Fic: Pole Position (2 of ?)

[obselizabeth.livejournal.com]

Title: Pole Position (Part 2 of ?)
Author: obselizabeth
E-mail: obselizabeth@gmail.com
Live journal: www.livejournal.com/users/obselizabeth
Rating: Definitely NC-17 now!
Type: RPS
Pairing: ViggOrli (with a little Ian and Sean and Eric thrown in)
Warnings: it's slash, ladies :)
Disclaimer: wouldn't it be nice if we COULD see Orlando pole dancing?
Feedback: is the cream in my coffee
Summary: Viggo's a bored multi-gazillionaire...Orlando's a pole dancer
A/N: Thanks so much to my dear friend, namarie120, for begging me offering to beta this
Beta: The glamorous namarie120


A hastily applied cloth gave a sleek surface to the floor-to-ceiling shaft, glistening in its wake. Orlando knew the importance of a clean pole – it removed any sweat or oils from previous performers. As he waited, he peeked out the curtain…hoping to catch a glimpse of the "special clientele" who visited this evening. He could just make them out, as their privacy curtain had not been drawn and the stage lights were dimmed.

An older man, flamboyantly attired, vigorously gesticulated…his animated hands and arms emphasizing various ideas he seemed to be intent on conveying. Orlando snickered a bit to himself, and couldn't help but watch the gentleman for a while, enjoying his antics…until the object of the older man's articulation leaned forward, just enough to bring his face out from the shadows.

Orlando was immediately affected by the manifestation. Brilliant cyanic orbs followed the speaker’s staccato movements. Woven strands of blonde and caramel crowned the man's head elegantly… Orlando wondered if the locks were as soft to the touch as they seemed. The man appeared fit, extremely well dressed…with a strong, angular jaw and lips that implored to be kissed. The feeling came suddenly, overwhelming him like a freight train passing through his very soul.

'Simultaneously, you become your most open, your most vulnerable, and your most powerful.' Disembodied words, echoing through the hallways of his mind, came drifting back from somewhere in the past. Orlando's lids flickered involuntarily, attempting to rouse him from the daydream. He called back, via the intercom, to the sound man…asking for a last-minute change of plan…a different song. With that, he waited for the rush of the music, the divinely piercing quality of this engulfing electronic system, which would make him forget the crowd, the fact that he would soon be performing not only for them but for…him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner plates cleared away, Viggo and Ian conversed for only a few minutes before a tall, attractive yet rugged man came out onto the stage…a column of light directed on him. He began speaking – his voice was deep and sonorous, with a definitive modulation. "Welcome, gentlemen, to The Kraze. As indicated in the playbill, we're proud to bring you performances by the PoleKatz. This late show, we're exceptionally elated about because it will showcase the main attraction, Orlando, Master of the Vertical Dance. So, with no further ado, I bring you…Orlando."

The single spotlight dimmed until the stage was completely dark. A guitar and bass started with a simple melody. Just a few bars. Quiet, hushed. Almost like savages beginning a ritualistic sacrifice. A pulsation was then added…primitive, like bongos echoing through the jungle that concealed those yet uncivilized. Viggo strained his eyes, but could only make out a dark outline…as the figure was dimly lit from behind. Not a clue of gender…race…manner of dress.

The drums established three distinct sets of rhythms…one, two, three, then one again. Repeated over and over. Once the audience was snared, hypnotized by the beat, the lights dramatically began their slow illumination…nothing too bright…nothing to detract from the beauty on stage from whom the shadows reluctantly receded, as if they clung to this young man.

Viggo was spellbound by the dancer, even when only his eyes showed…a pair of sable orbs smoldered within sockets embodied in the toned, flat plane of glistening, sun-kissed flesh. The full revelation was excruciatingly slow. Darkness was replaced by hints of light, here and there. Over the shoulders…down across his sheer-black covered chest…teasingly hinting at the chain connecting his now-prominent nipples…tripping over the hem of the short shirt and rippling over the muscles in his stomach…hitching from where the belt of the skirt tied around down to the hemline, from which started the long trip down tanned, shapely limbs…finally culminating in shiny black shoes that lifted the entire frame off the floor almost four inches.

Teasingly, Ian reached over, placing his fingertips under Viggo's chin and gently pressing upwards to close the man's slightly gaping mouth. As much as Ian loved younger men (and this one was definitely a prize), he couldn't deny the immediate reaction Viggo had…and the boy hadn't even begun to dance. So he decided, in his unique Ian-fashion, to speak to Viggo's subconscious…to urge his partner into developing this salient appeal. What he wasn't aware of, yet, was that the attraction was already mutual.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Once the lights came up, Orlando was pleased that their illumination wasn't overpowering – he would be able to keep his eye on the gorgeous American during his performance. Reaching behind himself, his hand connected with the pole. Without moving his feet, Orlando's hands 'walked' down the pole, forcing him to curve backwards a good bit…until he was able to grasp the pole and lift his legs.

So strong. There was no perceptible quiver in those heavily muscled arms. So pliable, as his legs lifted up, and he flipped himself so that his body was now upright, held to the pole by his commanding thighs. All the while, his eyes, the black rimmed pools of chocolate, never left the azure gaze of his obsession.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

" His eyes…they leave you haunted. The eyes tell all on this one. He opens up when he is on display, and you realize it's not a façade, not for you. The sadness that pours out is honest and not always articulate. You watch…you relate…you respond. The elegant dance has begun. The cycle will complete itself, and the whole time you will be taken in by emotions. They'll control you and you'll enjoy it. Soon, it will get blurry, and you'll have trouble seeing. When the dancing stops, your heart will break."

Ian's whisper haunted Viggo's brain, swamping it with a barrage of lust matched only by his own responsive body. He could not move, could not breathe…so entranced with the dance. The influence, the drive, the need…steady, solid, demanding attention and calling out from behind the walls of sound.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Steadying himself, Orlando's arms gracefully moved to his sides, dragging slowly upwards until they reached the hem of his shirt. He took hold of it; and, while slowly arching backward while remaining anchored to the pole, he lifted the shirt over his head…so that by the time he had completely removed the shirt, he was completely upside down. There was no question of the chain and clips now, and several of the clientele gasped audibly with their own realization. He lifted one hand, fluid as a ballerina, up to grasp the center point of the chain, and pulled it with increasing strength…extending the rigid brown nubs away from his body. He would pull hard enough that his chest had to follow, and then would relax the tension only slightly. Back and forth, he continued the ministrations several times.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

" The distorted view will grab at you, and you will let it. The body is flayed backwards, and his instrument sways below the pole like a pendulum. The sweeping motion, back and forth, becomes hypnotic. It feels familiar but so different and in the end so alluring. He works his way inside of you, and you feel light-headed. In an involuntary moment, your heart skips. It continues to attack…fast, and then slow, then fast again. It has all the earmarks of a professional killer, movements so intense yet beautiful at the same time. Your heart is full, and within seconds you are consumed by the melody and the energetic nature of his fluid movements."

Viggo could merely watch, bewitched. He felt his own nubs tightening beneath the crisply starched white shirt. His erection was almost painful by this point, demanding attention. His gaze moved up the young man's body, licking his lips as he noticed that in this position, the skirt had lifted to reveal the dancer's undergarment…and his equally impressive erection stretching against the black lace.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Orlando began his ascent back to an upright position – again, gracefully…slowly…then lowered his legs until he stood on the floor next to the pole again. He grabbed with his right hand, which was closest to the pole. His left hand was placed directly below his right, and began a leisurely pace around the pole. Suddenly, he swung his outside leg up and into a horizontal position, bending his inside leg up so that his inner thigh and foot gripped the pole…spinning around and around until his body moved back downward, and his foot touched the ground.

Once fully stopped, he leaned back…his arm sweeping down beside him in a dramatic motion before standing up…ending the dance. He'd always enjoyed the ovation that followed. But tonight, he only longed for approval…for affirmation…from one man.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"He is speaking to you through his dancing tonight, and he is incessant. The feeling in your chest is warm and a little unnatural. The nerve ending in your ears begin firing, and the synapse is intoxicating. You listen, and soon the rhythm becomes in sync with your heartbeat."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Refastening the skirt around him and pulling the shirt back on, Orlando made his way towards the pair, cautious yet confident, weaving his way through the still-applauding audience. Sean observed his passage, making sure no one reached out for him, hindering his progress. Orlando's eyes, however, remained on his destination, gleaning what he could about the two gentlemen from closer inspection of their demeanor, their dress, and especially, their eyes. He knew you could discern much about a person through the eyes.

The younger of the two stared at him directly…the older man close at his side, whispering in his ear as his eyes of cold steel glinted at Orlando, twinkling with a hint of mischief. As he neared the table, Orlando noted the older of them, although flagrantly exuding a feminine side, was draped in ascendancy. He would always be a top. But then, the other didn't appear to be a bottom either. Perhaps this couple was not a couple at all.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ian kept his laughter within himself, enjoying the spectacle of Viggo's entrancement with this young dancer. As Orlando made his way towards their table, Ian again moved close to Viggo, providing more impetus to the attraction manifesting within.

"Watch him, my friend," he murmured in his cunning. "The bass from the music…you can still hear it…pounding into the back of your head…and you feel it, and it feels just right. The tall, silent figure, solitary in his approach and expert in his delivery, crafts movements that are smooth. You follow him with your eyes, and he takes you along a whirlwind called Hades. You're lost in a circle. You're hoping to find a way out, but you know there isn't one…at least not at this time. Your heart shakes, and you find yourself in love with the motion."

Ian noted the audible rise in Viggo's breathing, the deepening of it rising with desire. He dared to continue. "He leaves you wanting more. The dark-eyed man comes close to breaking the strings that bind you. You know it. It seems so faint as he reaches out to you, and soon you realize that he has lofty intentions. He can tie you in knots if you let him. He takes the whole and adds himself, whatever twisted parts he can map out. You're feeling a little twisted yourself. You sit relaxed inside your head and attempt to breathe him in. He takes his time…your heart speeds up. "

Satisfied that Viggo was sufficiently piqued, Ian rose, extending his hand toward the beautiful man, palm up. Cautiously, Orlando placed his hand in the man's proffered grasp, and was amused when he lifted it to his lips…which barely grazed against the skin…but their eyes never parted.

"Hello, my gorgeous young man. My name is Ian McKellen." Ian's lips were soft and warm, tickling the back of Orlando's hand as he spoke.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McKellen," Orlando responded, but his eyes no longer rested on the older man.

Ian laughed at the palpable attraction between the two men…as if he forcibly kept two magnets apart that desperately longed to join. "And this," he said, by way of introduction, "is my business partner, Viggo Mortensen."

At the sound of his name, Viggo's hand instinctively lifted. Perhaps only a coincidence…but as resplendent blue and kohl-lined brown physically connected, a spark of static electricity passed between their hands, confirming the spark of desire in their eyes. At that moment, Viggo heard his name spilled softly from the young man's full lips which remained parted, still in silent utterance of his name.

Viggo shook himself, mentally. 'I'm a businessman! I'm powerful! I'm in control!' he blinked once, and took a deep breath, attempting to divert the situation. "My secretary made our reservations here, to celebrate our recent partnership agreement. It was her thought that my…colleague here might find the entertainment to his liking." Viggo hoped Orlando would take the hint and shift his attention back to Ian. He didn't like the memories of feelings long ago lost that Orlando brought rushing back. Yes…this same feeling…it was just like….only more…

Orlando couldn't get over the brilliant blue eyes…the wisp of blonde that fell just across his forehead…the rush of attraction. He'd always prided himself on his ability to keep an emotional distance from his clients.

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The interesting trio was interrupted by Sean, pulling the heavy drapery around to close them off from the rest of the area. "I trust you're enjoying your evening, gentlemen," Sean asked them, winking at Orlando. He did not miss the flush in Orlando's cheeks, and recognized the arousal in his employee.

"I was wondering if we might request a private lap dance," Ian said, stunning all of them.

Sean, ever the businessman, was quick with a reply. "I'm certain, sir, that Orlando would be more than happy to accommodate you…"

Ian hastened to interrupt. "Oh, it's not for me," he began, a twinkle in his eye. Ian never finished the statement, but instead turned to face Viggo directly.

"Wha…?" He was too stunned to form a coherent reply. But no reply was necessary, because Orlando answered for him, clearing his throat first.

"I'd be more than happy to dance for you, Viggo." No one in the secluded enclosure missed Orlando's emphasis on Viggo's name. Viggo remained in shocked silence.

"Since Orlando's in agreement with this request for a private dance, I'll escort you two into one of the back rooms. I trust there's no need for me to go over the 'rules'?" Sean tried to rein in any menace from the look he shot Viggo's way.

"No need at all, my dear sir. In fact," Ian offered, "I'll stay and chaperone, if that's all right with our favorite dancer here."

Orlando broke a smile, almost expecting it. He also had to agree. It would make it easier on him, as well, if Ian stayed. For if the two were left alone, he wasn't worried about Viggo being inappropriate with him…more like vice versa.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been ages since Orlando was this nervous. He was back in his dressing room, freshening up before joining Viggo and Ian in one of the back rooms Sean had already escorted them to.

Pacing the room, he tried to think….to concentrate on anything that would settle his libido and help him to give attention to the task at hand. He'd performed hundreds of lap dances before. This one was no different. What was it his mentor always told him?

"Take Charge - When you take charge you're putting him in a submissive position to you. You have the control and the power! Remember, you are in control and calling the shots - making him submissive. Sexy, feel sexy ... LOOK SEXY. It is a universal law that can't be broken."

"Fuck, Eric. Why can't you be here NOW to give me advice?" Orlando's words flew into the empty room as he addressed the tutor he'd learned everything from. Now the man was a thousand miles away, having married and started up a pole dancing class with his wife.

Sexy. Just then Orlando had a thought. He wouldn't be on the pole, so he went into a cabinet and withdrew a small amber bottle. Extracting the cork, he took a whiff of the contents…reveling in the light, musky scent. He poured a small amount in his palm…the oil iridescent and glittering…then covered himself with the lustrous liquid. The resultant sheen was enticing, causing the light to reflect along every hint of curve along his body. Even though he knew the rules were 'no touching', he'd taken special care to coat his cock and balls with the substance, trying not to imagine they were Viggo's hands on him instead of his own.

Just as he was gingerly returning the swollen flesh into the inadequately-sized g-string, there was a light tap on his door. He knew it could be none other than Sean; so, flipping the skirt back down to cover his handiwork, he opened the door in greeting.

"You sure you're up for this, lad?" Sean asked him, genuine concern lacing his voice.

"Tell me, Sean," Orlando asked, honestly. "Would you pass up a chance with him?" Then he winked, nudged himself past Sean, and headed down the hallway…heels clicking along the way.

Taking a deep breath, Orlando stopped just outside the door where his private audience awaited him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Within the room, a plethora of emotions waged battle within Viggo's mind. "I fucking cannot go through with this, Ian. I can't tell you why."

"This is what he does for a living, Viggo. He's done this countless other times. Just sit back and enjoy it." Ian had been trying to reason with his partner.

"It's…not the same. It's not just another lap dance. This is…different." Viggo struggled with both finding words to express his conflicting feelings as well as trying to get them out.

Ian moved to Viggo's side, squatting down and putting his arm around him. "You think I can't see this is different?" He caught Viggo's attention, obviously, because there was now eye contact. "Have you not noticed that the attraction is equally mutual? Equally as strong?"

Viggo shook his head. He had denied himself those feelings for so long. He wasn't sure he could even reconnect.

Ian tried one last time. "Why do you think I offered to come in here? That I'm just a horny old man who doesn't want to give up a free show?" Viggo looked incredulous. "No, my friend. He needs me in here to keep himself off of you as well. I'm here to chaperone BOTH of you, in reality."

"Fuck."

"I promise that if it gets to that point, I'll definitely leave." Ian quipped. Just then, they heard a soft rap against the door. "Well?" Ian asked.

"Fuckit." Viggo muttered to himself all the way to the door. He, too, took a deep breath, shot a pitiful look back at Ian (who was still smiling), and turned the handle on the door. He was not ready for the vision awaiting him on the other side.

Ian noticed almost immediately that neither of them moved, so he went to intercede…his arm around Viggo, Ian pulled him gently away from the doorway and urged Orlando in, then walked with Viggo over to a sitting area. There was an ornately carved sofa as well as two matching wing chairs – all were upholstered lavishly in a maroon/hunter green material that brought out the colors in the thick rug that defined the area.

Ian looked over at Orlando, who hadn't made it very far into the room. "Would you like a glass of wine, lad? Viggo ordered something special with dinner, and Sean suggested he have another bottle of it in here."

Orlando mutely moved towards the sound of Ian's voice, at the moment not feeling either sexy or confident…until he got close enough to read the label of the bottle Ian held. "It's…it's… Rioja Reserva," Orlando managed to stutter.

"Ah, you know of it then?"

"It's my favorite," he muttered. Viggo looked up at him in amazement. Orlando saw the look, but was puzzled at what he'd done wrong. "What?" he demanded from the man.

Ian waited…several pregnant moments passed before Viggo stood and moved towards them, taking the bottle in hand from Ian. His gaze never leaving Orlando's, he deftly applied the platinum corkscrew and withdrew the cork, then poured a glass…handing it to Orlando. "It's my favorite as well," he whispered, his voice now thick with longing.

Orlando's fingers grazed over top of Viggo's as he reached to take the glass from him. Instead of pulling his back, Viggo moved his hand along as Orlando took a sip…his tongue flitting along the rim as the tilted glass allowed the ruby liquid to spill into his mouth. Viggo's fingers slipped out from under Orlando's, but his hand moved up to Orlando's face. Instinctively, Orlando jerked his head back only slightly.

"No touching," he whispered.

"Just…you missed a drop," Viggo answered, hoarsely…then allowed just the end of his fingertip to swipe along the corner of Orlando's mouth to gather the fluid remnant…bringing the finger to his own mouth, savoring both the flavor and the intensity of the moment. "Tell me where you want me," he asked the young man.

Orlando's tongue darted out, tracing along the tingling crease in the corner where Viggo's finger had just been. "The, um….couch there. Will you be comfortable there?"

"Certainly."

Ian didn't interrupt them again, amazed at the progress between the two men. He brought the bottle and one glass for himself, hoping they would be inspired to share their one glass…and then took a seat on one of the side chairs.

Orlando moved to stand right in front of Viggo, handing him the glass of wine. Viggo sat at one end of the couch, comfortably sunk down into the sumptuous padding. Orlando placed one foot on the floor between Viggo's feet and the other on the arm of the chair. Looking over his shoulder at Ian, he said, "There's a button, right there." He pointed. "If you could just..."

Ian located the device before Orlando could finish. Orlando turned back around just as he heard Ian's finger engage the player. The song was a cover of a Sarah McLaughlin song, remade by a group called Evans Blue. Orlando used the first bit of the song gyrating his hips only slightly, getting into the music and the mood. This would have to be the performance of his life.

" Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide…voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time…the night is my companion, and solitude my guide…would I spend forever here and not be satisfied?"

His fingers ran up though his hair now, curls tumbled aimlessly, without direction, as the wind tosses the sea. Orlando kept his eyes closed, lifting his hands up from the confines of his hair, and moved them down, along his sides, down across his hips, then up again…lifting the skirt to give a good yet short-lived view of the delights beneath. Fingertips sliding upward…reaching the hem of his shirt as he had during the pole dance…lifting the shirt up and over his head.

It was then Viggo noticed the sheen of Orlando's body. And it only served to entice him further. Orlando leaned forward, allowing the chain to dangle just inches from in front of Viggo's face. He was drowning in Orlando's dark eyes, so dark they were almost black now.

Orlando's breath came as a whisper, a warm breath across Viggo's face. "You want to pull the chain for me, Viggo? Do you?"

"God yes," he answered, raggedly, but not touching until he was given permission.

"…and I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard I'll take your breath away…and after, I'd wipe away the tears…just close your eyes dear…"

The chain glinted, dancing just in front of Viggo's eyes as Orlando swayed slightly back and forth. "Please, baby," Viggo begged.

Not moving away from Viggo, Orlando reached up himself…pulled hard on the chain so that his nipples were distended in Viggo's direction. Orlando wasn't prepared for his own reaction to Viggo's moan in response…so he backed up a bit, letting go of the chain. Viggo sighed audibly, his head falling back against the cushion behind him.

"…through this world I've stumbled, so many times betrayed…trying to find an honest word to find the truth enslaved…oh you speak to me in riddles and you speak to me in rhymes…my body aches to breathe your breath…your words keep me alive…"

Orlando's hips moved in time with the music, only now they undulated towards Viggo then back away, as if he were making love to the very air in front of him. Each thrust forward caused the skirt to mold around the obvious erection straining just beneath…each retreat Viggo strained not to lean forward and follow him.

…into this night I wander…it's morning that I dread…another day of knowing of the path I fear to tread…oh, into the sea of waking dreams I follow without pride…nothing stands between us here and I won't be denied…"

After a while, Orlando didn't retreat. His hips were close to Viggo, so he reached down, took one of the ends of the tie to his skirt, and lifted it to Viggo. Trying desperately not to appear too eager, he parted his lips slightly. Orlando nudged the end of the material into Viggo's mouth, nodding at him to close. Maintaining the intense eye contact, Orlando backed slowly away…fighting his urge not to move was excruciating for Viggo. Back further and further, until finally the tie was pulled taught and the fastening unhitched. The fluid material slipped easily from around Orlando's body, hanging only by the end that remained embedded in Viggo's mouth.

Ian, who'd remained quiet all this time, bit his tongue to keep from laughing. The dance, up to now, had been the most sensual interchange he'd see in his lifetime. But he had to admit the sight of Viggo sitting there with black satin hanging from his mouth was priceless.

Again, Orlando leaned forward. This time, his hand moved up, his finger tracing along Viggo's upper lip. "Let it go now, love…"

Instantaneously, Viggo's lips parted slightly, allowing the material to fall to the floor. Orlando's finger now traced Viggo's bottom lip, back and forth, until he felt the older man shivering beneath his touch. Again, he moved so the chain danged precariously close to Viggo's face. Back and forth, he moved his chest enough so that Viggo got a good look at his nipple on each side. Orlando continued until he felt Viggo at the brink of frustration.

"Say it, love," Orlando taunted.

Viggo looked up at him, desperate to move…to speak.

"Come on, Viggo. I know you want to say it."

Viggo remained silent.

"You want me to say it for you, love?" Orlando whispered, leaning close enough that Viggo felt breath against his ear. He could only nod. Orlando moved to assault the other ear. "I'm a fucking tease, aren't I?"

The words were a deliberate jolt of electricity that shot directly through Viggo's body, down through his cock. He wasn't certain how he'd kept from coming right then.

Orlando moved back a bit, so that he was right in front of Viggo's face. "Say it, I want to hear *you* say it," he challenged.

Viggo's lips peeled back, wild, like a mad dog, and he grit his teeth. "Damn fucking tease," he managed, breathing hard.

Smiling, Orlando reached down to take Viggo's hand, lifting it and placing the fingers at the center point of his chain. "Do it, Viggo. Come on, love. Watch what it does to me when you pull the chain."

He pulled, quickly, not letting go, continuing the pressure on the tortured nubs. Orlando's head fell back, eyes close, ecstatic. Viggo pulled tighter, watching the contortions on Orlando's face, loving having some control over this beautiful man.

"Watch," Orlando managed, breathlessly. "Watch what you do to my cock when you pull on it."

Tearing his eyes off the beautiful face, Viggo let the chain loose, lowered his gaze to the flesh straining within the g-string, then gave a hard yank. Amazingly, he watched as Orlando's cock actually jumped in the confines of the black lace. Over and over, he manipulated the chain, watching as Orlando's entire body was responding to him.

After a while, he felt Orlando's hand move up to his. "I want your mouth on me," he whispered. "I want you to pull the clip off one side, and take it in your mouth. Bring it back to life." All the while Orlando spoke, he crawled up onto Viggo so that he sat in his lap, legs straddling him, his erection crushing against Viggo's shirt-covered stomach. Orlando leaned back a bit, giving Viggo clear access to him. Viggo reached up to release the clamp with his fingers. "No!" Orlando begged. "Pull it off me. Do it!"

Viggo complied, reveling in Orlando's screams…his mouth came down hard on the tight, abused flesh…massaging it with his lips…flicking it with his tongue…biting with his teeth. Orlando squirmed helplessly and Viggo's arms came around to hold him close. Getting a firm bite on the one nipple, Viggo reached up and ripped the clip from the other…his one hand coming up to claim that one…twisting, pulling, pinching…

Orlando almost blacked out from the sensation. "Fuck me," he moaned, up against Viggo's ear.

"Say it again," Viggo muttered, garbled, against the young man's chest.

"Please, love…for God's sake…fuck me…"

"You fucking little tease…I want to hear you fucking beg me…" Viggo was heady with lust, his mind a-whirl with the passion Orlando had inflamed within him.

Orlando reached upward, pulling Viggo's lips off him with a *pop* of suction…immediately replacing the nipple with his own tongue. They kissed hungrily, tongues battling…all the while Orlando grinding wildly against Viggo.

When they stopped, only for lack of air, they both breathed heavily. "I've got a way to let Sean know everything's ok. Is that all right with you? Do you…"

"Do it," Viggo managed, wanting nothing more at the moment to rip his own clothes off and make love to Orlando.

Orlando moved his face forward, kissing Viggo again as he climbed down off him. Reluctantly, their lips parted, tongues darting out to make every last bit of available contact.

Orlando walked over to a panel on the wall, and entered a combination of numbers. Neither of them had heard Ian leave the room.

Orlando hadn't been away from Viggo more than 45 seconds, but that's all it took. The floodgates of Viggo's mind opened. He was ashamed. More than ashamed. He'd offered to give something he wasn't capable of.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sean's pager vibrated quietly in his pocket. He stared incredulously at the five-digit number staring back at him. Orlando's 'I'm okay, go on home' number. He put it back in his pocket and pulled it back out again, just to make sure.

"If you don't believe it, you can ask me," Ian said, startling Sean slightly. He hadn't heard the older man enter the lobby. Moving up beside Sean, Ian wrapped his arm around his shoulder. With a twinkle in his eye, he asked, "Buy me a drink?"

At that moment, Viggo came tearing through to the bar where they were sitting. "Fuck this. I CAN'T!" Viggo shouted, his fist coming down hard on the polished wood, sending wine glasses tumbling. Viggo went storming off…and continued through the front exit.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Comments

[doylebaby.livejournal.com]

Now how can you stop there? I love Ian and his sneaky ways!

[obselizabeth.livejournal.com]

Now how can you stop there?
ummm....my fingers got tired? :)

I love Ian and his sneaky ways!
me too! and he's going to get even sneakier :) it's in his nature!