vigorli

Title: Look to the West where the Ocean is (2/3) Part One you can find here

Beta:My darling Scarr, evil_scarrlett

Pairing: Viggorli but Orlando is married to Sean Astin.

Rating: NC 17

Summary: AU. Orlando is a young Brit who lives in Santa Barbara, California; sometimes he wonders what he is doing there.

Disclaimer: This is not for real, it is just the name, "Real Person Slash" that is real around here.

Feedback: Yes if you like

Warning: Sean Astin is included in this fic.

Archive: Aniron slash and my fic lj.

Notes: dalehead came up with the original idea for this fic and xandrinuccia made the icon.

Look to the West where the Ocean is
Part two

"You must have tripped over and fallen," Viggo said and helped Orlando find his balance again.

"No…" Orlando breathed but he wasn’t sure Viggo heard him. "I’m sorry!" Orlando added and left; did not dare look Viggo in the face.

Orlando walked upstairs and went straight to the bedroom; he ripped the towel off and lay down on the bed; flat on his front and face down on the cover. He was naked, the hair wet, his body was shivering from the emotions that raged inside him.

He had thought of nothing but Viggo last night and this morning; now the man was in Orlando's kitchen. How had his lips felt? Orlando couldn’t remember- but he did remember the feeling of Viggo's chest against his and Viggo's hands on Orlando's shoulders when the older man moved Orlando away from himself.

"Do not let go of me," Orlando whispered into the fabric under his face. "Kiss me like they do in the movies!"

Orlando was completely naked at the same time as he was completely revealed for the first time ever in his own home. Viggo was in the kitchen downstairs and Orlando spread his legs a little on the bed where he lay

He made room for Viggo's knee; Viggo's knee when he got up on the bed to get closer to Orlando

And his breaths became heavy; this was so forbidden, so indecent, the door was open and the steps in these stairs were not broken like the steps on old mister Mortensen's porch. On these stairs, Viggo could climb without Orlando hearing him; he could come into the room and see Orlando in this position.

Where would Viggo touch him? On the inside of Orlando's legs- Viggo's hands had skin that was rough but his touch was smooth, Orlando knew this, Viggo washed Orlando's hand in the kitchen yesterday.

"Touch me," Orlando whispered- was it bad to ask like that? Orlando lifted his hips up; the heat in his lower body was so strong; it was like he was cramping. He stretched his arms out and grabbed the far corner of the mattress- held hard onto it and didn’t think, just felt.

His dick was hard like it had been last night- when Sean had touched Orlando; and Orlando thought about Viggo.

Viggo had a blue t shirt on today that he wouldn’t keep on himself when he had caressed the insides of Orlando's legs; he’d take it off, and give it to Orlando to put his face in. Then Viggo would lower himself over Orlando, put his chest close to Orlando's naked back and then… his mouth over Orlando's skin, the lips and breath warm, he’d kiss Orlando's neck under the hair- he’d want to be close to Orlando just because he wanted to feel Orlando's body near his own and for no other reason… at first.

"Can’t you come upstairs and hold me?" Orlando begged the bedcover and he turned over onto his back. Outside the window the misty morning had become a sunny day, and there it was; Orlando on his back in the sunshine, and he had a hard on like never before; not from what he could remember. His head felt dizzy. Orlando was not used to touching himself and he didn’t want to- Viggo was in the kitchen downstairs and Orlando wanted him to come and claim his anguished body.

"It was no mistake that I kissed you," he said to the blue sky. "The mistake was that I walked away."

When Orlando took his first step on his way down the stairs he met Viggo who took his first step up. This was a slight shock to Orlando who stopped immediately.

"I am sorry," Viggo said and looked up at Orlando, "I waited but I need to get started now with the last of the walls; there are some delicate wooden shelves on it and I don’t want to mess them up if I don’t have to- and now that you are home-"

"Of course!" Orlando nodded and his hand opened and closed around the railing. "Have you painted the other walls already?"

"No, I am cleaning them with pre paint wash."

"Are they not clean?" Orlando shouted almost, and basically fell down the stairs and went after Viggo who returned to his buckets; the one Orlando had almost stepped into re-lidded, Orlando did notice.

"They are not stained or greasy at all," Viggo said, voice calm as always. "In fact I have hardly seen walls this clean before in a kitchen. But it is just procedure."

They got to work, Orlando lifted the wooden shelves off the wall and Viggo came after him with the big sponge. It was fun, Viggo told Orlando about the worst kitchen he’d ever seen and Orlando chuckled; imagine living in a dump like that!

The smell of chemicals- from the paint, from the pre paint wash- was rather strong. Thoughts about why Viggo seemed completely unmoved by the kiss before, and what would have happened if Orlando had still been on the bed naked when Viggo came up the stairs, mixed in Orlando's head with worries about how this chemical stench would affect the food. How could Sean have planned for this today? Not that Orlando complained,

Jesus Christ and Mother Mary and the Holy Saint, no

But it was a bit inconvenient. And speaking of dinner, Orlando had to order; fix; now. Any relaxation the yoga and his bath had brought was gone now.

"I need to make a phone call," Orlando said and Viggo put the sponge in the cleaning bucket once again. He nodded or made a move or whatever and Orlando stared at him as if he was waiting for Viggo to answer.

"A phone call," Orlando said again and felt very dumb.

Orlando went through his notes that lay in a neat pile on top of the set of drawers beside the hallway mirror. He found the number to the store and while he waited- first for an answer and then for the right person to talk to- he looked at his huge brown eyes that stared at him from the reflecting surface. Orlando thought he looked haunted, and he was in a way; his heart was beating fast and he was both scared and excited at the same time.

The eyes appeared even darker against the white tee Orlando had put on after finding it in the very back of his closet. He had stuffed the tee there after his arrival from London, together with his favorite denims- they were also on him now. Orlando had never worn these clothes in his new home, simply because Sean would not accept ripped jeans, and not the white t shirt either.

"…a white t shirt with sleeves to the elbow? What would you use that for? T shirts are for garden work; and you cannot wear white in the garden. A white long sleeve t shirt you could wear under a shirt on a cold day, but of what user is a white shirt with sleeves only to the elbow?"

The jeans were more baggy than Orlando remembered them, he needed a belt maybe, but the tee was still tight and his sister always used to say he looked pretty in it with his dark skin and dark chocolate messy hair. It did fit rather well Orlando thought with a shy glance towards the kitchen entry from which yet another pop song was heard.

When Orlando got the right person on the line he began reading the list of items he had stored in his mind.

"Parsley," he said.

And then he said nothing more. He couldn’t think of one thing apart from parsley that he needed for the dinner.

"Yes?" the lady on the other side of the line said, and Orlando scratched his head.

"Um… I’ll call right back!" he said and hung up. What on earth, the list had been perfectly easy to remember when he had gone through it in the bathroom earlier. Orlando grabbed a pen and began writing down what he had planned to buy; he leaned over the note and thought hard. When he was done and straightened his back again he almost jumped.

Behind him in the mirror was Viggo.

"Sorry!" Viggo said when he noticed how startled Orlando got. "I wonder where shall I dispose of this?" He nodded his head to the cleaning bucket in his hand.

"Oh, right here, garage, come, let me show you," Orlando said breathlessly and bumped into Viggo when he passed the other man in the narrow part of the hallway. Viggo in the mirror- or rather, that close to Orlando at all- had been an embodiment of the intruding images before Orlando’s inner eyes. No wonder he’d almost jumped.

In the garage Viggo poured the water down a drain hole in the concrete floor.

"What a nice car that is," Viggo said about the silver metallic TT that was parked inside this day. "You could drive very fast in that one."

Orlando’s eyes got stuck on Viggo when he approached Orlando in the doorway; where Orlando stood with feet bare on the cold floor. Orlando let go of his waistband; the denims fell low again baring some of his stomach.

"In that car," Orlando said, "you can drive very, very far."

Orlando laid the living room table while he waited for the delivery. He did it as carefully as he could, with special regard to the glasses. A few of them he needed to polish; Orlando took five steps towards the kitchen to get a towel. But like a great fan had been switched on suddenly in his way, Orlando took five steps back and got the glasses off the table. These he could polish in the kitchen instead.

"You have many different towels," Viggo said. Viggo was painting the walls now and it all went very swiftly. Orlando’s face got a little hot; maybe Viggo found his labeled hangers ("glass", "hands", "other things") stupid.

"Sean makes the glass ones greasy and… that is inconvenient…" Orlando heard himself and how submissive he sounded. He frowned at himself and went on with a steadier voice,

"At the same time he wants the glasses perfect, they cannot dry in the dish washer."

Viggo said no more and Orlando had to get back to the table, he was done with the glasses and couldn’t just stand here and watch Viggo without a reason. Or- he could, but not in front of Viggo.

"What a nice color," Orlando said on a sudden impulse and Viggo turned his head, smiled at Orlando. The grayish hue in the white was much better than the yellow hue the walls had before. In the evenings the difference wouldn’t be so big Orlando reckoned, but during the sunlight of the days this would be a completely different room. And how could Sean have come up with this? Or maybe he hadn’t?

"Did Sean get this paint for you?"

Viggo was quiet for what seemed like 30 seconds and Orlando took the opportunity to wonder at his behind. Pity the protective trousers were so big, Orlando would sure have liked to see what Viggo’s backside could look like.

"No," Viggo said eventually. "Your husband told me to find a paint that would fit and I went and bought it this morning."

They had a wonderful time when the food had been delivered and Orlando stayed in the kitchen to prepare it. Viggo did what was left for him to do; Orlando cooked cracked wheat and chopped vegetables. Viggo asked Orlando questions about how Orlando had lived in London. Orlando told him and it was like a part of Orlando's mind woke up some, memories were brought forth that he hadn’t thought of for ages it seemed. Viggo laughed at Orlando when Orlando told him in a ghastly voice what Orlando had expected to learn at the summer course in Criminology.

"Mass murderers’ minds and crime scene profiling! And all I got was statistics of how many infants had died of that and that disease in London in the years 1582 to 1713."

Viggo stood beside Orlando all of a sudden with his hands in his pockets.

"Surely there was more to Criminology," he said with the smile that made his eyes glitter.

Orlando was muted by the sudden short distance to the man he so coveted; but he said after he’d torn his eyes away from Viggo,

"I don’t know. I left the course and got married."

There were a few words exchanged about the marriage. Orlando wanted to tell Viggo about it but at the same time he felt loyal to his husband; Viggo seemed to sense this and did not push. Instead he said after Orlando had been silent for a while, brow knotted, mouth closed in a pained manner-

"You are making tabbouli?"

"Do you know this dish?" Orlando asked, pulled out of the dark thoughts immediately.

"Surely," Viggo said. "It is a side order choice at my local steakhouse, but I’ve had it in Lebanese restaurants too."

Orlando had chopped the parsley while he had told Viggo about his year in Santa Barbara- until Viggo had stopped him, told him that the parsley was soon a salsa and not chopped. Now that the bowl of salad was done

and he had washed the cutting board and the knife and wiped the bench and rinsed the sink and rinsed his hands and wiped the knife and wiped the cutting board and put them away and checked the chicken that was going in the oven an hour before the guests would arrive and washed his hands once again just to be sure no bacteria from the chicken was stuck

Orlando could relax some. He noticed Viggo was done; all the things were collected and ready to take away.

"Oh," Orlando said, "Are you leaving now?" His voice was weak again.

He shrugged, Viggo nodded. Behind Orlando's breast bone was a lump suddenly; he looked at Viggo and hoped to find an answer to the question if they would meet again.

"My father needs some dinner too."

Orlando got eager- he hadn’t said "I am leaving," and a hungry person Orlando knew how to handle.

"Are you hungry? Do you want to try the salad?" he stumbled over the words.

"I am not that hungry yet but your tabbouli smells lovely and I’d like to try it."

Orlando opened a cupboard and reached for a bowl but Viggo stopped him.

"No, save the salad for the guests. Let me just have a bite."

So Orlando got a fork instead from a drawer. He was just going to give it to Viggo when he hesitated, kept it himself.

"Come."

It was Orlando who said come this time. He got some salad on the fork and Viggo did step closer- Orlando held the fork up and Viggo took the fork in his mouth.

He ate and stood where he was. Orlando watched him and Viggo watched Orlando; they were as close as they had been yesterday and in the exact same spot, too.

Orlando laid his hand on Viggo's face. Viggo didn’t say nor do anything but his eyes were very somber.

Orlando stroked the smooth skin carefully, every part of the inside of his hand in contact with Viggo's face. His thumb felt the dimple in Viggo's chin, and he smiled when he did.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered.

Orlando didn’t want to remove his hand but couldn’t think of anything to do until he dared touch Viggo more; feel the hair- uncut and rather long, a poet’s hair, Orlando thought. The fork landed in the sink with a clink and Orlando's other hand went to Viggo's hair too.

Viggo lowered his head; his hands were still in his pockets and Orlando wasn’t sure what Viggo thought about Orlando touching him like this. But need overtook reason and Orlando closed the distance to Viggo and kissed him on the brow.

He held Viggo's head and pressed his lips softly over it, and his own body was strained from holding back the want to take the last step from close, to very close.

He kissed one of Viggo's closed eyes, then he didn’t dare do more so he let go of the other man and his breath was uneven and shallow. Their eyes met; Viggo's were so soulful, more than yesterday; nowhere in them could Orlando see antipathy or irritation.

"Please don’t leave," Orlando said. He knew his eyes were afraid and begging, like Sean hated when they were, but he couldn’t help himself. Viggo looked at Orlando for a few seconds with something in his eyes that Orlando desperately tried to read, and then Viggo put his arms around Orlando and kissed him.

The sails of a large ship ripped and lashing in the storm; salty sea water in the icy wind whipping your face; standing on the deck holding on to the rail because if you didn’t you would be torn off the boat and thrown into the sea- but you love it, it is rapture, because so close to death you really know that you are alive
.

Their bodies were as close as they wanted, finally; Orlando could never have guessed how much Viggo had wanted this. Now that Viggo's arms were wrapped around him, Orlando felt Viggo shaking just as much as Orlando did. The tension in the well-built body told Orlando Viggo was afraid that he would break Orlando if he let the desire come forth.

"My caged beauty," Viggo whispered when his lips had kissed Orlando's, hot and wet. "My captivated, caged beauty."

They kissed more; Viggo's mouth showed Orlando's how to use the tongue when you kiss out of desire. And Viggo's lips could cover Orlando's; that they did until both Viggo and Orlando were weak and reality caught up with them. Viggo took his gear with him and left, Orlando helped him to get some things to the door. Then they said good bye, yet another time.

Sean came home. He walked around the house and inspected the table, inspected Orlando's shirt.

"Rather nice," he said, "but what kind of color is that? Blue?"

"Why not?" Orlando asked.

"You have never been good in blue, have you?"

The kitchen made Sean very satisfied.

"What a carpenter he is, huh?!" Sean exclaimed like it was he who had taught Viggo his craft.

Then he turned to Orlando and stepped up to him, inspected his spouse like he had inspected the table in the living room.

"Was he here when you arrived home?" Sean asked. Orlando got uneasy and hesitated; Sean asked again.

"Have you spent the day here, with him?"

If Sean had sounded jealous Orlando would have known how to react and what to say. But there was a luster in Sean's eyes that made Orlando apprehensive and uncomfortable.

"Yes I have," Orlando tried to answer as plainly as possible. The guilt Orlando was afraid would shine through was overtaken by confusion, and that confusion didn’t lessen when Sean told Orlando he was going over to the Mortensens’ to "talk some".

The stress of the day- both good and bad- took its toll on Orlando finally. He checked the chicken once more, went upstairs, slumped himself on the bed; tried to make himself become an invisible bundle and closed his eyes. He had never feared tomorrow before, but this evening he did, and he felt desolate.

Wood, Monaghan and Boyd arrived on time, they came in a cab and had been to a bar for a drink; they were in a brilliant mood it seemed. Billy complimented Orlando on the shirt and this seemed to alert Sean.

"Your gift!" he said loudly and went to get it, Orlando stood in the middle of the living room with a glass of wine in his hand and tried to speak casually to Sean's colleagues while his head spun and he was almost sick from sadness. He didn’t want any gift from Sean.

It was a necklace; far too expensive and grand for any need Orlando could have. Several rings, linked together; a chain made of white gold. The more Orlando felt it and when Sean put it on him, he thought it was very broad; and it sat a bit too tight- it was not comfortable at all. He could breathe of course but… breathe physically at least. Mentally, the chain sat heavily around his neck and he felt suffocated by it.

"Thank you Sean," he said, and Sean kissed him, smiled a big, big, big smile then told Orlando to come with him to the kitchen.

"What is it you have cooked?" he asked harshly, voice low so no one would hear.

Orlando tried to explain- this morning at the yoga class he had suddenly remembered one of his favorite dishes from London and he had found it a great idea to cook it for dinner. It was just chicken and a salad!

"But what is this?" Sean said and meant the cracked wheat. Orlando began explaining that too but his voice got faint and died out and Sean didn’t seem to listen anyway.

"Thank god you have chicken at least," he said and left Orlando to prepare the serving.

When they had finished the dessert Sean brought forth a piece of paper and cleared his throat.

"My darling spouse," he said. "I have a poem for you, now that it is our anniversary and all."

Orlando stared at him, so did Billy, Elijah and Dom. But Orlando was not amused like the three others, he was puzzled.

"Tried to say something that filled my mouth and longed to rest in your ear," he read in a very solemn voice that he had seemed to have practiced. A chuckle that had just been heard from Dom died down.

"Desire and pain of absence… of mistakes we’d make given the chance. Each smile returned makes harder avoiding dreams that see us lying in early evening, curtain shadows; skin safe against skin."

Orlando was quiet for a little while and all around the table stared at him. Orlando didn’t know what to say, he fiddled with the napkin in his lap and his lips moved like he was trying to say something.

"…thank you Sean," he said eventually. He was a bit surprised and didn’t really understand what had happened. He had been prepared to give Sean a strained smile but this was a really beautiful poem even if it wasn’t very long. And he said so.

"This was a beautiful poem."

And then the mood was released, Dom and Billy chuckled and Elijah patted Sean on the back.

"Well done, well done, didn’t know you had so many talents?" Elijah said, and Dom drank of his beer.

"What did it mean, though?" Dom said and Sean put up a face of false modesty.

"Huh…" he said. "It is a poem about love, of course! It is my wedding anniversary today, and then it is very fitting to read poems of love I think." He laughed and brought his glass up and he toasted with his business associates. He said something very loud about Orlando being the best spouse anyone could have; Billy coughed in an animated manner, said that what would the secretary at the office say if he heard Sean say that? The secretary would probably be very jealous.

And within moments Orlando was forgotten yet again and the joke about the secretary too, by all but Orlando, who sat still with his eyes absentmindedly watching the table. The hands in his lap were now tightly holding each other, fingers laced in one another, left thumb and index finger carefully touching the band aid that was still there.

He tried not to focus on the pain in his chest that had come after the joke; instead he counted the glasses and plates, brought to memory what he had already put in the dish washer. Tried to figure out how much washing detergent he would use for that amount of dishes that were so greasy. And his mind hummed a tune that he had heard on the radio this morning.

Suddenly he heard the words

Each smile returned makes harder avoiding dreams that see us lying in early evening, curtain shadows; skin safe against skin

But read by another voice than Sean's. Orlando stood up very fast and very suddenly; it made Sean look up at him and say, some foam from his last beer gulp stuck in the corner of his mouth,

"Be careful, darling, don’t knock the glasses over."

It was a warm evening and Orlando took a deep breath of relief when he shut the glass door behind him. He had planned to just stand in the slight wind for a while but to his excitement he heard his neighbors speak in the garden next to this.

Between the Astin-Bloom garden and the Mortensen garden was a high cypress hedge, this mostly because Sean and Orlando had a swimming pool and the cypresses allowed some privacy. Orlando didn’t like them very much and he didn’t swim in the pool much but Sean wanted to keep them.

Orlando hesitated for just a second before he made his way through the hedge and walked out on old mister Mortensen's lawn.

"Hello?" he said politely when he was in the circle of light from the outdoor lamp on the house. "Can I join you?"

In the far end of old mister Mortensen's garden the moonlight was not hindered by any trees. It painted the ground and it highlighted Viggo's and Orlando's faces too.

Viggo's fingers had already touched Orlando's neck once; when Viggo told Orlando the shirt was very exclusive and beautiful, that it fit Orlando very well, brought the life to Orlando's face out. And now they did again, the outside of the fingers sliding down Orlando's cheek and neck, over the necklace and down over the collar bone. There they stayed, fingertips caressing the soft skin that stretched over the bone.

"My husband read me a poem," Orlando said and a question was implied in his words.

"Did you like it?"

"Very much- do you happen to know that poem?"

Viggo smiled, a wry smile, but then his eyes lit up and he laughed softly.

"Wall paint from the carpenter, poems from the poet; yes, I know the poem. It has lingered in my head long but when he asked me, I immediately remembered it; I finished it last night."

Orlando took Viggo's hand, made him touch Orlando's face again. Viggo did, he touched Orlando's eyebrows and his nose, and he sighed when he did.

"It was a poem about love," Orlando said and looked at Viggo attentively.

"Yes it was. Do you want to hear the rest of it?"

"Is there more?"

"It is indeed." Viggo smiled, and he recited; while he did his eyes went over every feature of Orlando's face and his fingers went after his eyes, carefully and softly.

Viggo's voice was made to read this poem and Orlando was spellbound. Viggo paused momentarily and his lips met Orlando's briefly.

"…This after seeing you last night, first time smelling you with permission, shoulders to wonder openly at; as carefully kissed; as those arms waited impossibly on. They’ve held me now, and your breath down my back sent away night air that had me shaking in the unlit doorway
."

The neck
. Orlando couldn’t kiss Viggo's mouth after it had delivered words like that. Orlando's pulse drummed in his ears and he even felt his cock harden. He kissed Viggo's neck feverishly and didn’t speak; Viggo held his shoulders but not to keep him away this time.

Then Orlando broke the respect for the poet’s lips and kissed Viggo the way Viggo had taught Orlando in the kitchen earlier. Now they were wringing their arms around the other and their bodies melted together like wax that ran from candles and met the other wax on the tabletop.

"I will be lost without you," Orlando said and he was not ashamed to sound like he was begging, because he was, but for what he didn’t know yet.

"I will stay tomorrow," Viggo said, "I have been appointed to another task in your house."

"Really?" Orlando looked with great surprise at Viggo but they did not part. Not only Orlando was aroused, Orlando felt Viggo's hard on against the hip.

"I will still be lost when you leave," Orlando added gloomily when the first satisfaction had left him.

Viggo kissed Orlando's neck this time; heat added to heat.

"Walk out in the garden then," Viggo said between his slow kisses. "Look to the west where the ocean is. It is the same water that washes up on the shore near my home, the same shore even but further south… Now, you need to go back to your guests and your husband."

When Orlando came back from his secret meeting in old mister Mortensen’s garden he was filled with excitement but he was also scared. Of what he didn’t know, it was not that Sean would find out what he and Viggo did… No, Orlando was just diffusely scared and worried. He sat down with the others and they were on the topic of sexy men they would like to make out with. Orlando was not mentioned by anyone, why would he be, but maybe if Sean could’ve said something nice about Orlando?

He didn’t. Sean was not mean or anything, but he didn’t understand probably what it meant to Orlando to sit among Sean’s colleagues and listen to their sexist jokes. Maybe Sean thought that Orlando was just like them. But Orlando was not, and he would never be. The kind of man Sean seemed to think Orlando was would never have married Sean.

When they started speaking about blowjobs suddenly Orlando’s eyes widened and his cheeks felt hot; but he stared in front of himself and did not want to see Sean. Orlando had never been able to do any good when it came to the blowjobs. He didn’t seem to be able to adjust to taking Sean in his mouth; when Sean tried to make it easer for Orlando by washing himself before, it still didn’t help.

This was terrible to think about but still true.

The memory of constant tries and constant failures came to Orlando’s mind when the four men around the table spoke about blowjobs. Of course Orlando knew how to suck Sean’s cock, it was not that, but the unnatural taste of soap that always stuck on the thin skin and the lack of air and the unwelcome intimacy-

"Orlando went to the doctor yesterday," Sean said suddenly but he was stopped by a glance like a dagger from Orlando’s eyes.

"Please!" Orlando said. And for once he managed to make his voice as stern as was needed to make Sean shut up. The spouses stared at each other for a few icy seconds before Orlando got up yet another time.

"Thank you gentlemen," he said. "Have a good evening."

With that he left and went to the bedroom; another knot added to the rest in his stomach. He pretended not to hear Sean say something to him; if Sean wanted to talk then he could very well come after Orlando.

He tore the blue silky shirt off himself and threw it on the floor.

The time he spent in bed before he fell asleep finally was mental torture. Orlando saw before his inner eye and heard before his inner ear how Sean told Dom, Elijah, and Billy about Orlando’s visit at the clinic. Not to be mean, just to try and share things he thought would amuse the others. But his colleagues, especially Elijah with his sharp tongue, would not hesitate to joke about Orlando’s attempt to get rid of his… asexuality.

Oh, the irony of it! Because the other thing that made Orlando twist in mental pain was the fact that thoughts of Viggo wanted to come into consciousness. Orlando couldn’t let them though, he was so afraid the feeling of helplessness and humiliation would contaminate the thoughts of Viggo.

But Orlando’s body remembered the more recent and far more pleasant touches; the blood that had for a while let Orlando’s cock alone returned there and made Orlando hard and aching. He moved uneasily and no matter how much he tried he couldn’t breathe normally. For a short while he needed to hold on to the duvet to stop him from either jerking off in the matrimonial bed or leave the room and the house and walk over to the house next door.

The tension in the hands was perhaps what saved him; he fell asleep before he knew it.

Ordinary morning routine? Well, Orlando woke the husband and sent him to the shower; and he made breakfast- but did not wait for Sean to get the paper. Instead Orlando walked out to get it himself. There was nothing moving in the windows of old mister Mortensen’s house but Orlando walked very, very slowly nevertheless. It could be someone watching from inside.

Sean saw the paper first thing when he entered the kitchen in a cloud of after-shave.

"Did you get the paper?" he asked, meant "Did you walk outside dressed in the gown?" and Orlando said yes and meant yes to both.

Orlando was drinking tea already and Sean seemed a bit lost when he- after he’d sat down- had to get up again to reach for the coffee pot.

"Thank you for taking care of the dinner last night," Sean said suddenly and Orlando could not hide a look of great surprise.

"What?" Sean asked. "Are you surprised I thank you?"

Orlando was, but he didn’t say it. He mumbled a thank you and Sean got toast from the toaster. Orlando glanced over the newly printed pages of the morning paper. What day was it today? What week? What year? Orlando wondered for how long he had been walking in a bubble.

"Where is my honey?" Sean burst out and made Orlando jump.

"What?" Orlando said this time. Sean’s face was puzzled and his hands moved over the table, searching. "Oh..." Orlando added and got up.

"My honey," Sean said again and took the jar from Orlando. "Since when did you forget I take honey on my toast?"

No, no ordinary morning routine today.

When Orlando had finished his tea he kissed Sean quickly and said goodbye. Sean was still eating his breakfast.

Orlando is dancing in the shower this morning. He is so in love with Viggo now.

Orlando’s fingers run over his body; he washes the night away and he lets his hands examine himself at the same time. Will he make a good lover? Will Viggo find his body nice to touch? Orlando ponders these things today because the way Viggo held him last night makes Orlando think,

"Maybe he wants to love me- maybe he wants to touch my body too."

Orlando breathes faster when he thinks about Viggo's hard on. And Viggo's lips; today Viggo will be working in Orlando's hallway Sean said.

Orlando looks for clothes in a fever. He cannot think of any other clothes than the ones he had on yesterday; the ones he had on when Viggo kissed him in the kitchen. But one cannot have the same clothes day after day. Maybe the jeans, maybe the jeans; or just the white t shirt; Orlando ends up with the same clothes he had on yesterday.

"Hello!" Orlando shouted happily when he heard the door slam shut downstairs. But hurrying down he realized suddenly that the slamming door was not the front door

That was the sound of the garage door!

And that his husband was still downstairs and had not left at all.

"There you are!" Sean said; his voice and face irritated. "We need to get the walls emptied to prepare for Mortensen. What have you been doing? And what are you wearing?"

Orlando walked straight over to Sean who was standing on a low stool; ripping folded scarves and neatly piled gloves, the spouses’ knitted sweaters, and what else there was off the hat rack. There was a screwdriver in his back pocket, the item he had been in the garage to get, and Orlando had a lump in his throat.

The mirror was gone, and so were a few other things that had hung on the wall. Orlando noted that he saw the things were missing but he couldn’t remember what had actually been there.

"Please Sean, must you be so careless," he tried and looked devastated at the items Sean pushed down in Orlando’s arms. His cheeks burned from the embarrassment caused by finding Sean downstairs; when Orlando had these clothes on, and when it was so close he had called out Viggo's name with a voice that wouldn’t have fooled a newborn baby.

"What do you mean, careless? Can’t you just fold them again? I am late for work and the carpenter will be here any minute-"

Sean brought the screwdriver forth.

"I can take the hat rack down," Orlando said.

"No you can’t!"

Sean muttered something else and Orlando perhaps heard what he said, perhaps not. Either way he stayed loyally next to the stool to take the hat rack when Sean had undone the screws.

"I am asking Mortensen if he can paint the house. That means you’ll have him hang around here for a week at least. I can tell you like him."

A week! Orlando didn’t say anything out of fear he would reveal what that meant to him. But Sean's patronizing tone of voice did not escape him either; Orlando ended up feeling even more confused.

"Don’t you!" Sean said; the luster in his eyes again. But soon the luster turned into a frown: and Orlando knew why. When Orlando didn’t speak Sean got irritated. Orlando normally tried to avoid keeping shut (any small talk would do), but right now Orlando simply couldn’t find anything to say.

"Yes…" Orlando managed to utter.

Then the hat rack came down and all was chaos for a minute; Sean and Orlando both cursed, the doorbell rang and Sean pulled the heavy shelf from Orlando.

"Go upstairs and change your clothes. It could be my mother or it could be Mortensen; either way you are not walking around in those rags today."

"Mother?" Orlando repeated, "Patty?"

Sean got the door- or, he held the knob and stared at Orlando.

"We got the kitchen re painted yesterday. Surely you must clean the cupboards and drawers; mom is coming to help you."

Orlando stared back. He knew his nipples were erect, that they had been since he came out from the shower. Not that Sean noticed often, but Orlando lifted his hands reluctantly and pressed them together in front of his chest.

"Please, Orlando, go upstairs and change!" Sean almost hissed and unlocked the door. He did not see Orlando’s face screw up from disappointment and sheer anger.

"Why didn’t you tell me Patty was coming?" he said and his hands ran through the hair. Orlando was upset and did not want whoever stood outside to see him in this state, but he so hoped it was Viggo he couldn’t make himself flee.

He was at the base of the stairs when he heard Sean greet Viggo and let him in.

His body stopped by itself. Orlando put his hand on the wall, leaned to it; dropped his head.

Sean and Viggo exchanged a few lines but soon they couldn’t help but stare at Orlando. He just stood there with his back against them, silent, head hanging heavily. One hand clutched the railing; the other was pressed against the wall.

"Orlando?" Sean asked but no reaction came from the crooked figure by the stair. The situation was surreal; it ended abruptly when Orlando's upper body fell forward suddenly. Not much, a few inches perhaps, but fast and like he was cramping.

Viggo inhaled and Sean took two steps towards Orlando- but Orlando put a hand up warningly.

"Don’t, Sean," he said quietly and his feet started to move finally. Orlando walked up the stair like every step pained him; his back bent and resigned.

"What happened?" Sean said when Orlando was gone but hastily left the subject. "So this is one day’s work do you think?"

Viggo walked around the hallway slowly; touched the walls and looked at the quality of the wallpaper. He explained the different approaches he could have to the painting of the walls and Sean asked him to please do what would give the best results.

"Then this is two days’ work," Viggo said.

"Good, good," Sean said, "and then- how is your schedule- could you stay even longer?"

Viggo looked Sean straight in the eyes and said calmly,

"No, I cannot. I need to go home tomorrow night."

"So- no painting of our house then?" Sean concluded. "Ok, but you will do this job even if it takes two days?"

"Yes," Viggo said. "I will."

Around noon Viggo stood in the kitchen doorway; he looked at Orlando and Orlando’s mother in law. They were busy cleaning; they removed all items from the drawers and cabinets, washed them, and put them back after the drawers and cabinets were cleaned too.

Both Orlando and Patty worked in silence; fast, efficient, and without a trace of a smile in their faces. There was no radio playing today; the sound of the dishwasher was the only thing that broke the quiet. It was Patty who noticed Viggo first.

"How is it going, Viggo?" she asked. Orlando immediately looked up at him too.

"It moves along as it shall," Viggo said and met her smile. "I have prepared the walls for a first layer; but the putty needs to dry for a while and I need some lunch I think."

"Stay!" Orlando’s eyes screamed.

"Please, join us for lunch then," Patty said, "we need something to eat too, don’t we Orlando?"

She began removing her yellow rubber gloves and looked at Orlando who nodded agreement.

"If you are not having lunch with your father?" she added and Viggo smiled again.

"He is playing bridge with a few neighbors," he said and went outside to wipe the sanded dust from the clothes.

"What do you have that we can eat?" Orlando’s mother in law asked and Orlando said grilled turkey sandwiches; he got the grill out from one of the not yet cleaned cupboards and his hands weren’t steady.

Patty got what they needed from the refrigerator and Orlando still hadn’t removed his protective gloves or his apron. As soon as Patty left to ‘refresh herself’ he realized this and tried to do it as fast as he could. But he was not fast enough; Viggo re entered the kitchen when Orlando was still pulling at the too small rubber gloves.

"I am sorry!" he whispered to Viggo and his arms fell to his sides as if great tiredness overwhelmed him.

"For what?" Viggo asked softly. They were on each side of the room and did not move closer. Orlando didn’t say anything- he was sorry for so many things and this was not the time to air them in front of Viggo.

"You must think I look really silly." Orlando felt so bad about the whole situation; the fact that he was tired and worn out and had a stupid apron on did not make matters better.

Viggo said nothing first but he glanced over his shoulder and then killed the distance to Orlando with a few hasty steps. His hands were not fit to hold Orlando but Orlando held Viggo’s face and he swore he could feel the man’s skin through the yellow latex. They kissed and gasped but Viggo stilled Orlando too soon by grabbing his wrists.

"Hush," he whispered. Orlando’s apron would perhaps get dust on it but Orlando couldn’t give less about that when he had Viggo this close. He still held the handsome face and his body was as near Viggo’s as it could come.

"Orlando," Viggo said quietly. "Ever since that silver cabriolet pulled up behind the U-Haul the day before yesterday and you got out of it, I have not seen anything but you. When my eyes are open and when they are closed, all I see is your frame and your face and your eyes and your smile. Do you think I care about that apron? No, Orlando."

Sounds from the hallway made them part immediately. When Patty was back Viggo stood by the kitchen table and looked at the daily paper: Orlando had gotten rid of the gloves finally and was cutting bread.

"Don’t they have a lovely home, Viggo," Patty said cheerfully. "My son and his darling spouse!"

That evening after dinner Orlando knew something had happened to him; he had changed, and he would never, ever change back. Sean and Orlando sat in front of the TV and did not speak; they went to bed and did not speak. When Sean had put the light out Orlando lay still for a few minutes. His hands touched the sheet absentmindedly and his thoughts were far away until the first silent snore from Sean was heard.

"I need to…" Orlando then whispered to no one and sneaked out of the bed.

The gravel on the Astin-Bloom driveway crunched when he walked over it; the grass on old mister Mortensen’s side was damp and almost cold under his bare feet. Orlando knew where the neighbor kept keys; he had helped him many times with small errands and Orlando was always welcome there. But this late Orlando had never entered the house, and never while old mister Mortensen was inside.

He took the key from the left pocket of an old fishing jacket that hung on a peg.

"I am sorry to intrude," he said to his neighbor who was probably deep asleep in the other side of the house. After dropping the key back into the pocket, Orlando closed the door quietly and locked it. The butterflies in his tummy fluttered a little extra when the bolt fell into place too loudly for Orlando’s taste.

"Hush!" he said like Viggo had said in the kitchen. "Don’t give me away!"

"I am here now," Orlando said. The yellow light from the lamp lit up Viggo who lay stretched out on his back on the bed. The man was surprised to see Orlando; that was obvious; Viggo hardly moved except for lifting his head while Orlando closed the door and waited for Viggo to say something.

Orlando by the door- Viggo on the bed; Not for long though- Viggo got up and walked up to Orlando.

"Thank God," he said.

They were short of breath the moment hands found the other body; Viggo’s hands on Orlando’s face and Orlando’s hands on Viggo’s chest. Viggo’s chest was bare; it was a very masculine chest. Orlando’s chest was not as manly.

Viggo kissed Orlando and pinched the face’s olive skin; he moved his hands and pinched the skin repeatedly. It hurt in a good way but now Orlando could not kiss any more; he had so many things he wanted to do.

"Wait!" he said and began opening his pajama jacket with fumbling fingers. Viggo kissed his forehead and kept pinching Orlando’s face. Orlando had a hard on already and the slight hurt from the surprisingly sexy tensing of the facial skin made his breath uneven.

Orlando twisted out of the garment and let out a forceful sigh of relief when he once again took hold of Viggo and pulled the older man close. What the hair and the muscles and the warmth of Viggo’s front would feel like Orlando had thought about again, and again, and again, over the course of the last days.

"See," he said and was not ashamed that his voice was full of rapture- he wanted Viggo too to see how nicely their bodies fit together. Viggo’s furry chest, and Orlando’s; smooth and soft and without any trace of hair.

"I see it," Viggo said, "and what more do you want to see?"

"I want to see you naked," Orlando replied.

Viggo had a well-shaped cock that was hard and erect when he exposed it to Orlando. Orlando sat on his knees on the floor with his arms on the bed where Viggo lay. Orlando did not have to ask (and he couldn’t have used his voice so well) Viggo to touch himself- Viggo did anyway.

"Can I feel your legs?" Orlando whispered in a fit of soberness. Viggo smiled and Orlando’s long fingers slipped over Viggo’s thigh. Viggo had more hair there too than Orlando.

Orlando heaved himself up, closer, and with a whining sound from his throat he pressed his lips on the inside of Viggo’s knee.

"More?" he asked and he meant, "let me kiss you more." Viggo was still silent but he was breathing slowly and his hand moved over the cock. Viggo was excited and Orlando was closing in on madness.

He was in the bed now and stood on all fours, but his arms were bent and his face was next to Viggo’s one thigh. He kissed the inside of it and he kissed it closer to the groin. No hand landed in Orlando’s hair and suddenly Orlando had kissed the swollen head of the cock.

Viggo exhaled and Orlando stuck his tongue out of his gaping mouth; lapped the pink and thin skin and heard Viggo breathe heavily.

"Can you put it inside me?" Orlando asked.

"Orlando…" Viggo sighed and he grabbed Orlando, pulled him close and kissed him hard. They should have had the whole night, the week, or the whole life even. But there was just this moment and they so needed the release.

Orlando had never felt anything as erotic as Viggo’s hands pulling the pajama bottoms off him, stealing kisses all the way down Orlando’s legs. Viggo was confident and calm but Orlando knew, despite his relative lack of practice, that Viggo was as close to madness as Orlando. They did not speak, and in their silent preparations there was a silent promise; Next time they would touch each other with more care, next time they would not hurry.

Because there must be next time- there simply must.

"Will I make a good lover? Will Viggo find my body nice to touch?" This Orlando had pondered in the shower this morning. "Maybe he wants to love me- maybe he wants to touch my body too."

So naïve Orlando had been; his doubts about his quality as Viggo’s lover. Viggo almost screamed when Orlando’s body let him enter. Orlando- elbows on the bed butt up in the air and Viggo screwing him from behind- whined without pause and knew of nothing that could compare to what he felt now.

"God I want you to fuck me!" Orlando breathed and the sounds of his own voice made him grab his cock. He rubbed it loosely and he grunted when Viggo’s fingers dug hard into his hips.

"Let go, Orlando, you mustn’t come," Viggo said fast. "I cannot wait to take you in my mouth."

Orlando’s face was twisted with pleasure and he whispered, words coming in pace with Viggo’s thrusts,

"So you want to suck me, do you, you want to suck me? Well you will suck me after you have filled me with your come Viggo, you will suck me until I scream and I wake your father up."

Orlando never knew before you could feel the orgasm of another inside the body- that his tight opening was sensitive not only to pain but to pleasure too.

Viggo’s climax Orlando could feel- every thrust when the cock pulsated and emptied itself. And he begged; he begged for Viggo to stay there, to save him, to take him again. He begged until Viggo’s mouth had sucked Orlando’s dick in and sucked it to an incredible hardness and heat. Then Orlando shut up and when he had his own orgasm he did not scream- because he held his hands over his mouth and he sobbed into them, sobbed and cried silent cries of ecstasy.

Viggo sucked him until it was enough; Viggo knew when it was enough.

"Orlando," he said and laid Orlando to rest in his arms. "Orlando." And Orlando bit his own hand and in between bites he stroked his hand over Viggo’s sweaty chest.

"I am fit to be a lover," he said, "I didn't know before"

Viggo and Orlando parted on the porch outside old mister Mortensen’s front door. Viggo had helped Orlando put the pajama on again; now he held Orlando close for just a little while longer, covered the sleepy face with light kisses.

Morning had broken, Orlando blinked at the first rays of sunlight.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked.

"See you later today," Viggo replied.

TBC...