vigorli

Author: zebraljb
Rating: G to NC17
Disclaimer: This is AU. It's made up. I love them. It's made up. I respect them but don't know them. It's made up.

Orlando fell into step next to Viggo as they headed back to Viggo’s loft. “So…are you famous?”

“What?” Viggo said absently, wondering what kind of drugs he must’ve done the night before to actually invite a prostitute into his home. A whore. A hooker. A rentboy.

“Famous. Like have I seen your photographs?” Orlando asked.

“Probably not. I’ve done a few small shows, and that’s mostly my paintings.”

“You paint, too?” Orlando said. “Impressive.”

“How much money would I have to pay just to get you to keep complimenting me?” Viggo asked. Orlando stopped short and glared at him.

“Look, mate…you’re paying me for a fuck or a blow or whatever. What comes OUT of my mouth is all my own.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Viggo held up a hand. “I don’t, well, I never, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. This way, right?” Orlando walked ahead of Viggo and Viggo could only watch him stride away.

“Wow. Nice.” Viggo opened the door and allowed Orlando to walk into the loft first. “Look at those windows.”

“It’s good natural light, and with the loft being on this corner of the building, no one can really see in.”

“Didya used to do lots of kinky stuff, then?” Orlando asked with a leer. “Since you know no one’s watching and all?”

Viggo closed his eyes for a brief moment, remembering. He remembered Sean’s laugh, Sean’s breath hot in his ear as he pushed Viggo up against the cold glass of the windows. “No,” Viggo answered too quickly.

“These yours?” Orlando wandered over to a wall where framed photographs hung.

“Yeah…my siblings…my parents…”

“This your brother?” Orlando picked up a framed 8x10 of Sean. Sean was smiling in that crinkle-eyed way he had, looking up from under one of Viggo’s cowboy hats. “He’s hot.”

“No.” Viggo grabbed the frame and put it face down on a table. “He’s no one.”

“Ah, I see,” Orlando said with a knowing smile. He kicked off his shoes and left them in the middle of the floor. Viggo shoved them to the side with his foot, amazed at how Orlando had immediately made himself at home.

“Can I, uh, get you something? I have mineral water, and I think some wine…maybe some tea.”

“Hot tea?” Orlando asked, and Viggo noted. “Great, mate. Thanks.”

Orlando went to his small kitchenette and put a teapot on the stove. He busied himself with the tea preparation while he tried to figure out what he wanted to do with Orlando. His body told him IMMEDIATELY what he wanted to do, but he wasn’t sure that was a good idea. “Here you go,” Viggo said, handing Orlando a cup. Orlando studied it.

“You make this, too?”

“Yeah,” Viggo said, blushing slightly. “I tried making pottery for a few weeks. Wasn’t so good at it.”

“I like it.” Orlando nodded approvingly and took a few sips of his tea. “So.” He put the cup down and sat on Viggo’s unmade bed. “Unfortunately, I must break up this polite thing we have going on and ask for my money up front.”

“Money. Oh, yeah.” Viggo dug through some drawers and found some twenties. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Orlando shoved the money into a pocket. “Sometimes things get outta hand, and a bloke will conveniently forget to give me what I deserve.”

“Right.” Viggo sat down on the bed nervously. Orlando ran a hand up the inside of his thigh.

“So, love, what can I do for you? Make you forget the cowboy, maybe?” Orlando’s voice was a purr in his ear as his hand found its target.

“Please don’t talk about him.” Viggo was up like a shot.

“Ditched ya, did he? Rat bastard, I’m sure,” Orlando said. He stretched out on the bed, chin in his hands. “You’re a nice one. Nicer than I usually get…don’t even get a glass of water before a fuck, most of the time. Don’t even get asked back to an apartment.”

“Where do you…” Viggo tried to find a tactful way to ask his question.

“Wherever.” Orlando waved a hand in the air. “Backseats of cars, up against buildings…”

“Jesus,” Viggo breathed. Orlando shrugged.

“Oh well. It pays the bills, ya know?” Orlando stretched and smiled. “God, but I’m tired. You got me all day…you might wanna do something.”

“Could I…sketch you?”

Orlando laughed, a sexy sound that sent about ten shivers up Viggo’s spine. “That’s a new one. What’s that slang for? I thought I knew how to talk Yank, especially about shagging, but that’s new.”

“No. I want to draw you.” Viggo went to his desk and pulled out a sketchpad. “I was serious.”

Orlando’s brown eyes showed the first actual emotion Viggo had seen. They were almost curious. “I’m tired,” he reminded Viggo. “I’ll fall asleep.”

“It’s okay. See…I’ve lost my inspiration, and maybe just sketching something totally foreign to me will help me get it back,” Viggo explained, feeling foolish.

“He took your inspiration with you, didn’t he?” Orlando asked softly.

For some reason, his insight angered Viggo. “I’m not paying you to ask me personal questions.”

The doors in Orlando’s eyes slammed shut again. “You’re right. How do you want me?”

“Just like that.” Viggo pulled a chair over. Orlando folded his arms in front of him and rested his chin on the backs of his hands. The brown eyes soon fluttered closed, but Viggo didn’t care. The eyes weren’t what he was concentrating on.

Four hours later, Orlando rolled onto his back, eyes fluttering open. “God…what time is it?”

“Not too late.” Viggo said. He was seated at his desk, writing letters.

“Did you draw me?” Orlando asked. He stood and stretched.

“Yeah.” Viggo motioned to the sketchpad, which was laying on the floor by the bed.

“Can I?” Orlando asked. Viggo nodded. “Damn. I look like that?” Viggo looked up sharply. “I just…I look…”

“You’re pretty,” Viggo finished for him. “I’m sure people have told you that.”

“Yeah, but people say a lot to someone they’re paying to fuck. I’ve been called everything in the book,” Orlando said. “Could I…have this?”

The emotion was back in Orlando’s eyes, and this time it was something akin to pain and sadness. “Of course,” Viggo said. Orlando carefully tore it from the sketchbook.

“I can sell it when you’re rich and famous,” Orlando teased, and Viggo gave him a smile. “You sure you don’t want to…” Orlando gave him a flirtatious smile.

“I’m sorry I asked you here. I thought maybe I could, but, I can’t,” Viggo said finally. Orlando nodded.

“The rat bastard. I get it.” Orlando shrugged. “Hey, it’s a quick two hundred for me with no work at all, so I don’t mind.” Viggo stood and Orlando approached him. “I give a helluva blow, though.” He reached down to cup Viggo, and Viggo shuddered. “The best you’ll ever have.”

“God,” Viggo said in a strangled tone. “Orlando…”

“Let me,” Orlando whispered. He slid down Viggo’s body, unbuckling Viggo’s belt as he went. Viggo fisted his hands in Orlando’s curly hair as Orlando tugged down his briefs. “Damn, but you’re packing,” Orlando said before his mouth closed over Viggo.

Viggo’s knees began to buckle. Orlando wasn’t lying. It was the best damn blowjob Viggo had ever experienced. Orlando’s tongue was everywhere, sucking, licking and pretty much pulling Viggo’s brain out through his cock.

“Fuck,” Viggo gasped as he came. Orlando swallowed, then carefully tucked Viggo back in and refastened his jeans and belt.

“You’re a sweet guy.” Orlando gave Viggo a chaste kiss on the cheek. “I gotta go. Hope you find what you’re looking for.” Orlando’s hand traced over Viggo’s face, then he was gone.

Viggo sat on the bed, heart pounding. He had just paid $200 for a prostitute to suck him off. He laughed out loud and ran a hand through his hair. As he allowed himself to fall back onto the bed, something caught his eye. The weight of his fall had caused bills to fly into the air. He counted five twenties and grinned.

After he caught his breath, he got back up and went to the desk. Opening a drawer, he retrieved another drawing from its depths. The one Orlando had taken was a quick sketch he had done not long before he had moved to the desk. The real drawing, a sketch of Orlando’s long body and pretty face, trembled in Viggo’s hand as he held it.