vigorli

Title: Rosso Luna

Author: Bwitched83uk (bwitched83uk@aol.com)

Rating: NC-17 overall.

Pairing: Viggo/Orli

Summary: AU. An artist who has lost his inspiration travels to Rome to find himself again, where he meets a young English man who will help him find his muse.

Disclaimer: This story is complete lies. This never happened. I do not know these men, nor claim to. This is a work of complete fiction for your enjoyment, I make no money from it.

Beta: The betalicious Soar38 *Kisses*

Archive: www.geocites.com/b_witched83uk

www.livejournal.com/users/bwitched83uk

Feedback: Makes Viggo and Orli horny baby.

Chapter 8

Viggo watched as a uniformed police officer brought a handcuffed man into the station and pushed him down into a seat by the desk. Orlando breathed easily in his sleep, his head resting on Viggo’s shoulder and his mouth open slightly. Their little ‘detour’ hadn’t seemed to have bothered him at all.

The clanking of the cell door being unlocked and opened brought Orlando to full alert and he sat up straight. "What?" he asked looking around confused.

Viggo just watched as a police woman walked over to them and, speaking English, said, "Come with me."

She escorted them out of the cell, holding the door open for them. Orlando couldn’t resist turning back round to Jaws and giving him two fingers.

"We have contacted Marco De San and he has decided not to press charges," the woman said as she went behind the desk and unlocked a drawer. She pulled out their passports and effects and placed them on the desk pointing at the appropriate places on duplicate forms for them to sign.

"I should bloody well think so, the cunt," Orlando sneered as he pocketed his wallet and smokes. "He stole my dog."

"There will be a fine for the possession of drugs, but as there wasn’t enough to be more than for ‘personal use,’ that will be the end of it, though it will be noted in your record."

Viggo just gave Orlando a withering look and thanked the police woman, who told them where they could collect Maude.

They walked out of the station and Orlando flopped down onto the steps to light up a cigarette, looking at the golden sun coming up from behind the buildings. "Do you reckon I’ll get my pot back?" he asked looking up at Viggo.

The older man just looked back down at him in disbelief. "Do you have any idea what you did? What you put us through? This here, what happened to us, this was the best case scenario. What if Marco had pressed charges, huh? We could have been looking at a lot longer than just one night, Orlando."

Orlando sighed and stretched. "I wouldn’t have let that happen. I wouldn’t have let you take the heat for something I had done."

"How very noble of you," Viggo spat, walking away from him and crossing the road.

"Hey, where are you going?" Orlando stood up and started running after him.

"I’m going to rent us a car, in case you had forgotten, I need to be in Paris by this afternoon and I don’t much fancy walking."

~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive up to Paris was perhaps the longest of Orlando’s life. Viggo barely spoke to him the entire ride and Orlando felt like crying. When they had finally reached their destination, Viggo silently drove up to the hotel he was checked into and got out of the car, handing the keys to a valet.

Orlando got out too, taking his bag and his dog with him, and stood watching Viggo as he went inside. He didn’t know what to do. Had he been dismissed? Was he supposed to go and find somewhere else to stay until his ferry tomorrow afternoon? He was going back to England tomorrow and what he had hoped would become something really great, looked to be disintegrating fast. Why did he always have to fuck things up?

A minute or so later Viggo re-emerged from the hotel and stood looking at him. "Do you have somewhere else to go?" he asked, his voice as hard as he could make it.

Orlando simply shook his head.

"Well, come on then," Viggo said, motioning for Orlando to follow him inside. "The owner’s a friend of mine, he said Maude can stay."

Once inside the room Orlando stood uncomfortably in the centre of the suite. It was a big room, with a separate bedroom and living area. He wondered if Viggo would make him sleep on the sofa.

Viggo tipped the porter and hauled his bag up onto the bed. Removing a few items he went and shut himself in the bathroom without saying a word. When he re-emerged he was freshly showered and changed. "I’m going to the gallery to make sure everything is alright for tonight, I’ll be back to change my clothes at six, if you want to come, then be ready by then." With that he left and Orlando had to close his eyes to stop himself from crying.

~~~~~~~~

When Viggo arrived back at the hotel it was a quarter to six. He briefly looked over at Orlando, who was sat waiting on the bed, wearing a smart, tight, black short sleeved dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and dark jeans. Viggo thought that a suit would have been more appropriate, but he was sure the young man would still look better than anyone else there.

He asked if Orlando was ready to go, changing into his dark grey suit, aware of the eyes on his near naked body.

"I’m ready," Orlando said softly, his voice unsure and timid.

The gallery wasn’t a large one, but it was charming and comfortable. Plush seats were scattered around the rooms and the white walls were awash with colour and images. Viggo took two glasses of champagne from a silver platter that a waiter was carrying and handed one to Orlando. "Look around for a bit. I have to go and talk with some people but I won’t go far."

With that Orlando was left alone. He drank all of his champagne in one go and went to get another. He moved slowly around the room, being careful to look at each and everyone of Viggo’s paintings, amazed that something so beautiful, or dark, or painful could come out of a person in such a way.

He glanced over at Viggo, who was politely nodding along with whatever some woman was saying and smiled sadly. How beautiful they could have been together.

The night dragged on and Orlando spent most of his time either speaking with the waiter or sitting in one of the chairs staring at the paintings. Viggo was being moved from one group of people to the next, he looked tired.

It was towards the end of the evening when Orlando got up, looking for the toilets, and found another, smaller room, which had a couple of people looking at the few pieces of art hanging on the walls.

Orlando entered and instantly stopped dead. There, in front of him, was a painting of himself, lying on Viggo’s bed, draped in red silk.

He hadn’t known that Viggo had finished it, let alone that it had been good enough to make an appearance tonight. He walked over to it and stood before it, staring up into his own sleeping face. Was this really how Viggo saw him? Was he really that beautiful?

"Isn’t that you?" a young woman said from behind him.

He didn’t take his eyes from the painting, he just nodded slowly. "Yeah, that’s me."

He didn’t know how long he had been standing there, he just knew that at some point he had been left alone. He assumed that people must have started to leave the gallery. He heard footsteps behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Orli, it’s late."

Timidly, Orlando turned to face him, tearing his eyes away from the painting. "Are you still angry at me?" he asked in a child like voice.

Viggo sighed and ran his hand through his hair tiredly. Orlando knew what was coming, he knew what a handful he was, people could only tolerate him for so long before wanting to escape.

"A little," Viggo answered honestly. "I just, I don’t understand why you do the things you do. How you can be so thoughtless?"

Orlando’s face suddenly hardened and he let out a short, pained laugh. "So what? You want to be my shrink now? Given up on trying to fuck me, now you’re trying to save me?" His voice sounded bitter, something Viggo wasn’t used to.

Viggo shook his head. "Don’t? Don’t be like that. Not with me. I’m just trying to understand why you keep getting yourself into these situations."

Orlando nodded, thinking he knew exactly where Viggo was coming from and where he was going with this. "Right! It’s gotten to hard for you, right? I’m too much to deal with, yeah?" Tears were shining in his eyes and he blinked rapidly, letting them spill softly down his cheeks. "Orli is getting into trouble again, send him off to a therapist, let them deal with him. Orli asks too many questions, send him to his Gran. Sooner or later everyone has enough of me, I’m too much to deal with, so fucking hand me off onto someone else. Let me be someone else’s problem."

"Hey, hey." Viggo stepped forward and took Orlando in his arms, wondering where the hell he had been hiding those kinds of feelings, wondering how such an amazing young man could be so insecure. "That isn’t what I’m doing, Orli. I’m not giving up on you. I’m angry at you but I’m not going to hand you over to someone else. Okay?"

Slowly, Orlando nodded his head and clung to Viggo desperately. "I’m so sorry, Viggo," he sobbed. "I’m so sorry."

Viggo couldn’t have possibly stayed angry at him for another second. He held the slighter man tight. "I know. It’s okay." He stroked Orlando’s chocolate curls lovingly and kissed his cheek. "Oh, baby, I had no idea you were hurting so much."

They stood in silence for a while, just holding each other, until Orlando remembered the painting behind them.

"The painting, it’s so beautiful. When did you finish it?" He raised his head shyly and looked into Viggo’s pained blue eyes.

"The night you left, the night you posed. I had to show it tonight because… because it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever painted."

Orlando closed his eyes and let the feelings wash over him that Viggo‘s words brought. He could feel Viggo’s breath on his face, feel the heat of Viggo’s body against his. He opened his eyes and found Viggo staring at his mouth. Unconsciously, Orlando’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and he heard Viggo breathe out a moan.

Their lips came together tenderly, softly moving together. Orlando’s hands slid up Viggo’s back and he desperately tried to pull him closer. He parted his lips and groaned as Viggo’s tongue entered, lovingly stroking his own tongue. They held onto each other and kissed for a few minutes, before both of their bodies began heating up and started reacting to the delicious contact.

"We have to go," Viggo whispered against Orlando’s mouth. He pulled away and took Orlando’s hand in his and led him out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once in the hotel room, they quietly stripped off down to their boxer shorts and slid between the sheets. Viggo lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling and tried to think what to say. When he felt Orlando scoot closer to him and stroke his hand over his chest, he let out a sigh and closed his eyes.

Boldly, Orlando leaned over and placed an open mouthed kiss to Viggo’s chest, making the older man’s breath hitch.

"Orlando, I don’t know if I can-"

"Shh." Orlando kissed his way up to Viggo’s face, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his chin and finally his lips. He kissed Viggo slowly, his tongue dipping in to lick whatever it could find.

When Orlando rose up and positioned himself over Viggo’s body, the older man thought he was going to die. Orlando blanketed him and the feeling of their bare chests touching, their clothed erections rubbing, was pure bliss.

Orlando moved up and down, causing as much friction as he could. Their mouths were joined and they breathed heavily together, hands caressing and encouraging.

"I love you," Orlando breathed into Viggo’s open mouth as he thrust down hard, making the older man cry out. "You’re the only one who’s ever cared about me."

Viggo didn’t know what to say to him, so he stroked Orlando’s curls and tried to think of everything the younger man had come to mean to him, but he couldn’t voice it right now, he could only feel.

Orlando and Viggo both jumped when the phone rang, and though Viggo didn’t want this to end, he looked over at the phone.

"Leave it," Orlando begged him desperately, still rubbing against him.

"I can’t," Viggo said reluctantly, gently pushing Orlando off him and reaching over for the ringing phone. "I’m a father."

He licked his lips and pushed his hair off his sweaty forehead. "Hello."

He looked over at Orlando who looked a little hurt. His cheeks were flushed and his mouth wet and red.

"Mum? What are you… What?… When? Did he…No I…Yeah, I know. Um, okay… yeah, of course." Viggo’s voice became a little rougher and tighter as he continued to speak. "I know, I love you too. Bye."

He put the phone down and stared into the darkness.

"Viggo?" Orlando moved to sit next to him and placed his hand on Viggo’s back. "What’s wrong?"

"Um, my dad died."

TBC