Fic: Pole Position (8 of ?)

[obselizabeth.livejournal.com]

Title: Pole Position (Part 8 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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He'd only slept a few hours…and that short time was spent on a rice mat laid on the floor of the sparsely-furnished apartment. Bullseye, formerly Colin, needed hours to prepare before performing a requested task. Upon rising, he lit several cones of incense, placed in various locations around his meditation area. The acrid smoke quickly filled the room…its specific mixture of herbs was a concoction he'd come up with based on years of study and experience. Then, sitting on the mat and folding his legs upon themselves, he began the Chi kung Meditation, or Qigong that would sustain him through the evening's task.

Qi means breath or gas in Mandarin Chinese, and, by extension, the energy produced by breathing that keeps us alive; gong means work or technique. Qigong is then "breath work" or the art of managing the breath to achieve and maintain good health, and especially in the martial arts, to enhance the energy mobilization and stamina of the body in coordination with the physical process of respiration.

Bullseye had perfected the breathing technique, during his stint with the Yakuza – back then known as "Okina". Literally translated, "violence groups", the Yakuza are the largest organized crime phenomenon in the world, as noted in the Guinness Book of Records. He'd learned their rituals and training methods, and moved his way quickly up the ranks, being offered the position of Kumichō, or family head; but, never being one to stay in one place for long periods of time, he mocked his own death…crossing to the other side of the world, and adopting a new pseudonym.

Through the years, he'd been associated with the Yakuza, Mafia, Russian Mafia, and various other criminal elements. He gained knowledge of how to lacerate a person's throat with a thrown playing card, spit his own tooth through a human skull, toss a paper airplane to a distant rooftop, and kill a person with a toothpick thrown through a window from a hundred yards away. Due to his cold demeanor and unique skills, recruitment by the National Security Agency as an assassin was inevitable, and he was soon assigned to train Contras in Nicaragua.

Not moving anything but his arms, Bullseye brought his hands down quickly…precisely…slapping hard against the concrete slab that served as his floor. The practice, known as Iron Palm, consists of years of repetitive downward striking with all surfaces of the hand upon increasingly harder materials. The second component of iron palm training involves using proper technique in order to strike with more force. The benefits of some iron palm exercises, such as intentionally breaking bones or striking with lethal force against vulnerable areas of the body, are often controversial. However, he continued this, with lightening speed and precision, until each area of his hand had been manipulated against the hard surface. Iron palm training is designed to condition the hands in order to prevent injury and make the techniques more effective.

Sometimes, Colin would internalize with such intensity that it would bring him physical pleasure…arousal. He stood then, lifting the t-shirt over his head and track pants down his legs…the clothing discarded haphazardly across the room. His body bore an elaborate mural that covered almost the entire torso, front and back, as well the arms to below the elbow and the legs to mid-calf…as if he were wearing long underwear. Dragons, turbulent seascapes, and abstract designs were inked on his skin. The application of these extensive tattoos had taken hundreds of hours, but the process tested his mettle…and he wore them like awards for his many killings. After tonight's killing, he'd find a spot for yet another decoration…one that would remind him of this target specifically.

He walked over to a cabinet, extracting an ornamental jar of Dit Da Jow, a popular liniment sold to heal external damage, such as bruises and sore muscles. Although there were different makers of Dit Da Jow, all of which are considered to be "secret formulas" passed down though tradition, Bullseye created his own…knowing which specific herbs to use best for his own body.

As he began to massage the pasty substance into his hands, Bullseye had a thought. 'It would be an honor,' he mused, 'to perform the Yubitsume upon this man…present it to my employer as a token of a job well done…an act of appeasement to an angry man.'

Yubitsume, or finger-cutting, is a form of penance or apology. Upon a first offense, the transgressor must cut off the tip of his left pinky finger and hand the severed portion to his boss. Bullseye could only imagine the pride he'd feel upon delivering the severed digit to Johnny.

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Viggo dressed with care, choosing the same suit he'd worn at their first encounter. Wanting to provide his own, private surprise for Orlando, he'd taken out a cock ring, one made of stretchy black rubber embedded with 14 fully rotatable stainless steel ball bearings that enabled the device to be maneuvered along the length and girth of the shaft. (Author's note: See http://www.lovehoney.co.uk/product.cfm?cat=43&id=2987) He pulled his dress pants directly over his naked hips, tucking the crisp white shirt in, and then added a belt and tie. Smoothing down the sides of the jacket, his hand noticed something remaining in his pocket. Reaching in to retrieve the unknown object, he pulled out something that glittered immediately in the light…the nipple clips and chain he'd pulled off Orlando that night. Willing himself not to respond to thoughts of the young man, he wanted to think of some special way he could reciprocate the invitation…to respond to the forgiveness he'd been given. Still holding the chain and clips in his left hand, Viggo took out his keys, thumbing through them until he came to a small one made of brass. Moving over to an ornately carved cabinet, he unlocked it and reverently opened the door. Within he kept some of his most precious secrets…items of pain and pleasure he'd gathered over the years, but never had a willing partner to share them with.

He withdrew a smallish, unidentified box…taking it and the chain with him into the kitchen. Still unopened, he put the box and the chain down on the counter, and then went to pour himself a glass of wine. His demeanor was one of awe as he moved the box, along with the chain, over to the table. The rectangular cube held his gaze for minutes, as if he thought he would will the very lid from the object. Finally, with trembling fingers, Viggo lifted the cover, exposing the device inside. "Aneros," Viggo spoke, aloud. Essentially a small piece of plastic with a very high price tag. But what he'd read about seemed amazing, almost impossible. Tonight, he'd give it as a gift. Replacing the cover, Viggo headed out of the kitchen, flipping open his cell…pressing the 'intercom' button that would page Karl.

"Yessir," Karl's response came, almost immediately. "I'm getting the car ready now. Will be in front of the house in 5 minutes."

"Perfect."

"You nervous, boss?" Karl quipped.

"Terrified," Viggo responded, feeling his own body shudder at the thought. "We're stopping by the office, right?"

"Gotcha," Karl said, then ended the communication.

Viggo heard the beep, and closed his own device. Into his right coat pocket went three items – the box, the chain/clamps, and the silver ring off his own thumb.

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At Viggo's office, Alexandra had everything ready to go – now she only waited on her boss' arrival, and the particular items he wanted to include with the delivery. She trusted the florist…they had proven their discretion and punctuality many times in the past. Sitting patiently at her desk, she heard the familiar ring indicating the elevator's arrival. She stood to greet him.

"Alex," Viggo whispered, not able to speak much with the tension coursing through his body.

She moved to him, wrapping her arms around him. "He wants you, Viggo. Remember our talk about love…about a 'soul mate'?"

Viggo only nodded, still standing in the loose grasp of her embrace.

"You two already have that connection. And by his invitation back there, he's indicating his forgiveness. You have nothing to worry about." Backing only slightly away from him, so she could meet Viggo's eyes, Alexandra asked, "Did you bring what you wanted to send with the flowers?"

Viggo mutely reached into his pocket, fumbling with the items, but not taking them out. "I…I want to send a, er, note I think."

"Want me to type something up while you dictate?"

"Er, I don't think…" Viggo started.

Alexandra rolled her eyes. "Boss, no quirk of yours is going to change what I think of you. Now get over here and tell me what you want this note to say."

Quickly, Viggo spoke, from his vantage point in the doorway between the main reception room and his office. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, trying to distance himself from the immediate realization of what he was divulging to this woman. Once he finished, Alexandra folded the note and placed it, the nipple clamps, and the ring in an envelope…addressing it with Orlando's name and the delivery's destination. She secured it to the top of the box containing the Aneros.

"I'm off, Viggo," she announced, hurrying out to set the transport in motion. He turned, nodding a silent thanks to her. "Don't be nervous, sweetie. Just be that dashing, gorgeous man that you are…and he won't be able to keep himself away from you." With that, she left, leaving Viggo alone in the room.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door click behind Alexandra, only to click open again a minute later.

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Part of the skills possessed by an assassin dealt in the preliminary…the research it took to be a step or two ahead of your prey. Bullseye had spent a good hour that morning on the internet, finding out what he could about Viggo Mortensen and the building which housed his office. A few more clicks provided the knowledge of access to the privacy of the penthouse.

His breathing was imperceptible as he stood only 20 feet behind his objective. Bullseye had learned not to revel in the task until after it was complete. But he stood there for a long while, watching Viggo…mapping out the critical hit points of his body.

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Orlando paced nervously within the confines of his dressing room, a caged tiger treading nervously back and forth…until he was stopped instantly by a rapping on the door. Sean entered, quietly, closing the door behind him. He could see the longing and anticipation in Orlando's eyes, so he answered the unspoken question directly. "Yes, he'll be here."

Just then, another knock on the door. From Orlando's vantage point, he couldn't see who it was since Sean had opened the door only slightly. As the door was closed again, Sean turned, his arms full of yellow roses carefully arranged in a large glass vase.

"There's a package here, too," Sean observed. Then, after placing the arrangement on Orlando's dressing table, Sean turned to leave. "I'll let you be with these. You've got a little while to go through what's here before you have to dress, and I've already opened the wine there for you."

Orlando moved slowly, unconsciously counting the roses in the vase. "11," he muttered. "There's 11 of them." Then his hand reached out for the package. Taped to an accompanying box was an envelope that he noted was bulky with its contents. Sitting down on the padded bench, Orlando slit the fold and removed what was inside. He gasped as he saw the nipple clamps and chain. He didn't remember giving them to Viggo, but that didn't matter. There was also a beautiful silver ring inside…and a note.

Orlando took a hefty sip of his wine before reading:

"My love,

"Thanks to your overwhelming forgiveness, I will be there to see you dance tonight. I'd like to ask you to wear the nipple clamps for me again…but this time, add my ring to the length of chain in between so that a part of me is there dancing with you.

"Also, I've included in the box an Aneros. Perhaps you've heard of it. I've had it for a while, unused. For I knew it had to be for someone special. It isn't for everyone, it's designed specifically for prostate stimulation, and the stimulation it provides is intense. I'd love to catch a glimpse of it inside you tonight, with the assurance that I will be the one bringing you relief from the intensity it provides.

"There are 11 roses in the vase…for I want to pass the final one into your hands myself.

"Finally a song, for you:

'When you smile with those eyes
Baby it's like you place a finger on my heart
And your lips next to mine make me think that maybe heaven’s where you are
I just wanna hear you say again
Forever love
Say it love
Digame, Digame
Tell me so I can hold you in my soul'"

Tears welled up against the slate of rich brown orbs. "Gods, how I want you, Viggo," Orlando managed, between sniffles. Finishing the remaining wine in the glass, Orlando went to change, deciding to wear the same black ensemble he'd worn that first night.

Once he'd dropped his jeans and t-shirt, Orlando moved to the box containing the Aneros. Opening it, he found a small sheet of instructions inside. Below a startlingly graphic diagram of how to insert the device, he read, 'The Aneros is composed of three main components -- the head, the perineum abutment tab, and the handle. The head automatically pivots when you contract your Pubococcygeus muscle, directly massaging the prostate. The perineum abutment tab simultaneously massages the perineum acupressure point. The handle provides stability and is used when inserting and removing the Aneros.' A shiver of anticipation ran through him at the thought of what it would feel like to dance with Viggo’s gift inside him. He grabbed some lube and lay down on the couch, greasing up his fingers. He closed his eyes, reaching down to rub the ointment against his puckered opening. "You put it in me, Viggo. Make me yours tonight," he whispered, a greased finger slipping deep inside of him, imagining Viggo was sitting there, readying him, preparing him for the device. Orlando rubbed the lube well into himself, then withdrew his fingers and coated the device. Taking the handle, he positioned it so that upon insertion the tab would be aligned along his perineum. Once fully inserted, Orlando gave it a test…squeezing his muscles together. Almost immediately, he felt the head of it rubbing against his pleasure spot. He moaned, Viggo's name coming in a breath across his lips.

He stood, experimentally, and eventually was able to walk back over to the dressing table, wiping the residue from his fingers. Every step he took provided an extreme sensation, the device rubbing directly against his prostate which not only sent shock waves dashing through this already-erect penis, but radiating out to harden his entire body. And now he'd be adding the nipple clamps. The already distended buds of flesh welcomed the harsh pinch of the clips. Orlando's head lolled back with the combination of pain and pleasure.

He could only imagine what tonight would bring…after the dance.

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It would have been easy to take him out, right then. One object, hurled with precision, would have killed Viggo instantly. But Bullseye had developed an ingenious plan, a calculatingly cold idea. He'd render the man unconscious, bring him to Johnny, and remove the finger in front of his employer…the ultimate tribute…even better if he could force Viggo to cut the offending digit himself. He spotted a paperweight on the secretary's desk. Palming it, he instinctively measured the size and weight of the object… then hurled it with a powerful and fast snap of the wrist, imparting a spin into the trajectory that enabled the exact necessary force upon impact.

Viggo never realized he'd been hit. His instantly lifeless body fell limp in a heap onto the polished wood floor. Having delivered the blow with such precision, the paperweight encountered the back of Viggo's head in such a way that it knocked him completely unconscious, but never broke the skin.

Bullseye moved quickly, hoisting Viggo up over his shoulder, making his way to the rooftop. There he'd landed the helicopter, and there he'd make his escape with his trophy.

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Karl glanced at the digital display for the tenth time. He'd seen Miss Giraudeau depart the building minutes ago, and couldn't imagine what was keeping Viggo. A horrific conception overtook him, whereupon Karl darted to the private elevator. When he reached the penthouse floor, Viggo was nowhere to be found. But Karl's keen eye discovered the paperweight lying in the middle of the floor. Careful not to impart his own fingerprints on the item, Karl lifted it and put it safely in his pocket, then ran to find Sean.

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Orlando gave himself one final check in the full mirror before heading out to the stage. He lifted the skirt, seeing if the Aneros was visible past the g-string. From a distance, it wasn't. But, since he knew it was there, he could see the slightest hint of ivory stroking against the flatness behind his balls. He was sure that Viggo would be able to notice as well. As on that first night, he had taken special care to cleanly shave the area earlier in the day.

He poured himself another half a glass of wine; the warm, dry red liquid sliding down his throat, easing his tension. Before donning the sheer black cropped top, Orlando reached for the chain. He secured one end to the clamp on his left nipple, added the ring, and then attached the right side. The familiar sting brought Viggo instantly back to mind. The ring, Viggo's ring, dangling down at the midpoint of the chain, slid back and forth ever so slightly, adding just enough of an extra weight to constantly remind Orlando of the difference between that first night and tonight. Pulling the sheer half t-shirt down over his trim yet well-toned chest, cautious not to disturb the clips, Orlando slipped his feet into the high black heels and left the dressing room.

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After leaving Orlando's dressing room, Sean paced the main dining room, waiting on Viggo's appearance. There was neither wine nor rose nor Viggo at the designated table. But he had sent roses and some obscure package to Orlando, so it was doubtful he'd stand the boy up. After all they'd gone through, too. Sean seethed beneath his otherwise calm exterior.

"Where the fook are ye, Vig?" Sean whispered.

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As was his habit, Orlando pulled just a bit of the curtain aside to peer through. He frowned slightly upon finding the table was empty – no wine…no rose…and most importantly, no Viggo. He shook his head, entertaining the fact that perhaps Viggo had something special in store for him that evening.

However, once his name was announced and he entered the spotlight, he saw Viggo still wasn't there. It was then that Karl came running into the main dining room, screaming Sean's name.

By that time, Orlando had run crying back to his dressing room.

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Comments

[orli-bum.livejournal.com]

Oh no whats going to happen now? Poor orlando thinking he has been stood up. But with Karl running in like that he would think something up> I would think. Eagerly awaiting you next update.

[obselizabeth.livejournal.com]

orlando was too focused on the fact that viggo wasn't there to process anything karl might have said or done :(

[vatulele.livejournal.com]

Nooooo, I want my hot Orlando Viggo mansexin going on! NOw Viggo's unconcious, Orlando think's he's been stood up, *sob* Vigorli's supposed to be a happy pairing!

Okay I'm done, good chapter, evil!johnny's really great, so devious!

[obselizabeth.livejournal.com]

thanks, sweetie! :)

[soar38.livejournal.com]

Oh no, how things have gone so quickly wrong!