I Want to Lay You Down in a Bed of Roses
Feb. 14th, 2020 01:21 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: I Want to Lay You Down in a Bed of Roses
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Beta: The very patient![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gattodoro; but I have meddled, so all mistakes are mine.
Dedication:A Valentine Interlude forgattodoro and silvan_lady. Because it was written on their watch.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; unfortunately.
Summary: Another day in the life of ‘The Conductor & The Concert Violinist’
Word Count: 4,000
Written in ‘The Conductor & The Concert Violinist’ universe.
It isn’t strictly necessary to be familiar with this universe, but it probably helps. Especially
If Music be the Food of Love &
A Grand Evening Out
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 mid thirties and Viggo his early fifties.
February 5th
“Livvy, Darling, I’ve brought you some coffee, and cake.” Orlando manoeuvred himself into the cramped box-room that he and Viggo used as a study and carefully placed a mug and a plate of chocolate brownies on the desk beside Viggo’s assistant. Then he stepped back and waited patiently, rather as if he were expecting to be patted on the head.
Liv studied the brownies and the latté, both undoubtedly the work of Mrs Jones. “What do you want, Orlando?” she asked suspiciously.
“What makes you think I want something?”
“Because you have that look on your face; the innocent one.”
Orlando pressed his hand against his chest and tried to look shocked and hurt. But he spoiled the effect by laughing. “How come you know me so well?”
“Because Viggo, spends hours telling me about every little thing you say and do, often with pictures.”
This time the shock was real. “What!”
Liv burst out laughing. “I’m joking, mostly, well about the pictures anyway. But I have known you long enough to know that you’re trying to butter me up, so you must want something.”
Orlando laughed and settled himself at his own desk, then he swivelled his chair around to face Liv who had, before this intrusion, been diligently working at Viggo’s desk. “I want a bit of information, that’s all.”
Liv frowned. “About Viggo?” Even with Orlando she was protective of her boss.
“Well, just his whereabouts.”
“He’s in Vienna; didn’t he tell you where he was going?”
“I don’t mean today, and of course I knew he was in Vienna.” This wasn’t strictly true; Orlando had enough trouble keeping up with his own diary. Viggo did, naturally, always say where he was going but in Orlando’s universe there were only two states of Viggo; he was either with Orlando, usually in London; or he was somewhere else, without Orlando. Orlando generally established which state pertained by checking the other side of the bed. “I want to know where he’ll be a week on Friday.”
“Hmmm,” Liv said, turning back to the computer. “So, the fourteenth.”
“Yes please.”
“I think he’s… yes, he’s in London.”
“And is he doing anything?”
“He will be rehearsing The Marriage of Figaro with the English National Opera.”
“So there is no possibility of him not being in London.”
“No, he has to be here, they are rehearsing all week. Why do you…? Oh…” Liv frowned, “I see why you want to know.” she bit her lip apprehensively, “Are you going to ask me to arrange something for you? Because you know I can’t be trusted.”
“Don’t be ridiculous Liv, we all know that the delightful Valentine's dinner we had at Greggs was totally Viggo’s fault. He’d agreed to you being on leave. He should never have called you in the first place.” He reached over and patted her hand. “All I need is for you to let me know if his plans change and to not tell him that I wanted to know. Is that okay with you?”
Liv nodded. “I don’t have a problem with that,” she said.
“Good. See, it wasn’t that bad.”
“So, what are you planning?”
“Ahhh, I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not? That’s mean.” Liv pouted. Orlando liked her; pouting usually worked, but this time he just laughed.
“Partly because I haven’t decided yet. I’d quite like to whisk him off somewhere like David did with you to Paris; we all agreed that he was the outright winner in the most romantic Valentine stakes.”
“It was wonderful,” Liv smiled in happy recollection, “but Viggo doesn’t like surprises.”
“I know Darling; he is a boring, boring man. So I need it to only be a small surprise.”
“Do you want me to surreptitiously find out if there’s something he’d like to do?”
Orlando tried to keep a straight face. One of the things he already had on his list of possibilities was lying in wait on the sofa, naked and oiled, with a red ribbon around his dick. He was pretty sure Viggo would like that, but he certainly wasn’t going to ask Liv if she could find out. “No, better not, he’ll suss you after the first tiny hint and he’ll know you’re working for me.”
“That’s true,” Liv said sadly, she’d rather hoped she could do something to make up for her previous failure; she still felt partly responsible for the Greggs debacle, however much the two men had assured her she wasn’t but Viggo was not easily fooled.
“And,” Orlando continued, “should the subject of my whereabouts come up, I am in Glasgow.”
“Okay.” Liv nodded her understanding.
“I am there for two nights but I’ve told Viggo I’m going for three and that I won't be back till Saturday.”
“That is devious of you,” Liv chuckled, “but sweet.”
Orlando patted her hand again. “Thank you. So, next week, please, please, please, don’t drop any hints, or remind him of the date, or even ask him where I am.”
Liv rolled her eyes. “I don’t ever have to ask him where you are; he just tells me and anyway I immediately know by his mood if you are at home or not. But don’t worry my lips will be firmly sealed on the subject of Valentine’s Day.”
***************************************************************************
February 14th
After a couple of minutes of fumbling and cursing, Viggo finally acquainted his key with the lock and so managed to open the door of his apartment and, with only a slight list to his gait, propel himself inside. He shut the door and slumped against the wall for a moment to recuperate before he tackled the alarm. It was only as he raised his hand to the pad, hoping that muscle memory alone would be sufficient to accomplish the disarming, that he realised it wasn’t buzzing. This should have been worrying but the fug of alcohol prevented his brain from being too concerned about it. Mrs Jones had been in the apartment when he had left this morning to attend rehearsals and he decided that she must have forgotten to set it; although, Mrs Jones was usually very reliable about setting the alarm; far more reliable than his partner who was generally leaving in a rush with a suit-carrier in one hand and his violin case in the other and often a piece of food clenched between his teeth. The thought of Orlando distracted Viggo for a moment and he smiled to himself; his lover was performing in Glasgow tonight and Viggo had estimated that following the concert Orlando should be back in his hotel room around nine. It was eight-thirty now, so his plan was to imbibe a very large coffee, make himself comfortable on the sofa and then call him.
As he turned and tried to focus on negotiating the hallway without running into any of the furniture, he noticed that there was a faint glow coming from the dining room. Viggo frowned; it really wasn’t like Mrs Jones to forget the alarm and leave lights on; his brain registered that this was more disturbing and suggested he might like to investigate, so he advanced towards the dining room, pushed open the door and edged cautiously inside.
The dining table was set, more formally than was usual, with china and silverware. He blinked in the low light which he now realised was being provided by the half burnt down candles in the centre of the table and at the far end he saw, Orlando; his lover was wearing evening dress, although the black tie was hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar and he was lounging on one of the dining chairs, arms folded across his chest, feet propped up on another; he didn’t look happy.
“Oh!” Viggo offered as he stumbled forward and placed his hands on the back of the nearest chair for support. He took in the rest of the table, the scattering of rose petals, the artistically folded napkins, the bottle of champagne floating in the ice bucket, “Oh!”
“Where have you been?” Orlando asked, he didn’t sound angry, in fact there was definite amusement in his tone and it was even more evident when he continued, “Have you been drinking?”
“Ummm,” Viggo responded lamely.
Orlando was shaking his head and laughing now as he stood up and approached his lover, but he stopped suddenly and frowned, then he stretched out a hand and wiped his thumb down the side of Viggo’s mouth; he inspected the garish red smear on his pad and showed it to Viggo.
“Lipstick? Where exactly have you been, Viggo?” he asked, his tone a little sharper now.
Viggo groaned. “Fuck,” he said, then after a pause, “I’ve been out with Sean.”
“Well that would account for you being drunk.”
“And there may have been a lady involved,” Viggo confessed, scrunching up his face.
“I suppose at least it’s a comfort to know that Sean hasn't started wearing lipstick. But do you want to expand on that statement before I start moving my things into the spare room.”
Viggo’s regarded his lover with alarm but then realised that Orlando was struggling not to smile.
“Could I sit down first? I may have had more to drink than I meant to.”
Orlando pulled out a dining chair and guided Viggo into it before retaking his previous seat.
“So?”
Viggo sighed. It was becoming clear to him that Orlando had arranged an intimate Valentine’s dinner, had probably been waiting for him for a couple of hours, and he had been out having fun elsewhere, although, to be honest, not that much fun.
“Sean called me,” he said. “He was feeling sorry for himself because it was Valentine’s Day and he was on his own.”
Orlando raised his eyebrows sceptically; he doubted that the recently re-divorced Sean Bean would really have had much of a problem finding a date for Valentine’s Day.
“Cate had naturally gone home to her husband and he knew you were away because we’d spoken earlier in the week and I’d mentioned it, so he suggested we go for a drink. There was a bar he knew; he said it wouldn’t be full of couples.”
“Oh God!” Orlando exclaimed, “please tell me he didn’t take you to a singles bar!”
Viggo thought about it, he was fairly sure it had been an ordinary sort of bar, in fact if he could characterise it at all he would have said it mainly catered for people in overalls and heavy boots.
“It was a pub somewhere in the East end.”
“Good grief!” Orlando spluttered, “that must have been disturbing for you. Was there sawdust on the floor?”
Viggo tried to scowl; it amused Orlando to allege that his lover had no conception of how ordinary people entertained themselves, but it wasn’t true, he had spent many happy hours in some very low dives, and not always in the company of Sean Bean; but Orlando looked so attractive when he laughed that Viggo could only smile fondly and wonder if enough alcohol had been shocked out of his system to allow him to stand up and move around the table for a kiss.
“It was a perfectly respectable place,” Viggo said, then he reconsidered this statement; there had in fact been an odd diversity in the other patrons and an immediate drop in the level of general conversation when they entered. One particular group of men who were huddled around a corner table had eyed the two of them with deep suspicion; in contrast to the overall wearing contingent, they were as smartly and expensively dressed as Sean and himself, but had a decidedly shady air about them. But when the landlord greeted Sean by name and shook their hands enthusiastically everyone lost interest in them and the normal level of noise resumed. “Sean has been there before, so it must be alright,” Viggo continued. He wasn’t entirely sure that this was true, and Orlando did not look wholly convinced either, they both knew that Sean frequented some very dubious places.
“And there were women in this bar?” Orlando prompted.
“No,” Viggo said. “Not really, well, perhaps there were.” He couldn’t really remember if there had been any female customers or not. Given the body disguising nature of overalls, it was difficult to be sure.
Orlando sighed, despite enjoying this display of drunken confusion from his usually well behaved lover his patience was wearing thin. “So where did you find this lady that you mentioned?”
“Oh, she was behind the bar.”
“Ah, I see. And how did you acquire the lipstick?”
“It was all very innocent.”
Orlando had been fairly confident of this all along; nevertheless he treated Viggo to a hard stare. “Was it really?”
“It seems that she was the reason we were there. Sean had seen her on one of his previous visits and was keen to be better acquainted.” Viggo shrugged, trying to impart that he had been an unwilling accomplice in all of this.
Orlando chuckled, “What a surprise. And did he manage that?”
“Her shift ended at eight and they are currently having dinner together somewhere.”
“Lucky them,” Orlando said, tartly. “And she kissed you because…?”
“When we were all leaving the pub she insisted on saying goodbye, it seemed rude to refuse.”
“I don’t understand why Sean needed you there at all.”
Viggo again scrunched up his face in contemplation. “I suppose, as someone to talk to while she was serving other customers and in case she turned him down.”
“Ummm... I suppose. Well, this is another ruined evening for which I hold him entirely responsible.”
Viggo looked around the room again. His lover had gone to a lot of trouble; he was going to hold Sean responsible too. “I’m so sorry, why didn’t you text me, I’d have come home straight away?”
Orlando huffed in exasperation. “Because it was meant to be a surprise.”
“What was for dinner?”
“All of your favourite dishes, obviously.”
“You didn’t cook them yourself did you?”
Orlando started to laugh, “I really want to tell you that I did, but no, I didn’t even make Mrs Jones do it, I had it delivered already prepared from Fortnum and Mason.”
“Fuck!” Viggo buried his face in his hands, “I’m so, so, sorry.”
“We can salvage most of it and the champagne hasn’t been opened, although I’m not sure you should have anything more to drink.”
“No, I probably shouldn’t,” Viggo groaned, shaking his head.
Orlando stood up and moved towards the door. “So, now that you are here would you like something to eat? Or did you have pie and mash at the pub, or maybe jellied eels or pickled eggs?”
“Did I have what?” Viggo asked, bemused.
“Never mind,” Orlando laughed. He gripped Viggo’s shoulders and bent down to kiss his lover’s cheek. “Are you at all hungry?”
“Yes, I am, all I’ve had in the way of food tonight was a packet of peanuts, which probably accounts for the effect of the alcohol.”
“I’ll go and see what’s still edible.”
“I’m so sorry,” Viggo repeated, “I will make it up to you.”
“There are ways you could do that,” Orlando chuckled, nuzzling against Viggo’s neck, “but I’m guessing that might not be tonight.”
“Please stop torturing me, I wouldn’t have gone out with Sean if I’d known you were here but I thought you were in Glasgow. I ordered flowers and things to be sent to your hotel.”
“Did you though?” Orlando smiled fondly and massaged Viggo’s shoulders. “Or did you ask Liv to do it?”
“Er, well, alright, obviously I asked Liv to do it.”
“Of course you did, and fortunately Liv knew I would be here so that’s where the flowers got delivered.” Orlando gestured to the vase of long stemmed red roses on the sideboard. Beside them was a cardboard pastry box bearing the familiar Greggs logo. “The gingerbread men were a nice touch though.”
“I thought so,” Viggo said. “You see, I can be romantic.”
“I know you can,” Orlando said. “You are the most romantic, indulgent, generous partner an itinerant violinist could possibly have, which was why I wanted to surprise you tonight.”
“Fuck!” Viggo turned his head so that he could look up at Orlando. “Why aren’t you more annoyed about this?”
Orlando brushed a stray lock of hair from Viggo’s forehead and smiled at him. “I was trying to be but you looked so distraught when you walked in and saw me sitting here, I hadn’t the heart.” He bent forward and briefly pressed his mouth to Viggo’s. “Although,” he breathed against Viggo’s lips, “I kind of wish I’d yelled at you a bit, because we always have explosive make up sex after an argument.”
“If ruining your dinner plans by coming home late covered in lipstick isn’t enough to start an argument, I don’t know what else I could possibly do,” Viggo replied with a chuckle. The proximity of his lover, the smell of his cologne, and the warm breath on his face were, surprisingly, having a rousing effect on his penis. “I think I might be able to make it up to you after all,” he said nipping at Orlando’s bottom lip. “But we might be going for gentle and slow rather than explosive.”
“I’ll take that anytime,” Orlando said huskily.
“Will dinner keep a little longer?”
“It’s waited this long and I do know how to programme the microwave.”
“Can we move this to the bedroom then?”
“Yes please.”
Viggo managed to stand up and, with a supreme exhibition of limb control, walk fairly steadily down the hall to the bedroom. When he opened the door he discovered that this room was also illuminated by candlelight; the candles, of varying sizes, were ranged across the tables and chest of drawers, the bedcovers were turned down and there was a further scattering of red rose petals over the bed and the carpet; he gasped as he took in the view.
“Happy Valentine’s Day by the way,” Orlando said as he slipped his arms around Viggo’s chest and began to unbutton his shirt.
There was a lump in Viggo’s throat but he managed to breath out, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Orlando whispered against his shoulder. “Now, let me take care of you.”
Viggo dropped his hands and allowed Orlando to slowly undress him, shivering with anticipation as Orlando’s hands constantly stroked and caressed his body. By the time they reached the bed his cock bobbed eagerly against his belly.
“Can I…?” he began as Orlando pushed him down onto the bed.
“No,” Orlando replied, “you can’t.” and he climbed onto the bed too and immediately grasped Viggo’s rigid penis and guided it into his mouth.
Viggo let his head fall back against the pillows and groaned loudly as Orlando’s tongue did sinful things to him. So much for slow and gentle; he thought that if his lover continued like this he wasn’t going to last five minutes. “Orlando, please, please, stop,” he panted, sitting up and placing a restraining hand on his lover’s head.
“Seriously?” Orlando asked as he pulled back. “You really want me to stop?”
At the sight of Orlando’s glistening lips and the saliva running down his chin Viggo had to bite hard on his own lip in an effort to regain some control. “What I want,” Viggo said haltingly, “that is, what I’d really like, is for you to turn around so that I can suck you off at the same time.”
Orlando grinned back at him, “I think I’d like that too.” And he immediately crawled further up the bed and shuffled around so that they could take each other into their mouths.
Viggo had thought that having to concentrate on giving Orlando pleasure would make it easier to hold back his own crisis; he always loved having Orlando’s cock in his mouth, the smell, the taste, the noises Orlando made when he tightened his throat around the not inconsiderable girth; but since those noises were currently translating into vibrations around his own cock maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea. He was determined to make Orlando come first though, and he was still half drunk so surely Orlando had the greater challenge. He nearly made it; he could tell from experience that his lover was close, he was squirming and groaning and thrusting but then Orlando cheated by sliding a couple of fingers between Viggo’s arse cheeks and pushing inside him. It was all Viggo could do to keep his mouth on Orlando as he climaxed but his lover was already over the edge and they crashed together in a tangle of flailing limbs until they were both thoroughly spent and gasping for air.
Viggo licked the remains of the crème brûlée from his spoon and then leant over and kissed his lover. They were both wearing bathrobes and sitting close together at the dining table rather than at opposite ends. “That was delicious,” he said, “thank you.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Orlando said, “although it probably all tasted much better three hours ago.”
“You’re finally going to get mad at me aren’t you?” Viggo laughed bumping his shoulder against Orlando’s.
“Not really.” Orlando bumped him back laughing. “I’ve recently had sex and I’m full of good food and champagne. But give me time.”
“This is going to be another disastrous Valentine’s dinner that I’m going to have held against me isn’t it?”
“On no, I’m totally blaming Sean for this one,” Orlando grinned, “but I’m afraid this is another Valentine’s Day where we’ve managed to traumatise Liv.”
“What? No! How so?”
“When you didn’t arrive home I was worried and I texted her, she said you’d left the rehearsals at the usual time and you hadn’t mentioned going anywhere other than home. She was about to start ringing the hospitals when she remembered that she’d heard you take a call from Sean. When you rang off you’d said ‘see you later;’ and at the time she assumed it was just a way of closing the call but we realised you must have arranged to meet him. Liv was still worried though, because let’s face it if you fall under a bus she’s unemployed, so we made further enquiries?”
“So, you rang Cate?” Viggo suggested.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Orlando said. “We wouldn’t dare disturb Cate. But Liv does know Sean’s diary secretary quite well. We rang him.”
“Sean has a diary secretary? I didn’t know that.”
“Of course you didn’t, you’d just ring Cate. Anyway, Elijah is responsible for always knowing where Sean is and he confirmed that he was with you and you were both somewhere in Shoreditch. Liv was convinced you would be mugged or kidnapped but I pointed out that Sean looks rough enough to deter any low life you might encounter.”
“I suppose I should call and let her know I’m still alive and her job is safe.”
“S’okay,” Orlando grinned, “I texted her as soon as I heard your key in the door, in fact we had an entire conversation while you were attempting to get in.”
“Very funny,” Viggo said. “Wait, wasn’t she out with David?”
“Oh yes, they were having dinner at the Ritz. I spoke to him too; while Liv was hyperventilating.”
“Oh dammit, so we ruined their evening as well.” Viggo sighed. “I’ll call the florist in the morning. And also the wine merchant.”
“I did all of that online while I was waiting for you to turn up.” Orlando waved his phone at Viggo. Then he grinned mischievously. “I should probably tell you that David said, if he can’t persuade Liv to get a new job before next February he’s going to arrange our Valentine’s dinner himself but just in case we still manage to mess it up, he’s also going to build a wine cellar.”
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Beta: The very patient
gattodoro; but I have meddled, so all mistakes are mine.Dedication:A Valentine Interlude for
gattodoro and silvan_lady. Because it was written on their watch.Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; unfortunately.
Summary: Another day in the life of ‘The Conductor & The Concert Violinist’
Word Count: 4,000
Written in ‘The Conductor & The Concert Violinist’ universe.
It isn’t strictly necessary to be familiar with this universe, but it probably helps. Especially
If Music be the Food of Love &
A Grand Evening Out
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 mid thirties and Viggo his early fifties.
February 5th
“Livvy, Darling, I’ve brought you some coffee, and cake.” Orlando manoeuvred himself into the cramped box-room that he and Viggo used as a study and carefully placed a mug and a plate of chocolate brownies on the desk beside Viggo’s assistant. Then he stepped back and waited patiently, rather as if he were expecting to be patted on the head.
Liv studied the brownies and the latté, both undoubtedly the work of Mrs Jones. “What do you want, Orlando?” she asked suspiciously.
“What makes you think I want something?”
“Because you have that look on your face; the innocent one.”
Orlando pressed his hand against his chest and tried to look shocked and hurt. But he spoiled the effect by laughing. “How come you know me so well?”
“Because Viggo, spends hours telling me about every little thing you say and do, often with pictures.”
This time the shock was real. “What!”
Liv burst out laughing. “I’m joking, mostly, well about the pictures anyway. But I have known you long enough to know that you’re trying to butter me up, so you must want something.”
Orlando laughed and settled himself at his own desk, then he swivelled his chair around to face Liv who had, before this intrusion, been diligently working at Viggo’s desk. “I want a bit of information, that’s all.”
Liv frowned. “About Viggo?” Even with Orlando she was protective of her boss.
“Well, just his whereabouts.”
“He’s in Vienna; didn’t he tell you where he was going?”
“I don’t mean today, and of course I knew he was in Vienna.” This wasn’t strictly true; Orlando had enough trouble keeping up with his own diary. Viggo did, naturally, always say where he was going but in Orlando’s universe there were only two states of Viggo; he was either with Orlando, usually in London; or he was somewhere else, without Orlando. Orlando generally established which state pertained by checking the other side of the bed. “I want to know where he’ll be a week on Friday.”
“Hmmm,” Liv said, turning back to the computer. “So, the fourteenth.”
“Yes please.”
“I think he’s… yes, he’s in London.”
“And is he doing anything?”
“He will be rehearsing The Marriage of Figaro with the English National Opera.”
“So there is no possibility of him not being in London.”
“No, he has to be here, they are rehearsing all week. Why do you…? Oh…” Liv frowned, “I see why you want to know.” she bit her lip apprehensively, “Are you going to ask me to arrange something for you? Because you know I can’t be trusted.”
“Don’t be ridiculous Liv, we all know that the delightful Valentine's dinner we had at Greggs was totally Viggo’s fault. He’d agreed to you being on leave. He should never have called you in the first place.” He reached over and patted her hand. “All I need is for you to let me know if his plans change and to not tell him that I wanted to know. Is that okay with you?”
Liv nodded. “I don’t have a problem with that,” she said.
“Good. See, it wasn’t that bad.”
“So, what are you planning?”
“Ahhh, I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not? That’s mean.” Liv pouted. Orlando liked her; pouting usually worked, but this time he just laughed.
“Partly because I haven’t decided yet. I’d quite like to whisk him off somewhere like David did with you to Paris; we all agreed that he was the outright winner in the most romantic Valentine stakes.”
“It was wonderful,” Liv smiled in happy recollection, “but Viggo doesn’t like surprises.”
“I know Darling; he is a boring, boring man. So I need it to only be a small surprise.”
“Do you want me to surreptitiously find out if there’s something he’d like to do?”
Orlando tried to keep a straight face. One of the things he already had on his list of possibilities was lying in wait on the sofa, naked and oiled, with a red ribbon around his dick. He was pretty sure Viggo would like that, but he certainly wasn’t going to ask Liv if she could find out. “No, better not, he’ll suss you after the first tiny hint and he’ll know you’re working for me.”
“That’s true,” Liv said sadly, she’d rather hoped she could do something to make up for her previous failure; she still felt partly responsible for the Greggs debacle, however much the two men had assured her she wasn’t but Viggo was not easily fooled.
“And,” Orlando continued, “should the subject of my whereabouts come up, I am in Glasgow.”
“Okay.” Liv nodded her understanding.
“I am there for two nights but I’ve told Viggo I’m going for three and that I won't be back till Saturday.”
“That is devious of you,” Liv chuckled, “but sweet.”
Orlando patted her hand again. “Thank you. So, next week, please, please, please, don’t drop any hints, or remind him of the date, or even ask him where I am.”
Liv rolled her eyes. “I don’t ever have to ask him where you are; he just tells me and anyway I immediately know by his mood if you are at home or not. But don’t worry my lips will be firmly sealed on the subject of Valentine’s Day.”
***************************************************************************
February 14th
After a couple of minutes of fumbling and cursing, Viggo finally acquainted his key with the lock and so managed to open the door of his apartment and, with only a slight list to his gait, propel himself inside. He shut the door and slumped against the wall for a moment to recuperate before he tackled the alarm. It was only as he raised his hand to the pad, hoping that muscle memory alone would be sufficient to accomplish the disarming, that he realised it wasn’t buzzing. This should have been worrying but the fug of alcohol prevented his brain from being too concerned about it. Mrs Jones had been in the apartment when he had left this morning to attend rehearsals and he decided that she must have forgotten to set it; although, Mrs Jones was usually very reliable about setting the alarm; far more reliable than his partner who was generally leaving in a rush with a suit-carrier in one hand and his violin case in the other and often a piece of food clenched between his teeth. The thought of Orlando distracted Viggo for a moment and he smiled to himself; his lover was performing in Glasgow tonight and Viggo had estimated that following the concert Orlando should be back in his hotel room around nine. It was eight-thirty now, so his plan was to imbibe a very large coffee, make himself comfortable on the sofa and then call him.
As he turned and tried to focus on negotiating the hallway without running into any of the furniture, he noticed that there was a faint glow coming from the dining room. Viggo frowned; it really wasn’t like Mrs Jones to forget the alarm and leave lights on; his brain registered that this was more disturbing and suggested he might like to investigate, so he advanced towards the dining room, pushed open the door and edged cautiously inside.
The dining table was set, more formally than was usual, with china and silverware. He blinked in the low light which he now realised was being provided by the half burnt down candles in the centre of the table and at the far end he saw, Orlando; his lover was wearing evening dress, although the black tie was hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar and he was lounging on one of the dining chairs, arms folded across his chest, feet propped up on another; he didn’t look happy.
“Oh!” Viggo offered as he stumbled forward and placed his hands on the back of the nearest chair for support. He took in the rest of the table, the scattering of rose petals, the artistically folded napkins, the bottle of champagne floating in the ice bucket, “Oh!”
“Where have you been?” Orlando asked, he didn’t sound angry, in fact there was definite amusement in his tone and it was even more evident when he continued, “Have you been drinking?”
“Ummm,” Viggo responded lamely.
Orlando was shaking his head and laughing now as he stood up and approached his lover, but he stopped suddenly and frowned, then he stretched out a hand and wiped his thumb down the side of Viggo’s mouth; he inspected the garish red smear on his pad and showed it to Viggo.
“Lipstick? Where exactly have you been, Viggo?” he asked, his tone a little sharper now.
Viggo groaned. “Fuck,” he said, then after a pause, “I’ve been out with Sean.”
“Well that would account for you being drunk.”
“And there may have been a lady involved,” Viggo confessed, scrunching up his face.
“I suppose at least it’s a comfort to know that Sean hasn't started wearing lipstick. But do you want to expand on that statement before I start moving my things into the spare room.”
Viggo’s regarded his lover with alarm but then realised that Orlando was struggling not to smile.
“Could I sit down first? I may have had more to drink than I meant to.”
Orlando pulled out a dining chair and guided Viggo into it before retaking his previous seat.
“So?”
Viggo sighed. It was becoming clear to him that Orlando had arranged an intimate Valentine’s dinner, had probably been waiting for him for a couple of hours, and he had been out having fun elsewhere, although, to be honest, not that much fun.
“Sean called me,” he said. “He was feeling sorry for himself because it was Valentine’s Day and he was on his own.”
Orlando raised his eyebrows sceptically; he doubted that the recently re-divorced Sean Bean would really have had much of a problem finding a date for Valentine’s Day.
“Cate had naturally gone home to her husband and he knew you were away because we’d spoken earlier in the week and I’d mentioned it, so he suggested we go for a drink. There was a bar he knew; he said it wouldn’t be full of couples.”
“Oh God!” Orlando exclaimed, “please tell me he didn’t take you to a singles bar!”
Viggo thought about it, he was fairly sure it had been an ordinary sort of bar, in fact if he could characterise it at all he would have said it mainly catered for people in overalls and heavy boots.
“It was a pub somewhere in the East end.”
“Good grief!” Orlando spluttered, “that must have been disturbing for you. Was there sawdust on the floor?”
Viggo tried to scowl; it amused Orlando to allege that his lover had no conception of how ordinary people entertained themselves, but it wasn’t true, he had spent many happy hours in some very low dives, and not always in the company of Sean Bean; but Orlando looked so attractive when he laughed that Viggo could only smile fondly and wonder if enough alcohol had been shocked out of his system to allow him to stand up and move around the table for a kiss.
“It was a perfectly respectable place,” Viggo said, then he reconsidered this statement; there had in fact been an odd diversity in the other patrons and an immediate drop in the level of general conversation when they entered. One particular group of men who were huddled around a corner table had eyed the two of them with deep suspicion; in contrast to the overall wearing contingent, they were as smartly and expensively dressed as Sean and himself, but had a decidedly shady air about them. But when the landlord greeted Sean by name and shook their hands enthusiastically everyone lost interest in them and the normal level of noise resumed. “Sean has been there before, so it must be alright,” Viggo continued. He wasn’t entirely sure that this was true, and Orlando did not look wholly convinced either, they both knew that Sean frequented some very dubious places.
“And there were women in this bar?” Orlando prompted.
“No,” Viggo said. “Not really, well, perhaps there were.” He couldn’t really remember if there had been any female customers or not. Given the body disguising nature of overalls, it was difficult to be sure.
Orlando sighed, despite enjoying this display of drunken confusion from his usually well behaved lover his patience was wearing thin. “So where did you find this lady that you mentioned?”
“Oh, she was behind the bar.”
“Ah, I see. And how did you acquire the lipstick?”
“It was all very innocent.”
Orlando had been fairly confident of this all along; nevertheless he treated Viggo to a hard stare. “Was it really?”
“It seems that she was the reason we were there. Sean had seen her on one of his previous visits and was keen to be better acquainted.” Viggo shrugged, trying to impart that he had been an unwilling accomplice in all of this.
Orlando chuckled, “What a surprise. And did he manage that?”
“Her shift ended at eight and they are currently having dinner together somewhere.”
“Lucky them,” Orlando said, tartly. “And she kissed you because…?”
“When we were all leaving the pub she insisted on saying goodbye, it seemed rude to refuse.”
“I don’t understand why Sean needed you there at all.”
Viggo again scrunched up his face in contemplation. “I suppose, as someone to talk to while she was serving other customers and in case she turned him down.”
“Ummm... I suppose. Well, this is another ruined evening for which I hold him entirely responsible.”
Viggo looked around the room again. His lover had gone to a lot of trouble; he was going to hold Sean responsible too. “I’m so sorry, why didn’t you text me, I’d have come home straight away?”
Orlando huffed in exasperation. “Because it was meant to be a surprise.”
“What was for dinner?”
“All of your favourite dishes, obviously.”
“You didn’t cook them yourself did you?”
Orlando started to laugh, “I really want to tell you that I did, but no, I didn’t even make Mrs Jones do it, I had it delivered already prepared from Fortnum and Mason.”
“Fuck!” Viggo buried his face in his hands, “I’m so, so, sorry.”
“We can salvage most of it and the champagne hasn’t been opened, although I’m not sure you should have anything more to drink.”
“No, I probably shouldn’t,” Viggo groaned, shaking his head.
Orlando stood up and moved towards the door. “So, now that you are here would you like something to eat? Or did you have pie and mash at the pub, or maybe jellied eels or pickled eggs?”
“Did I have what?” Viggo asked, bemused.
“Never mind,” Orlando laughed. He gripped Viggo’s shoulders and bent down to kiss his lover’s cheek. “Are you at all hungry?”
“Yes, I am, all I’ve had in the way of food tonight was a packet of peanuts, which probably accounts for the effect of the alcohol.”
“I’ll go and see what’s still edible.”
“I’m so sorry,” Viggo repeated, “I will make it up to you.”
“There are ways you could do that,” Orlando chuckled, nuzzling against Viggo’s neck, “but I’m guessing that might not be tonight.”
“Please stop torturing me, I wouldn’t have gone out with Sean if I’d known you were here but I thought you were in Glasgow. I ordered flowers and things to be sent to your hotel.”
“Did you though?” Orlando smiled fondly and massaged Viggo’s shoulders. “Or did you ask Liv to do it?”
“Er, well, alright, obviously I asked Liv to do it.”
“Of course you did, and fortunately Liv knew I would be here so that’s where the flowers got delivered.” Orlando gestured to the vase of long stemmed red roses on the sideboard. Beside them was a cardboard pastry box bearing the familiar Greggs logo. “The gingerbread men were a nice touch though.”
“I thought so,” Viggo said. “You see, I can be romantic.”
“I know you can,” Orlando said. “You are the most romantic, indulgent, generous partner an itinerant violinist could possibly have, which was why I wanted to surprise you tonight.”
“Fuck!” Viggo turned his head so that he could look up at Orlando. “Why aren’t you more annoyed about this?”
Orlando brushed a stray lock of hair from Viggo’s forehead and smiled at him. “I was trying to be but you looked so distraught when you walked in and saw me sitting here, I hadn’t the heart.” He bent forward and briefly pressed his mouth to Viggo’s. “Although,” he breathed against Viggo’s lips, “I kind of wish I’d yelled at you a bit, because we always have explosive make up sex after an argument.”
“If ruining your dinner plans by coming home late covered in lipstick isn’t enough to start an argument, I don’t know what else I could possibly do,” Viggo replied with a chuckle. The proximity of his lover, the smell of his cologne, and the warm breath on his face were, surprisingly, having a rousing effect on his penis. “I think I might be able to make it up to you after all,” he said nipping at Orlando’s bottom lip. “But we might be going for gentle and slow rather than explosive.”
“I’ll take that anytime,” Orlando said huskily.
“Will dinner keep a little longer?”
“It’s waited this long and I do know how to programme the microwave.”
“Can we move this to the bedroom then?”
“Yes please.”
Viggo managed to stand up and, with a supreme exhibition of limb control, walk fairly steadily down the hall to the bedroom. When he opened the door he discovered that this room was also illuminated by candlelight; the candles, of varying sizes, were ranged across the tables and chest of drawers, the bedcovers were turned down and there was a further scattering of red rose petals over the bed and the carpet; he gasped as he took in the view.
“Happy Valentine’s Day by the way,” Orlando said as he slipped his arms around Viggo’s chest and began to unbutton his shirt.
There was a lump in Viggo’s throat but he managed to breath out, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Orlando whispered against his shoulder. “Now, let me take care of you.”
Viggo dropped his hands and allowed Orlando to slowly undress him, shivering with anticipation as Orlando’s hands constantly stroked and caressed his body. By the time they reached the bed his cock bobbed eagerly against his belly.
“Can I…?” he began as Orlando pushed him down onto the bed.
“No,” Orlando replied, “you can’t.” and he climbed onto the bed too and immediately grasped Viggo’s rigid penis and guided it into his mouth.
Viggo let his head fall back against the pillows and groaned loudly as Orlando’s tongue did sinful things to him. So much for slow and gentle; he thought that if his lover continued like this he wasn’t going to last five minutes. “Orlando, please, please, stop,” he panted, sitting up and placing a restraining hand on his lover’s head.
“Seriously?” Orlando asked as he pulled back. “You really want me to stop?”
At the sight of Orlando’s glistening lips and the saliva running down his chin Viggo had to bite hard on his own lip in an effort to regain some control. “What I want,” Viggo said haltingly, “that is, what I’d really like, is for you to turn around so that I can suck you off at the same time.”
Orlando grinned back at him, “I think I’d like that too.” And he immediately crawled further up the bed and shuffled around so that they could take each other into their mouths.
Viggo had thought that having to concentrate on giving Orlando pleasure would make it easier to hold back his own crisis; he always loved having Orlando’s cock in his mouth, the smell, the taste, the noises Orlando made when he tightened his throat around the not inconsiderable girth; but since those noises were currently translating into vibrations around his own cock maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea. He was determined to make Orlando come first though, and he was still half drunk so surely Orlando had the greater challenge. He nearly made it; he could tell from experience that his lover was close, he was squirming and groaning and thrusting but then Orlando cheated by sliding a couple of fingers between Viggo’s arse cheeks and pushing inside him. It was all Viggo could do to keep his mouth on Orlando as he climaxed but his lover was already over the edge and they crashed together in a tangle of flailing limbs until they were both thoroughly spent and gasping for air.
Viggo licked the remains of the crème brûlée from his spoon and then leant over and kissed his lover. They were both wearing bathrobes and sitting close together at the dining table rather than at opposite ends. “That was delicious,” he said, “thank you.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Orlando said, “although it probably all tasted much better three hours ago.”
“You’re finally going to get mad at me aren’t you?” Viggo laughed bumping his shoulder against Orlando’s.
“Not really.” Orlando bumped him back laughing. “I’ve recently had sex and I’m full of good food and champagne. But give me time.”
“This is going to be another disastrous Valentine’s dinner that I’m going to have held against me isn’t it?”
“On no, I’m totally blaming Sean for this one,” Orlando grinned, “but I’m afraid this is another Valentine’s Day where we’ve managed to traumatise Liv.”
“What? No! How so?”
“When you didn’t arrive home I was worried and I texted her, she said you’d left the rehearsals at the usual time and you hadn’t mentioned going anywhere other than home. She was about to start ringing the hospitals when she remembered that she’d heard you take a call from Sean. When you rang off you’d said ‘see you later;’ and at the time she assumed it was just a way of closing the call but we realised you must have arranged to meet him. Liv was still worried though, because let’s face it if you fall under a bus she’s unemployed, so we made further enquiries?”
“So, you rang Cate?” Viggo suggested.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Orlando said. “We wouldn’t dare disturb Cate. But Liv does know Sean’s diary secretary quite well. We rang him.”
“Sean has a diary secretary? I didn’t know that.”
“Of course you didn’t, you’d just ring Cate. Anyway, Elijah is responsible for always knowing where Sean is and he confirmed that he was with you and you were both somewhere in Shoreditch. Liv was convinced you would be mugged or kidnapped but I pointed out that Sean looks rough enough to deter any low life you might encounter.”
“I suppose I should call and let her know I’m still alive and her job is safe.”
“S’okay,” Orlando grinned, “I texted her as soon as I heard your key in the door, in fact we had an entire conversation while you were attempting to get in.”
“Very funny,” Viggo said. “Wait, wasn’t she out with David?”
“Oh yes, they were having dinner at the Ritz. I spoke to him too; while Liv was hyperventilating.”
“Oh dammit, so we ruined their evening as well.” Viggo sighed. “I’ll call the florist in the morning. And also the wine merchant.”
“I did all of that online while I was waiting for you to turn up.” Orlando waved his phone at Viggo. Then he grinned mischievously. “I should probably tell you that David said, if he can’t persuade Liv to get a new job before next February he’s going to arrange our Valentine’s dinner himself but just in case we still manage to mess it up, he’s also going to build a wine cellar.”
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Date: 2020-02-14 04:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-02-15 10:30 pm (UTC)I hope this one amused you ;-)
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Date: 2020-02-17 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-02-17 11:09 am (UTC)now I'm really curious about what you'll come up with next year,
this was lovely and more-than-slightly drunk viggo such a pleasure to read!
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Date: 2020-02-17 07:30 pm (UTC)I'm really fond of these two.
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Date: 2020-02-17 07:31 pm (UTC)Pleased you enjoyed it though *g*