Slippery Slope 15/?
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vigorliTitle: Slippery Slope
Chapter: 15/?
Author: Rocketbalm
Pairing: OB/VM
Rating: R for language
Summary: Tentative forays into deeper discussions; escalating feelings for each other.
Word Count: This chapter 5,616. Overall 80,037
Content/warnings: AU, steeped in angst, and a path to healing
X-Posted: Mirrormere, VOLA,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
vigorli and My LJ http://www.livejournal.com/users/rocketbalm/
Disclaimer: Blatantly not true, fiction
fic•tion (fik shen)
An imaginative creation or a pretense that does not represent actuality but has been invented. A lie. A literary work whose content is produced by the imagination and is not necessarily based on fact.
Chapter 15
Orlando spent his first two days letting his body adjust to the new time zone, fresh climate and just being in such close proximity to Viggo. It was like pulling on your favourite sweater after having it packed away all summer; he let himself be enveloped by the warmth of contentment of just being at Viggo’s again; everything else, making amends, would take time. He’d made phone calls and arranged to meet with the RCMP liaison first thing Monday to begin his community service, and felt the nervous anticipation akin to first days at new school. Not wanting to put it off, he had also called Brian to say hello, only to find that he had gone to Vancouver for the weekend. That left him two days to settle in and reacquaint himself with the little town that would be his home for the foreseeable future.
One of the first things on his ‘to do’ list was to buy a mountain bike. Once Viggo had agreed to let him stay, Orlando began to tackle the matter of not being a burden on Viggo, wanting to do as much for himself as he could. He knew that one challenge was going to be transportation, and then he had remembered how Viggo rode his bike in the summer and skied in the winter rather than drive whenever possible. At the centre one of the key components to recovery was exercise – letting your body produce a natural high from endorphins rather than through the use of synthetic drugs – the solution seemed obvious. He would not lease a car he would buy a bike and ride whenever possible. It couldn’t be that difficult, right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You want to buy a mountain bike? Viggo asked, arching one eyebrow in surprise. “To ride?”
“Well that was the plan Viggo. It’s what one usually does with a bike, isn’t it?” Orlando was amused at Viggo’s shocked expression.
“Yeah… but, hell have you *been* mountain biking before? I mean, I know you like extreme sports but have you ever ridden on trails and stuff?
“Come on Vig, how hard can it be? You get on and pedal, right? I need some form of transportation and this sounds perfect... *You* do it… it seems only fitting that I should be able to as well. Just the trail from here to the town and home again, yeah? When I manage that I’ll venture on some of the more difficult trails.”
“You’re sure? This is what you want right? It rains here a lot in the fall and things get mighty slick…” Viggo couldn’t imagine Orlando, who at one time wouldn’t go to the get the paper unless he was chauffer driven – okay that might be an exaggeration, but really, Orlando was going to ride a bike everyday, rain or shine, as his primary mode of transportation; it took a little getting used to.
“It’s summer now, and I think it’ll be fun, keep me out of trouble not to mention, good for the environment. If it gets to be too much I can always buy a little run-about, yeah? Soooo… are you going to point me in the right direction or what, mate?”
Viggo study the young man for a moment, this was definitely a different Orli from the slightly spoiled, self absorbed one he had met so many months ago. “I’ll do better than that; I’ll take you to see Gavin, a buddy of mine. He’ll set you up. Then if you’re still hell bent on doing this, I’ll take you on a trail ride so you have the basic idea of what you’re doing.”
“Viggo, I *know* how to ride a bike. I’m not a complete twat you know.” Orlando was getting a little annoyed at Viggo’s notion that he didn’t have a clue.
“We’ll see…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Orlando looked at all the equipment piled on counter, mentally doing the addition in his head; including his new bike, a Rocky Mountain Slayer, everything added up to somewhere in the neighborhood of $4,000 dollars – it would have been cheaper to buy a little beater to drive around in. “Vig, are you sure I need all this stuff? I mean ‘body armour’? I was less protected playing Legolas and only slightly better protected as Balian.”
Viggo crossed his arms and wouldn’t budge. “Let’s go over this again. You want to ride; I’m going to teach you. Lesson one: in British Columbia we have this little thing called a helmet law, you ride your bike, you wear a brain bucket; got it?” Orlando nodded as Viggo carried on. “Two, the arm, shin and knee guards are to protect you from all the logs you’re going to fall over, and the rocks your going become closely acquainted with. I’m not going to carry you up to the loft every night because you’ve shattered a kneecap... Three, the chest protector is just a precaution, because I get the feeling once you’ve tasted the adrenaline rush of riding downhill, you’ll need it and I’ll feel a whole lot better knowing you’re not going to come home impaled by an unsuspecting tree-branch that got in your way. Hydration system let’s you carry your water on your back and allows you to drink through a tube without taking your hands off your bike. Padded shorts, should be self explanatory, unless you feel like never using those dangly bits between your legs again… and that just about covers it.”
Orlando held up a pair of double layered shorts doubtfully, peering at the lycra-spandex inner short and running the soft loose fabric outer short between two fingers.
“They come apart Orli. You can wear them together or separately… You look disappointed.” Kidded Viggo, “worried that those outer shorts will cover up your spandex covered assets?”
Orlando grinned, “Nah, they’re probably good idea, wouldn’t want you to crash when you see my assets pass you on the trail…” The two had fallen into a comfortable rapport, enjoying their outing and becoming at ease with one another.
“What about these shoes… are they absolutely necessary?” Orlando looked skeptically at the cycling shoes with little metal bits on the bottom.
“Yeah, they’ll take a little getting use to, but you’ll figure that out.”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of being ‘locked’ onto the pedals as I’m hurtling down the mountain.”
“Trust me okay? Once we get out this afternoon, everything will become abundantly clear. If you still feel you don’t need the stuff, I’ll buy it off you… deal?”
Orlando thought for a moment, struck by two young faces pressed against the front window, looking longingly at a new dual-suspension hybrid bike. “How about if I don’t need it, I donate the stuff to a local bike club?”
Viggo grinned, “Does the same deal stand if you maim yourself and can’t ride anymore?”
“Vig, I’m starting to get the feeling that you’re enjoying this a little too much. What exactly am I in for here?” Orlando was starting to get worried.
“Let’s pay for all this stuff and I’ll show you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Orlando had woken up excited, eagerly anticipating the day, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. Yesterday’s ‘lessons’ had been more fun then Orlando could have imagined and today Viggo was going to take him up the mountain for a ‘real’ ride. The hardest thing to get used to was having his feet literally locked onto his pedals. Viggo had spent a lot of time just getting Orlando to twist his foot out of the pedals, breaking the connection as quickly as possible before his bike, with him attached to it, fell over. Viggo explained that having your feet locked to the pedals allowed you to utilize the full rotation of each turn of the crank, by not only pushing down but by being able to pull up on the pedal as it came around; this was especially helpful going up hill or over obstacles. The downside was when you lost forward momentum you tended to fall over like a felled tree if you didn’t click out of your pedals fast enough or if your legs were too tired to make the effort. Viggo let him get the feel of the bike and pedals, always offering words of encouragement or light teasing when Orlando felt frustrated. Viggo was impressed with Orlando’s determination, not once did he complain that it was too hard or that he wanted to stop. With lots of laughter, they ended up having a wonderful day.
Just spending time with Viggo, Orlando had come to the realization that he had never fully appreciated the older man’s company before. Viggo had a calm, almost reserved way about him that Orlando found soothing. Often, he found that when he was quietly content in his company, Viggo would get a wicked gleam in his eye and do something completely unexpected, like tip Orlando’s bike over while he was clipped into the pedals or ride on ahead through a puddle ensuring that Orlando would be showered in mud. He had sly sense of humour that, coupled with his soft tone and often mumbled words made you lean in closer, not sure if you actually heard him correctly, only to have it dawn on you that whatever was said was at your expense but in a completely endearing way. It took great will power for Orlando to keep his feelings in check, carefully acknowledging them and filing them away in the ‘good friend’ compartment he’d created in his heart for Viggo.
Orlando still found it odd how they had fallen into a comfortable companionship without really sorting out anything that had happened. Orlando would often watch Viggo, wondering why the older man avoided any attempt of conversation on Orlando’s part if it related to his first visit. He noticed that Viggo would often slip into their easy rapport one moment, only to reverse himself and force himself to be slightly removed the next; at times enjoying a casual touch during conversation and at others almost flinching at the closeness. It was a subtle shift but one that Orlando had caught more than once. Orlando wondered if by keeping the past between them served to remind Orlando that there would always be a distance between them and not to expect anything more. Orlando worked twice as hard to ensure that he didn’t cross that boundary, wanting desperately not to lose the friendship that was once again building.
This morning was no different; wanting to give Viggo a way out of spending the day with him he mused if perhaps he wasn’t quite ready such a big ride. Viggo snorted and asked Orlando if he was jamming out, seemingly eager to spend another day with the younger man. After much teasing on both sides they packed a lunch, filled their hydration packs and put on their gear. It had rained the night before but the day was clear and bright as they headed out through the rising mist, the sun beat down on the trail to the village.
“I thought we were going up the mountain?” Orli asked when they started heading down the gentle trail.
Viggo grinned over his shoulder, “We are. I just thought you might want to take the gondola to the top rather than ride.”
“The top? Are you off your nut or am I to assume we will be taking the gondola back down after a nice little ride.” Orlando looked slightly uneasy at the prospect of being at the top of a mountain on a bicycle.
Viggo practically cackled. “Come on Orli, where’s your sense of adventure? You’ll throw yourself off a bridge attached to an elastic but you don’t want to ride your spankin’ new bike down a little old mountain?”
Orlando swallowed, a little bit scared but not one to turn down a challenge, he managed a grin, “All right old man, I’ll show you my sense of adventure.”
At the gondola Viggo chatted briefly with an attendant that nodded and waved them through. Once inside the little compartment, Viggo explained that bikes weren’t generally allowed up the mountain anymore now that they had created a “terrain” park on the lower half the mountain, complete with trails, jumps and obstacles. Viggo being Viggo, he knew practically everybody and arranged for them to be allowed up with their bikes. Once on top, Viggo took them through a mountain meadow and up some easy climbs to a plateau where they stopped to take in the view and have a bite to eat.
The two men sat in companionable silence as they looked out across the valley, enjoying their lunch in the sunshine and light breeze. Everything looked so different in the summer, a patchwork of wildflowers instead of a blanket of snow; startlingly familiar and yet so different, mirroring his feelings for Viggo. Orlando pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them and listened to the whiskey jacks chatter in the trees, his eyes sparkled with contentment, a small smile played on his lips as he lost himself to the moment. As Orlando watched the beauty around him, Viggo watched him. Quietly he removed his camera from his pack, and focused on the young man, marveling at the pure joy that radiated from him, wanting to capture it on film once more. Hearing the muted click of the shutter, so out of place in the quiet sounds of nature, Orlando turned to see the camera pointed at him. Tilting his head to rest his cheek on his knees he smiled shyly.
Viggo slowly lowered the camera, enraptured by the smile, the sweaty curls pressed to his head at odd angles from wearing a helmet, the liquid warmth the shone from chocolate orbs. “You just… you looked…” he stammered. “Happy… content… I wanted to capture that on film.”
Orlando looked at the ground and ran his hand through the grass, emotions welling up in his heart. There was so much he wanted to say, to tell Viggo. He wanted to talk about everything and nothing; to share the pain and joy that came with going through recovery; to connect with him on a deeper level again. He didn’t want to wait any longer. He looked down the mountain watching the breeze make the leaves in the trees dance and began talking. “The night Sean got everyone together… when they got me to go into recovery…” He started softly.
“Orlando you don’t…”
“Yes I do Viggo; I need to talk about this.” He looked at the older man and then quietly added, “Please.” Viggo stared for a moment and finally nodded.
“That night, I got really mad at them all. I said some really horrible things; and as each word came out I hated myself a little more because I knew they were right and I was too scared, too weak to do what I needed to do. I stormed into Sean’s den and slammed the door. I was so scared Viggo, I thought my heart was going to burst right through my chest. I tried to figure a way out, a way I could just disappear and then reappear and everything would be fixed. I wandered around that den, seeing all the things that Sean had collected, things that meant something to him; not awards and shite like that but real things people had given him or his girls had made. I realized how empty I was, how I built up myself by surrounding myself with things that meant something to other people but meant little to me. I felt so lost, like I’d never find me again. And then I saw it. It was your photograph, the one you gave Sean for his birthday; the one of me skiing. In that moment I saw what you saw; I saw the joy and the freedom I thought I lost and I knew I would fight to get that back. It was your picture that made me see that.” Orlando looked back down at the grass and began plucking blades and tossing them in the breeze, both men sitting quietly. “I guess… I guess I just wanted to say thank you…” He stopped playing with the grass and looked directly at Viggo who had trouble holding his gaze. “Thank you for seeing the *me* I thought I lost.” The two men looked at one another for a long minute; eyes conveying emotions that no words ever could.
Before either man could speak a whiskey jack swooped between them stealing the last crust of sandwich with squawk. The two men laughed, both somewhat relieved that the moment had past, not fully comfortable with their own mixed feelings.
“It’s a long way down, you up for it?” Viggo asked as he packed up his camera and the last of their garbage.
“Just watch me, old man.” Orlando grinned as he got on his bike.
“Hey, Orlando…” Viggo waited until the younger man had finished putting on his helmet and turned to look back at him. “You’re welcome.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ride down was scary yet wildly exhilarating and Orlando loved every minute of it. They had started down slowly on a dirt switchback, traversing gently back and forth across the mountain, Orlando had been uncertain as the terrain became steeper. Viggo called out encouragingly and reminded him to get his ass off the seat and over his back wheel, keeping his weight back. Once Orlando got use to the awkward position, he flew down the mountain, free and full of joy, knowing he had found yet another reason love this place, not that he needed one.
By the time they reached the bottom, Orlando’s arms itched, as if a thousand bugs were crawling on them. Viggo laughed as he watched Orlando scrub his skin in an effort to get rid of the feeling. “That’s how you know you’ve been flying. Even with the shocks on your bike, the vibration from the descent makes your skin itch. Weird, isn’t it?”
Orlando nodded as he continued to rub and massage his muscles. “That was fucking amazing! Can we do it again?” Orlando’s face, arms and legs were dotted with mud that had sprayed up from Viggo’s back wheel, as he flashed his perfect grin. Viggo took a deep breath trying to slow his heart rate; basking in the glow of Orlando’s smile mixed with the adrenaline rush of coming down the mountain was playing havoc on his emotions. Taking a long slow drink of water, he was finally able to speak. “Another day, okay ‘Lando. We still have to ride back home and I guarantee your legs will be tired just after that.”
Viggo was right, by the time they made it back to the house Orlando ached, not just his legs but his back. He groaned as he gingerly stepped from his bike causing Viggo to whip around at the sound. “Shit ‘Lando, your back. I didn’t even think about it. Fuck I’m stupid I should have kept the ride shorter, taken the gondola down.”
Orlando cocked his head to the side and studied the older man for minute. “You called me Lando… I don’t think anyone has called me that before…”
Viggo felt his heart move into his throat. He hadn’t realized he had used the name out loud. It was something he had called Orlando in his dreams, in his hot, incredibly dirty dreams. Viggo felt his face flush and he started to stammer and apology.
“No Vig, I like it. It’s nice, special you know.” Just as he said the words a muscle spasm caused him to stiffen and his eyes went wide as he groaned again. “Fuck.” He whispered.
“Come on; let’s get you hosed off and into the hot tub, hopefully that will help a bit.” Viggo worked quickly hosing down the bikes and Orlando, who was too tired to move out of the cold spray. Both men dripped the length of the deck as they made their way to the solarium and the tub that awaited them. Orlando babbled along the way, musing how it was funny that they hadn’t used the hot tub in the winter when it was cold but here it was summer and they were going to get into boiling tub of water. Viggo rummaged in a cupboard for towels and suits and motioned for Orlando to use the change room, while he removed the hot tub cover.
In the privacy of the little change area, Orlando finger the pair of faded black trunks he’d been handed and wondered if they had been Viggo’s, wondered if they had once been next to the older man’s skin, cradling his manhood. Even in his tired state his cock came to life; just the thought of what might or might not have been in the trunks was enough to get him semi hard. Peering out from behind the partition he managed to make his way into the hot tub without giving Viggo a view of his considerable charms. Viggo put some towels near the edge of the tub and went to change himself.
Orlando leaned back in the tub, closing his eyes and letting the water soothe his aching back, smiling as heard Viggo before he saw him and then enjoying the view when he emerge in a pair of dark red trunks. Viggo carried his arm load of wet, dirty cycling clothes to the small bench that ran the length of the solarium, placing them in a careless heap. Once Viggo’s back was to him, Orlando froze, eyes growing wide at the vivid cris-cross pattern of scars that marred the perfectly muscled back. Somehow he had forgotten the permanent reminder Viggo carried of his near death experience, and the sight brought back so many memories of their last visit. Viggo turned to see Orlando frozen, wide eyed, and for a moment was confused by his startled expression. Rarely seeing the scars himself he often forgot they were there until someone else commented or stared.
“Fuck Vig… I never told you how sorry I am… about, well everything.” Orlando looked genuinely contrite as it was Viggo’s turn to stare at the younger man.
“S’all right Lando, it was a tough time for you. I think I’m going to need a beer. You?” Orlando could only manage a nod, his mind racing as to what he wanted to say. At any other time he would have laughed at Viggo’s retreating form as he noticed the big block letters stitched across his arse that spelled “BOTTOM”. Refocusing his mind on the discussion he wanted to have, he scrubbed a hand through his sweaty locks.
Viggo returned with two bottles already opened, handing one to Orlando, he slid into the hot water. “You know…” Viggo took a swallow of beer before continuing. “I wish that I had told you, instead of you having to hear it from Brian… I wish there had been an opportunity for us to talk about everything last time. I never meant it to be a secret… I just… well it’s not something I talk about and there never seemed to be a good time, so I left it. I wish I hadn’t, I wish we would have talked about, well everything.” Orlando smiled at how Viggo was babbling.
“No Vig, you did try. At Brian’s, you tried to tell me and I lashed out at you. I was wrapped up in my own pain that I didn’t think it was possible that someone else may have had their own pain. I’m sorry.”
“I know you are and you’re right you did lash out and I did try to tell you; I… well I should have done it sooner.” Both men sat across from each other silently acknowledging that they could have done things differently finding that they really didn’t need to speak to understand one another. After several long minutes and half of his beer Orlando sat up a little and closely studied the peeling label on his bottle.
I.. I never told anyone about what happened to me…” Orlando started softly. “It was too hard you know? Like if I didn’t say anything it would just go away; like it never happened. Even with Sean, we ummm… never talked about it. I think he thought it would just make things worse if he did or maybe he was embarrassed, I don’t know. Me, I was just relieved that no one was making me talk about it. I know now that that was wrong. I’m learning that I… that I shouldn’t be ashamed.” Orlando took a long swallow of beer. “I… I was in an abusive relationship. If Sean hadn’t found me I’m not sure I would have made it.” Orlando gave a hollow laugh. “You just never think it could ever happen to you, and then somehow you wake up one morning and realize, that not only has it happened but you’ve let it happen.”
Viggo studied the wounded young man before him, wanting nothing more than to gather him in his arms and comfort him; whisper soothing words in his ears until the hurt and anguish disappeared. “Lando, god I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m constantly amazed at the level of cruelty one person can inflict on another.”
Orlando stared off into the distance, not wanting Viggo to see the moisture gathering in his eyes. “I’m sorry I said that you would probably die a lonely old man. That was completely unfair. I… I just didn’t want to see how broken I was, so I took it out on you. You’re amazing. You’ve been through so much and you still... I don’t know, see the good in people. Even ones as fucked up as I was.”
Hey, Lando there’s lot’s of good in you to see. I’m still working on being less ‘broken’ myself. We’ll get there, it just takes time.” They both sat lost in their own thoughts, wondering how it would feel to comfort the other, knowing that would be dangerously close to crossing a fast blurring line; each unaware that the other was wishing that the line didn’t have to exist at all.
Finally feeling like they had entered territory of meaningful dialogue; Orlando was reluctant to let the conversation drop. “Vig. Do you ever… ever wonder what it would be like to see him again?”
“James?” Orlando nodded.
“Well, I did see him again in court. If I see him after he gets out of prison, I think my only thought would be to find a phone and get the police to enforce the no contact order.” Viggo took a long swallow of beer considering the young man in front of him, wondering how much he should ask. “How about you? You ever see… Stuart… again?” Orlando’s head snapped up at the name. “I’m just guessing here that that’s who hurt you. The way you react to the name, the way all of you have distanced him from your tight knit group, just put it together, you know.” Orlando nodded.
“No.” He finally answered in a voice so quiet that Viggo might have missed it over the hum of the water jets. “Sean and PJ made sure that we were never at the same premiere together and well, you know that he’s not part of the group, so I’ve never seen him… since…” Orlando finished his beer and gently put it down on the deck that surrounded the hot tub.
“If we’re going to talk about this, I’m going to need another beer. You?” Orlando nodded as Viggo got out of the tub, water skirting around the thick scars as it sluiced off his broad shoulders. He returned with two more bottles and handed one to the younger man. Orlando took another swallow of beer before speaking.
“Sometimes I wish I could go to him and tell what I think of him. Just yell at him, you know? Tell him how wrong he was for what he did, that I deserved better. And then I get so scared that if I see him I’ll slip right back there into helpless Orli mode and be at his mercy again.” Orlando voice was hoarse with emotion. He had never told anyone how scared he was that he might slip back, that Stuart still might have a hold on him.
Viggo nodded sympathetically. “I think it’s a little different for me Lando, I got to see James in a controlled environment. It’s not like he could do much to me in the confines of a court room. Being surrounded by court clerks armed with guns tends to make you feel a little braver. I was able to say all the things… well, most of the things I wanted to, when I gave my victim impact statement. No interruptions, just me telling him how it felt.” Orlando nodded. “You’ll know when you’re ready Lando. You’ll know when he no longer has that hold on you. When the possibilities outside of what *was* are your anchor and you’ll be able to conquer your fear. Not that it ever goes completely away, it just gets to the point that you know you’re stronger than it is.”
They both settled back into a comfortable silence, letting the hum of the jets lull them into a state of relaxation. After several minutes Viggo studied the young man across from him, his eyes closed but moving beneath the lids as if he was sorting out something important. “How’s your back?” He asked quietly.
“Better, yours?” Orlando answer, still not able to get the images of the scars from his mind.
“Fine.”
Orlando opened his eyes and focused them on Viggo. “Do they hurt? I mean mine is sensitive to touch so I thought maybe… I mean you have so many…”
Viggo looked confused. “Yours? I didn’t realize you had a scar…”
Orlando turned slowly around showing Viggo the long thick scar that lay along his spine. “Yeah, they had to put me back together with bits of tin and bailing wire.” He grinned over his shoulder. Viggo’s hand twitched, wanting to trace the scar with his finger. “So how about yours, they sensitive too?”
Viggo thought for along moment, wondering how to answer and then realized that being honest was the only way. “I’m not really sure… it’s not like… well I haven’t…” His voice trailed off for a moment before he gathered enough courage to continue. “Other than doctors at the very beginning, no one has really touched them since.” He added with a shrug.
Orlando considered his response very carefully, knowing that it could be taken the wrong way but needing to continue anyway. “Could I… I mean, maybe not touch, but could I see.”
Viggo’s cock twitched in his trunks, grateful that the bubbles in the tub would cover any embarrassing bulge that arose. After a moment he slowly turned his back to Orlando and rested his head on his crossed arms on the lip of the tub. Orlando waded through the water slowly, enthralled by the expanse of skin in front of him. At first the scars looked angry where they had reddened in the heat of the water. Then, Orlando started to see that the patterns were actually almost beautiful, calling out to be touched. Raising a tentative hand he placed one finger on the upper most scar and felt Viggo shudder slightly beneath him. “Is this okay?” He whispered, not realizing that his breath was caressing Viggo’s wet skin, amplifying the sensation. Viggo couldn’t trust his voice and merely nodded curtly, concentrating on keeping himself in control.
Orlando traced the scar from top to where it disappeared beneath Viggo’s arm. Feeling bolder he raised his other hand and traced another; watching the skin quiver beneath his touch, mesmerized by the beauty in the marks. Viggo’s senses were reeling, his felt as if he was struggling to keep his head above water, it was too much. Suddenly without warning, Viggo called out for Orlando to stop. Orlando flinched and backed off instantly, as if he’d been burned. Viggo got his breathing under control and gave a hollow laugh. “Sorry didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s just that… well it’s been a while since anyone’s touched me and… umm… I guess my boys are getting the wrong idea here.” He added as he buried his face in his arms, embarrassed that he couldn’t control himself and that he was so close to coming form just the innocent touch of this lovely man.
Orlando took a deep breath. Suddenly he realized he’d crossed the line and Viggo was telling him to back off. Not knowing what else to do, he resorted to humour. Slapping Viggo firmly on the back he laughed. ”Is that all mate, I’ve been half hard since I saw you had BOTTOM stitched across your arse.”
Viggo felt relieved that Orlando wasn’t offended. “Yeah, you can thank Brian for those; they were a gift a few years back. For obvious reasons, I don’t tend to wear them at the pool, so they only get used here.”
Orlando smiled, feeling like he was back on some sort of even footing. “I don’t know mate, wear those to the pool and I don’t think you’d have any problem finding someone to touch you.” Viggo snorted and showered Orlando in a spray of water and within moments mayhem ensued as both men used the playfulness of a water fight to diffuse any lust that remained in their hearts.
TBC
Chapter: 15/?
Author: Rocketbalm
Pairing: OB/VM
Rating: R for language
Summary: Tentative forays into deeper discussions; escalating feelings for each other.
Word Count: This chapter 5,616. Overall 80,037
Content/warnings: AU, steeped in angst, and a path to healing
X-Posted: Mirrormere, VOLA,
vigorli and My LJ http://www.livejournal.com/users/rocketbalm/Disclaimer: Blatantly not true, fiction
fic•tion (fik shen)
An imaginative creation or a pretense that does not represent actuality but has been invented. A lie. A literary work whose content is produced by the imagination and is not necessarily based on fact.
Chapter 15
Orlando spent his first two days letting his body adjust to the new time zone, fresh climate and just being in such close proximity to Viggo. It was like pulling on your favourite sweater after having it packed away all summer; he let himself be enveloped by the warmth of contentment of just being at Viggo’s again; everything else, making amends, would take time. He’d made phone calls and arranged to meet with the RCMP liaison first thing Monday to begin his community service, and felt the nervous anticipation akin to first days at new school. Not wanting to put it off, he had also called Brian to say hello, only to find that he had gone to Vancouver for the weekend. That left him two days to settle in and reacquaint himself with the little town that would be his home for the foreseeable future.
One of the first things on his ‘to do’ list was to buy a mountain bike. Once Viggo had agreed to let him stay, Orlando began to tackle the matter of not being a burden on Viggo, wanting to do as much for himself as he could. He knew that one challenge was going to be transportation, and then he had remembered how Viggo rode his bike in the summer and skied in the winter rather than drive whenever possible. At the centre one of the key components to recovery was exercise – letting your body produce a natural high from endorphins rather than through the use of synthetic drugs – the solution seemed obvious. He would not lease a car he would buy a bike and ride whenever possible. It couldn’t be that difficult, right?
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You want to buy a mountain bike? Viggo asked, arching one eyebrow in surprise. “To ride?”
“Well that was the plan Viggo. It’s what one usually does with a bike, isn’t it?” Orlando was amused at Viggo’s shocked expression.
“Yeah… but, hell have you *been* mountain biking before? I mean, I know you like extreme sports but have you ever ridden on trails and stuff?
“Come on Vig, how hard can it be? You get on and pedal, right? I need some form of transportation and this sounds perfect... *You* do it… it seems only fitting that I should be able to as well. Just the trail from here to the town and home again, yeah? When I manage that I’ll venture on some of the more difficult trails.”
“You’re sure? This is what you want right? It rains here a lot in the fall and things get mighty slick…” Viggo couldn’t imagine Orlando, who at one time wouldn’t go to the get the paper unless he was chauffer driven – okay that might be an exaggeration, but really, Orlando was going to ride a bike everyday, rain or shine, as his primary mode of transportation; it took a little getting used to.
“It’s summer now, and I think it’ll be fun, keep me out of trouble not to mention, good for the environment. If it gets to be too much I can always buy a little run-about, yeah? Soooo… are you going to point me in the right direction or what, mate?”
Viggo study the young man for a moment, this was definitely a different Orli from the slightly spoiled, self absorbed one he had met so many months ago. “I’ll do better than that; I’ll take you to see Gavin, a buddy of mine. He’ll set you up. Then if you’re still hell bent on doing this, I’ll take you on a trail ride so you have the basic idea of what you’re doing.”
“Viggo, I *know* how to ride a bike. I’m not a complete twat you know.” Orlando was getting a little annoyed at Viggo’s notion that he didn’t have a clue.
“We’ll see…”
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Orlando looked at all the equipment piled on counter, mentally doing the addition in his head; including his new bike, a Rocky Mountain Slayer, everything added up to somewhere in the neighborhood of $4,000 dollars – it would have been cheaper to buy a little beater to drive around in. “Vig, are you sure I need all this stuff? I mean ‘body armour’? I was less protected playing Legolas and only slightly better protected as Balian.”
Viggo crossed his arms and wouldn’t budge. “Let’s go over this again. You want to ride; I’m going to teach you. Lesson one: in British Columbia we have this little thing called a helmet law, you ride your bike, you wear a brain bucket; got it?” Orlando nodded as Viggo carried on. “Two, the arm, shin and knee guards are to protect you from all the logs you’re going to fall over, and the rocks your going become closely acquainted with. I’m not going to carry you up to the loft every night because you’ve shattered a kneecap... Three, the chest protector is just a precaution, because I get the feeling once you’ve tasted the adrenaline rush of riding downhill, you’ll need it and I’ll feel a whole lot better knowing you’re not going to come home impaled by an unsuspecting tree-branch that got in your way. Hydration system let’s you carry your water on your back and allows you to drink through a tube without taking your hands off your bike. Padded shorts, should be self explanatory, unless you feel like never using those dangly bits between your legs again… and that just about covers it.”
Orlando held up a pair of double layered shorts doubtfully, peering at the lycra-spandex inner short and running the soft loose fabric outer short between two fingers.
“They come apart Orli. You can wear them together or separately… You look disappointed.” Kidded Viggo, “worried that those outer shorts will cover up your spandex covered assets?”
Orlando grinned, “Nah, they’re probably good idea, wouldn’t want you to crash when you see my assets pass you on the trail…” The two had fallen into a comfortable rapport, enjoying their outing and becoming at ease with one another.
“What about these shoes… are they absolutely necessary?” Orlando looked skeptically at the cycling shoes with little metal bits on the bottom.
“Yeah, they’ll take a little getting use to, but you’ll figure that out.”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of being ‘locked’ onto the pedals as I’m hurtling down the mountain.”
“Trust me okay? Once we get out this afternoon, everything will become abundantly clear. If you still feel you don’t need the stuff, I’ll buy it off you… deal?”
Orlando thought for a moment, struck by two young faces pressed against the front window, looking longingly at a new dual-suspension hybrid bike. “How about if I don’t need it, I donate the stuff to a local bike club?”
Viggo grinned, “Does the same deal stand if you maim yourself and can’t ride anymore?”
“Vig, I’m starting to get the feeling that you’re enjoying this a little too much. What exactly am I in for here?” Orlando was starting to get worried.
“Let’s pay for all this stuff and I’ll show you.”
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Orlando had woken up excited, eagerly anticipating the day, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. Yesterday’s ‘lessons’ had been more fun then Orlando could have imagined and today Viggo was going to take him up the mountain for a ‘real’ ride. The hardest thing to get used to was having his feet literally locked onto his pedals. Viggo had spent a lot of time just getting Orlando to twist his foot out of the pedals, breaking the connection as quickly as possible before his bike, with him attached to it, fell over. Viggo explained that having your feet locked to the pedals allowed you to utilize the full rotation of each turn of the crank, by not only pushing down but by being able to pull up on the pedal as it came around; this was especially helpful going up hill or over obstacles. The downside was when you lost forward momentum you tended to fall over like a felled tree if you didn’t click out of your pedals fast enough or if your legs were too tired to make the effort. Viggo let him get the feel of the bike and pedals, always offering words of encouragement or light teasing when Orlando felt frustrated. Viggo was impressed with Orlando’s determination, not once did he complain that it was too hard or that he wanted to stop. With lots of laughter, they ended up having a wonderful day.
Just spending time with Viggo, Orlando had come to the realization that he had never fully appreciated the older man’s company before. Viggo had a calm, almost reserved way about him that Orlando found soothing. Often, he found that when he was quietly content in his company, Viggo would get a wicked gleam in his eye and do something completely unexpected, like tip Orlando’s bike over while he was clipped into the pedals or ride on ahead through a puddle ensuring that Orlando would be showered in mud. He had sly sense of humour that, coupled with his soft tone and often mumbled words made you lean in closer, not sure if you actually heard him correctly, only to have it dawn on you that whatever was said was at your expense but in a completely endearing way. It took great will power for Orlando to keep his feelings in check, carefully acknowledging them and filing them away in the ‘good friend’ compartment he’d created in his heart for Viggo.
Orlando still found it odd how they had fallen into a comfortable companionship without really sorting out anything that had happened. Orlando would often watch Viggo, wondering why the older man avoided any attempt of conversation on Orlando’s part if it related to his first visit. He noticed that Viggo would often slip into their easy rapport one moment, only to reverse himself and force himself to be slightly removed the next; at times enjoying a casual touch during conversation and at others almost flinching at the closeness. It was a subtle shift but one that Orlando had caught more than once. Orlando wondered if by keeping the past between them served to remind Orlando that there would always be a distance between them and not to expect anything more. Orlando worked twice as hard to ensure that he didn’t cross that boundary, wanting desperately not to lose the friendship that was once again building.
This morning was no different; wanting to give Viggo a way out of spending the day with him he mused if perhaps he wasn’t quite ready such a big ride. Viggo snorted and asked Orlando if he was jamming out, seemingly eager to spend another day with the younger man. After much teasing on both sides they packed a lunch, filled their hydration packs and put on their gear. It had rained the night before but the day was clear and bright as they headed out through the rising mist, the sun beat down on the trail to the village.
“I thought we were going up the mountain?” Orli asked when they started heading down the gentle trail.
Viggo grinned over his shoulder, “We are. I just thought you might want to take the gondola to the top rather than ride.”
“The top? Are you off your nut or am I to assume we will be taking the gondola back down after a nice little ride.” Orlando looked slightly uneasy at the prospect of being at the top of a mountain on a bicycle.
Viggo practically cackled. “Come on Orli, where’s your sense of adventure? You’ll throw yourself off a bridge attached to an elastic but you don’t want to ride your spankin’ new bike down a little old mountain?”
Orlando swallowed, a little bit scared but not one to turn down a challenge, he managed a grin, “All right old man, I’ll show you my sense of adventure.”
At the gondola Viggo chatted briefly with an attendant that nodded and waved them through. Once inside the little compartment, Viggo explained that bikes weren’t generally allowed up the mountain anymore now that they had created a “terrain” park on the lower half the mountain, complete with trails, jumps and obstacles. Viggo being Viggo, he knew practically everybody and arranged for them to be allowed up with their bikes. Once on top, Viggo took them through a mountain meadow and up some easy climbs to a plateau where they stopped to take in the view and have a bite to eat.
The two men sat in companionable silence as they looked out across the valley, enjoying their lunch in the sunshine and light breeze. Everything looked so different in the summer, a patchwork of wildflowers instead of a blanket of snow; startlingly familiar and yet so different, mirroring his feelings for Viggo. Orlando pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them and listened to the whiskey jacks chatter in the trees, his eyes sparkled with contentment, a small smile played on his lips as he lost himself to the moment. As Orlando watched the beauty around him, Viggo watched him. Quietly he removed his camera from his pack, and focused on the young man, marveling at the pure joy that radiated from him, wanting to capture it on film once more. Hearing the muted click of the shutter, so out of place in the quiet sounds of nature, Orlando turned to see the camera pointed at him. Tilting his head to rest his cheek on his knees he smiled shyly.
Viggo slowly lowered the camera, enraptured by the smile, the sweaty curls pressed to his head at odd angles from wearing a helmet, the liquid warmth the shone from chocolate orbs. “You just… you looked…” he stammered. “Happy… content… I wanted to capture that on film.”
Orlando looked at the ground and ran his hand through the grass, emotions welling up in his heart. There was so much he wanted to say, to tell Viggo. He wanted to talk about everything and nothing; to share the pain and joy that came with going through recovery; to connect with him on a deeper level again. He didn’t want to wait any longer. He looked down the mountain watching the breeze make the leaves in the trees dance and began talking. “The night Sean got everyone together… when they got me to go into recovery…” He started softly.
“Orlando you don’t…”
“Yes I do Viggo; I need to talk about this.” He looked at the older man and then quietly added, “Please.” Viggo stared for a moment and finally nodded.
“That night, I got really mad at them all. I said some really horrible things; and as each word came out I hated myself a little more because I knew they were right and I was too scared, too weak to do what I needed to do. I stormed into Sean’s den and slammed the door. I was so scared Viggo, I thought my heart was going to burst right through my chest. I tried to figure a way out, a way I could just disappear and then reappear and everything would be fixed. I wandered around that den, seeing all the things that Sean had collected, things that meant something to him; not awards and shite like that but real things people had given him or his girls had made. I realized how empty I was, how I built up myself by surrounding myself with things that meant something to other people but meant little to me. I felt so lost, like I’d never find me again. And then I saw it. It was your photograph, the one you gave Sean for his birthday; the one of me skiing. In that moment I saw what you saw; I saw the joy and the freedom I thought I lost and I knew I would fight to get that back. It was your picture that made me see that.” Orlando looked back down at the grass and began plucking blades and tossing them in the breeze, both men sitting quietly. “I guess… I guess I just wanted to say thank you…” He stopped playing with the grass and looked directly at Viggo who had trouble holding his gaze. “Thank you for seeing the *me* I thought I lost.” The two men looked at one another for a long minute; eyes conveying emotions that no words ever could.
Before either man could speak a whiskey jack swooped between them stealing the last crust of sandwich with squawk. The two men laughed, both somewhat relieved that the moment had past, not fully comfortable with their own mixed feelings.
“It’s a long way down, you up for it?” Viggo asked as he packed up his camera and the last of their garbage.
“Just watch me, old man.” Orlando grinned as he got on his bike.
“Hey, Orlando…” Viggo waited until the younger man had finished putting on his helmet and turned to look back at him. “You’re welcome.”
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The ride down was scary yet wildly exhilarating and Orlando loved every minute of it. They had started down slowly on a dirt switchback, traversing gently back and forth across the mountain, Orlando had been uncertain as the terrain became steeper. Viggo called out encouragingly and reminded him to get his ass off the seat and over his back wheel, keeping his weight back. Once Orlando got use to the awkward position, he flew down the mountain, free and full of joy, knowing he had found yet another reason love this place, not that he needed one.
By the time they reached the bottom, Orlando’s arms itched, as if a thousand bugs were crawling on them. Viggo laughed as he watched Orlando scrub his skin in an effort to get rid of the feeling. “That’s how you know you’ve been flying. Even with the shocks on your bike, the vibration from the descent makes your skin itch. Weird, isn’t it?”
Orlando nodded as he continued to rub and massage his muscles. “That was fucking amazing! Can we do it again?” Orlando’s face, arms and legs were dotted with mud that had sprayed up from Viggo’s back wheel, as he flashed his perfect grin. Viggo took a deep breath trying to slow his heart rate; basking in the glow of Orlando’s smile mixed with the adrenaline rush of coming down the mountain was playing havoc on his emotions. Taking a long slow drink of water, he was finally able to speak. “Another day, okay ‘Lando. We still have to ride back home and I guarantee your legs will be tired just after that.”
Viggo was right, by the time they made it back to the house Orlando ached, not just his legs but his back. He groaned as he gingerly stepped from his bike causing Viggo to whip around at the sound. “Shit ‘Lando, your back. I didn’t even think about it. Fuck I’m stupid I should have kept the ride shorter, taken the gondola down.”
Orlando cocked his head to the side and studied the older man for minute. “You called me Lando… I don’t think anyone has called me that before…”
Viggo felt his heart move into his throat. He hadn’t realized he had used the name out loud. It was something he had called Orlando in his dreams, in his hot, incredibly dirty dreams. Viggo felt his face flush and he started to stammer and apology.
“No Vig, I like it. It’s nice, special you know.” Just as he said the words a muscle spasm caused him to stiffen and his eyes went wide as he groaned again. “Fuck.” He whispered.
“Come on; let’s get you hosed off and into the hot tub, hopefully that will help a bit.” Viggo worked quickly hosing down the bikes and Orlando, who was too tired to move out of the cold spray. Both men dripped the length of the deck as they made their way to the solarium and the tub that awaited them. Orlando babbled along the way, musing how it was funny that they hadn’t used the hot tub in the winter when it was cold but here it was summer and they were going to get into boiling tub of water. Viggo rummaged in a cupboard for towels and suits and motioned for Orlando to use the change room, while he removed the hot tub cover.
In the privacy of the little change area, Orlando finger the pair of faded black trunks he’d been handed and wondered if they had been Viggo’s, wondered if they had once been next to the older man’s skin, cradling his manhood. Even in his tired state his cock came to life; just the thought of what might or might not have been in the trunks was enough to get him semi hard. Peering out from behind the partition he managed to make his way into the hot tub without giving Viggo a view of his considerable charms. Viggo put some towels near the edge of the tub and went to change himself.
Orlando leaned back in the tub, closing his eyes and letting the water soothe his aching back, smiling as heard Viggo before he saw him and then enjoying the view when he emerge in a pair of dark red trunks. Viggo carried his arm load of wet, dirty cycling clothes to the small bench that ran the length of the solarium, placing them in a careless heap. Once Viggo’s back was to him, Orlando froze, eyes growing wide at the vivid cris-cross pattern of scars that marred the perfectly muscled back. Somehow he had forgotten the permanent reminder Viggo carried of his near death experience, and the sight brought back so many memories of their last visit. Viggo turned to see Orlando frozen, wide eyed, and for a moment was confused by his startled expression. Rarely seeing the scars himself he often forgot they were there until someone else commented or stared.
“Fuck Vig… I never told you how sorry I am… about, well everything.” Orlando looked genuinely contrite as it was Viggo’s turn to stare at the younger man.
“S’all right Lando, it was a tough time for you. I think I’m going to need a beer. You?” Orlando could only manage a nod, his mind racing as to what he wanted to say. At any other time he would have laughed at Viggo’s retreating form as he noticed the big block letters stitched across his arse that spelled “BOTTOM”. Refocusing his mind on the discussion he wanted to have, he scrubbed a hand through his sweaty locks.
Viggo returned with two bottles already opened, handing one to Orlando, he slid into the hot water. “You know…” Viggo took a swallow of beer before continuing. “I wish that I had told you, instead of you having to hear it from Brian… I wish there had been an opportunity for us to talk about everything last time. I never meant it to be a secret… I just… well it’s not something I talk about and there never seemed to be a good time, so I left it. I wish I hadn’t, I wish we would have talked about, well everything.” Orlando smiled at how Viggo was babbling.
“No Vig, you did try. At Brian’s, you tried to tell me and I lashed out at you. I was wrapped up in my own pain that I didn’t think it was possible that someone else may have had their own pain. I’m sorry.”
“I know you are and you’re right you did lash out and I did try to tell you; I… well I should have done it sooner.” Both men sat across from each other silently acknowledging that they could have done things differently finding that they really didn’t need to speak to understand one another. After several long minutes and half of his beer Orlando sat up a little and closely studied the peeling label on his bottle.
I.. I never told anyone about what happened to me…” Orlando started softly. “It was too hard you know? Like if I didn’t say anything it would just go away; like it never happened. Even with Sean, we ummm… never talked about it. I think he thought it would just make things worse if he did or maybe he was embarrassed, I don’t know. Me, I was just relieved that no one was making me talk about it. I know now that that was wrong. I’m learning that I… that I shouldn’t be ashamed.” Orlando took a long swallow of beer. “I… I was in an abusive relationship. If Sean hadn’t found me I’m not sure I would have made it.” Orlando gave a hollow laugh. “You just never think it could ever happen to you, and then somehow you wake up one morning and realize, that not only has it happened but you’ve let it happen.”
Viggo studied the wounded young man before him, wanting nothing more than to gather him in his arms and comfort him; whisper soothing words in his ears until the hurt and anguish disappeared. “Lando, god I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m constantly amazed at the level of cruelty one person can inflict on another.”
Orlando stared off into the distance, not wanting Viggo to see the moisture gathering in his eyes. “I’m sorry I said that you would probably die a lonely old man. That was completely unfair. I… I just didn’t want to see how broken I was, so I took it out on you. You’re amazing. You’ve been through so much and you still... I don’t know, see the good in people. Even ones as fucked up as I was.”
Hey, Lando there’s lot’s of good in you to see. I’m still working on being less ‘broken’ myself. We’ll get there, it just takes time.” They both sat lost in their own thoughts, wondering how it would feel to comfort the other, knowing that would be dangerously close to crossing a fast blurring line; each unaware that the other was wishing that the line didn’t have to exist at all.
Finally feeling like they had entered territory of meaningful dialogue; Orlando was reluctant to let the conversation drop. “Vig. Do you ever… ever wonder what it would be like to see him again?”
“James?” Orlando nodded.
“Well, I did see him again in court. If I see him after he gets out of prison, I think my only thought would be to find a phone and get the police to enforce the no contact order.” Viggo took a long swallow of beer considering the young man in front of him, wondering how much he should ask. “How about you? You ever see… Stuart… again?” Orlando’s head snapped up at the name. “I’m just guessing here that that’s who hurt you. The way you react to the name, the way all of you have distanced him from your tight knit group, just put it together, you know.” Orlando nodded.
“No.” He finally answered in a voice so quiet that Viggo might have missed it over the hum of the water jets. “Sean and PJ made sure that we were never at the same premiere together and well, you know that he’s not part of the group, so I’ve never seen him… since…” Orlando finished his beer and gently put it down on the deck that surrounded the hot tub.
“If we’re going to talk about this, I’m going to need another beer. You?” Orlando nodded as Viggo got out of the tub, water skirting around the thick scars as it sluiced off his broad shoulders. He returned with two more bottles and handed one to the younger man. Orlando took another swallow of beer before speaking.
“Sometimes I wish I could go to him and tell what I think of him. Just yell at him, you know? Tell him how wrong he was for what he did, that I deserved better. And then I get so scared that if I see him I’ll slip right back there into helpless Orli mode and be at his mercy again.” Orlando voice was hoarse with emotion. He had never told anyone how scared he was that he might slip back, that Stuart still might have a hold on him.
Viggo nodded sympathetically. “I think it’s a little different for me Lando, I got to see James in a controlled environment. It’s not like he could do much to me in the confines of a court room. Being surrounded by court clerks armed with guns tends to make you feel a little braver. I was able to say all the things… well, most of the things I wanted to, when I gave my victim impact statement. No interruptions, just me telling him how it felt.” Orlando nodded. “You’ll know when you’re ready Lando. You’ll know when he no longer has that hold on you. When the possibilities outside of what *was* are your anchor and you’ll be able to conquer your fear. Not that it ever goes completely away, it just gets to the point that you know you’re stronger than it is.”
They both settled back into a comfortable silence, letting the hum of the jets lull them into a state of relaxation. After several minutes Viggo studied the young man across from him, his eyes closed but moving beneath the lids as if he was sorting out something important. “How’s your back?” He asked quietly.
“Better, yours?” Orlando answer, still not able to get the images of the scars from his mind.
“Fine.”
Orlando opened his eyes and focused them on Viggo. “Do they hurt? I mean mine is sensitive to touch so I thought maybe… I mean you have so many…”
Viggo looked confused. “Yours? I didn’t realize you had a scar…”
Orlando turned slowly around showing Viggo the long thick scar that lay along his spine. “Yeah, they had to put me back together with bits of tin and bailing wire.” He grinned over his shoulder. Viggo’s hand twitched, wanting to trace the scar with his finger. “So how about yours, they sensitive too?”
Viggo thought for along moment, wondering how to answer and then realized that being honest was the only way. “I’m not really sure… it’s not like… well I haven’t…” His voice trailed off for a moment before he gathered enough courage to continue. “Other than doctors at the very beginning, no one has really touched them since.” He added with a shrug.
Orlando considered his response very carefully, knowing that it could be taken the wrong way but needing to continue anyway. “Could I… I mean, maybe not touch, but could I see.”
Viggo’s cock twitched in his trunks, grateful that the bubbles in the tub would cover any embarrassing bulge that arose. After a moment he slowly turned his back to Orlando and rested his head on his crossed arms on the lip of the tub. Orlando waded through the water slowly, enthralled by the expanse of skin in front of him. At first the scars looked angry where they had reddened in the heat of the water. Then, Orlando started to see that the patterns were actually almost beautiful, calling out to be touched. Raising a tentative hand he placed one finger on the upper most scar and felt Viggo shudder slightly beneath him. “Is this okay?” He whispered, not realizing that his breath was caressing Viggo’s wet skin, amplifying the sensation. Viggo couldn’t trust his voice and merely nodded curtly, concentrating on keeping himself in control.
Orlando traced the scar from top to where it disappeared beneath Viggo’s arm. Feeling bolder he raised his other hand and traced another; watching the skin quiver beneath his touch, mesmerized by the beauty in the marks. Viggo’s senses were reeling, his felt as if he was struggling to keep his head above water, it was too much. Suddenly without warning, Viggo called out for Orlando to stop. Orlando flinched and backed off instantly, as if he’d been burned. Viggo got his breathing under control and gave a hollow laugh. “Sorry didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s just that… well it’s been a while since anyone’s touched me and… umm… I guess my boys are getting the wrong idea here.” He added as he buried his face in his arms, embarrassed that he couldn’t control himself and that he was so close to coming form just the innocent touch of this lovely man.
Orlando took a deep breath. Suddenly he realized he’d crossed the line and Viggo was telling him to back off. Not knowing what else to do, he resorted to humour. Slapping Viggo firmly on the back he laughed. ”Is that all mate, I’ve been half hard since I saw you had BOTTOM stitched across your arse.”
Viggo felt relieved that Orlando wasn’t offended. “Yeah, you can thank Brian for those; they were a gift a few years back. For obvious reasons, I don’t tend to wear them at the pool, so they only get used here.”
Orlando smiled, feeling like he was back on some sort of even footing. “I don’t know mate, wear those to the pool and I don’t think you’d have any problem finding someone to touch you.” Viggo snorted and showered Orlando in a spray of water and within moments mayhem ensued as both men used the playfulness of a water fight to diffuse any lust that remained in their hearts.
TBC
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Date: 2005-10-14 03:05 am (UTC)Cheers, rb