My Confession 6/? VigOrli
Sep. 23rd, 2005 12:41 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
zebraljb.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
vigorliAuthor: zebraljb
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: This is where it gets steamy. And I wish that I had been in the room to watch this happen, but since I doubt they're gay, it's all in my head.
Note: I've started a LJ community for my fiction...I'll probably post anything from Lord of the Rings to Boondock Saints...check it out here...
http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=zebraljb_fic
MY CONFESSION
Six
Orlando ignored the doorman, who seemed surprised to see him in regular dressy street clothes. “May I call for a car, Mr. Bloom?”
“No, thank you. I’ll be going in a cab.” Orlando went to the closest taxi without another word. He slid into the backseat. “The Rose Art Gallery, please.”
“You got it.” The cabbie pulled out of the hotel driveway as Orlando glanced down at the fax from the production people. He skimmed it first, then read it more carefully as the cab pulled through a bit of traffic. Orlando frowned. Was that really how much he was asking for a picture now? It shamed him to realize that he wasn’t even sure if it was right…if it was too much, or not enough. He flipped to the end of the fax, where a final treatment of the main storyline was attached. He sighed. The usual. A period piece where he swung in, saved the girl and fought the bad guys. Exactly what he had expected, and what they had told him in the meeting. Orlando rubbed at his forehead. Maybe he wanted to BE the bad guy for once.
“Here ya are, kid,” the driver said, obviously not recognizing him. Orlando smiled. It was kind of nice not to be kowtowed to ALL the time. Orlando handed him a twenty, telling him to keep the change. The driver’s eyes widened at the generous tip. Orlando got out of the cab, folding the fax and shoving into his jacket’s inside pocket. He looked at the art gallery, took a deep breath, and went inside.
“Good evening, Sir,” a gallery employee said, handing him a small leaflet. Orlando smiled, nodded, and moved aside, glancing down at the paper in his hand. It gave a small biography on Viggo, as well as a description of some of the paintings and photos. He put the leaflet with his fax and walked towards a few paintings. His hands itched to touch, remembering how sexy Viggo would look while immersed in his art. One particular painting caught his eye, maroon and emerald mixing with beige and brown. The title made Orlando tremble slightly. The Gift Box.
“Vig.” Orlando leaned in the doorway of Viggo’s studio, holding a steaming mug of tea.
“Hmm?” Viggo said, taking a step back and eyeing the canvas.
“It’s eight o’clock.”
“Uh-hm.” Viggo painted a bit, then leaned forward to squint at the color.
“You promised me you’d come out to dinner at seven.”
“Right.” Viggo shook his head and picked up a rag. He dabbed a bit, then smiled in satisfaction. “What do you need, Orlando?”
“You. Like an hour ago.”
Viggo finally turned around and looked at Orlando. Orlando stood in the doorway; naked as the day he was born. “Oh. Well. Yes.” Viggo put down his palette and looked at Orlando. “You put any other piece of art to shame.”
Orlando blushed as he sauntered over. “I thought I should do something to get your full attention.” He put the mug down on a small table.
“Well, you succeeded.” Viggo started to put his hands on Orlando’s waist, then stopped, staring at the color on his palms. “Sorry.”
“I don’t care.” Orlando took Viggo’s paint-spattered hands and put them on his slender hips. “Let me be your canvas,” he said huskily, putting his own hands on Viggo’s shoulders.
“Fuck,” Viggo murmured, thumbs caressing Orlando’s skin. “You never cease to amaze me, Elf. I think I have you figured out, then you do something else to surprise me. You’re like one of those gifts that you keep unwrapping to find another box you must open.”
“Do you like what’s inside?” Orlando asked slyly, fingers reaching up to twine in Viggo’s hair.
“I like every part, inside AND out,” Viggo said, hands reaching down to grab Orlando by the backside. Orlando gasped and grinned, looking around the small studio.
“Not exactly a comfy flat surface in here, mate.”
Viggo gave Orlando a gentle push, moving him out of the way. He picked up the easel, moved it as well, and kicked a few things to the side. “Your tender ass should be comfy here.”
Orlando lay down in the middle of the tarp on the floor, ignoring the fact that his dark skin would soon be stained with paint. “Mmm…I was kinda hoping that when you were done with me, my ass would be anything but tender.” He stretched his long body out and smiled at Viggo.
“Fuck but you undo me,” Viggo growled, kicking off his sandals and reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
“Unbutton them but leave it on,” Orlando said. “Get rid of the rest.”
“Demanding for a bottom,” Viggo remarked, but did as Orlando asked. Viggo soon knelt over Orlando, knees on either side of Orlando’s body.
“I like the way it frames your skin,” Orlando said, running his hand up across Viggo’s strong chest.
“My artistic tendencies are rubbing off on you,” Viggo observed with a smile. “I don’t suppose you thought to bring supplies with you.”
“And just where would I be keeping them?” Orlando asked with a laugh. “I didn’t come prepared, but I AM prepared. Check your cabinet.”
Viggo gave him an odd look, then got up to look in his supply cabinet. He grinned when he saw a box of twelve condoms and a large bottle of lube. “Were you looking to seduce me in here?”
Orlando snorted. “Like I have to seduce you, slut. I just…had a fantasy.”
“Really?” Viggo raised an eyebrow as he returned to the tarp.
“Yes. I wanted you to paint me as you fucked me.” Orlando blinked up at him innocently, smiling as he saw Viggo’s already hard cock seem to visibly throb.
“You’re the slut, Elf.” Viggo sheathed himself with a condom, hoping that he could bring himself to prepare Orlando before taking him. Orlando seemed to always find a new way of driving him crazy with desire. He picked up the lube and knelt down between Orlando’s spread legs.
“No need.” Orlando took the lube and tossed it a few yards away. “I took care of that already.”
“Fuck,” Viggo gasped as Orlando grabbed him by the waist. Orlando’s slender legs wrapped around him as Viggo moved inside. Orlando’s palms slapped the tarp, then came up to run over Viggo’s chest and abdomen. Beige streaks soon lined the smooth skin. “Thought I was supposed to paint you.”
“Well, you weren’t doing it, so I thought I’d inspire you,” Orlando gasped, head falling back as Viggo hit just the right spot.
Viggo propped himself up on one elbow as the other hand slid across the tarp, bringing dark red fingers up to trace around Orlando’s nipples. “You’re inspiration to me no matter what,” he whispered in Orlando’s ear.
“God, Viggo…” Orlando gasped, his heels digging into the backs of Viggo’s thighs and leaving marks of green paint.
“Every day with you is a mystery, and every day I learn something new to intrigue me,” Viggo continued to whisper. His tongue licked Orlando’s earlobe before he bit down gently on the soft skin.
“Fuck,” Orlando moaned, teeth chattering as Viggo continued to pound against the very tender spot that he always found immediately. “I’m gonna cum…without a fucking finger on my cock…Viggo…”
Viggo’s large palm smeared red paint over Orlando’s stomach. “Go ahead…paint yourself, Orlando.”
Viggo bit down on Orlando’s shoulder, causing him to cry out as he came. White liquid soon ran into the red paint.
“God…you’re a kinky bastard,” Orlando gasped, half sobbing, half laughing.
Viggo clutched at Orlando’s shoulders, thrusting a few more times before bringing himself to completion. “You do bring out the best in me,” he panted.
Orlando’s fingers threaded through Viggo’s hair as they both began to relax, neither one attempting to get up.
“Sir? Sir?” A gentle hand tugged at Orlando’s sleeve.
“What?” Orlando unhappily snapped out of his memories.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Another gallery employee asked.
“How much for this?” Orlando nodded at the painting in front of him.
“Well, it’s display only, Sir. The artist doesn’t wish to sell it.”
“I’ll pay whatever he asks. Anything.” Orlando looked at another painting about the same size. “How much is that one?”
“Well, it’s tagged at seven hundred dollars.”
“I’ll pay a thousand for this one. Or more. Whatever he asks,” Orlando repeated.
“Well, I’ll ask, Sir, but he was pretty adamant about not selling this,” she said nervously.
“Is the artist here?”
“I believe so. Would you like to speak with him?”
“No, thank you. I should be going.” Orlando looked around a bit frantically. “I’ll stop by the door and leave my name.” He walked away before she could say anything, suddenly feeling a bit claustrophobic.
“Orlando?” The soft familiar voice stopped Orlando dead in his tracks. Orlando slowly turned around.
“Viggo. Hi. Congratulations. On the show, I mean. It’s…wow. Amazing,” Orlando babbled.
“Thank you, but…didn’t you have a thing tonight? What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see your work…support you,” Orlando said. “The dinner. Oh, yeah. Well, I wasn’t interested. Not feeling so charitable tonight.”
“It seems like that’s a normal occurrence for you nowadays,” Viggo said, and Orlando had the grace to blush. Viggo looked gorgeous as usual, wearing a pair of blue jeans, a red shirt and a grey blazer.
“I drove by here the other day and saw your name. I thought I’d stop by,” Orlando said softly. “I’m proud of you, Viggo.”
“That means a lot to me, Orli,” Viggo replied, his eyes never leaving Orlando’s face.
“Excuse me, Mr. Mortensen, there is a young man who wishes to buy one of your items that you said isn’t for sale,” a woman’s voice said behind Viggo. Viggo turned to see the employee who had talked to Orlando. “Oh, excuse me. Here he is.”
“Thank you,” Viggo said, turning back to Orlando. “You wanted to buy something?”
Orlando was embarrassed. “Not if you don’t want to sell it,” he said, shrugging.
“Which one?”
“The one about a box or something?” Orlando said vaguely. As usual, Viggo saw right through him.
“I wondered if someday you’d get to see that one,” Viggo said. “The colors…they pounded at my mind until I could get them out.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Orlando said honestly.
“It’s the only way I could get past…after everything…it helped,” Viggo said, actually stammering.
“I see,” Orlando said, hanging his head guiltily. “Well, I should let you get back to your adoring public,” he finally said with a smile. “I…”
“Go out for a drink with me,” Viggo said suddenly. Orlando blinked. “If you don’t have something going on. I should be out of here by eleven.”
“I don’t have anything going on at eleven o’clock, Viggo,” Orlando said. “That’s a little late.”
“Well, you’re always out places and seen with people all hours of the day,” Viggo said. “I didn’t know if you’d…”
“I’ll be back here at ten forty-five,” Orlando interrupted, feeling a strange nausea rumble through his stomach.
“Great,” Viggo said softly.
“Great,” Orlando echoed. He held out a hand for Viggo to shake. Viggo took it and pulled him into a one-armed hug.
“Goodbye ‘til later, then.” Viggo squeezed briefly then went to talk to someone else. Orlando forced his legs to move, hastily scribbling down his hotel information before leaving the gallery.
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: This is where it gets steamy. And I wish that I had been in the room to watch this happen, but since I doubt they're gay, it's all in my head.
Note: I've started a LJ community for my fiction...I'll probably post anything from Lord of the Rings to Boondock Saints...check it out here...
http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=zebraljb_fic
MY CONFESSION
Six
Orlando ignored the doorman, who seemed surprised to see him in regular dressy street clothes. “May I call for a car, Mr. Bloom?”
“No, thank you. I’ll be going in a cab.” Orlando went to the closest taxi without another word. He slid into the backseat. “The Rose Art Gallery, please.”
“You got it.” The cabbie pulled out of the hotel driveway as Orlando glanced down at the fax from the production people. He skimmed it first, then read it more carefully as the cab pulled through a bit of traffic. Orlando frowned. Was that really how much he was asking for a picture now? It shamed him to realize that he wasn’t even sure if it was right…if it was too much, or not enough. He flipped to the end of the fax, where a final treatment of the main storyline was attached. He sighed. The usual. A period piece where he swung in, saved the girl and fought the bad guys. Exactly what he had expected, and what they had told him in the meeting. Orlando rubbed at his forehead. Maybe he wanted to BE the bad guy for once.
“Here ya are, kid,” the driver said, obviously not recognizing him. Orlando smiled. It was kind of nice not to be kowtowed to ALL the time. Orlando handed him a twenty, telling him to keep the change. The driver’s eyes widened at the generous tip. Orlando got out of the cab, folding the fax and shoving into his jacket’s inside pocket. He looked at the art gallery, took a deep breath, and went inside.
“Good evening, Sir,” a gallery employee said, handing him a small leaflet. Orlando smiled, nodded, and moved aside, glancing down at the paper in his hand. It gave a small biography on Viggo, as well as a description of some of the paintings and photos. He put the leaflet with his fax and walked towards a few paintings. His hands itched to touch, remembering how sexy Viggo would look while immersed in his art. One particular painting caught his eye, maroon and emerald mixing with beige and brown. The title made Orlando tremble slightly. The Gift Box.
“Vig.” Orlando leaned in the doorway of Viggo’s studio, holding a steaming mug of tea.
“Hmm?” Viggo said, taking a step back and eyeing the canvas.
“It’s eight o’clock.”
“Uh-hm.” Viggo painted a bit, then leaned forward to squint at the color.
“You promised me you’d come out to dinner at seven.”
“Right.” Viggo shook his head and picked up a rag. He dabbed a bit, then smiled in satisfaction. “What do you need, Orlando?”
“You. Like an hour ago.”
Viggo finally turned around and looked at Orlando. Orlando stood in the doorway; naked as the day he was born. “Oh. Well. Yes.” Viggo put down his palette and looked at Orlando. “You put any other piece of art to shame.”
Orlando blushed as he sauntered over. “I thought I should do something to get your full attention.” He put the mug down on a small table.
“Well, you succeeded.” Viggo started to put his hands on Orlando’s waist, then stopped, staring at the color on his palms. “Sorry.”
“I don’t care.” Orlando took Viggo’s paint-spattered hands and put them on his slender hips. “Let me be your canvas,” he said huskily, putting his own hands on Viggo’s shoulders.
“Fuck,” Viggo murmured, thumbs caressing Orlando’s skin. “You never cease to amaze me, Elf. I think I have you figured out, then you do something else to surprise me. You’re like one of those gifts that you keep unwrapping to find another box you must open.”
“Do you like what’s inside?” Orlando asked slyly, fingers reaching up to twine in Viggo’s hair.
“I like every part, inside AND out,” Viggo said, hands reaching down to grab Orlando by the backside. Orlando gasped and grinned, looking around the small studio.
“Not exactly a comfy flat surface in here, mate.”
Viggo gave Orlando a gentle push, moving him out of the way. He picked up the easel, moved it as well, and kicked a few things to the side. “Your tender ass should be comfy here.”
Orlando lay down in the middle of the tarp on the floor, ignoring the fact that his dark skin would soon be stained with paint. “Mmm…I was kinda hoping that when you were done with me, my ass would be anything but tender.” He stretched his long body out and smiled at Viggo.
“Fuck but you undo me,” Viggo growled, kicking off his sandals and reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
“Unbutton them but leave it on,” Orlando said. “Get rid of the rest.”
“Demanding for a bottom,” Viggo remarked, but did as Orlando asked. Viggo soon knelt over Orlando, knees on either side of Orlando’s body.
“I like the way it frames your skin,” Orlando said, running his hand up across Viggo’s strong chest.
“My artistic tendencies are rubbing off on you,” Viggo observed with a smile. “I don’t suppose you thought to bring supplies with you.”
“And just where would I be keeping them?” Orlando asked with a laugh. “I didn’t come prepared, but I AM prepared. Check your cabinet.”
Viggo gave him an odd look, then got up to look in his supply cabinet. He grinned when he saw a box of twelve condoms and a large bottle of lube. “Were you looking to seduce me in here?”
Orlando snorted. “Like I have to seduce you, slut. I just…had a fantasy.”
“Really?” Viggo raised an eyebrow as he returned to the tarp.
“Yes. I wanted you to paint me as you fucked me.” Orlando blinked up at him innocently, smiling as he saw Viggo’s already hard cock seem to visibly throb.
“You’re the slut, Elf.” Viggo sheathed himself with a condom, hoping that he could bring himself to prepare Orlando before taking him. Orlando seemed to always find a new way of driving him crazy with desire. He picked up the lube and knelt down between Orlando’s spread legs.
“No need.” Orlando took the lube and tossed it a few yards away. “I took care of that already.”
“Fuck,” Viggo gasped as Orlando grabbed him by the waist. Orlando’s slender legs wrapped around him as Viggo moved inside. Orlando’s palms slapped the tarp, then came up to run over Viggo’s chest and abdomen. Beige streaks soon lined the smooth skin. “Thought I was supposed to paint you.”
“Well, you weren’t doing it, so I thought I’d inspire you,” Orlando gasped, head falling back as Viggo hit just the right spot.
Viggo propped himself up on one elbow as the other hand slid across the tarp, bringing dark red fingers up to trace around Orlando’s nipples. “You’re inspiration to me no matter what,” he whispered in Orlando’s ear.
“God, Viggo…” Orlando gasped, his heels digging into the backs of Viggo’s thighs and leaving marks of green paint.
“Every day with you is a mystery, and every day I learn something new to intrigue me,” Viggo continued to whisper. His tongue licked Orlando’s earlobe before he bit down gently on the soft skin.
“Fuck,” Orlando moaned, teeth chattering as Viggo continued to pound against the very tender spot that he always found immediately. “I’m gonna cum…without a fucking finger on my cock…Viggo…”
Viggo’s large palm smeared red paint over Orlando’s stomach. “Go ahead…paint yourself, Orlando.”
Viggo bit down on Orlando’s shoulder, causing him to cry out as he came. White liquid soon ran into the red paint.
“God…you’re a kinky bastard,” Orlando gasped, half sobbing, half laughing.
Viggo clutched at Orlando’s shoulders, thrusting a few more times before bringing himself to completion. “You do bring out the best in me,” he panted.
Orlando’s fingers threaded through Viggo’s hair as they both began to relax, neither one attempting to get up.
“Sir? Sir?” A gentle hand tugged at Orlando’s sleeve.
“What?” Orlando unhappily snapped out of his memories.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Another gallery employee asked.
“How much for this?” Orlando nodded at the painting in front of him.
“Well, it’s display only, Sir. The artist doesn’t wish to sell it.”
“I’ll pay whatever he asks. Anything.” Orlando looked at another painting about the same size. “How much is that one?”
“Well, it’s tagged at seven hundred dollars.”
“I’ll pay a thousand for this one. Or more. Whatever he asks,” Orlando repeated.
“Well, I’ll ask, Sir, but he was pretty adamant about not selling this,” she said nervously.
“Is the artist here?”
“I believe so. Would you like to speak with him?”
“No, thank you. I should be going.” Orlando looked around a bit frantically. “I’ll stop by the door and leave my name.” He walked away before she could say anything, suddenly feeling a bit claustrophobic.
“Orlando?” The soft familiar voice stopped Orlando dead in his tracks. Orlando slowly turned around.
“Viggo. Hi. Congratulations. On the show, I mean. It’s…wow. Amazing,” Orlando babbled.
“Thank you, but…didn’t you have a thing tonight? What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see your work…support you,” Orlando said. “The dinner. Oh, yeah. Well, I wasn’t interested. Not feeling so charitable tonight.”
“It seems like that’s a normal occurrence for you nowadays,” Viggo said, and Orlando had the grace to blush. Viggo looked gorgeous as usual, wearing a pair of blue jeans, a red shirt and a grey blazer.
“I drove by here the other day and saw your name. I thought I’d stop by,” Orlando said softly. “I’m proud of you, Viggo.”
“That means a lot to me, Orli,” Viggo replied, his eyes never leaving Orlando’s face.
“Excuse me, Mr. Mortensen, there is a young man who wishes to buy one of your items that you said isn’t for sale,” a woman’s voice said behind Viggo. Viggo turned to see the employee who had talked to Orlando. “Oh, excuse me. Here he is.”
“Thank you,” Viggo said, turning back to Orlando. “You wanted to buy something?”
Orlando was embarrassed. “Not if you don’t want to sell it,” he said, shrugging.
“Which one?”
“The one about a box or something?” Orlando said vaguely. As usual, Viggo saw right through him.
“I wondered if someday you’d get to see that one,” Viggo said. “The colors…they pounded at my mind until I could get them out.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Orlando said honestly.
“It’s the only way I could get past…after everything…it helped,” Viggo said, actually stammering.
“I see,” Orlando said, hanging his head guiltily. “Well, I should let you get back to your adoring public,” he finally said with a smile. “I…”
“Go out for a drink with me,” Viggo said suddenly. Orlando blinked. “If you don’t have something going on. I should be out of here by eleven.”
“I don’t have anything going on at eleven o’clock, Viggo,” Orlando said. “That’s a little late.”
“Well, you’re always out places and seen with people all hours of the day,” Viggo said. “I didn’t know if you’d…”
“I’ll be back here at ten forty-five,” Orlando interrupted, feeling a strange nausea rumble through his stomach.
“Great,” Viggo said softly.
“Great,” Orlando echoed. He held out a hand for Viggo to shake. Viggo took it and pulled him into a one-armed hug.
“Goodbye ‘til later, then.” Viggo squeezed briefly then went to talk to someone else. Orlando forced his legs to move, hastily scribbling down his hotel information before leaving the gallery.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-09-23 05:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-23 05:19 pm (UTC)Mmm..hot paint sex..niiiiiice =)
Is jerky!Orlando going to stop being so jerky? Could it be that he's finally come to his senses? I'm shocked ;)
I'm glad to see this story back *hugs to you*
no subject
Date: 2005-09-23 05:47 pm (UTC)I've had the idea of the WildMonkeySexInPaint for days now...glad it came out right. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-09-23 08:34 pm (UTC)Lovely and hot !