vigorli

Title: Taming the Bear
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Viggo Mortensen
Beta:

gattodoro Thank you for everything but I have tampered with it because I can’t leave well alone - so all mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Notes: For the birthday of the lovely

silvan_lady
Word Count: 6,300
Summary: Where are the marmalade sandwiches when you need them.

Taming the Bear

It was late afternoon when Orlando brought his Jeep Renegade to a sedate halt in front of a solid, three story, ivy covered, brick mansion. Well maybe not a mansion he conceded, probably just your regular eight bedroom five reception, Georgian family home. He’d briefly considered doing a dramatic hand-break turn, just for the hell of it, on the temptingly wide sweep of gravel in front of the house because at this precise moment he was seriously pissed. The drive out here from the city had been tortuous and he knew that the drive back in a couple of hours with the evening traffic would be even worse. The reckless manoeuvre would have at least cheered him up a little but wisely he’d resisted the impulse.

He surveyed the house as he unloaded his equipment. These people obviously had money but then they would have to really, in order to afford the ridiculous fee he had quoted for his services. He’d suggested sending one of his staff, fully confident that they would be able to handle the job but his partner had been adamant; it had to be him. They needed someone special and he’d been personally recommended. Orlando hadn’t asked by whom. Presumably another rich, over-indulged client. He’d made up the ridiculous fee assuming they’d change their minds but they’d apparently just said, ‘yes that’s fine’. So here he was, light years out of London and not feeling particularly charitable towards anyone. In fact he could cheerfully murder his partner right now. Why the hell, after all these years together, was he still so easily manipulated?

He approached the imposing front door. There was an old fashioned pull chain but also a modern doorbell underneath it. He was tempted to pull the chain; it was probably disconnected anyway, but again restrained himself and pressed the bell. After several minutes the door opened and a short, rotund, middle-aged woman in a blue overall said, brusquely, “Allo, what is you want?”

Before Orlando could introduce himself there was a shrill, urgent voice from within. “Maria! Is that the hairdresser? Please tell me it is.”

“You de hairdresser?” the woman demanded.

Orlando rolled his eyes, but there was no point in debating this. “Yes, I am.”

“Yes, is de hairdresser,” the woman relayed over her shoulder.

The door was flung wide and another figure appeared. “Thank goodness you’re finally here!” This woman was taller, slimmer and immaculately dressed in a grey pencil skirt and cream silk blouse. Her blonde hair curled elegantly around her face; he couldn’t imagine that she was the one urgently in need of a hairdresser. “Come in, come in,“ she ushered him over the threshold. “I’m Cate Blanchett and I assume that you are Orlando Bloom.”

“Yes, I am,” Orlando confirmed again. She shook his hand but then stepped back a pace, looking him up and down, assessing him with cool blue eyes and pursed lips. It made him feel like a naughty child brought up in front of the headmistress.

“Were you told this was an emergency?” she asked finally, with an anxious smile. Presumably he’d been approved.

“I was, so I’ve brought plenty of conditioner.”

“What?” She frowned at him.

Orlando suppressed a grin, she did seem stressed. “Sorry, industry joke.”

“Oh, right. I don’t suppose you actually get very many emergencies.”

“You’d be surprised,” Orlando said, “we get quite a lot. The most common are hysterical bridezillas, where either their usual hairdresser has let them down at the last minute or the best friend has done a home tint job and turned their hair green.”

“Oh! I suppose that would be distressing.” Cate mused and then she chuckled. “It wasn’t a thing when I got married but if it had been I’m sure my mother-in-law would have applied the term to me. And if my hairdresser had bailed on the day, I would definitely have had a meltdown.”

“It is distressing,” Orlando agreed, “But I’m assuming you have a different type of emergency.” He couldn’t imagine exactly what though and the details he’d been given were suspiciously vague.

“Yes, in fact I’d give a lot for an hysterical bride right now,” she said darkly, “I could handle one of those. What we have is a bear. A grizzly bear.”

Orlando was confused and slightly alarmed. He’d once done a shampoo and set on an Afghan hound; again a job he would have turned down but it was another price no object gig for a famous supermodel; but a bear? “Not a real bear,” he said hopefully.

“Well,” Cate sighed, “not quite but you’d be pushed to tell the difference. Picture a bear who was happily hibernating and has now been rudely woken up and is not thrilled about it. You know what I mean?”

“I’m not sure I do,” Orlando said. The only image of a house dwelling bear that sprang immediately to mind was Paddington. Which was almost comforting, at least he was small. “You mean a pet bear?”

Cate frowned. “No, I mean a real bear.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“He is today. And I have to warn you that he is not on board with being subject to your services. I’m afraid you may have to restrain him.”

“Oh!” Orlando said, stunned. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

He didn’t even know how he could restrain a reluctant client; mostly they were only too delighted to see him. The hysterical brides would sob gratefully into his chest. When they’d all been able to go back to work after the Covid lockdowns their regular clients had also been frequently, tearfully overjoyed that their botched home haircuts or wild locks were finally going to be remedied. Even small children, initially wary and on the brink of tearful tantrums, usually responded to him, aided by the collection of toys he kept on hand to divert them. He hadn’t brought any of those toys today; he couldn’t begin to imagine how you distracted a bear. Marmalade sandwiches perhaps?

“Yes, well.” Cate looked him up and down again. “I’m hoping you can persuade him, I’m told that you’re very charming.”

Orlando smiled tightly. “It's just another industry skill we all learn.” He wasn’t feeling particularly charming right now.

“Right, well, follow me.” Cate turned to move across the parquet covered hallway.

“Wait!” Orlando laid a hand on her arm. “Would you at least give me some idea what’s going on here, please?”

Cate sighed impatiently. “What’s going on is my ass is on the line.”

“I sort of guessed that, but why?”

“Tomorrow morning I have to deliver the professor to a convention, where he needs to persuade a room full of very rich people to give us a lot of money to fund our projects preventing the extinction of a variety of animal species. He’s a clever, passionate man but he also tends to be a bit of a hermit and although I knew he’d been deliberately hiding out down here I didn’t realise how bad it was until I arrived this morning. So, I need him shorn, shaved and looking like a real human being. You do, do barber services don’t you? I was told you did.”

“We do everything,” Orlando assured her. “Cutting, styling, shaving, waxing, whatever it takes.”

Cate’s face lit up. “Waxing? Really? I’d love it if you could do that, tidy him up everywhere. That would be fabulous.”

Orlando immediately wondered how much wax would be required to tidy up a bear. “If he doesn’t want a haircut I can’t see him agreeing to being waxed. How much of him will be visible anyway? Won’t he be wearing a suit?”

Cate laughed. “No, you’re probably right. It’s just I would have loved to have seen his face when we suggested it.”

“Why is he objecting to this anyway?”

“Well, you know how it is when you poke a bear?”

“Not really, no. And I just need some background so that I know what I’m dealing with,” Orlando replied reasonably. “I provide intimate personal care. I’d like to be sure I won’t get bitten.”

Cate scrunched up her face. “Hmm. I don’t think he’d actually bite you, it's just he won’t be easy to deal with.”

“Because…”

“Well, as I said, he’s grumpy.”

“Did something happen then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Hiding out, lapsed personal care… It suggests some kind of a problem,” Orlando said. It wasn’t on their CV exactly but agony aunt was another service they provided by default. He never gave advice but he listened and mostly that was all his, usually lovesick, clients needed. “Is there a cheating wife? A pending divorce?”

“There is an ex-wife,” Cate said, “and I contemplated calling her because she is the only person who can still get him to do stuff, and this work is close to her heart as well.”

“Recently ex?” Orlando asked.

“Oh goodness no, they’ve been divorced for twenty years.”

“So, was there a more recent break up, a girlfriend suing for half this house maybe? That would be pretty upsetting.”

Cate did at least ponder the question before she spoke again. “I really can’t think of anything. Certainly not a girlfriend. And it’s been over a year since he and David split up. I was fairly sure that was a friendly parting of ways, but maybe I’m wrong. There’s nothing else I know about. We’ve been talking regularly; he was excited about this project and seemed perfectly happy in himself. I just hadn’t actually seen him for a while. He refuses to have the camera on when we zoom.”

“Alright then,” Orlando sighed. He was becoming impatient. He was programmed to be endlessly pleasant with clients but he could already visualise the traffic building on the M25. He’d be lucky if he got home before midnight. “Perhaps we’ll just hope for the best. I’d like to get it over with. I have a long journey back home and, you know, it’s madness in the evening traffic.”

“Oh! Of course, absolute nightmare,” Cate agreed. She looked thoughtful for a moment and then continued. “Why don’t you stay for dinner, wait for the traffic to clear?”

“Oh! No!” Orlando hadn’t anticipated this.

“In fact, stay the night, it's not a problem, there are still a few habitable bedrooms.”

“No, I couldn’t!” He certainly hadn’t anticipated that.

“Do you need to be home tonight?”

“Er, no, not really,” he conceded.

“So stay, drive back mid-morning when the roads are quieter.”

“No…, I couldn’t possibly.”

But Cate wasn’t listening to his protestations. “Maria!” she shouted. The woman in the overall reappeared in the hallway. “Please make up a bed for Mr Bloom, the green room would be best I think and of course he will be staying for dinner.”

“Si, I will do zis now,” Maria agreed before bustling off again.

“That’s settled then.” Cate beamed at him. “You can take your time and you could give him a final touch up in the morning. Do you do make up?”

Orlando shook his head wearily, this woman was a formidable force and he was a wimpy pushover. “I don’t, usually, myself; we have specialists at the salon for that. I can apply a bit of blusher and lipstick but that’s about my limit.”

“Hmmm,” Cate mused, “a bit of blusher wouldn't hurt once we get the beard off.”

“Maybe we should just stick to the haircut and shave and not get ambitious.” He was beginning to think that he was never going to be able to produce the miraculous transformation this woman expected. His partner was going to suffer for putting him in this impossible position; seriously, seriously suffer.

“You may be right; Viggo is going to be pissed enough without trying anything fancy.”

“Viggo?”

“The professor, Viggo Mortensen. Name familiar at all?”

Orlando shook his head. “No.”

“Ah well, never mind, let's introduce you then.”

She marched off across the hall towards an oak panelled door and even though she was wearing heels Orlando only just managed to keep up with her. “Well, here we are!” And she pressed the handle and opened the door. The room they entered was a study or perhaps a library. Overflowing bookcases lined the walls and the heavy wooden desk at the far end of the room was stacked high with an untidy mass of papers.

“Viggo,” Cate called cheerfully, “Orlando is here to cut your hair and get rid of the beard.”

The room was much darker than the well-lit hallway and Orlando didn't immediately spot the figure half concealed in a wing-backed chair. But when the professor jumped to his feet with a growled expletive he finally appreciated the emergency. The man was about the same height as him but with a leaner figure. He was wearing a faded check shirt and worn denims; his hair was shaggy and unkempt and, although bushy beards were currently very much in vogue, the professor’s looked more like a viable habitat for wildlife. “Wow!” Orlando exclaimed involuntarily.

“You see my problem?” Cate said.

“I do,” Orlando agreed.

There was another fierce growl from somewhere behind the beard. “I told you I’d do it myself!”

“Viggo, with all that hair you can't even see yourself in the mirror. Let Orlando do it. He promises to be gentle.” She grasped Orlando’s arm and pulled him further into the room. “Don’t you?” she said firmly.

Cate clearly wasn't afraid of the professor but Orlando was only just short of bolting for the front door, he cleared his throat nervously. “Absolutely.”

The professor looked Orlando up and down, more slowly than Cate had done, and apparently more critically because this time the voice held a hint of menace. “I don’t need some fancy London stylist making me look like a fucking corporate arsehole.”

Orlando squirmed but Cate was unfazed and equal to the challenge. “He’s not going to do that. He’s an experienced professional and he’s just going to make you look like a regular human being instead of a walking haystack.”

The professor stared at Orlando again but finally tossed the papers he’d been holding onto a nearby chair and declared brusquely, “Fine, fine, whatever you want! Let’s get it over with, I have work to do!” And he stomped towards the door.

“Thank you,” Cate said as he strode past her and Orlando noticed the immediate release of tension in her shoulders. “Downstairs bathroom!” she instructed. “Maria has already prepared it.”

There was an unintelligible grunt from the professor. “I think he likes you,” Cate said.

Orlando was not convinced but in the brighter light of the hallway he was able to get a better view of the man. When Cate had said ‘the professor’ he had imagined some elderly, wizened academic who had let himself go, but he now saw that the hair he’d initially thought grey was more a sandy silver and the beard a salt and pepper mix and Viggo was very clearly fit and agile. Not so elderly then, more late middle aged. But Cate had been right; he did look and sound like a very grumpy bear.

The downstairs bathroom that Cate led him to was bright and spacious and Maria had installed a chair and plenty of towels.

“Is this alright for you?” Cate asked Orlando as Viggo flung himself into the chair.

“Yes, I think it’s all I need,” he replied. “There will be a lot of mess though so maybe a brush.”

“Maria will clean up when you've done,” Cate assured him. “So I’ll leave you to it.” When she reached the door she turned back and tapping the frame said in a stage whisper. “There’s a lock, in case he tries to escape.”

This did nothing to calm Orlando’s mounting discomfort but he decided he should just get on with the job, he wasn't a rookie for heaven's sake; he’d styled the hair of badly behaved pop divas and demanding actors; so he opened his case, took out the safety razor and unwrapped a new blade to put in it.

“You don’t use a straight razor?” Viggo said, sardonically, “I’m disappointed; Cate said you were a professional.”

“We’re not allowed to anymore,” Orlando said as he fixed the blade.

“Too many injuries?”

Orlando huffed, “No it’s a health risk, blood transference, we’d have to autoclave the equipment. Although if you own a straight razor yourself, I can use that on you.”

“Do I look like a man who owns a straight razor?” Viggo grunted.

“I don’t know what you look like yet, but I’m going to enjoy finding out,” Orlando chuckled as he stroked the bushy beard. It was more professional exploration than a caress but his eyes encountered Viggo’s amused gaze in the mirror and he pulled his hand away.

Dammit! Did the man think he was flirting? He wouldn't do that, not with a male client. He flirted with the female clients of course, they mostly assumed he was gay but he didn't play it up, it wasn't his style; unless his client had a jealous boyfriend looking on, which was not uncommon with some of his celebrities, then he could camp it up for England. There were even a couple of straight stylists in the salon who acted gay for the ladies on the premise that they expected it; it was almost in the job description they said, the women enjoyed the playfulness, and perhaps it made them feel safe. But Orlando never flirted with the men, well almost never; sure he laughed and joked with them, talked about football or cars or if he was lucky motorbikes and films; but he didn't flirt.

Neutral conversation then, he instructed himself firmly. “So, what do you do exactly?” he enquired as he swirled his brush in the shaving soap and began to apply it to Viggo’s beard.

“What?” Viggo glowered at him.

“Um, well, Cate said you were a professor.”

“Yes.”

“So what’s your field?”

“Originally, human biology but I drifted.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting.”

“Does it? Or are you just making conversation?”

Orlando fixed a smile to his lips. “Bit of both. But Cate said you were hoping to raise funds for endangered species.”

“Cate seems to have said an awful lot,” Viggo harrumphed, “but yes that is part of our work.”

“So, saving pandas then.”

“Pandas are no longer critically endangered. The Chinese breeding programmes have been very successful.”

“Oh, but the wildlife fund still has them as their logo, so I assumed…”

“Of course they do, they look cute and cuddly and docile. You’ve seen YouTube videos of panda cubs playing in their nurseries, yeah?”

Orlando hesitated before answering, was this something he should admit to? “Yes. Okay, I have.”

“Of course you have, everyone has, everyone loves pandas, you wouldn't feel the same about a vaquita though.”

“A what?”

“Exactly!” Viggo said. “It’s a marine mammal and it's on the verge of extinction but it’s not particularly attractive. It doesn’t sit around chewing bamboo and looking adorable. It’s a species of porpoise so people think, why bother, we still have other porpoises.”

“Right, I see what you mean. Do you want to lean back a little for me now while I shave you?”

Viggo obliged and Orlando began to shave away the beard. The face that was gradually revealed was ruggedly attractive, strong jaw, cleft chin and Orlando couldn't help noticing the very visible scar above the top lip. He shaved carefully over it and he must have been frowning as he concentrated because when he drew back Viggo said, “Wondering how I got the scar?”

“Er, yeah.”

“Careless barber with a straight razor.”

“No!” Orlando was horrified by this but then Viggo started sniggering. “You bastard!” he exclaimed without thinking, and shit, first unintentional flirting and now swearing, excellent customer relations there, Orlando.

Viggo laughed even harder and Orlando started laughing too, the man’s laugh was infectious and at least he seemed more comfortable now. “So you’re a comedian as well as a professor, Cate didn't mention that.”

Viggo frowned and Orlando regretted his comment, had he touched a nerve?

“She thinks I sometimes display too much levity and that's not what my position demands.”

Orlando considered his response while he cleaned the razor and removed the blade but decided to go with what he truly thought. “I suppose you have a serious job, but I think a bit of humour can help in many situations.”

“I dare you to tell her that.”

Orlando gasped dramatically, “Do I look suicidal?”

Viggo chuckled and bent forward now to inspect his face more closely in the mirror, turning his head and stroking his cheeks. “Hmm not bad I guess.”

“Thank you.”

Viggo settled back in the chair as Orlando put the shaving gear away. “So what else can you do, besides the shaving and cutting?”

“All the usual stuff, styling, barbering, waxing, contouring, you name it.”

“Waxing? For women though, as in legs? Bikini lines?”

“We cater for men too. Chests, backs, cracks.”

Viggo shuddered and Orlando tried not to smile. “Not interested then?”

“Absolutely not.”

Orlando shrugged. “Waxing is very popular but I actually prefer men to keep their natural body hair.”

“Do you now?” Viggo tilted his head as he studied Orlando thoughtfully. “Not beards though?”

“Beard burn can be a problem of course but if you keep the beard well-conditioned that can be avoided.”

“Good to know. I’ll remember that when I let it grow back.” Viggo stroked his chin. “You don't wax yourself then?”

“Er. No, I don't. But I have a pretty poor display of body hair anyway; I imagine you have much more.” Orlando flushed, annoyed at himself. “I mean given the thickness of your beard and the hair and…” Fuck, fuck, fuck; back to flirting then. “Shall we start on the hair now?” He got out his comb and scissors. “What kind of style would you like?” he asked.

Viggo quirked an eyebrow. “I get a say? Didn't Cate give you strict instructions?”

“She asked me to make you look presentable…. and competent.”

“And what the fuck does that look like do you think?”

Orlando moved around in front of Viggo and, crouching down, combed his fingers through the long sandy, grey hair, lifting it away from the forehead, studying how it fell back into place. He’d been surprised to find that although the hair was unkempt it was perfectly clean. Viggo obviously bathed regularly, he just didn't bother combing his hair. “Will you trust me?” he asked.

Viggo stared at him, a slight smile on his lips. “Do I have a choice?”

Orlando stared back into the smoky blue eyes; a part of him really wanted to see the man nicely groomed because not only was he good looking but without the bushy beard he was revealed to be younger even than Orlando’s second guess and he felt the stirring of attraction. Dammit, get a grip, he chided himself. Viggo tilted his head and his forehead creased in puzzlement. Bugger, he thought, had he been staring for too long? “Of course you have a choice.” He quickly stood up and moved behind Viggo out of range of the penetrating gaze. But he continued to run his fingers through the hair. “I’m sure Cate won’t actually roast me alive if I don’t deliver. Although I suppose she’ll complain, but I can handle that. I mean I’m here under duress anyway.”

“What do you mean under duress?” Viggo asked as Orlando picked up his scissors and began to cut away the long hair.

“Well, I’m part owner of a large salon in London so I have to spend a lot of time and energy managing the business and I don't do much hands on hairdressing myself these days, except for a few important clients.”

“So how come you’re here?”

Orlando shrugged. “Cate is somehow related to my partner so I was dragooned.”

“Your partner?” Viggo said, curiously.

“Yes, Liv, she’s very persuasive or intransigent, depending how you see it. Difficult to say no to anyway. A bit like Cate. Maybe it’s in their genes.”

“I see.”

Orlando wasn't quite sure why he felt the need to elaborate but… he did. “I mean she’s a really lovely person, I adore her, but she can be very demanding. I mostly feel sorry for her husband though, he gets a lot more flack than I do and at least I can occasionally rebel whilst knowing it's not going to affect my sex life.”

“Ah, I see.” Viggo relaxed back into the chair as Orlando continued to clip. “Have you been partners long?”

“We trained together but then we worked in different salons until we managed to raise the capital to open our own place about ten years ago.”

“And it’s doing well?”

“Very well, thanks.”

“And you offer a full range of body care?”

“Yes we do.”

“Massages for instance?”

Orlando looked up into the mirror, startled, but Viggo’s eyes were lowered. He bit on his bottom lip to prevent himself from laughing. “I don’t do that myself but we do employ masseurs. I can get one out here for you if you’d like.” He was hoping that Viggo was being mischievous rather than making a serious request. He could of course get Marton to drive over but, given the distance, the man wouldn’t be happy about it and would undoubtedly take it out on the soft yielding flesh of the client.

“Er, no,” Viggo mumbled, “I was just asking.”

After almost half an hour of clipping and shaping Orlando was happy with the result, he hadn't cut the hair too short but Viggo certainly looked like a professional man and, when he wasn't scowling, very handsome.

“Well, I think you look presentable now, certainly human.” Orlando grinned at Viggo in the mirror. “But I suppose I need to get Cate to sign off on it. Should I call her?”

“I’m sure she’s hovering outside so you won't have to shout,” Viggo said. He was studying himself in the mirror again.

Viggo must have been correct because only a few seconds later the bathroom door opened and Cate appeared. “How are we doing?” she asked brightly. Then catching sight of Viggo as he rose from the chair she continued, “Oh that is so much better.”

“Hmmph,” Viggo responded.

Orlando began to pack away his equipment but he was aware of Viggo watching him. “Umm, why don't you stay for dinner,” he said, offhandedly. “Since we dragged you all the way out here.”

“Orlando is staying the night with us, I’ve already arranged it,” Cate said smoothly. “Otherwise it’s a long drive home for him especially with the evening traffic.”

“Oh!” Viggo turned to Orlando, he sounded surprised but also, Orlando thought, quite pleased. “And you won't be missed, at home?”

“No. I won’t be missed,” Orlando said, and then couldn’t stop himself from adding, “I live alone.”

Viggo turned back to Cate. “Which room have you put him in?”

“The one across the hall from yours with the ghastly green wallpaper. You really need to redecorate.”

“I really don’t,” Viggo said tersely.

“I’m not going to argue but you really do. Come on Orlando I’ll show you the room, you can judge for yourself.”

Cate led him back to the hall and up the staircase to the first floor, then along a corridor with a number of doors leading off it. About halfway down she stopped and swung open a door. It was a large airy room with a high ceiling and a bay window overlooking the gardens. The decor was certainly dated but not unpleasant. The walls were a faded mint green and there was a coordinating patterned quilt on the double bed. On top of the cover there were towels, a T-shirt and a pair of sleep pants. Viggo’s presumably Orlando mused.

“I’m afraid it’s not en-suite, I’ve bagged the only other one they have beside Viggo’s. But the main bathroom is just two doors down the hall on the right and you’ll have it to yourself.”

“It’ll be fine thanks.”

Cate crossed to the wardrobe, also painted green, and unhooked a plain, pale blue dress shirt. “I wasn’t sure how messy you’d get so I had Maria put out a clean shirt for you.” She held it up in front of Orlando’s chest. “I think it will suit you. We eat at seven so you have plenty of time to shower, or whatever.”

“I will, thanks.”

Cate replaced the hanger on the front of the wardrobe and started towards the door but instead of leaving she closed it. “Was Viggo alright with you? I mean he looks great but was he difficult to deal with?”

Orlando shrugged, Cate was presumably paying the bill but he felt that Viggo was the client and deserved confidentiality. “Well I didn’t get bitten,” he said with a grin. “And he certainly does look great, so, you know, it’s all good.”

Cate smiled, rather smugly, Orlando thought, but then opened the door again. “See you at dinner,” she said as she left.

Orlando obeyed what he’d taken to be an instruction from Cate and at seven sharp, after trying a couple of other doors on the ground floor, he appeared in the dining room, freshly showered and wearing the borrowed shirt. Viggo had also changed into a plain, white, cotton shirt and casual trousers. He really did look good, not at all the ‘walking haystack’ of earlier. Orlando was quite proud of himself. He still hadn't been sure that staying over was a good idea though; making small talk while he was cutting hair was easy enough, second nature to him really but he couldn't imagine that he and the professor would be able to find any common ground over dinner. Added to which he was worried about inadvertently flirting; Viggo was a good looking man when he wasn't growling. The professor seemed nervous too but Cate obligingly started them off with some general conversation topics and as the meal progressed, and wine was taken, he and Viggo soon found lots of things to talk about; Viggo’s work, Orlando’s motorbike collection, life in London versus life in the countryside and they lingered at the table long after the dishes were cleared. Eventually Cate announced that they had an early start in the morning and she was going to turn in. As she left them she suggested they didn’t sit up too late either. Once they were alone Orlando found himself hoping for some more conversation, and maybe more intimate, but Viggo seemed hesitant without the buffer of Cate’s presence, even though she had barely spoken during the last hour or so. After a few desultory exchanges Viggo said they probably ought to turn in too and Orlando climbed the stairs to his room while Viggo went off to check the doors and alarms.

As he got ready for bed Orlando reviewed his day. He had enjoyed talking to Viggo, especially over dinner, the man was charming and funny and, presumably because he’d fulfilled his brief, Cate had seemed much more easy going too; whenever he’d glanced in her direction she’d been grinning, like a Cheshire cat, perhaps it was the wine. He’d just returned from the bathroom when there was a soft knock on the door. He opened it to find Viggo standing in the corridor in his PJs and dressing gown.

“Em,” he began, almost shyly. “I just wanted to check you had everything you needed.”

“I think so, thank you,” Orlando answered with a polite smile. He wondered if this was just concern for a guest or something more. Several times over the evening he thought he’d seen a sultry look in Viggo’s eyes. Cate’s earlier revelations had suggested he was definitely bi, and it wasn’t as if he was going to be a regular client, and hopefully Liv and Cate would never find out about it anyway, and now that he’d convinced himself… “Unless…”

“Unless?” Viggo repeated.

“Unless you want to come in and fuck me?”

Viggo’s eyebrows shot up but Orlando just laughed. “Isn’t that why you came over here?” One of Viggo’s hands had been fumbling with something in the pocket of his dressing gown and Orlando took a wild guess. “And I’m really hoping those are condoms.” He nodded at the pocket.

“Alright. Yeah, they are.” Viggo grinned bashfully.

“Just get in here,” Orlando said, “before Cate sees us and orders you back to your own bed.”

When he’d invited Viggo into his room Orlando hadn't been sure how this would play out. Sure they were like any other two guys taking advantage of a chance encounter but it wasn’t a quick drunken fuck after meeting in a club; they’d spent the afternoon together, had dinner, talked, laughed, he genuinely liked this man. But maybe in Viggo’s eyes he was just an, obviously gay, fancy London stylist; so fair game. He’d expected fast and hard and Viggo to leave as soon as it was over but it turned out that wasn’t what Viggo intended at all. He wanted to touch and taste, kiss, caress, explore. Orlando couldn't remember when he’d last been so thoroughly aroused; if indeed he ever had.

By the time Viggo finally eased into him, slowly, far too slowly, Orlando thought impatiently, all of his nerve endings were sparking with anticipation. But then the gentle pace that Viggo set was actually quite brilliant, sensuous, stimulating but eventually, frustrating; he wanted, he needed more. Just when he thought he couldn't take the lazy, tantalising strokes any longer, Viggo’s fingers encircled his penis and he rasped in Orlando’s ear, “I’m sorry but I can’t…, I have to…”

“Go for it!” Orlando groaned. “Please!” And Viggo did.

There were tissues and wipes on the bedside table. Orlando had noted them with amusement when Cate had shown him around but he was grateful for them now and he used them to clean them both up. But their presence made him wonder. He recalled the way Liv had pitched this job. How she’d bowled right through his objections. She hadn’t even tried to get him to name a more reasonable fee. And then Cate’s close inspection of him when he’d arrived, and he was sure that she was smirking when she’d left the dining room. Given what he now suspected he was half surprised there weren't also condoms; but then he hadn’t searched. He pulled open the small drawer; bingo! He started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Viggo asked.

Orlando turned towards him. “Do you think it’s at all possible that we might have been set up here?”

“Why do you say that?” Viggo frowned.

“Well, Cate appears to be an enterprising and persuasive woman. I'm pretty sure she could have sourced a barber locally without begging Liv for favours.”

“That's true I guess,” Viggo said thoughtfully.

“Do you mind?”

“I suppose I should mind that I’ve been manipulated by a couple of women. Do you?”

“Frankly, Liv’s been manipulating me for so long, I’m only surprised that I didn't cotton on a lot sooner.”

Viggo chuckled but then mused. “I can see why Cate might think I’d benefit from some recreational sex but what did Liv think was in it for you? You’re a single man, living in London; I can’t believe you’re not getting sex on a regular basis.”

Orlando sighed, “Ahh, well, not so much really?”

“Why not?”

“If you talked to my staff they’d say it was because I'm too picky. Liv’s opinion is that I’m a shit date.”

“You dated her then? Sometime in the past?”

“God no, but she’s met some of my exes. I’m apparently not the catch I look like on paper.”

“I could probably be similarly accused,” Viggo admitted, “I’m a bit of a grouch.”

“Or a bear,” Orlando chuckled, “Cate said you were a bear.”

“She did a great job of selling me then, huh? I’m surprised you stayed.”

“I was considering turning right around and going back to London. I’m glad I didn’t.”

“I’m glad too, this has been… well… you know.”

“Yeah, I do. Although I guess since it wasn't really a date there was no pressure on either side, it was just fun.”

Viggo pondered for a few moments. “Look, I’m just putting this out there, you don't have to spare my feelings if you want to refuse, but maybe we could try a date sometime? I will be coming up to London quite often once the current project gets going.”

Orlando shuffled around so he could see Viggo more clearly. “If you’re serious, then I am definitely up for that.”

Viggo stroked his fingers across Orlando’s cheek. “I’m serious,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.

“I’m glad,” Orlando mumbled against Viggo’s lips. “I’m also up for another round, if you’re interested.” He could already feel Viggo’s reawakening penis against his hip.

“I very much am, but I need to pee first,” Viggo said, levering himself out of bed and heading for the door.

“Aren't you going to put something on?” Orlando asked, gesturing toward the discarded dressing gown; although he very much appreciated the sight of Viggo’s lean frame as he strode across the room. “You’re surely not going to wander around naked. Given Cate’s level of interference she might be lurking in the corridor.”

“It’s my house,” Viggo said firmly, “I can wander around naked if I like. And if Cate gets an unexpected view of my bare necessities she can just deal with it.” And as he opened the door he performed a sexy little wiggle. Orlando convulsed with laughter. Fuck! He liked this man, he really liked this man.

The End