FIC: Beginning, Part 2
Sep. 17th, 2006 06:08 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
stormatdusk.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
vigorliFIC: Beginning, Part 2
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stormatdusk
Pairing: V/O
Beta: None for this part
Rating: Adult
Warnings: BDSM
Disclaimer: This is only fiction.
This is part 2 of the prequel to the drabble "Forgiveness". It picks up directly from part 1, just posted.
"Vig. Give me your hands."
Viggo’s gaze shifted from the ceiling as Orlando’s voice interrupted his faraway thoughts.
"Not tired, babe? You getting up?" he asked.
"Viggo," Orlando said again, still very quietly. "Give me your hands."
Viggo set his hands onto Orlando’s upturned palms. Orlando lifted them to his lips, pressing a firm kiss to the knuckles. Viggo looked up in confusion as Orlando began wrapping a strip of white tape very deliberately around Viggo’s right wrist.
"What are …"
The question died on his lips at the sight of Orlando’s face, his brows drawn in determination. Barely breathing, Viggo stared in mute fascination as Orlando made several passes around the wrist, then the other, trapping them together. Orlando’s eyes met Viggo’s, arresting him with their intensity.
"I want you to trust me. Will you do that?"
Throat suddenly dry, Viggo swallowed. Then he nodded, twice.
He felt Orlando turn him gently onto his stomach and stretch his arms above his head, guiding his bound hands up and taping them securely to the bedpost. A tug at his bonds confirmed his predicament and sent a jolt of adrenaline through Viggo’s rapidly tensing body.
Orlando drew a warm hand slowly along a tense shoulder, down the supple muscles near Viggo’s spine, over the masculine curve of buttock. Over and over, he repeated the long strokes, smoothing away the tension as if rubbing down a nervous stallion.
Unable to return the caresses, Viggo became hyperaware of his surroundings. The coolness of the night air enfolded him; the tape at his wrists bit seductively into his skin. He was aware of feeling in a way he’d never been before - the pounding of his own pulse, the texture of Orlando’s palm, every nuance in the pressure of Orlando’s fingers as they asserted gentle dominance – all his senses came alive.
Orlando’s touch skated slowly over Viggo’s cleft, but did not linger. Though they’d so recently made love, Viggo felt his trapped cock responding to Orlando’s focus, and shifted his hips to relieve some of the pressure.
Orlando continued the long, slow strokes, infusing every inch of flesh with heat. Viggo let his forehead drop to the mattress. He sighed as he felt himself gradually relax under his lover’s talented hands.
A loud crack rang out, an obscene disturbance in the quiet.
Viggo jerked in his bonds, as much startled by the sound as by the impact of the polished wood on his ass. Eyes wide, he froze. His mind raced, the anxiety of recent weeks immediately hijacking his thoughts. What was Orlando thinking? Had Viggo missed some signal that his lover had wanted to experiment this way? Was Orlando bored with their sex life?
Viggo’s whirling uncertainty was almost palpable, and Orlando knew that the sensitive man was already despairing that he might have failed Orlando in some way.
Orlando watched the back of Viggo’s head for his reaction, waiting for outrage or protest. Except for the quickened breathing of his bound victim, the room was still.
Orlando allowed his eyes to be drawn to the perfect rosy print already forming on Viggo’s cheek. He reached out, mesmerized for a moment, but stopped himself. He was doing this for Viggo. He could think about his own reactions later.
He recommitted himself to his task, more certain than ever that he could help Viggo let go.
Another sharp crack, and Viggo’s thoughts scattered, dried leaves scrambling wildly before an approaching storm. Another blow fell, and another, each not truly painful on its own, but steadily warming Viggo’s skin and stealing his breath away. Viggo’s surprised gasps intermingled with low grunts, and tendrils of lust snaked into his belly. After a dozen more blows, Viggo’s ass glowed pink and his breath gusted out of him.
Orlando dropped the brush and squeezed his own leaking cock, determined to maintain his focus on Viggo’s needs. He leaned over his lover’s body and cradled Viggo’s forehead with one hand.
“Talk to me, baby,” came the insistent voice next to Viggo’s ear.
Viggo pressed his face against Orlando, straining for that moment of connection. “Don’t… don’t stop,” he managed to rasp.
A passionate press of lips to Viggo’s temple, and Orlando straightened, picked up the brush, and raised his arm once again. He quickened his pace, and the blows came harder. Forehead pressing down between his outstretched arms, Viggo’s hips rocked into the mattress in a primeval rhythm. A barely-there voice at the back of Viggo’s consciousness wondered at his arousal, and was quickly incinerated by the rising passion Orlando was thrusting upon him.
A few minutes more and thought, worry - everything except here and now - fell away. Viggo was aware only of the fire on his ass and the insistent ache in his groin. Nothing else existed outside of this moment. Overwhelmed, unbearably aroused, his world was reduced to the deep understanding that everything that mattered started and ended with Orlando.
A choked moan wrenched from him; he neither controlled nor heard it.
The blows stopped. The echoes of the brush cracking down on Viggo’s flesh seemed to ring in the sudden silence.
Leaving Viggo’s arms bound, Orlando grasped his lover’s body, twisting Viggo to his side and crushing their chests together. He slipped a hand beneath Viggo to tangle in his hair, pulling backward to lick at the salty essence of Viggo’s exposed skin. He wrapped a leg around Viggo’s thighs, further immobilizing him. Driven suddenly by the need to feel Viggo come completely undone, he grasped both of their cocks in his free hand and pumped hard, four, five times.
"Come for me, Viggo," he growled. "Give it to me now!"
Viggo gulped for air between staccato cries and he exploded into Orlando’s fist. Hot liquid pearl erupted over Orlando’s fingers, an intimate offering of submission, and Orlando followed Viggo into the rush, his incoherent shout muffled against Viggo’s arched throat.
They lay for a long minute, Viggo wrapped in Orlando’s embrace.
Gradually, Orlando realized that Viggo was shivering, his breath shaking out of him, eyes still tightly closed. He quickly reached to the nightstand for the small pair of scissors he’d thankfully thought to grab from the first aid kit. A few snips, and Viggo’s taped wrists were free of the bedpost. Orlando carefully moved Viggo’s arms to fold in front of his chest, briefly rubbing them to reduce any stiffness he might be feeling.
As soon as he’d cut the tape that bound Viggo’s wrists together, he drew the blanket over them.
"Baby?" he said softly, stroking Viggo’s face. "Come back to me now."
Viggo didn’t speak, didn’t open his eyes, so lost in intense bliss that he barely understood Orlando’s words. He managed to curl into Orlando and bury his face against against him. Orlando wrapped Viggo in his arms and gently lay back with him.
"Alright, love. You take your time. I’m right here; not going anywhere."
Stroking Viggo’s hair, his skin, wherever he could reach, Orlando murmured to his lover, easing him from the intensity of their experience and soothing him the way only they could for each other. Orlando whispered how beautiful Viggo was, how much he loved him, how they would stay there all night, safe together.
At some point Viggo drifted from the high of endorphin-laden orgasm to a light, restful sleep. When he awoke, the candles had burned low and Orlando was gazing down at him, still stroking him softly, still cradling him. Viggo stirred and lifted his head, kissing and licking Orlando's skin softly before settling down again, pillowed on his lover’s chest, smiling as he drifted back to sleep.
They could talk tomorrow.
- tbc -
Author:
stormatduskPairing: V/O
Beta: None for this part
Rating: Adult
Warnings: BDSM
Disclaimer: This is only fiction.
This is part 2 of the prequel to the drabble "Forgiveness". It picks up directly from part 1, just posted.
"Vig. Give me your hands."
Viggo’s gaze shifted from the ceiling as Orlando’s voice interrupted his faraway thoughts.
"Not tired, babe? You getting up?" he asked.
"Viggo," Orlando said again, still very quietly. "Give me your hands."
Viggo set his hands onto Orlando’s upturned palms. Orlando lifted them to his lips, pressing a firm kiss to the knuckles. Viggo looked up in confusion as Orlando began wrapping a strip of white tape very deliberately around Viggo’s right wrist.
"What are …"
The question died on his lips at the sight of Orlando’s face, his brows drawn in determination. Barely breathing, Viggo stared in mute fascination as Orlando made several passes around the wrist, then the other, trapping them together. Orlando’s eyes met Viggo’s, arresting him with their intensity.
"I want you to trust me. Will you do that?"
Throat suddenly dry, Viggo swallowed. Then he nodded, twice.
He felt Orlando turn him gently onto his stomach and stretch his arms above his head, guiding his bound hands up and taping them securely to the bedpost. A tug at his bonds confirmed his predicament and sent a jolt of adrenaline through Viggo’s rapidly tensing body.
Orlando drew a warm hand slowly along a tense shoulder, down the supple muscles near Viggo’s spine, over the masculine curve of buttock. Over and over, he repeated the long strokes, smoothing away the tension as if rubbing down a nervous stallion.
Unable to return the caresses, Viggo became hyperaware of his surroundings. The coolness of the night air enfolded him; the tape at his wrists bit seductively into his skin. He was aware of feeling in a way he’d never been before - the pounding of his own pulse, the texture of Orlando’s palm, every nuance in the pressure of Orlando’s fingers as they asserted gentle dominance – all his senses came alive.
Orlando’s touch skated slowly over Viggo’s cleft, but did not linger. Though they’d so recently made love, Viggo felt his trapped cock responding to Orlando’s focus, and shifted his hips to relieve some of the pressure.
Orlando continued the long, slow strokes, infusing every inch of flesh with heat. Viggo let his forehead drop to the mattress. He sighed as he felt himself gradually relax under his lover’s talented hands.
A loud crack rang out, an obscene disturbance in the quiet.
Viggo jerked in his bonds, as much startled by the sound as by the impact of the polished wood on his ass. Eyes wide, he froze. His mind raced, the anxiety of recent weeks immediately hijacking his thoughts. What was Orlando thinking? Had Viggo missed some signal that his lover had wanted to experiment this way? Was Orlando bored with their sex life?
Viggo’s whirling uncertainty was almost palpable, and Orlando knew that the sensitive man was already despairing that he might have failed Orlando in some way.
Orlando watched the back of Viggo’s head for his reaction, waiting for outrage or protest. Except for the quickened breathing of his bound victim, the room was still.
Orlando allowed his eyes to be drawn to the perfect rosy print already forming on Viggo’s cheek. He reached out, mesmerized for a moment, but stopped himself. He was doing this for Viggo. He could think about his own reactions later.
He recommitted himself to his task, more certain than ever that he could help Viggo let go.
Another sharp crack, and Viggo’s thoughts scattered, dried leaves scrambling wildly before an approaching storm. Another blow fell, and another, each not truly painful on its own, but steadily warming Viggo’s skin and stealing his breath away. Viggo’s surprised gasps intermingled with low grunts, and tendrils of lust snaked into his belly. After a dozen more blows, Viggo’s ass glowed pink and his breath gusted out of him.
Orlando dropped the brush and squeezed his own leaking cock, determined to maintain his focus on Viggo’s needs. He leaned over his lover’s body and cradled Viggo’s forehead with one hand.
“Talk to me, baby,” came the insistent voice next to Viggo’s ear.
Viggo pressed his face against Orlando, straining for that moment of connection. “Don’t… don’t stop,” he managed to rasp.
A passionate press of lips to Viggo’s temple, and Orlando straightened, picked up the brush, and raised his arm once again. He quickened his pace, and the blows came harder. Forehead pressing down between his outstretched arms, Viggo’s hips rocked into the mattress in a primeval rhythm. A barely-there voice at the back of Viggo’s consciousness wondered at his arousal, and was quickly incinerated by the rising passion Orlando was thrusting upon him.
A few minutes more and thought, worry - everything except here and now - fell away. Viggo was aware only of the fire on his ass and the insistent ache in his groin. Nothing else existed outside of this moment. Overwhelmed, unbearably aroused, his world was reduced to the deep understanding that everything that mattered started and ended with Orlando.
A choked moan wrenched from him; he neither controlled nor heard it.
The blows stopped. The echoes of the brush cracking down on Viggo’s flesh seemed to ring in the sudden silence.
Leaving Viggo’s arms bound, Orlando grasped his lover’s body, twisting Viggo to his side and crushing their chests together. He slipped a hand beneath Viggo to tangle in his hair, pulling backward to lick at the salty essence of Viggo’s exposed skin. He wrapped a leg around Viggo’s thighs, further immobilizing him. Driven suddenly by the need to feel Viggo come completely undone, he grasped both of their cocks in his free hand and pumped hard, four, five times.
"Come for me, Viggo," he growled. "Give it to me now!"
Viggo gulped for air between staccato cries and he exploded into Orlando’s fist. Hot liquid pearl erupted over Orlando’s fingers, an intimate offering of submission, and Orlando followed Viggo into the rush, his incoherent shout muffled against Viggo’s arched throat.
They lay for a long minute, Viggo wrapped in Orlando’s embrace.
Gradually, Orlando realized that Viggo was shivering, his breath shaking out of him, eyes still tightly closed. He quickly reached to the nightstand for the small pair of scissors he’d thankfully thought to grab from the first aid kit. A few snips, and Viggo’s taped wrists were free of the bedpost. Orlando carefully moved Viggo’s arms to fold in front of his chest, briefly rubbing them to reduce any stiffness he might be feeling.
As soon as he’d cut the tape that bound Viggo’s wrists together, he drew the blanket over them.
"Baby?" he said softly, stroking Viggo’s face. "Come back to me now."
Viggo didn’t speak, didn’t open his eyes, so lost in intense bliss that he barely understood Orlando’s words. He managed to curl into Orlando and bury his face against against him. Orlando wrapped Viggo in his arms and gently lay back with him.
"Alright, love. You take your time. I’m right here; not going anywhere."
Stroking Viggo’s hair, his skin, wherever he could reach, Orlando murmured to his lover, easing him from the intensity of their experience and soothing him the way only they could for each other. Orlando whispered how beautiful Viggo was, how much he loved him, how they would stay there all night, safe together.
At some point Viggo drifted from the high of endorphin-laden orgasm to a light, restful sleep. When he awoke, the candles had burned low and Orlando was gazing down at him, still stroking him softly, still cradling him. Viggo stirred and lifted his head, kissing and licking Orlando's skin softly before settling down again, pillowed on his lover’s chest, smiling as he drifted back to sleep.
They could talk tomorrow.
- tbc -
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