A Touch of Orlando - Part 5
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vigorliTitle: A Touch of Orlando. Part 5/7
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo (mention of other partners)
Beta: And banner makersilvan_lady; Thank you.
I may have tampered with it because I can’t leave well alone, so all mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Word Count: 2,200
Summary: So what happens now?
Notes: I have shamelessly ‘borrowed’ the main plot from a film but I have reworked it so that it’s nowhere near as smart and funny as the original and Orlando probably won't get an Oscar for it. Anyway, apologies to anyone who is at all unhappy about this travesty.
Earlier Parts
Chapter 5
“I have a proposition,” Viggo said slowly.
Orlando looked up from where he had been pushing his coffee cup around in the saucer, without ever picking it up and putting it to his lips.
“A proposition?”
It was Friday evening and they were eating their final dinner at Souris Mort Hall in a quiet corner of the main restaurant; it was called The Library, and the decor was rather like a traditional gentleman’s club, high walls lined with dark wood bookcases which were filled with leather bound volumes, and heavy leather chairs at tables covered by starched white cloths. The hotel had three AA Rosettes so the food was excellent.
The last three days had passed very pleasantly and far, far too quickly. They had slept late on Wednesday morning and eaten lunch in the room in their bathrobes but they ventured out in the afternoon to begin their explorations of the local area. Orlando had been hugely amused by Viggo’s disappointment at discovering that Hadrian’s wall was no longer the impressive, impenetrable barrier against the Scots that he had been imagining and that the forts were really just areas of scrubland interrupted by lines of excavated brickwork. He had been very interested in the display of Roman artefacts that had been uncovered at the Vindolanda site though and the ongoing excavations there. The castles they visited on other days were a little more substantial, but not much; they were now mainly broken down shells of what had once been Impregnable edifices. Orlando had joked about Americans and their fascination with ancient monuments and Viggo had taken the teasing placidly so his confidence grew that the man was basically quite easy going once you penetrated the hard outer casing. After seeing his disappointment with the ruined castles Orlando had suggested driving out to Bamburgh where there was, he promised Viggo, a relatively complete castle which also housed some engines that might interest him in their museum. Viggo had said ‘another time maybe’ and something did a little dance in Orlando’s stomach at the inference that Viggo was thinking they might do this again, then he realised it was just a more diplomatic way of saying, no, I don’t want to do that.
They had played a couple of rounds of golf together on the hotel course and Orlando had enjoyed that more than he’d expected too. He had thought that Viggo might be as aggressively competitive at sport as he obviously was in business but it turned out that he played golf to relax and took it all very casually; he berated himself if he muffed a shot but he also congratulated Orlando on a good drive or putt. They were fortunately quite evenly matched so it had all gone surprisingly well; although Orlando suspected that if he played most weekends as Viggo currently did he would soon be able to beat the older man on a regular basis but since they would never play together again he supposed that wasn’t going to be a problem.
But now there was a proposition. Viggo had already suggested that they should break their journey south and stay overnight in Doncaster on Saturday. Orlando had agreed because he wanted to spend another day in Viggo’s company and another night in his bed; but beyond that there had been no suggestion that they might meet up again in London. Orlando hadn’t expected it and it would certainly be for the best. He was getting to like Viggo very much, and teetering on the edge of falling in love with him. And it wasn’t just the quality of the sex; he was also enjoying their conversations and Viggo’s wry humour, and overall this trip had been almost idyllic; the kind of short break he would have loved to spend with a partner. As well as Hadrian's wall and the abundance of castles, Northumberland was a countryside of hills, heather moors and wide, open plains. If they’d been here for longer and explored further they could have visited the beautiful coastal villages, hired bikes or horses, or tried the star gazing opportunities at the Kielder observatory.
Although, on the other hand, the hotel offered enough amenities and entertainment that you could quite easily spend a week here without leaving the grounds. In a moment of idle contemplation he’d thought about coming back sometime in the future with someone else, but knew immediately he wouldn’t be able to; for him this hotel would always be a memory of time spent with Viggo and, even if it hadn’t been the romantic getaway that he’d secretly craved, he didn’t want to overwrite that.
Viggo was absently stirring his coffee and, rather than looking at Orlando, staring thoughtfully out of the tall windows, which had a splendid view out over the lawns; he seemed to be almost as sorry to be leaving as Orlando was himself. “Yes,” he said firmly. “A proposition.”
Orlando felt the thrill of possibility, but also of uncertainty; he had embarked on this ‘interlude’, as he thought of it, because although he had denied it to his friends he had been wallowing in a self-indulgent mire of self-pity after the departure of his former partner. He and Luke had been together for nearly eight years and seven of them at least had been reasonably happy. Then they’d both found that they had fallen out of love but decided they were more or less content enough in each other’s company to continue living together; that had been a mistake. Eventually the petty grievances had escalated and they fought more often than they agreed and finally Luke had, unsurprisingly, found someone else, someone more compliant, Orlando assumed. When Luke moved out it had actually been a relief for Orlando but he’d still found it hard to imagine starting up with someone new. This fling with Viggo was intended to kickstart him into at least trying to initiate other relationships. He had given Billy and Dom an edited version of the planned trip; Dom was enthusiastic, Billy more cautious. But they’d both been supportive because they were good friends. He hadn’t mentioned that Viggo was still married. It wasn’t that he meant to deceive them but since he wouldn’t see Viggo again after the trip he decided they didn’t need to know. Dom would be ambivalent, but Billy probably wouldn’t approve.
He took a deep breath. “I’m listening.”
Viggo turned towards him, reached across the starched tablecloth and took his hand and Orlando almost flinched. This was new; intimate physical contact had so far been confined to the bedroom. “These last few days with you have been,” Viggo paused and stared into space again, “unexpectedly enjoyable.”
Orlando almost spluttered. Really? The hand holding had been promising but that statement was the least romantic thing he’d ever heard said about anyone. Then he recovered himself, whatever Viggo was about to propose he had to say no, for his own sanity, this wasn’t a romantic relationship, it was a, well, a business arrangement, and on Sunday it would be over.
“I find,” Viggo continued, “that I am unwilling to let you go.”
Orlando suffered another moment of panic, up there with, am I being abducted in a taxi. What did Viggo mean, let him go? Was Viggo saying that he assumed he’d ‘bought’ Orlando, with this week in the country. Was he implying some sort of obligation? “What do you mean?” he demanded, more harshly than he intended, pulling his hand away.
Viggo frowned. “I mean that I want to continue seeing you when we get back to London.”
Orlando pursed his lips, were they back to this then? Negotiating quick fucks in backstreet hotels. “What about what I want?” he asked.
Viggo seemed surprised, maybe it was the fact they would soon be heading home to London that had turned him back into the demanding manipulator who wasn't used to being refused. “I was hoping that might be what you wanted too. I thought…, I thought we were having fun.”
“You’re a married man,” Orlando said, grasping for reasonable grounds.
“I am aware of that,” Viggo replied coolly. “But I thought you’d overcome your scruples on that point.”
Orlando blushed, he hadn’t overcome them he’d just pushed them to one side for a time, and he felt bad enough about doing that. “I gave them a week off, that’s all.”
Viggo laughed out loud. Diners at the nearby tables turned their heads. “I hate to tell you this, but you’ve already compromised yourself, you can’t undo that. Stopping now won’t salve your conscience.”
Orlando was torn between walking straight out of the restaurant or first pouring the very decent brandy they were drinking with their coffee over Viggo’s head. He did feel guilty; but because he had never seen Viggo’s wife, and Viggo never mentioned her, he didn’t feel as guilty as he probably should. So here he was feeling guilty about not feeling guilty and Viggo had touched a nerve, and bugger the man, this evening was already bad enough because they were leaving tomorrow and Orlando had really enjoyed the last few days and he wanted nothing more than to keep on seeing Viggo and, and, and... dammit, he wasn’t going to get annoyed, he really wasn’t, he didn’t want the week to end like that. “No!” he said, vehemently, “I won’t see you in London.”
“Because I’m married or because you don’t want to?”
“Because I don’t want to be a quick fuck in a cheap hotel,” Orlando hissed.
“I thought you might say that,” Viggo said, “and that wasn’t what I was going to suggest.”
“But I thought that’s how it worked.”
“It is, usually, but this would be different.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Orlando rolled his eyes. “How would it be different?” Then a thought occurred to him. “Oh my God, you’re not thinking of installing me in my own little flat in Soho are you? So you can visit when you’re inclined and leave money on the bedside table when you leave. Would I have to dress up in a basque and rubber gloves and assault you with a stick of celery?”
Viggo did not look amused. “You have a very weird imagination.”
“And you have a very weird way of conducting your sex life.”
Viggo shrugged. “I really don’t.” Orlando glared at him but the man seemed unfazed. “So, do you want to hear my proposition or not?”
Orlando opened his mouth to say no, he wanted to say no, but somehow he said, “Alright, I suppose so.” Because he was mildly curious about what Viggo thought he might agree to.
Viggo cleared his throat, despite his previous responses, it almost seemed as if he wasn’t entirely sure himself about this plan. “Because I sometimes work late or need to be in early, I have a small apartment in the City, it saves travelling to or from Richmond at inconvenient hours. And before you ask me, no, I don’t take men there, not to sleep with at least, I might occasionally invite a friend back for a drink, but I have never taken one of my… transient partners there.”
Orlando quickly nodded to show that he understood what Viggo was saying.
“It’s very small, probably smaller than my office in fact, but it’s only intended as a place for me to crash occasionally. It is, however, quite close to my office, so also close to your studios. We could meet there.”
Orlando sighed in frustration, was a cramped bedsit really any better than a hotel, it was the same programme; they would snatch an hour to fuck, probably straight from work, and then Orlando would take the train back to his empty house in Walthamsow. It wasn’t a relationship. It wasn’t at all what he wanted from Viggo. He turned and stared out of the window. On the other hand; if it was just the occasional fuck, it wouldn’t interfere with his regular life, he could look for a proper partner while still seeing Viggo and having really great sex.
“Orlando?”
“That sounds very much like an affair,” Orlando said wearily. “I thought you didn’t have affairs.”
“I don’t,” Viggo replied. “That is…, I mean, I never have before.”
“Won’t you have to renegotiate terms with your wife?”
Viggo pursed his lips but apparently managed to keep his temper. “I’m not going to try and persuade you Orlando, you know what I’m proposing, it’s your choice. You can think about it while we’re travelling back but I’d appreciate a decision by the time we reach London.”
“And if I do accept this proposal, how long would you expect the arrangement to last?” Orlando said. He knew he was going to agree to it, Viggo probably knew he was going to agree to it; but in the absence of a real commitment, he wanted some guidelines.
Viggo didn’t smirk as Orlando had expected he might, having triumphed; he turned and looked wistfully out of the window again. “I have no idea, Orlando. I would guess until we get tired of one another or you inevitably fall in love with someone who is nearer your own age.”
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo (mention of other partners)
Beta: And banner maker
silvan_lady; Thank you. I may have tampered with it because I can’t leave well alone, so all mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Word Count: 2,200
Summary: So what happens now?
Notes: I have shamelessly ‘borrowed’ the main plot from a film but I have reworked it so that it’s nowhere near as smart and funny as the original and Orlando probably won't get an Oscar for it. Anyway, apologies to anyone who is at all unhappy about this travesty.
Earlier Parts
Chapter 5
“I have a proposition,” Viggo said slowly.
Orlando looked up from where he had been pushing his coffee cup around in the saucer, without ever picking it up and putting it to his lips.
“A proposition?”
It was Friday evening and they were eating their final dinner at Souris Mort Hall in a quiet corner of the main restaurant; it was called The Library, and the decor was rather like a traditional gentleman’s club, high walls lined with dark wood bookcases which were filled with leather bound volumes, and heavy leather chairs at tables covered by starched white cloths. The hotel had three AA Rosettes so the food was excellent.
The last three days had passed very pleasantly and far, far too quickly. They had slept late on Wednesday morning and eaten lunch in the room in their bathrobes but they ventured out in the afternoon to begin their explorations of the local area. Orlando had been hugely amused by Viggo’s disappointment at discovering that Hadrian’s wall was no longer the impressive, impenetrable barrier against the Scots that he had been imagining and that the forts were really just areas of scrubland interrupted by lines of excavated brickwork. He had been very interested in the display of Roman artefacts that had been uncovered at the Vindolanda site though and the ongoing excavations there. The castles they visited on other days were a little more substantial, but not much; they were now mainly broken down shells of what had once been Impregnable edifices. Orlando had joked about Americans and their fascination with ancient monuments and Viggo had taken the teasing placidly so his confidence grew that the man was basically quite easy going once you penetrated the hard outer casing. After seeing his disappointment with the ruined castles Orlando had suggested driving out to Bamburgh where there was, he promised Viggo, a relatively complete castle which also housed some engines that might interest him in their museum. Viggo had said ‘another time maybe’ and something did a little dance in Orlando’s stomach at the inference that Viggo was thinking they might do this again, then he realised it was just a more diplomatic way of saying, no, I don’t want to do that.
They had played a couple of rounds of golf together on the hotel course and Orlando had enjoyed that more than he’d expected too. He had thought that Viggo might be as aggressively competitive at sport as he obviously was in business but it turned out that he played golf to relax and took it all very casually; he berated himself if he muffed a shot but he also congratulated Orlando on a good drive or putt. They were fortunately quite evenly matched so it had all gone surprisingly well; although Orlando suspected that if he played most weekends as Viggo currently did he would soon be able to beat the older man on a regular basis but since they would never play together again he supposed that wasn’t going to be a problem.
But now there was a proposition. Viggo had already suggested that they should break their journey south and stay overnight in Doncaster on Saturday. Orlando had agreed because he wanted to spend another day in Viggo’s company and another night in his bed; but beyond that there had been no suggestion that they might meet up again in London. Orlando hadn’t expected it and it would certainly be for the best. He was getting to like Viggo very much, and teetering on the edge of falling in love with him. And it wasn’t just the quality of the sex; he was also enjoying their conversations and Viggo’s wry humour, and overall this trip had been almost idyllic; the kind of short break he would have loved to spend with a partner. As well as Hadrian's wall and the abundance of castles, Northumberland was a countryside of hills, heather moors and wide, open plains. If they’d been here for longer and explored further they could have visited the beautiful coastal villages, hired bikes or horses, or tried the star gazing opportunities at the Kielder observatory.
Although, on the other hand, the hotel offered enough amenities and entertainment that you could quite easily spend a week here without leaving the grounds. In a moment of idle contemplation he’d thought about coming back sometime in the future with someone else, but knew immediately he wouldn’t be able to; for him this hotel would always be a memory of time spent with Viggo and, even if it hadn’t been the romantic getaway that he’d secretly craved, he didn’t want to overwrite that.
Viggo was absently stirring his coffee and, rather than looking at Orlando, staring thoughtfully out of the tall windows, which had a splendid view out over the lawns; he seemed to be almost as sorry to be leaving as Orlando was himself. “Yes,” he said firmly. “A proposition.”
Orlando felt the thrill of possibility, but also of uncertainty; he had embarked on this ‘interlude’, as he thought of it, because although he had denied it to his friends he had been wallowing in a self-indulgent mire of self-pity after the departure of his former partner. He and Luke had been together for nearly eight years and seven of them at least had been reasonably happy. Then they’d both found that they had fallen out of love but decided they were more or less content enough in each other’s company to continue living together; that had been a mistake. Eventually the petty grievances had escalated and they fought more often than they agreed and finally Luke had, unsurprisingly, found someone else, someone more compliant, Orlando assumed. When Luke moved out it had actually been a relief for Orlando but he’d still found it hard to imagine starting up with someone new. This fling with Viggo was intended to kickstart him into at least trying to initiate other relationships. He had given Billy and Dom an edited version of the planned trip; Dom was enthusiastic, Billy more cautious. But they’d both been supportive because they were good friends. He hadn’t mentioned that Viggo was still married. It wasn’t that he meant to deceive them but since he wouldn’t see Viggo again after the trip he decided they didn’t need to know. Dom would be ambivalent, but Billy probably wouldn’t approve.
He took a deep breath. “I’m listening.”
Viggo turned towards him, reached across the starched tablecloth and took his hand and Orlando almost flinched. This was new; intimate physical contact had so far been confined to the bedroom. “These last few days with you have been,” Viggo paused and stared into space again, “unexpectedly enjoyable.”
Orlando almost spluttered. Really? The hand holding had been promising but that statement was the least romantic thing he’d ever heard said about anyone. Then he recovered himself, whatever Viggo was about to propose he had to say no, for his own sanity, this wasn’t a romantic relationship, it was a, well, a business arrangement, and on Sunday it would be over.
“I find,” Viggo continued, “that I am unwilling to let you go.”
Orlando suffered another moment of panic, up there with, am I being abducted in a taxi. What did Viggo mean, let him go? Was Viggo saying that he assumed he’d ‘bought’ Orlando, with this week in the country. Was he implying some sort of obligation? “What do you mean?” he demanded, more harshly than he intended, pulling his hand away.
Viggo frowned. “I mean that I want to continue seeing you when we get back to London.”
Orlando pursed his lips, were they back to this then? Negotiating quick fucks in backstreet hotels. “What about what I want?” he asked.
Viggo seemed surprised, maybe it was the fact they would soon be heading home to London that had turned him back into the demanding manipulator who wasn't used to being refused. “I was hoping that might be what you wanted too. I thought…, I thought we were having fun.”
“You’re a married man,” Orlando said, grasping for reasonable grounds.
“I am aware of that,” Viggo replied coolly. “But I thought you’d overcome your scruples on that point.”
Orlando blushed, he hadn’t overcome them he’d just pushed them to one side for a time, and he felt bad enough about doing that. “I gave them a week off, that’s all.”
Viggo laughed out loud. Diners at the nearby tables turned their heads. “I hate to tell you this, but you’ve already compromised yourself, you can’t undo that. Stopping now won’t salve your conscience.”
Orlando was torn between walking straight out of the restaurant or first pouring the very decent brandy they were drinking with their coffee over Viggo’s head. He did feel guilty; but because he had never seen Viggo’s wife, and Viggo never mentioned her, he didn’t feel as guilty as he probably should. So here he was feeling guilty about not feeling guilty and Viggo had touched a nerve, and bugger the man, this evening was already bad enough because they were leaving tomorrow and Orlando had really enjoyed the last few days and he wanted nothing more than to keep on seeing Viggo and, and, and... dammit, he wasn’t going to get annoyed, he really wasn’t, he didn’t want the week to end like that. “No!” he said, vehemently, “I won’t see you in London.”
“Because I’m married or because you don’t want to?”
“Because I don’t want to be a quick fuck in a cheap hotel,” Orlando hissed.
“I thought you might say that,” Viggo said, “and that wasn’t what I was going to suggest.”
“But I thought that’s how it worked.”
“It is, usually, but this would be different.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Orlando rolled his eyes. “How would it be different?” Then a thought occurred to him. “Oh my God, you’re not thinking of installing me in my own little flat in Soho are you? So you can visit when you’re inclined and leave money on the bedside table when you leave. Would I have to dress up in a basque and rubber gloves and assault you with a stick of celery?”
Viggo did not look amused. “You have a very weird imagination.”
“And you have a very weird way of conducting your sex life.”
Viggo shrugged. “I really don’t.” Orlando glared at him but the man seemed unfazed. “So, do you want to hear my proposition or not?”
Orlando opened his mouth to say no, he wanted to say no, but somehow he said, “Alright, I suppose so.” Because he was mildly curious about what Viggo thought he might agree to.
Viggo cleared his throat, despite his previous responses, it almost seemed as if he wasn’t entirely sure himself about this plan. “Because I sometimes work late or need to be in early, I have a small apartment in the City, it saves travelling to or from Richmond at inconvenient hours. And before you ask me, no, I don’t take men there, not to sleep with at least, I might occasionally invite a friend back for a drink, but I have never taken one of my… transient partners there.”
Orlando quickly nodded to show that he understood what Viggo was saying.
“It’s very small, probably smaller than my office in fact, but it’s only intended as a place for me to crash occasionally. It is, however, quite close to my office, so also close to your studios. We could meet there.”
Orlando sighed in frustration, was a cramped bedsit really any better than a hotel, it was the same programme; they would snatch an hour to fuck, probably straight from work, and then Orlando would take the train back to his empty house in Walthamsow. It wasn’t a relationship. It wasn’t at all what he wanted from Viggo. He turned and stared out of the window. On the other hand; if it was just the occasional fuck, it wouldn’t interfere with his regular life, he could look for a proper partner while still seeing Viggo and having really great sex.
“Orlando?”
“That sounds very much like an affair,” Orlando said wearily. “I thought you didn’t have affairs.”
“I don’t,” Viggo replied. “That is…, I mean, I never have before.”
“Won’t you have to renegotiate terms with your wife?”
Viggo pursed his lips but apparently managed to keep his temper. “I’m not going to try and persuade you Orlando, you know what I’m proposing, it’s your choice. You can think about it while we’re travelling back but I’d appreciate a decision by the time we reach London.”
“And if I do accept this proposal, how long would you expect the arrangement to last?” Orlando said. He knew he was going to agree to it, Viggo probably knew he was going to agree to it; but in the absence of a real commitment, he wanted some guidelines.
Viggo didn’t smirk as Orlando had expected he might, having triumphed; he turned and looked wistfully out of the window again. “I have no idea, Orlando. I would guess until we get tired of one another or you inevitably fall in love with someone who is nearer your own age.”
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Date: 2021-09-15 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-09-17 12:49 pm (UTC)