vigorli

Title: Pole Position (Part 7 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 -- this chapter adds a couple more boys *smile*)
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

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*NOTE: A unique throwing weapon constructed from thin, flat plates of metal from a variety of sources, such as hishi-gane (coins), kugi-nuki (carpentry tools), senban (washers), resembling what is usually conceived of as the ninja star. Often they have a hole in the center, are only sharpened on the very tips and possess a fairly thin blade.

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Eric and Orlando bade each other goodbye. There was a note taped to the outside of Orlando's dressing room.

"Eric. Have gone home with Keanu. Talk to you tomorrow. Heath."

Eric chuckled, showing the note to Orlando. "Guess I'm making my own way home tonight."

"Here, mate," Orlando guided Eric. "Let me show you the back way out. It's closer to the parking lot, and they've probably locked up the front already."

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A man walked quietly down the hallway of the hospital, his eyes searching for a familiar nameplate. He sported a biker-style appearance: a duster, leather pants, black tank top, dark goatee, tattoos, multiple earrings, and a shaven head with a bull's-eye-shaped scar on his forehead.

Stopping suddenly, the man pushed the door slowly open, bringing a slight illumination to the otherwise dark room…but not enough to recognize the face of the man who lay in the bed.

"Colin," Johnny managed to say.

Colin – a psychopathic assassin with the ability to use any object, such as a playing card, a hira shuriken*, or even a pencil, and throw or shoot it with lethal accuracy – paced his room. "Don't fuckin' call me by that name."

Johnny lay, writhing in pain despite the plentiful drugs administered via intravenous into his veins, in the darkness of the hospital. The only thing that gave away his visitor, who Johnny had summoned, was the glow at the end of the cigarette dangling from his lips.

"I want the fucker taken out as soon as possible, Bullseye," Johnny rasped, wincing with the pain that each breath took. "God damned fucker." Johnny wasn't focused on anything in the room, save the concentric circles seemingly-burned into the man's hairless scalp. His prowess as an assassin was known in various circles, both of the '1%ers' and known-assassins. But Johnny knew Bullseye was the best of the best.

"It'll happen tomorrow," the man replied, taking another drag from his cigarette…then leaving quickly.

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After Eric left, Orlando wandered into the unusual darkness of the main dining room. His steps were directed via sounds from the far side…not knowing what he'd find there.

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Sean's tongue made laps around the darkness surrounding Karl's nipple. The man beneath him moaned in response to the subtle ministrations…until they both heard the small voice beckoning.

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"Sean…"

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Karl looked up, glad that the voice hadn't interrupted Sean's mouth on his now-swollen bud.

In immediate recognition, he gasped, "Oh, it's you!"

Orlando looked down at the shadowed pair, finally recognizing the brown-eyed man who he'd seen with Sean earlier. He didn't say a word in response.

Karl fumbled, trying to acknowledge Orlando and respond to Sean’s touch simultaneously. "Um, something you need?"

Obviously, by now, Sean was aware of Orlando's presence; although, not entirely ready to give up his ministrations. "Fook," the word escaped, merely a whisper.

Orlando, not used to seeing his boss and friend with another lover, merely remained mute for the time being.

Karl, in the absence of response from them both, went on, "Um, you need something?"

Orlando, at this point not embarrassed at all, responded, "Er, Sean…I need a favor."

"Can't it wait, laddie?" the Brit garbled, his lips and tongue still manipulating Karl's nipple.

Orlando giggled a bit to himself. "Er, I just want to plant a thought in your brain. When you talk to Viggo tomorrow…"

The name, 'Viggo', was greeted with grunts from both sides….both were acknowledged by Orlando. "Well, if…"

"Fuckit, lad," Sean growled, , trying not to loosen his teeth from around Karl's swollen flesh. "Spit it out!"

Orlando smiled, only momentarily. "Sean. Just call him and tell him to be here HIMSELF tomorrow night." Orlando's request was quick and to the point. And Sean had known the request would be coming soon, but maybe not this soon. Nevertheless, his hand moved in the air, indicating a positive response.

"I mean it, Sean," Orlando said, oblivious to the two lovers, continuing regardless of his presence. Once he was sure of Sean's attention, he continued. "I mean to have that man here…not his wine…not his roses…just him."

With that, Orlando turned and walked towards the back, leaving to go home.

Sean looked up at Karl. "I guess our little plan worked more quickly than we could have hoped."

Karl nodded, then noticed the cool air was causing Sean's saliva to evaporate from around his distended nipple. Wickedly, he looked up at Sean. "Come home with me." It was almost a command, and Sean's body reacted immediately to it.

"Just lemme lock up 'ere," he hissed back, and then hurried to do just that. Karl watched his new lover quickly moving around, and slid back into his clothes. This was apparently a friend of Viggo's; how in the hell was Karl going to explain Sean spending the night?

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They decided to leave Sean's car there, since it had a more secluded parking space. Sean, however, couldn't keep his hands off Karl on the drive home.

"Fuck, man, we're going to crash!" Karl said, only half-heartedly complaining. "Save it for later."

"So, where is this mansion of yers?" Sean asked, making conversation.

Karl realized he hadn't told Sean that he worked for Viggo, and lived in a private residence off to the side of Viggo's house. "Um, actually, I'm a private chauffer," he muttered. "And I live on the property of a friend of yours."

"You drive around one of me mates?" Sean said, thinking to himself…going through a mental rolodex. "I can't think of anyone I know who has a…"

He stopped, in mid sentence. Thankful for the stoplight, Karl turned to meet the gaze of his companion.

"You fuckin' work for Viggo?"

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The familiar Westminster chime rang through the hallways of the darkened room, flickering tongues from the fireplace having long since gone out. Viggo wondered where Orlando was, what he was doing…who he was with.

"I'm going to think myself to death," he mused. Just then, his attention was diverted by the sound of a car moving around the gravel drive. Karl!

Viggo couldn't get out the front door fast enough, meaning to greet the man who would be returning with news of his would-be lover. When someone got out of the passenger side as well, Viggo was shocked.

"Sean! What are you doing here?"

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"Yer the wanker who set us up," Sean accused teasingly.

"Set you up? What?" Viggo remarked, incredulously. Then, he remembered it all. He'd called Sean, asking the man to befriend Karl since he didn't want to be in a club alone. "You mean…you two…er…"

"You don't mind?" Karl asked, a bit sheepishly.

"Of course not. We can talk in the morning," Viggo assured his employee, not wanting to divulge why he'd asked Karl to go there in the first place.

"One thing, Viggo," Karl said. He looked at Sean and asked him, "Aren't we supposed to be relaying a message to Viggo? A 'request'?"

"Fook," Sean groaned. "Yer right. The lad," Sean said, turning his attention to Viggo. "He wants you there, tomorrow. He wants you to come back to the club."

A huge grin spread across Viggo's face as Karl led Sean back to his dwelling.

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Viggo almost floated back into the house. 'A nice, hot shower is definitely in order', he thought to himself. Making his way to the sumptuous master bath, Viggo shed his clothing…dropping them on the floor along the way. The water heated quickly, and he entered the steamy enclosure. There was a bench at one end of the large stall. Viggo's thoughts immediately turned to how it might be if he had his beautiful lover here, in the shower with him…he'd recline on the bench… Orlando's hungry mouth devouring his needy cock. While indulging in this daydream, Viggo's hand strayed downward, firmly grasping himself.

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At this late hour, Orlando made it home quickly. His aching muscles desperately needed a long soak in the tub, but the time of evening – or rather morning now – dictated something speedier, like a shower. His jeans and t-shirt pooled down off him into a heap on the floor. Bracing his hands against the wall, Orlando let the hot water beat down over his head and down his back. His eyes closed, he thought again of Viggo. When would Sean be able to talk to him? Would he be there the next night?

Orlando thought back to their encounter. Viggo was walking sex. He oozed it. And responded to both the dominant and submissive personas Orlando had displayed that night. He remembered Viggo's tongue, wild and controlling, commanding his mouth…and his thoughts strayed to what it would feel like to have Viggo's penis thrusting between his lips. Just the thought of it brought Orlando's hand down to his own cock.

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The water cooled to lukewarm, but Viggo was unaware. His eyes were still closed, imagining a wet head of sable curls bobbing up and down on his hardness. The sensation of 'seeing' Orlando heightened his arousal. His balls tightened up beneath his ministrations and in response to his reverie. With a mighty cry…

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…Orlando's release shot forth, sputtering down the wall of the shower. He was so lost in fantasy, he didn't hear Viggo's name come from his lips.

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