vigorli

Title: The Wank ~ Complete

Author:

willowwing

Pairing: Viggorli

Summary: Orlando doesn’t use proper wanking etiquette.

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Well – self pleasure and voyeurism, sort of…

Beta:

tularia

Disclaimer: This story is fiction, which means it is absolutely not true anywhere except for the dark recesses of my mind where the plot bunnies breed with the dust bunnies. I make no claims as to the sexuality of any of the characters and make no money.

Part One ~ Viggo’s POV
by Willowwing

Slam. The door closed behind the last non-fellowship cast member as they left the impromptu party. Orlando was roused out of his drunken stupor, squinting in the direction of the front door as he attempted to focus his eyes. “What the fuck? Someone mad?” he slurred.

“Nah, I finally got around to oiling the door. Everybody still thinks they have to slam it to get it to shut. You should sit on the swing out front and watch their reactions when it swings easily and slams. Bloody funny actually,” Billy tossed out from his position sprawled on the couch with his head in Dominic’s lap. Merry and Pippin were completely inseparable on and off the set. When questioned about it, they simply claimed they were staying in character because it was less effort than switching back and forth. Rumors had abounded, but they had never been caught being anything more than platonic.

“Humph. To much effort,” the Elf muttered before letting his head drop back onto his crossed arms on the dining room table.

Viggo strolled into the room from the kitchen, a fresh beer in his hand and Sean right behind him. Looking around he took in the pile of Elf at the table, the mound of hobbit on the couch, Elijah poking at the CD player, and Ian and John on opposite sides of the chess set. “Everybody else leave?” he asked to no one in particular.

“We’re not our usual energetic bunch tonight. I think they moved on to a more happening location,” Ian threw out without looking away from the board.

“It’s been a bloody hard week,” John chimed in. Viggo wasn’t sure whether he was supporting Ian’s statement or defending his lack of energy.

Viggo shrugged and settled into the chair farthest from the speakers. If Elijah was in charge of the stereo, it paid to be safe. Sean moved a chair from the table over to the chess set to kibitz. He didn’t play chess, but he loved to give advice.

The American actor’s eyes settled on Orlando. The younger man had been acting like a kicked puppy all week and it had culminated in him getting completely blasted as soon as Peter had called filming for the day. Orlando’s energy was a big part of what had been missing from tonight’s party. Viggo knew that his girl friend had left him and moved back to England but hadn’t had a chance to actually talk to him about it. He could offer a friendly ear or a shoulder to cry on.

Getting to his feet, Viggo placed his beer on a nearby coaster and walked towards their miserable Elf. Placing his hands on Orli’s shoulders, he leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Come on, mellonen. Let’s get you home.”

Orlando looked over his shoulder, his eyes immediately softening as he recognized Viggo. “Party over?” he asked.

“For us it is. Where’s your coat?”

Orlando’s brow furrowed as he pondered. “Didn’t bring one. It was warm this afternoon when I came over.”

“Well it’s downright chilly now, so here take this to keep you warm,” Viggo pulled his flannel shirt off and draped it around Orlando’s narrow shoulders. “You don’t have enough fat on you to keep a flea warm.”

“Hey,” Orlando protested, stopping immediately as the warmth and scent of Viggo’s body enveloped him.

Viggo pulled the young Brit to his feet and guided him towards the door. He had stayed sober, knowing that as least one person would need a ride home. Looking over to where Sean and John had started a lively argument about the general merits of stage vs. film, he thought he might need to swing back around after dropping Orli off to make sure Sean got home okay.

The Elf immediately curled up against the door of Viggo’s car and fell back to sleep. Viggo reached across the seat and belted him in. They only had a couple of blocks to go and he was more afraid of Orlando falling out when he opened the door than any danger of crash.

Orlando snuffled sleepily and shifted in the seat. “Mmmm… where’r we goin, Vigs?” he mumbled.

“I’m taking you home,” Viggo informed his wasted co-star indulgently.

“Home with you?”

Viggo looked over, but Orlando’s eyes were still closed, lending the illusion that he was sleeping even though he was carrying on a conversation. “Well, I’d planned on taking you to your home, but I guess we can go to mine.”

“Mmmm… good.” Orlando yawned. “Don’t much like my place anymore. Too empty and she took all the bloody movies and most of my CDs.”

“That sucks,” Viggo commiserated.

“A bloke wouldn’t do you wrong like…”

Viggo waited for Orlando to finish his sentence, but as the pause grew longer, he decided that the Elf had truly fallen back to sleep.

~~~~~

Viggo pulled to a stop in front of his rental house and shook Orlando’s shoulder gently. “Come on, sleeping beauty. Time to go to bed.”

Orlando let out a stuttered snore and Viggo rolled his eyes. Walking around the car, he opened the door, releasing the belt and letting the Orlando fall into his arms. “Ooofff. God, you’re heavy for an Elf,” Viggo complained, getting his co-star half on his feet and half draped against his body.

They stumbled their way through the door and down the hall. Viggo hesitated outside the spare bedroom, but he’d been painting in there earlier and knew the room would reek of paint fumes. He didn’t need Orlando any higher than he already was. He continued down the hall to his bedroom.

Pulling off his guest’s shoes, socks and jeans, Viggo rolled him under the covers and went to the kitchen for a double shot of scotch. Now that he was safely home, he needed a drink. Stopping at the door, he stared at the lanky young man snuggling into his bed and sighed.

~~~~~

Viggo lay still in the early morning hours just before dawn and listened to Orlando breathing next to him. It wasn’t the first time he and the younger Brit had been forced to share a room or even a bed. Odd filming locations and late night parties had landed them in this situation several times before, but with each occurrence, it got harder and harder to keep his hands to himself. His attraction for his much-too-young co-star was not a secret. In fact, even Orlando knew about it.

Orlando desired him too, or at least, he claimed to. Viggo felt his age and extreme circumstances made his opinions mute. He knew for certain that a relationship between them would be disastrous to his heart and Orlando’s future. The younger man’s burgeoning career needed time to gestate and grow before he ran the risk of either publicly coming out or being involuntarily outed by loose lips or paparazzi pictures,

A subtle sound stopped Viggo’s wandering thoughts. There it was again, a definite hitch in Orlando’s breathing. The next change in breath pattern was followed by an almost inaudible moan. “Fuck, Orlando, are you wanking?” Viggo exclaimed before his brain could lasso his mouth and prevent the statement. He didn’t really want confirmation of the image now firmly embedded in his mind.

“Oh fuck yeah… and it feels bloody marvelous. Wanna help?” Orlando groaned, his knees pulling up and tenting the blankets on the bed before falling open in a wanton sprawl. Viggo could see the pleasure-seeking pose behind his closed eyelids and he desperately wanted to crawl between those spread legs and really teach the kid them meaning of the word, “pleasure.”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you proper wanking etiquette?” Viggo asked, more horrified at his own body’s reaction to the idea than the fact that Orlando was actually doing it. “You just don’t do this. I’m lying right beside you, talking to you, for fuck’s sake.”

Orlando groaned again and Viggo couldn’t help but open his eyes and take in every nuance of the gorgeous young man’s appearance, his head pressing forcefully back into the soft pillows as his back arched in pleasure, the sheen of moisture dampening his skin, the flush of arousal covering his face and torso, and the repeated moistening of pink lips.

“Oh God, Viggo,” Orlando sighed. “Why do you think I’m wanking? Fuck, talk to me. I don’t care if you recite script changes. I’m so close and your voice…” Orlando’s voice trailed off.

Viggo couldn’t resist a plea like that. Not from Orlando. Rolling onto his side, he whispered near Orlando’s ear. English. Spanish. Danish. All the things he’d been holding back, but desperately wanted to say poured from his lips.

Screaming, Orlando arched off the bed, coming hard over his hand, his body convulsing until every soft brush of his own fingers prompted a soft mewl. Pulling his hand out from under the covers, he wiped it on the boxers he’d shed before Viggo woke, tossing them to the floor.

Fuck, now what, Viggo thought frantically.

“Now we quit ignoring what’s between us,” Orlando answered, rolling into the curve of Viggo’s body and nuzzling into his neck.

Viggo looked down at the comfortably sleeping man in his arms. Guess I said that out loud, he thought, being sure to keep his lips still. I wonder if he’s even going to remember this in the morning.

Part Two ~ Orlando’s POV
by Ariel Tachna

The morning after the night before...

Orlando woke with a moan, screwing his eyes shut against the light streaming in the window. He’d had way too much to drink last night if the state of his head was any indication. Muffling a sigh, he slid his hand down his body to take care of his morning hard-on, only to find himself soft. What the hell? he thought before memories came rushing back to him. Memories of coming home with Viggo, of Viggo undressing him and tucking him in bed, of waking up next to Viggo during the night. The warmth of the beloved body was more than he could stand. He’d shed his boxers and taken himself in hand, imagining Viggo’s hand instead, as he always did, except that this time, Viggo was lying next to him, the Ranger’s scent surrounding him.

“Fuck, Orlando, are you wanking?” Viggo had demanded, waking up. Too aroused and too drunk to care, Orlando had continued, replying honestly. “Oh, fuck yeah… and it feels bloody marvelous. Wanna help?” Those words had escaped before he could stop them, but he wasn’t about to call them back, not after months of dreaming. He pulled his legs up and open, one hand sliding between them to palm his bollocks before moving lower to play with the puckered entrance while the other formed a tight canal for him to thrust into.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you proper wanking etiquette? You just don't do this. I'm lying right beside you, talking to you, for fuck's sake,” Viggo had said, his husky voice doing unspeakable things to Orlando’s body.

"Oh God, Viggo," he gasped. "Why do you think I'm wanking? Fuck, talk to me. I don't care if you recite script changes. I'm so close and your voice…" Viggo’s voice was Orlando’s secret fantasy. He kept a copy of Recent Forgeries in his CD player so he could listen to it at night as he jacked off. Even when he was too tired to wank, he still played it, letting the sound of his obsession’s voice ease the tension of the day and lull him to sleep.

He hadn’t really expected Viggo to accept the invitation. If anything, he expected Viggo to tell him to sod off. What he got was an incomprehensible mixture of languages that sent him right over the edge. He came hard, screaming Viggo’s name. He was drifting back off to sleep when he heard Viggo mutter, “Fuck, now what?”

"Now we quit ignoring what's between us," Orlando replied, though he knew he was too tired and strung out to have that conversation. Instead, he’d curled up against Viggo and fallen back asleep.

He’d curled up against Viggo and fallen back asleep. But Viggo wasn’t here now, which meant he was somewhere in the house, brooding over what had happened last night. “Shit,” he muttered, dragging his eyes open, squinting balefully at the over-bright sunshine. Scanning the room, he found the jeans he’d been wearing last night. He pulled them on and stumbled toward the kitchen, in search of Viggo and caffeine, not necessarily in that order.

He found the coffeemaker on and hot, so Viggo hadn’t been gone for long, but there was no sign of the missing artist. Rubbing his hands over his face, Orlando sighed. He refused to let Viggo run from this any longer, not when the Ranger clearly felt something in return. He wouldn’t have whispered so passionately last night if he didn’t.

“Viggo!” he shouted finally. “Quit hiding and come talk to me!”

Part Three ~ The Conclusion
by Ariel Tachna & Willowwing

Viggo winced as Orlando’s voice boomed through the house. He’d been sitting in the spare bedroom that he used primarily as a studio, but he wasn’t working. All he seemed capable of doing was standing and staring out of the window, watching the sunrise and thinking of Orlando. The echoes of his cry as he’d come still rang in his ears. Taking a deep breath, he called, “In here.”

“In where?” Orlando called, walking toward the sound of Viggo’s voice. Even those neutral words, as innocent as they should have been, were enough to send shivers down Orlando’s back as he thought of the night before when so many of his fantasies had come true. With something like luck, it wouldn’t be long before the rest of them came true as well.

“The second bedro…” Viggo shouted, opening the door and slamming chest first into Orlando. His arms went instinctively around the slender form to keep them both from falling.

Orlando’s arms closed around Viggo immediately, not giving the artist a chance to pull back. “Hi,” he said, rubbing against his hopefully soon-to-be lover.

Viggo bit his lip, his body immediately responding to the warm, sleepy smell of Orlando’s body. “Uhm… hi,” he said, trying to step back from the unintentional embrace.

“You weren’t in bed this morning,” Orlando pointed out redundantly, determined to have this conversation and resolve things between them once and for all. “I missed you.”

Viggo had hoped that Orlando had been too drunk to remember their midnight encounter, but Orlando’s words shattered that dream. “Orli, we’ve talked about this… this…” He motioned vaguely with his hand. “…this attraction between us before. We decided that it was best for us and the film if we didn’t act on it. Last night, you were drunk and I shouldn’t have brought you home with me.”

“Yes, I was drunk,” Orlando admitted, “but you weren’t, and you reacted last night. You talked to me, you participated, too. Maybe your hands weren’t on me, but you made love to me last night, Viggo, as surely as if you’d touched me. Don’t you dare deny that!”

Viggo felt a tightening low in his groin as Orlando’s words brought images of last night flooding back to his mind. “I can’t deny that… I wouldn’t. I’ll cherish my memory of last night, but nothing has changed. We are still co-stars with many months left of filming and on-set romances are never a good idea.”

“Why not?” Orlando demanded. “I want you. You want me. You made me come harder last night than I ever have without even touching me. Can you imagine what it would be like to make love for real? Can you, Viggo, because sometimes it feels like I can’t think about anything else? You worry about a romance interfering with our performances. I worry about the lack of romance interfering with mine.”

Viggo silently acknowledged the truth to that statement. He found his own wandering thoughts about Orlando claiming his attention during filming more and more. Orlando’s admission that Viggo’s words had affected him so deeply released the tenuous hold Viggo’d had on his control. Stepping closer he caught Orlando between his body and the doorframe. One hand rose to gently caress his cheek as Viggo’s eyes shifted all over his face, settling again and again on his lips. “Yes, I’ve imagined it,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.

Orlando leaned against the doorjamb, letting the wood support his weight as he gazed up at Viggo unwaveringly. “Then maybe it’s time to do something about it,” he replied, leaning up to kiss the lips that had haunted his fantasies for months.

Viggo’s eyes drifted shut as he captured the back of Orlando’s head, pulling him deeper into the kiss, opening his mouth to taste what he’d been denying himself. His other hand curled around Orli’s hip, his fingers hooking in the belt loop of his jeans to draw their bodies closer.

Orlando relinquished control of the kiss the moment he knew Viggo was not going to pull away from him. He had what he wanted – Viggo’s hands and lips on his body. Now all he needed was to find a way to keep them there on a permanent basis. Determined to give as much pleasure as he was receiving, he ran his hands up Viggo’s back and back down again, closing over the tight globes of the artist’s arse.

Viggo moaned into Orlando’s mouth. Hands dropping to mirror the placement of Orlando’s, he lifted, fitting their bodies together. “Hold on,” he rasped, boosting Orlando higher until his legs left the ground entirely to circle Viggo’s hips. In two strides, he had them to the bed, dropping Orlando on his back and following him down.

“Always,” Orlando replied, his hands sliding up Viggo’s bare back, pulling his head down so their mouths met again. His fingers tangled in the Ranger’s shaggy hair, holding tight, determined to finally have his dreams come true. He flicked his tongue across Viggo’s lips, tasting, exploring, resolutely trying to drive the other man wild.

Pressing Orlando deeper into the mattress, Viggo’s hands roamed freely over the lithely muscled arms and chest, his fingers grazing the large, dark nipples that had always fascinated him. His mouth moved from Orlando’s lips to his ear and down, his teeth teasing the skin as he moved towards the nubs he needed to taste.

Orlando’s back arched into the coveted touch, his breath escaping in needy gasps. “Please,” he begged shamelessly, too caught up in the magic of Viggo’s mouth, the reality of finally having this long-desired touch to care how he sounded. “Oh, god, please!”

Viggo began whispering against the smooth skin, his endearments a conglomeration of languages and feelings held inside for too long. He licked and sucked at the first nipple, reveling in the arch of Orlando’s back. Scraping the soft whiskers of his beard over the sensitized peak, he moved towards its twin.

Eager to reciprocate, Orlando slid a hand between their bodies, seeking Viggo’s nubs, tweaking them lightly, asking wordlessly for more of his lover’s attention.

Viggo bit slightly harder than he intended as Orlando’s bow roughened fingers twisted his nipples. “Fuck, baby.” His forehead fell forward onto Orlando’s shoulder. “Having your hands on me.” Reaching up, he pulled their mouths together for a long, deep kiss.

Orlando returned the kiss eagerly, the thought that Viggo wanted his hands an incredible aphrodisiac. He slid his hands lower, finding the button on the other man’s jeans, sliding his hands inside to stroke the hard flesh he hoped to be more intimately acquainted with, the sooner the better.

Viggo chuckled, rolling to his side to grant Orlando easier access. “Impatient little whelp.”

“I’ve waited six months to touch you. I don’t think that qualifies as impatient,” Orlando retorted, starting to stroke Viggo’s cock. He rolled onto his side, his body following his lover’s, not wanting any distance between them.

Viggo laughed again. "Guess not, but I get to touch too," he said reaching for Orlando's jeans. Flipping open the button, he easily pushed the over-sized pants off his hips, watching as Orlando wiggled to remove them completely. Almost reverently, he slid his hands up the smooth, bare thighs, fingers sinking into the coarse curls at the base of Orlando’s cock… massaging… watching as the young man squirmed for a more substantial touch.

“Touch all you want,” Orlando gasped, his hips arching forward in a silent plea. Eagerly, he tightened his grip, caressing Viggo as he had caressed himself the night before. This was infinitely preferable!

Biting his lip as Orlando’s hands caressed him, Viggo wondered how he’d ever thought this was a bad idea. “I’m not sure I can take this slow,” he warned, kicking out of his own jeans. Grabbing Orlando’s hips, he rocked their erections together until his thigh started to tremble with the effort to stave off his climax. Rolling onto his back, he settled the younger man between his thighs.

“I don’t need slow,” Orlando promised. “I just need you.” He moved at Viggo’s urging until he was lying atop his lover, his legs rubbing along the fur-dusted inside faces of the Ranger’s. He ground down against Viggo’s erection, sending shockwaves through both of them. “Lube?” he asked hopefully.

Viggo shook his head to try and clear his mind enough to focus on Orlando’s words as well as his body. “Lube? Oh, fuck!” Turning to his side with his lover still caught between his legs, he stretched to reach the drawer in the bedside table. He winced slightly as something crashed to the floor, but couldn’t be bothered to find out what he’d destroyed. Triumphantly, he dropped a small bottle and an unopened box between them.

Orlando picked up the tube and smeared his fingers with the slippery gel. Pushing up on one elbow, he slid his fingers down to Viggo’s cock, smearing the lube across it before tracing his fingers lower. “What do you want?” he purred. “Shall I prepare myself for you, or would you rather I prepare you?” As he spoke, he pulsed one finger insistently against the tight ring.

Viggo let his thighs fall open in invitation. “You’re younger than I am. You do the work,” he teased.

Orlando’s groin tightened, his fingers pressing harder against the furled portal. “Let me in then,” he urged, the tip of one long digit sliding inside.

With a soft sigh, Viggo’s body yielded. Forcing himself to take even breaths and relax, his hand ran restlessly over the smooth skin of Orlando’s back and hip. With each stroke, his tension dissipated, replaced by pleasure and that indefinable need for something more. Only in this case, he knew exactly what he needed – Orlando. Speaking softly, he called his lover’s name. Catching the deep coffee eyes, he said, “Kiss me.”

“Any time you want,” Orlando vowed, lowering his head to press his lips to his lover’s. His fingers continued their tender stretching as his tongue snaked out to tangle with Viggo’s. He could feel the tight muscles relaxing, giving in to his ministrations. The thought of being surrounded by such clinging heat sent shivers down his spine. “Need you now,” he gasped. “Are you ready?”

Viggo nodded, keeping their gazes locked as his lover moved above him. There was never any question of how they would come together… face to face… the perfect fit. When Orlando was joined to him completely, Viggo smiled, canting his hips slightly in encouragement. “So are you going to move or am I going to have to do the work after all?”

“Give me a minute,” Orlando requested, the sensation of being inside Viggo enough to strain his control. “Otherwise this’ll be over before we get started.” When he trusted himself, finally, he thrust gently, angling his hips in hopes of brushing the older man’s prostate.

Viggo’s eyes drifted closed as Orlando moved inside him, every stroke sending electric charges shooting throughout his body. “Oh fuck, baby…” He intended to say more, something about how much Orlando meant to him, how fucking close he was to coming, but coherent thought had abandoned him. Instead he curled a hand around Orlando’s neck and pulled him down for a deep kiss, trying to convey with his lips and tongue what he couldn’t with words.

The kiss and the desperate, gasping words shattered Orlando’s control. His hips snapped forward hard, driving his cock deeper into Viggo than he had yet gone. He pounded into the pliant body beneath him, trusting that the older man would tell him if it got to be too much. Feeling his climax building, he pulled back enough to reach between them and fist Viggo’s erection. “With me,” he pleaded.

Viggo grasped his cock just below Orlando’s hand, more worried about coming too soon. “Fuck, Orli… Oh, God, like that!” Their hands and bodies worked in unison as they raced towards completion. Viggo screamed, his body convulsing as he came hard enough to see stars, his hips pumping with each release.

All it took was his name on Viggo’s lips and the contraction of the snug sheath around his cock to send Orlando into a mind-blowing orgasm. Only when he lay sated against Viggo did he realize his mistake. “Oh, shit!” he cursed breathlessly. “I forgot the condom!”

Viggo tried not to laugh, but failed as his joy in the moment turned his chuckle into an all out belly laugh. Quickly holding Orlando to his chest as the young man started to pull away, he explained, “Orli, wait.” His laughter subsided to a goofy grin. “Since I haven’t had gay sex since 1979, I think we’re safe.”

“Nineteen seventy…” Orlando sputtered, his indignation turning into a chuckle. Then his face grew serious. “I wish you’d told me. I would have been more careful.” He lowered his head and nuzzled Viggo’s neck. “I’m falling in love with you,” he admitted softly, not sure if his revelation would be welcome or not, but he knew he had to say it, regardless of his lover’s reaction.

Viggo hooked Orlando’s chin with his finger, raising Orlando’s eyes to meet his. Pouring all the emotion he’d been holding back for so long into his gaze, he brushed a calloused thumb over his lover’s bottom lip. “What took you so long?”