vigorli

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Title: Ever Changing Destinations © 2006 by Myr Juhl & Bee
Part: 6/6
Type: RPS
Rating: NC-17
Cast: Viggo Mortensen (Frank Hopkins)/Orlando Bloom (Mahhadei)

*** WARNINGS *** This series is rated NC-17 and contains: * Shifts in time * Consenting rough male slash * Language * Blow job * Rimming *

Disclaimer: The events never happened. This fic is for entertainment purposes only, not profit. We, the authors, make no claim through this work as to the fictive characters/ actual lives/ preferences/ activities of the people mentioned herein.
A character in this fictional work is based upon a historical individual as portrayed by Viggo Mortensen and obviously not the private citizen of the same name as he’s dead by now. However, we must make sure these things are in tiptop condition!
Summary: Orlando heads home for some rest, and finds a very alluring painting in his mother's attic. Studying it, he realizes it is a portrait of Viggo from an era long gone... and changing with each new adventure.

Beta:

inwe_salonde
Timeline: ranges from ancient times to present
/.../ Indicates thoughts.
A/N: Sonia called Orlando ‘Johnny’ because his other Christian name is Jonathan.

Wonderful banner by

teamane Thanks darling *hugs*

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Ever Changing Destinations
Part 6

By Bee & Myr

Viggo looked like shit, his mouth tasted like shit, and he smelled like shit, but at least he’d finally arrived in London.

Weaving his way through weary travellers, he stepped at the car rental booth and flashed his winning smile.

“I’m hoping that you have at least one car available?”

“Yes sir, we do!” If the attendant got any more chipper she could take flight, her smile bright and wide.

“I’ll take it.” Reaching for his wallet, he pulled out his plastic.

“Sir, don’t you want to know what it is?”

“Nope, I’ll take it.” Handing over all necessary paperwork, including his international driver’s license, Viggo felt the tension mounting - he needed to get to Orlando now. Somehow, the sandy-haired man felt if he didn’t, he’d lose him, but he wasn’t sure in what context.

Fifteen minutes later, Viggo could only laugh; in front of him sat a Morris Mascot. Shaking his head at his own perfidy, he tossed his pack into the back, then sardined himself in, cracking his knee on the steering wheel for fun.

Pulling out of the space and fighting traffic, he was soon on his way to Orlando and whatever that brought.

Flipping open his phone once more, he pressed redial, Orlando’s number the only one he’d called in the past two days, and listened to the tones yet again. When the smooth baritone message played, Viggo cursed colourfully, “Where the fuck are you? You little shit, you’d better be dead, or dying by the time I fucking find you! DO you know the shit you’ve put me through?” Taking a deep breath, Viggo calmed himself and spoke once more, “Orli, I’m on my way to you, should be at your front door shortly.”

Hopefully, within a few hours he’d be there and rid of this damned nervousness.

It was rather a quiet day, and Orlando wasn’t bothered by fans while walking inside the supermarket. His mother was talking to a friend and Orlando just waved hello; he had known the lady since he was a child. His mind was wandering. The last trip back in history had been strange. It hadn’t felt like the other ones. He should probably wait a few hours before he went in there again, as his mother was getting a bit annoyed by his constant presence in the attic. Then he heard the wonderful words, “Orlando, could you pay for this. I think I might go grab a cuppa at Gene’s.”

Smiling too brightly, Orlando nodded. “Yeah. I’ll finish up here. Have fun.”

“Oh you can come too, Orlando!”

His mother looked at the other woman and shook her head, “Don’t be ridiculous. What on earth would he want to hear us chatter on about, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Orlando just smiled and waved at them. Slowly, he moved the trolley to the bored girl behind the till.

Shortly after he was back in the attic, looking at the handsome cowboy on the painting and he crossed his fingers, hoping for the best.

*

Viggo sped along at a faster pace than the limits allowed, kicking himself all the way. He hadn’t bothered to check the gas gauge, and luckily had peeked down when the indicator light turned red.

Stopping to fill up hadn’t really put him behind all that much, but there was a pressing need now. As he’d turned off busy streets, he’d ‘felt’ Orlando, his presence or something. He wasn’t sure what to call it, but he’d just accepted it. But now the feeling was fading, slipping away, and Viggo somehow knew he needed to get to the younger man fast, keep him... here.

Pressing the pedal more firmly, he checked his phone, frowning at the low battery. He wouldn’t be able to charge the thing until he’d reached Orli’s home, not having bought a car adapter.

Without warning, he felt dry, almost parched, as if all the moisture had been drained from his body. Keeping his eyes on the road, Viggo reached into his pack and pulled out one of the bottles of water he’d collected while on the plane. Propping it up between his knees, he unscrewed the cap and brought the top to his lips, drinking deeply.

The feeling of dryness and fear over Orlando would not dissipate; they remained, growing stronger and stronger. Reaching up to his forehead, Viggo felt the urge to push a hat back, one that was not there.

*

“Mahaddei!” someone was shouting, and the heat momentarily confused his sense of direction. Looking down he saw his stunning outfit didn’t help matters, as he had expected himself to be chasing buffalos on the American Midwest plains.

To be frank, He looked like a woman, and he certainly hoped he wasn’t finding any fake boobs behind the loose garment - or worse... real ones. But quickly patting himself up and down he only found the attachments he usually wore.

Someone grabbed his arm and Orlando quickly looked up. A woman had begun dragging him until he firmly told her to let go.

“We have a customer. You can dance tonight in his tent. I’m sure he has a lot of spoiled friends who want a bit of entertainment.”

“Dance?” he asked, not quite believing she had meant that. He loved dancing, but he was quite sure his movements were not befitting whatever century he was in right now.

“Yes - they’re English, I’m afraid, so don’t expect a big tip.”

/Thanks,/ he said. “And I’m wearing this?”

The woman smiled. She looked Arabian and her large dark eyes smouldering and incredible.

“Mahaddei... you scare me with this strange talk. We need the money even if it’s just a small sum.”

/Mahaddei... fine. Nice to know what one’s name is./ Orlando just followed her. “Could I get a bit to eat?”

“No... you don’t dance well on a full stomach...”

“I said just a little bit!”

“You tease...”

Orlando sighed, and they entered the tent where the customers sat gathered and he swallowed. “Fuck... 1001 Nights...” he mumbled to himself.

Sitting at the back of the crowd, Frank waited for the opportune moment to slip out unnoticed. It would be rude to make a marked exit, however much he wished to depart. He’d been invited to the larger tent to witness the dancing girls, and was hard pressed to find a reasonable excuse to stay away.

Lifting the small cup to his lips, he sipped the refreshing water, savouring the cool liquid as it slid down his parched throat. Ever since he’d started this race, he’d been unable to quench the persistent dryness, always yearning for the soothing taste of water.

A soft murmur moved through the gathering as the diaphanous curtains parted, admitting the lithe forms, most dark haired, one or two with lighter shades, and only one with short unruly curls. Dark eyes, fathomless and mesmerizing, stared out at the crowd, darting from face to face, as if searching for someone.

Sitting up, Frank gaped. That was not a woman, but a young man, slender, but still with defined muscles. Long legs hidden by shimmering gold material, lean hips and a smooth stomach with a tattoo of the sun just below his navel, all accentuating his tanned skin. A short vest of some kind hid the male dancer’s nipples from view, but the chest that was visible was spectacular.

Orlando followed the other dancers, watching where they moved, and did likewise. As the music began to play, he felt a momentary pang of nerves, but then tamped them down; this was no different than dancing in a club. Except he had less clothing on, a lot less clothing.

Allowing his head to roll from side to side, he began to feel the rhythm, feel the pounding of a drum-like instrument, the plucky twang of strings, and swayed his hips. Stretching his arms above his head, linking his fingers, he slithered and serpentined his way across the floor, swaying and undulating his hips, ‘waving’ his back and chest, moving through the crowd.

Glancing over his shoulder, Orlando stared into changeable blue eyes, and spun in a half circle to crouch before the man, smiling as he spotted the scar above his lip; he’d found Viggo.

Halah - the woman who had fetched him - told him it was all right to dance for one particular customer. Given the chance, the dancers were unscrupulous and would prostitute themselves in order to earn more money.

Orlando smiled softly to Frank as he danced sensuously, putting everything he felt into his dance.

Frank was in deep trouble. The male dancer in front of him was so good he made him hard instantly, making him feel he was special in a way that did make him feel special. But he couldn’t let himself be so easily seduced by an Arabian beauty. The boy was a professional and only after his money.

The boy became more physical, letting his hand travel over his hair, and Frank was very uncomfortable in his jeans.

Deciding to end the farce, he threw some money on the table and excused himself, needing to get some air.

The feel of the evening was so sultry, so sexually laden it was overwhelming. The image of the boy’s navel so close to his face, his touch, his scent all played with something essential and he couldn’t grasp what it was. However, it made him feel good. It wasn’t an unpleasant emotion, it just kept eluding him why it was such a strong pull.

Orlando watched as Viggo walked away, a look of stunned disbelief on his face. Gathering the coins because he knew the other woman needed them, he made his way to the back of the tent. Slipping through the curtains, Orlando looked up into the sky, marvelling at the brightness of the stars.

Dropping his gaze, he moved towards the tent he’d originally arrived in, only to be brought up short by a hand on his shoulder. Turning to face the other man, he raised an eyebrow.

“You did not get the man you went after, but my money is as good as his. On your knees.” A heavy hand pushed at his shoulder, trying to force him down. Sliding his arm between their bodies, Orlando shoved the man’s hand off him.

“Fuck off mate, I’m not sucking your cock!”

“You little slut, I am not English or White so I am not good enough for you? All you are good for is lying on your back and spreading your legs or lips. I care not.” Thrusting a few discs of metal into Orlando's hand, where they jingled, the dark haired, beefier man pushed the slighter man in the chest, causing him to back pedal. “Now get down.”

“Fuck off!”

A hammy fist flew out and struck Orlando across the face, momentarily stunning him. Shaking his head once, the younger man let fly with a punch of his own. Hearing the sickening crunch as he connected, Orlando turned to run, only to wind up slamming into a brick wall named Viggo.

“What’s the problem here pardner? Havin’ a bit a trouble corralling yer filly?”

Orlando could only gape; the face was Viggo’s and maybe the voice, but not the words.

“This is between the whore and me; it is not your concern. Be gone Frank Hopkins.”

Reaching out the other patron gripped Orlando’s arm, twisting it and starting to pull him towards him.

“Whoa there now, I don’t think you’ve a right to him. I paid out good coin and he was supposed to follow me. Now get your hands off him, he’s mine for the night.” Pushing his Stetson back on his head, Frank crossed his arms, unwilling to back down.

Glowering at the pair and lowering his eyes when Frank placed his hand on his Colt, the other man wisely moved off, cursing both men and their heritage under his breath.

“Come with me boy, and don’t dawdle.”

Orlando twisted his arm free. “Excuse me. Why would you think I couldn’t protect myself?”

Frank frowned and looked around as if that would help him. “Um... I was under the impression you were in trouble.”

Orlando smiled. “Well I was. But it doesn’t mean I couldn’t take care of myself.”

The thought would never have occurred to Frank. He had to admit that he considered the beautiful creature as fragile as a woman, when in reality, he had felt strong muscles under the thin material covering the boy’s upper arms.

“Well - I’m sorry to have bothered...”

“Don’t be daft...” Orlando said, stepping closer.

Frank looked puzzled, but seconds later recognized the look in the boy’s eyes. “No-no-no, you’re not getting more money out of me, boy.”

Orland smiled. “Don’t worry cowboy... this one is for free. And if you don’t believe me, tie me up with your lasso if you want. I want you to ravish me.”

Frank smiled back. The boy was sassy. He liked that. Without warning he grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder and paused a moment. “Darn, you’re heavier than I thought.”

“Then...” Orlando gasped, “why don’t you put me down?”

Putting his hand to cup a little butt, Frank smiled. “Nah... I’m good.”

The feel of the rounded flesh was firm, well muscled and definitely worth exploring, but not out here in the open. Striding across the sandy ground, Frank slipped through the opening of his tent and deposited his bundle on the blankets.

Dropping to one knee, he brushed the vest off one shoulder, exposing the large areole, dark and inviting.

“Damn boy, you’re a tasty looking morsel.” Frank licked his lips, imagining them sucking on the nipple. “Not that it matters, but what’s your name?”

“Well aren’t you subtle. My name is Orl…” /oh fuck! What did she call me? / Wracking his memory, he blurted out, “you’re right, it doesn’t matter - but you can call me Orli. It’s kind of a nickname.”

“Orli? Kinda unusual for a harem boy I’d say.” Shrugging, the older man leaned down and licked over the nub, feeling it respond at his touch. “Eager little thing aren’t ya?”

Shuddering under the other man’s mouth, Orli mumbled, “I’m not so little where it counts...”

Frank sat back after dropping his other knee to the ground, and stared at what his money had bought him.

“Sassy as all git out. How about some entertainment? I paid for ya, show me what I bought.”

Orli stared at him a few moments, the stood, feeling the brush of air as it ghosted over his wet nipple, pebbling it more. Slipping the vest off and letting it slide to the floor he turned his back, but stopped when Frank touched his spine.

“What in all tar-nation happened here?”

Shit, his scar... “Uhm, accident, got hurt, nothing much - don’t worry, it isn’t going to interfere with me doing what I’m supposed to.”

“Musta hurt like all be-Jesus.” Sliding his finger along the silvery mark, Frank pressed his lips to the lowest point, and then licked up the scar. Putting his hand back into his lap, he sat down cross-legged.

“Dance for me, strip too.”

Orlando shook his hair and put his hands into it, slowly kneading the curls. His face wore a little secretive smile and his eyes were soft as they gazed upon Frank.

He began gyrating his hips and his hands slid down his throat, then crossing them at his chest before sliding down shoulders and arms. Going up again, he continued over his nipples, pecs and down the flanks.

Frank swallowed. The boy was fantastic, his smouldering eyes never left his, never tried to seduce him more than needed. It was as if he understood his presence itself was enough. He didn’t try to push for more. He wasn’t dancing for a bonus. The boy sincerely looked as if he was interested in sex with him for the sex itself.

That knowledge made Frank’s throat dry with amplified want. “Forget the dance! Come to me, O...Orli?”

Orlando smiled and quickly stripped the pantaloons after kicking off his sandals. Then he reached forward and began to undo the tiny buttons in his shirt.

“Screw those!” Frank said with a smile, and taking each snip at the bottom of the shirt, he ripped the shirt open.

“I’d rather watch you ease my pants over this big guy - or was that too coarse?”

Orlando laughed. “Not at all, I can’t wait to get your cock out from there. I happen to know the size fits inside me like a glove.”

“Brass, you’re pure brass.” Folding his arms behind his head, Frank settled back and let the younger man work the rest of his clothing off him. As his first boot was carelessly tossed into a corner, he cocked an eyebrow.

Too eager to be patient, Orlando pulled the second boot off, and then slid his eyes to Viggo’s... no, Frank’s in this time. Seeing the lazy perusal, he winked, licked his lips and then lowered his head to press a kiss to the blue-eyed man’s abdomen.

Unbuckling the leather holding the denim up, Orlando popped the buttons, then tugged from the cuffs. “Lift your arse, I need to get these off you!”

Arching his hips, Frank allowed the boy to pull his pants down then off his legs where they joined his boots in the corner.

“Stand up, I want to see what my money bought.” The crude words had little effect on Orlando; he’d gotten an eyeful of Viggo’s natural endowment.

Rising to his feet, the young man stood tall and proud, eyes staring challengingly into appraising blue orbs.

“You were made for sin. Now come down here and kiss me boy.” Opening his arms, Frank smiled as Orli almost dove onto him.

Heated flesh pressed into heated flesh, causing each man to lightly moan at the contact. Plump lips met supple lips and then tongues introduced themselves, twirling and caressing each other.

Frank slid one hand into Orli’s hair, twining strands around his fingers, his other hand slipping lower.

Calloused palm grazed over softer skin, down the scared back to stop when his palm cupped a rounded cheek. Squeezing the firm flesh, Frank pulled to one side, exposing the dusky opening. Using his middle finger, he gently rubbed over the puckered centre, earning a throaty moan from Orli.

“I love that you know?” Orlando said. He was surprised how fast he had come to appreciate being with Viggo; his body was so hungry for him he feared how he’d respond when Viggo finally got to Canterbury.

“Good,” Frank smiled, because he sure loved doing it to him. He’d been approached by several of the ladies belonging to the contestants’ circles. Nevertheless, he’d not taken advantage of the subtle proposing so far. However, this young lad was tumbling down his defensive walls and he’d let him gladly.

Orlando waited patiently for Viggo to be done with probing him. It wasn’t as if it was that necessary anyway; it was only a few hours ago they’d had sex the last, but it did feel good having his fingers touch him.

Frank loved a responsive partner, and this boy certainly knew how to be responsive if his gyrations and words were any indication.

“Easy there pardner, I don't mind riding a bronco, but I sure as hell don't wanna be tossed from the saddle. Just simmer down some and we'll both enjoy this.” Frank's husky whisper caressed Orli's outer ear, sending a heated flush through his body.

“On your stomach, I want to look at you.”

The harem dancer quickly complied, slipping off his living pillow and onto the rougher blankets, spreading his legs slightly as he adjusted himself.

Defused moonlight shadowed the lithe form as Frank gazed down on him, honey toned skin turned to burnished oak, soft and inviting. Frank rolled to his knees, and placed his rough palms on Orli's calves, running them up the lightly haired skin, watching the subtle movement of muscle under skin. Reaching the swell of buttocks, he slipped his hands between the dancer's thighs, and pushed them further apart.

As the once hidden entrance teasingly came into view, Frank felt the first dribble of liquid slide over his engorged flesh.

Moving his hands onto those tempting mounds of flesh, the cowboy moulded them, feeling the spring of youth in the skin. Pulling them apart, widening the space between the cheeks, Frank leaned in and kissed the dark pucker, inhaling Orli's musky scent.

“I don’t think I have the patience for too much teasing,” Orlando said.

“Are you in charge? Frank replied, and Orlando closed his eyes with a smile. “No – you are kind Sir.”

Frank looked up and caught the smile. “You sure seem at ease around me. Why is that?”

Orlando said nothing, and he reckoned Viggo wasn’t interested in his reply either when he began to move his tongue inside him. Slow, yet deep movements in and out.

Breathing deeply, Orlando savoured how wonderful it felt. But soon his breathing became laboured and his hand found its way between his legs to assist start wanking.

Viggo’s saliva was copious, trickling down the base of Orlando’s sacs to end somewhere on the blankets.

“Want something else or want me to keep up licking?

“Something else.”

“My my, so eager to ride this cowboy, aren't ya? Git ready boy, you're about to be mounted by one horny stallion...”

Orlando barely contained the short snicker that passed his lips. Biting down on the rough cotton under his arms, he chewed the fabric. This Viggo was corny as hell.

Frank gripped his thick shaft in his hand, rubbing the seeping liquid over the crease, and between the half-moon cheeks. As his cock's head slid over the pucker, he rocked forward gently, easily pushing past the guardian ring.

“Boy, you fuck anybody before me tonight?” Frank didn't mind using whores, but he didn't want sloppy seconds, especially when he'd paid as high as he'd done for this one under him.

As the tip of Viggo's cock pushed through, the younger man moaned, loving the feel of being breeched, tiny cascading fingers dancing up his back. Hearing the question startled him, and Orlando thought a moment. If he said yes, that would technically be a lie. Viggo – true a different Viggo – had been his last partner, but it still was Viggo.

“Nope, only with you tonight.”

“M'kay...” Pushing the rest of the way in, Frank groaned. The boy was tight, so maybe he'd only been relaxed, whores knew how to do that, didn't they? Cause themselves less pain that way, so that must be it.

Pulling out slowly, Frank could hear hitching breaths below him and smiled. The boy seemed to like it. Never one to disappoint a partner, Frank shoved back in hard and fast then stopped.

Teasingly slow, he slipped out, leaving only the very tip of his cock in the harem dancer.

“Oh gods! More, don't tease, put it in me!” Attempting to push his hips back, Orlando was met with resistance as Frank gripped his hips tightly.

“Now now boy, we're doin' this my way.” Sliding back in in one fluid motion, Frank changed angles, and brushed over the dancer's sweet spot, feeling a shudder under his hands.

“Liked that did ya?”

“Oh fuck yeah! Come on now cowboy, ride me hard!”

“No.”

“What?” The squeak that passed as Orlando's voice sounded thin and frantic.

“I'm payin' ya – you ride me.” Pulling out completely, Frank rolled to his back and looked expectantly into lust-filled brown eyes. “Saddle up boy; I said ride me.”

Orlando swallowed but decided to meet the challenge. This Viggo was a nice control taker; he smiled and found a smile back in his beautiful blue eyes. “No dirty tricks,” he reprimanded the man, who just smiled dirty indeed back to him.

“Alright,” Orlando said, getting in the mood again and rolled his shoulders a bit, bending his neck to let his hair dance on the top of his back. Rising a bit on his knees, he slowly let the man’s cock sink inside him anew. They both sighed with pleasure.

“Doesn’t that feel fantastic?” Orlando asked, and Frank nodded. Orlando ran his finger pads across his nipples a few times before falling forward and placing his palms on Viggo’s shoulders.

“If the pay is such a fucking deal, I’ll return the amount so we can enjoy this without adding tedious financial interruptions to it. What do you say?”

Frank’s brows shot in the air. “Return your fee?”

Orlando nodded as he rocked slowly so as not to overwhelm them yet.

“Look... Orli... I didn’t really mean anything by it.”

Orlando bent and kissed his lower lip, sucking it a bit, as he sped up. They gasped, Orlando sucked some more and soon he leaned on his underarms to reach all of Viggo’s mouth. Rocking awkwardly, needily.

Frank lay back and let the dancer set the pace, enjoying the small gasps and hitches of breath with each downward move. Occasionally Frank would tip his hips up, thrusting deeper.

The whore was good, Frank could give him that – knew how to ride for the distance.

Gripping Orli’s hip, Frank stilled him. “I’m changin’ things up a bit. Grab those pillows behind me, and put ‘em behind my back.” Lifting from the ground, Frank came face to face with Orli’s chest. Unable to resist the tempting chocolate disc in front of him, Frank gently bit the nub.

“Hey!” Surprised, Orlando pulled back and dumped the pillow onto Frank’s laughing face.

“Tasted mighty fine to me boy.” Adjusting the bulky pillows behind him, Frank now angled away from the floor and closer to Orli.

“Wait, I want to change this a bit.”

“What have you got in mind boy?” Frank licked and nibbled around the dark areole, smiling at the responsive young man’s shudders of desire.

“Watch.” Wiggling his backside slightly, wedging Frank in deeper, Orlando brought both legs up, and rested them on the older man’s chest, his feet dangling by his ears.

“You, cowboy, need to keep me in the saddle now...”

“I ain’t been tossed in many years now, think I can do that just fine, but first, I need more of your sweetness. Time for another sampling I think.” Slipping his hand behind the young man, Frank tugged him closer. Closing his lips around the nipple, he sucked it into his mouth and began pushing with his hips, a hint for Orli to ride some more.

“Hold me tight, would you. I might fall back... this is... not easy.” Orlando smiled as his arms slid around Frank’s neck, and they continued to rock against each other.

Letting go of Orli’s nipple, Frank suggested, “Then just put your hands on the bed and use it for leverage, I want power in those hips.”

Soon, the complicated position didn’t leave much room for more speech; the only sound was their heavy breathing as they both closed eyes as they neared climax.

It was hot and Orlando felt how streams of sweat trickled down his body as his hips pistoned against Frank’s. Feeling fantastic, he was so close and sensed the man’s cock even more when his rectum began to clench.

“Oooh...” he gasped as come shot from his shaft. He hadn’t even needed to touch himself.

Frank felt the warm splash as it struck his chest and chin, causing the older man to grunt and surge up, burying himself deeper.

The rippling heat that gripped his straining cock sent Frank over the edge, and he groaned deep from within his chest.

“Aaaaaaa fuck!” Thrusting erratically, Orlando was nearly toppled, but his well-placed hands managed to keep him in place, his body receiving Frank’s seed.

As the tiny aftershocks of climax receded, each man lay panting, gasping for breath. Hair fluttered in the heavy breaths, waving and mixing.

“Fuck Vig, that was awesome.” Orlando allowed his legs to slide to each side of his partner, easing the cowboy’s cock from his ass slightly. Unwilling to lose the intimate contact, he pushed back, sliding the softening member in again. “Yeah, I can see us doing this again, just not right now...”

“Sure as hell was one rough ride boy... Just one question; who the hell is Vig?”

“Um... Viggo?”

The cowboy nodded, as he wiped cream from his cheek, but when he looked back at the boy h was kind of... fading. “Orli?” he asked, but seconds later, the boy was vanished. The only evidence was the come on his chest, and the garments casually lying strewn in the room.

Orlando fell out of the painting and crumpled on the floor in the usual, rather shocking way it was to return from an intimate situation.

Looking down at himself, he was once more covered in his own and some form of Viggo’s release. He stunk and needed a bath. Having put a clock on a chair, he quickly saw that the time was early afternoon. His parents would be out. Wondering when Viggo would arrive, he had to remember to check his phone. He’d literally been in a different world these many days, waiting for his friend to arrive. He feared his reaction to the guy when he finally got there.

Standing in the shower, he heard the doorbell.

“Why is that so fucking typical?” he asked himself. Quickly rinsing his hair, he hoped whoever it was hadn’t gotten tired of waiting and he put on his mother’s bathrobe... the one with the pretty roses.

Standing in front of him was... Viggo... or Frank... or... Orlando scratched his head. His mind was fucking with him and he didn’t know what to say.

“Um...” Viggo pointed at the bathrobe. “Bloom residence I reckon?”

“Fucking hell, Vig!” Suddenly Viggo’s arms were full of a very wet and barely covered young man, water dripping down his neck as Orlando hugged him.

“Hey there Elfboy, didn’t know your kind needed baths.” Despite the remark, Viggo held him closer, savouring the feel of a warm body in his arms.

Pulling back, Orlando smiled into creased and weary changeable blue eyes, noticing the dark shadows below. “Come on in; don’t need to be giving the neighbours a show.”

Viggo followed the younger man through the door, sighing as he felt the tension drain away; Orlando was safe.

“Follow me upstairs, we’ll settle you in the spare room. Sheets are clean – Mum wouldn’t have it any other way. Then you can rest if you need. You look terrible.”

Arching his brow, Viggo climbed the stairs, dragging his pack with him and letting it thump on the treads.

“Too tired or old to pick it up?” Orlando threw the words over his shoulder, trying to tease the other man.

“Fuck yeah, too damned tired. And stop quoting your lines to me; I’m too exhausted to deal with it right now.”

“Hell you must be, that was a few moments ago – you’re really slowing down.”

Orlando turned to smirk at Viggo, but the sight that met his eyes caused him to wince. The shadows he’d seen when outside were more pronounced now.

“Come here.” Holding out his arm, the younger man slipped it around his friend’s waist and guided him along the hall.

Viggo sighed when he was stretched out on the bed, his body sagging with relief, and the fact that Orlando was starting to undress him, a dream he’d had many times, didn’t matter currently.

Watching as Viggo succumbed to sleep, Orlando smiled as he finished undressing him. He’d had so much sex with this guy recently that he found it striking he wasn’t aroused undressing him now.

Pulling off the man’s boots and socks, he was overwhelmed with tenderness and climbed into the bed, snuggling close to him and fell asleep shortly after.

A few hours later, the front door opened and Sonia shouted loudly, “Isn’t he here yet, Orlando?” Getting no answer she continued, “Johnny?”

Orlando’s sleepy brain tried to inform him Johnny was him too. “Mum?” he mumbled confused. Then his body took over and he snuggled closer to the warm person in his bed and he sunk back into sleep.

Sonia came to the spare room and knocked softly on the door. Getting no answer, she dared opening it slightly and the sight of her son and Viggo in the same bed made her eyebrows lift in wonder. Viggo was dressed in his underwear and a t-shirt. Orlando was naked, clearly having been draped in a towel at some point.

Closing the door silently again she went downstairs, deep in thought.

*

Colin looked up. “What is it love?”

“I... I really don’t know.”

Colin looked like a question mark. “Alright. I trust you’ll tell me if you find out.”

“Of course.”

*

Viggo wiggled a bit, snuggling back toward the warmth behind him. In his sleep, he felt an arm snake around his middle, holding him tighter, and he sought the hand, gripping it with his own.

The feel of a hard chest pressed to his body, the security of an embracing arm had the older man sinking deeper into his dream.

Orlando was there, naked and riding him, chest pressed to his mouth, and moaning in ecstasy as Viggo thrust up from rough blankets on the ground. His body craving a more intimate contact, Viggo slid the hand he held lower, slipping it under the waistband of his pants. When the warmth of the combined palms touched his leaking cock, Viggo shoved his hips back, feeling an answering bulge pressing against his ass.

Orlando rolled his hips against the answering pressure, seeking the release he knew was waiting for him. When his hand cupped a throbbing shaft, his eyes flew open; this was no dream!

Supporting his upper body with one arm, he peered over Viggo’s shoulder and saw that his hand had disappeared into the light blue underwear.

Carefully pulling his hand out, Orlando watched as Viggo gripped his own cock and began stroking again, breathy moans and mewls barely discernable.

/I can’t stay here and watch... I want to join.../ Orlando closed his eyes to the erotic sight, willing his legs to obey, and silently cheered when he stood outside the bedroom.

Hearing voices from the kitchen, he belted the robe he’d slipped on and headed down.

“Hello there love, sleep well?” Sonia was a master at innuendo; smiling beguilingly, she eyed her tousle-haired son, waiting for his answer.

Colin looked up and wondered what the tone in her voice was all about.

“Yeah – um. Viggo has arrived. He’s in the spare room.”

Colin smiled. “Oh how nice. I’ll finally get to actually talk to him then?”

Orlando smiled. “Yeah – I guess.” He shot his mother a quick glance and found the look in her eyes alarming. Within seconds, they’d had a silent conversation, she asked, and he shrugged.

“Are you done in the attic by the way?”

“Um... yeah – I’ll clean up. I promise.”

“Thanks,” Sonia said. “Is he still sleeping?”

Orlando nodded uncomfortably and went to get a cuppa. Returning with the steaming mug, he said he’d go and get dressed.

Sonia didn’t comment and went to stand with her back to the kitchen counter. “He’s in love with him. I don’t know when that happened, but he is. The attic smells of sex – I have no idea what he does up there, but the laundry is piling up...” She looked away. A handful of songbirds from the garden caught her attention a few seconds waiting for Colin to react.

Orlando’s father finally decided what he was going to say. “Leave him alone. Let him figure this out. I always sensed he liked the Dane more than he was aware of.”

Sonia nodded. The feeling hadn’t been a strange one to her either, and she couldn’t really say she didn’t understand why. Viggo Mortensen was an intriguing personality.

Viggo came with a raw shout; his release coated his hand and lower belly, warming the skin more where it landed. Shuddering through his climax, the older man sought to keep the fading edges of his dream sharp; he wanted to hold the image of Orlando withering through his own peak.

/Great, now I’m not only sweaty and smelly, I’m now sticky... Mortensen you great ass.../

Rising from the bed, he looked for his clothing. Spotting his shirt across the chair, he used it to wipe the cooling fluid from his body. It didn’t matter, the shirt had to be laundered, it reeked more than he did.

Sorting through his haphazard packing, Viggo selected jeans, t-shirt, and red underwear. Opening the door, he spotted the bathroom across the hall and was glad for it. Dashing across the short space, he noted the stacked towels with the note: Viggo’s.

Showering and dressing quickly, Viggo opened the door and came face to face with Orlando, his shoulder resting on the jamb.

“Hello there stranger.”

Feeling his face heat, Viggo mumbled a greeting and tried to sidle past the younger man, brushing his chest against Orlando's in the process.

“Vig?”

“Uhm, yeah?” His hand on the knob, the Dane didn’t turn around but continued to face the wooden door.

“Come with me into the attic when you’ve put your things away.”

Nodding his understanding, he quietly replaced his items, and walked into the hall. Without a word, the two men climbed the stairs, Viggo following Orlando.

“Look.” Pointing into the corner, Orlando waited for Viggo’s reaction.

The older man could only stare at the painting, his eyes impossibly large as he took in the subject matter.

Turning, Orlando rested his chin on Viggo’s shoulder.

“It’s us... the way we look. But it’s not a mirror. It is a real painting. How is it possible?” Viggo tried to step closer, but Orlando held him. He wasn’t gonna tempt history with yet another adventure.

Orlando looked at the painting along with Viggo: In it they stood in front of each other, the look of pure love on their faces as they stared at each other. Dressed in the clothes they wore now.

“I...” Orlando turned and looked at him. Viggo was scared. It was as if they were surrounded by a spell and he was afraid that if he said something it would break.

“I don’t know how it happened. But I’ve seen the painting change into many kinds of you. But I like this one the most - where I’m in it, too.”

Viggo smiled. Looking at the picture it was clear that the fake paint was vanishing and the original work was coming through. He looked at Orlando and put his arms around him like he had in the picture. “Like this?”

Relief flooded through the younger man. “Yes... absolutely like this.”

Resting his brow against Orlando’s, he gave him a softie version of his infamous head butts. Orlando closed his eyes and lifted his face to kiss him. Viggo pulled him closer.

Who cared why the painting had a personality problem? He had the real thing in his arms.

End of tale January 2006

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