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vigorliFiclet: Rituals: Do These Make Me Look Fat? (1/1) R V/O light kink (RP Pink Panties challenge)
Author/Email: sandyg writearts2@verizon.net
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: RPS R
Summary: Orlando first person POV. Sexy silliness. Viggo wants to make his irritated beauty feel better so he resorts to dress-up.
Content/Warnings: Do frilly pink panties and riding crops offend you?
Disclaimer: One never knows, eh? Hmm...
A/N: This fic is for Jeffie and Claire because I have been so bitchy. Big hugs and… hmmm, I’m quite pleased with the hour I set aside for this baby. I really like it!
This fucking script had been written by starving wolves. Oh right, like I wanted to play a part that Russell Crowe had probably pissed on. Hugh Jackman probably laughed his ass off over this tripe. Christ, even Ben Stiller probably snickered at this piece of supreme crap. Owen Wilson probably wiped his ass with this dismal nonsense.
Was my agent insane? What the fuck was this damned shit that she…
"Orlando?"
Sigh, groan, shit. I stared over at the doorway to my so-called office, yeah, our condo’s tiny fourth bedroom, and frowned in deep annoyance. Please, I had asked my Viggo not to bother me for a few hours. He had promised he’d hide in the second bedroom, yeah, the large one given over to his studio, and paint. Fuck, these inane scripts needed to be assessed and killed, yeah, staked through their puny, badly-written hearts. Fuck, I think they needed a garlic bath to make them truly fade away. Who wrote this shit? J. Lo? Brittany? Paris Hilton?
During my initial abnormally bitchy tirade I told my supremely patient Viggo I needed real time alone. So come on, asshole, act nice to your lover. You had arrived home roaring in full bitch mode so he held a right to act concerned.
Whatever. After inhaling few deep breaths I forced my clever voice into melodic strokes. Quite fine. "What is it, my Viggo?"
"Do these make me look fat?"
What? What the fuck was my handsome man talking about? Nasty mode broke free and mauled my tentative reason. My voice disintegrated into surly anger. "Viggo, have you gone right mad? In case you didn’t notice I’m in here trying to…"
My voice suddenly fluttered away. Hello, what was this display?
Long toes appeared brushing against the air in a perfect en point. They dropped to the polished wooden floor in precise position. A taut calf and muscular, lightly furred thigh formed a delicious "L" shape.
Well fuck me and call me bloody well happy. That right sexy pose totally caught my attention. Scripts? Pfftt, what were scripts?
Viggo’s husky voice dripped with aching sexual promise. "Pop quiz, lover. Do these make me look fat?" Powerful artistic fingers gripped the door frame. A delicious arm flexed against the negative space and swirled against the air in a sweet gesture worthy of Marilyn swaying around all those handsome gents in "Gentleman Prefer Blondes." Diamonds and lust trailed to the polished floor.
Before I could clap Viggo twirled into the door frame’s angular confines and hung in a Christ-like pose. Frilly pink panties shocked my vision. Yeah, pink panties complete with little white brocade roses and the type of delicate lace that ripped after two washings greeted my astonished gaze. Fuck, as Viggo conquered the door way my muscular naked lover wore the panties like a native headdress. Wow, his handsome face poked through the waistband in illogical beauty. His ears supported the lace-adorned leg holes. Yet somehow he maintained a seriously questioning expression. Yeah, what a classy actor! "Answer me, Orlando. Do these make me look fat? I need an answer now." As my Viggo questioned me he slowly pulled the riding crop from behind his ass and smacked that well-used toy against his left palm. Jesus, he had hid that crop in between his full ass cheeks. His big, hard cock pointed at me in sheer accusation.
I almost drooled in abject lust.
Oh right, remember the special pop quiz. What was an aroused boy to say? Only one reply made sexy sense. As I spoke I made sure I curled my upper lip in a deadly sneer. "Sorry, Viggo, you look like a right fat blimp. I expect to see Goodyear painted on your huge, flabby body."
The crop smartly met his firm palm. "You rude slut. Bend over and accept punishment."
I unzipped my tight jeans, tossed my hair and smirked. My fingers cradled my already stiffening cock. "Make me, you big lardo."
My lover always handled punishment with effortless grace.
And he always made the delicious event worth my while.
My delighted cum flowed over the annoying scripts still spoiling my well-pounded desk.
How fitting.
xoxoxoxo
Author/Email: sandyg writearts2@verizon.net
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: RPS R
Summary: Orlando first person POV. Sexy silliness. Viggo wants to make his irritated beauty feel better so he resorts to dress-up.
Content/Warnings: Do frilly pink panties and riding crops offend you?
Disclaimer: One never knows, eh? Hmm...
A/N: This fic is for Jeffie and Claire because I have been so bitchy. Big hugs and… hmmm, I’m quite pleased with the hour I set aside for this baby. I really like it!
This fucking script had been written by starving wolves. Oh right, like I wanted to play a part that Russell Crowe had probably pissed on. Hugh Jackman probably laughed his ass off over this tripe. Christ, even Ben Stiller probably snickered at this piece of supreme crap. Owen Wilson probably wiped his ass with this dismal nonsense.
Was my agent insane? What the fuck was this damned shit that she…
"Orlando?"
Sigh, groan, shit. I stared over at the doorway to my so-called office, yeah, our condo’s tiny fourth bedroom, and frowned in deep annoyance. Please, I had asked my Viggo not to bother me for a few hours. He had promised he’d hide in the second bedroom, yeah, the large one given over to his studio, and paint. Fuck, these inane scripts needed to be assessed and killed, yeah, staked through their puny, badly-written hearts. Fuck, I think they needed a garlic bath to make them truly fade away. Who wrote this shit? J. Lo? Brittany? Paris Hilton?
During my initial abnormally bitchy tirade I told my supremely patient Viggo I needed real time alone. So come on, asshole, act nice to your lover. You had arrived home roaring in full bitch mode so he held a right to act concerned.
Whatever. After inhaling few deep breaths I forced my clever voice into melodic strokes. Quite fine. "What is it, my Viggo?"
"Do these make me look fat?"
What? What the fuck was my handsome man talking about? Nasty mode broke free and mauled my tentative reason. My voice disintegrated into surly anger. "Viggo, have you gone right mad? In case you didn’t notice I’m in here trying to…"
My voice suddenly fluttered away. Hello, what was this display?
Long toes appeared brushing against the air in a perfect en point. They dropped to the polished wooden floor in precise position. A taut calf and muscular, lightly furred thigh formed a delicious "L" shape.
Well fuck me and call me bloody well happy. That right sexy pose totally caught my attention. Scripts? Pfftt, what were scripts?
Viggo’s husky voice dripped with aching sexual promise. "Pop quiz, lover. Do these make me look fat?" Powerful artistic fingers gripped the door frame. A delicious arm flexed against the negative space and swirled against the air in a sweet gesture worthy of Marilyn swaying around all those handsome gents in "Gentleman Prefer Blondes." Diamonds and lust trailed to the polished floor.
Before I could clap Viggo twirled into the door frame’s angular confines and hung in a Christ-like pose. Frilly pink panties shocked my vision. Yeah, pink panties complete with little white brocade roses and the type of delicate lace that ripped after two washings greeted my astonished gaze. Fuck, as Viggo conquered the door way my muscular naked lover wore the panties like a native headdress. Wow, his handsome face poked through the waistband in illogical beauty. His ears supported the lace-adorned leg holes. Yet somehow he maintained a seriously questioning expression. Yeah, what a classy actor! "Answer me, Orlando. Do these make me look fat? I need an answer now." As my Viggo questioned me he slowly pulled the riding crop from behind his ass and smacked that well-used toy against his left palm. Jesus, he had hid that crop in between his full ass cheeks. His big, hard cock pointed at me in sheer accusation.
I almost drooled in abject lust.
Oh right, remember the special pop quiz. What was an aroused boy to say? Only one reply made sexy sense. As I spoke I made sure I curled my upper lip in a deadly sneer. "Sorry, Viggo, you look like a right fat blimp. I expect to see Goodyear painted on your huge, flabby body."
The crop smartly met his firm palm. "You rude slut. Bend over and accept punishment."
I unzipped my tight jeans, tossed my hair and smirked. My fingers cradled my already stiffening cock. "Make me, you big lardo."
My lover always handled punishment with effortless grace.
And he always made the delicious event worth my while.
My delighted cum flowed over the annoying scripts still spoiling my well-pounded desk.
How fitting.
xoxoxoxo
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