop.”