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vigorliTitle: A Summer Place
Author: Ariel Tachna
Type: RPS
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Just sex
Disclaimer: I don’t know the actors. I just make up stories when I get bored. Any real places or historical figures are represented to the best of my knowledge and with nothing but the most profound respect.
Feedback: Please.
Beta: the irreplaceable namárië120
Summary: In protecting a local blacksmith from a murderer, overseer Viggo Mortensen meets the love of his life. Does he dare to claim that love for his own?
Banner by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mesnica
Chapter 9
They think they’re so smart, the sheriff and the sodomite, hiding him away where I can’t get to him. Don’t think I haven’t tried, but the camp is too busy now during the day, with the construction starting and more men arriving daily. I tried at night as well, but they set a watch, and the pervert shares a tent with three other men. How they sleep at night is beyond me, but perhaps they share his sickness. I can’t get at them right now any more than I can at him, but I will. They’ll have to leave the Manor grounds eventually and when they do, I’ll be ready.
It hasn’t been a wasted week, though, not entirely. Law had more than one associate on this island. Today there is one fewer. Bean tried to warn the bugger, but he wasn’t interested in what the sheriff had to say. Now he isn’t interested in anything.
He repented before he died, begging for his life, promising to give up his homosexuality and live a good life. I might have spared him if he had repented before I began, but a confession, a promise made under torture has no value.
With Leto gone, the time has come to try for the blacksmith again. Then I will see who else has been infected by their perversions.
***********
Sean stared down at the body. The young man lived in Eden, not in Bar Harbor, but his body had been found in Sean’s jurisdiction so it was his case. He had warned Jared Leto earlier in the week that Jude’s killer was almost certainly targeting Jude’s associates. He had not used the word lover, knowing how defensive the suggestion would probably make the man. Maybe he should have said it. Maybe Leto would have taken him more seriously if he had. He would never know.
With a sigh, he began the grisly process of making the corpse presentable enough to take to the mortician. The body was naked, bruised and bloodied, the gaping maw across the man’s neck clearly the cause of death. He could only guess that Leto had put up more of a fight than Law. Either that or the killer took his anger at not being able to get to Orlando out on this victim. Jude had not been beaten the way Jared clearly had been. The thought chilled him. He knew the signs of acceleration in a murderer, and he saw them here. Knowing his friend, his little brother, was also a target strengthened his resolve to find this bastard and stop him.
This clearing was not very different than the one where he had found Jude. The biggest difference was the state of the two bodies. The only marks on Jude’s body had been the blood on his throat and from his anus. Jared, though, was covered in bruises, his face, chest, and back showing signs of abuse. Sean wondered if the killer used the broomstick to hammer him before using it to rape him.
His eyes closed in fear and desperation, his imagination supplying all too easily images of Orlando in place of the dead man. Pushing aside those thoughts – he had a job to do, one that if he did right would keep those visions from materializing – he started quartering the clearing, searching for anything that might help him trace the killer.
He decided almost immediately that the culprit had not caught Jared there in the clearing. For one thing, the victim’s clothing was not in evidence, despite his naked state. Jude’s had been still at his house, along with evidence of a struggle. Sean imagined Leto’s would be the same way. Still, he would search the surrounding woods just to make sure.
He studied the few footprints he could find in the leaf-covered ground, trying to determine if he was dealing with one killer or a band. He wanted to believe it was only one man, but the degree of violence made him fear that his murderer had an accomplice. Law had been a slender man, not terribly muscular. It was relatively easy to imagine him succumbing to the strength of a single larger man. Leto, though, was a farmer and led a more active life. Unless he was unconscious, he should have put up a struggle, especially against just one man. He found no sign of a struggle in the clearing, though. If Leto had been conscious for the abuse inflicted on him, he had been bound or it had happened elsewhere.
Returning to the body, he flipped it over, studying the ground beneath it. There was no puddle of blood there. Wherever the murder had taken place, this was not it. The placement of the body was deliberate then, a ploy to catch his attention. The killer was baiting him, reminding him of his relative helplessness.
Deciding he had learned all he could from the scene, he gently pulled the broomstick from Leto’s body – the town did not need those details – and lifted him into the wagon to take into town. He would go by Leto’s house later and see if he could learn anything else, either from the state of his home or from his neighbors, but he was not hopeful. No one had seen anything when Law was killed. This, he feared, would be no different.
********************
Tired after another long day but pleased with all he had accomplished, Orlando returned to the tent he continued to share with the crew bosses for a clean shirt and pants. Johnny had rigged several outdoor showers, one the workmen could use to clean up and one that the three crew bosses and the overseer used. They had offered to let him use it as well so that he would not have to share with the general crew whose tolerance for his homosexuality was only minimal. The water was no warmer than the pump since it came from the same well, but the enclosure guaranteed some privacy and the spray of water offered a better bath than the pump. Of course, he regretted his wooden bathtub on the hearth at home, where he could heat the water and soak away the tension that built in his shoulders from the hard work at the forge, but he would have to wait for Sean to catch Jude’s killer before he could enjoy that luxury again.
Stripping down, he turned on the water and stepped beneath it long enough to wet himself thoroughly. Later, when the temperature rose, he would enjoy standing under the spray of cold water. For now, though, he moved away from it as quickly as he could. Grabbing the bar of soap, he worked up a lather and began running the washrag over his sweaty skin. As he cleaned up, his thoughts drifted back over the last week. He had honestly not believed Viggo when the overseer said he would fire anyone who harassed Orlando. That disbelief had lasted all of a day.
Two days after his arrival on the island, Viggo had started assembling a crew, many of them men he clearly knew from years past. Orlando recognized some of them as other islanders from the nearby towns. Others, he did not know. He overheard snatches of conversation over the course of the day and knew that Jude’s murder was on everyone’s minds. Most of the men were suitably horrified that someone on the small island had been killed, a sentiment Orlando echoed silently every time he heard it expressed. One man, though – Orlando did not know his name – had been quite voluble in his disgust for the entire situation and had adamantly condemned Jude and anyone involved with him. The man had made the mistake of appealing to others around him for support in his argument, becoming so effusive that he drew the overseer’s attention. Viggo had asked what was going on and been told. Calmly, he had asked the other man if he could contain his animosity enough to work with one of the deceased’s associates. At the vitriolic refusal, Viggo’s face had hardened slightly, but enough that Orlando had picked up on it. The overseer picked up the employment rolls he kept and crossed out the man’s name.
“You’re entitled to your opinion,” he had told the other man, “but you need to find another job for the summer. I won’t have you, or anyone, bringing conflict onto my site.”
The man had spluttered defensively, but Viggo was implacable. Eventually, the fired man had no choice but to leave. Orlando only hoped he would bow out with good grace and not make matters worse. Even so, the memory warmed him as he fought the rise of gooseflesh from a cool breeze. Viggo had not been obliged to fire the other man, one he had hired in the past. The overseer could have left Orlando to fight his own battles when they came and suffer the scorn of the crew in silence. Instead, he had defended the blacksmith and guaranteed his ability to work in peace. Even more interesting had been the conversation his three new friends had in their tent that evening.
“I’m glad Mr. Mortensen sent Farrell packing,” Karl commented. “He always had something to say. He never crossed the line before today, but he wasn’t an easy man to work with.”
“You, too?” Eric asked, surprised. “I thought it was just me he irritated.”
Both Karl and Johnny laughed. “Why didn’t we figure this out years ago and ask Mr. Mortensen to get rid of him?” Johnny wanted to know.
“He’d do that?” Orlando inquired curiously.
Johnny nodded. “He takes our advice seriously. The final decision is his, but if all three of us had gone to him with problems from the same man, he would have reconsidered the man’s employment. It doesn’t happen often, but we’ve gotten a few people dismissed in the past. Usually, it’s for drunkenness or dangerous conduct, and it’s usually a pattern before we take it to him, but he trusts us. That’s why we’re crew bosses.”
He had looked for an opportunity to speak with Viggo, to thank him, but the overseer remained determinedly elusive, so much that Orlando wondered if the man was deliberately avoiding him. If so, it was subtly done, Viggo making a point of eating with a different group of men each noon and night so he could stay abreast of all the work on the site and all the undercurrents that ran between the different groups. Orlando respected that and had not tried to impose, biding his time and hoping an occasion would arise. So far, the only time it had was when the overseer came to the forge with a request for something. Those moments, though, were brief and all business, something ineffable setting a tone that did not engender any kind of personal conversation.
Despite Viggo’s aloofness, Orlando caught the overseer watching him. Not obviously, but definitely keeping an eye on him. He knew those lingering glances could have a hundred different explanations, none of them related to anything other than work, but they gave Orlando hope nonetheless, because every once in a while, he would surprise a look of more than professional interest on Viggo’s face.
That hope had fueled his hypnagogic adventures, his imagination throwing up again and again the image of Viggo’s bare torso as he bathed the first day Orlando spent on the site. In his dreams, though, he did not stop at looking. Karl and Johnny were unsurprisingly absent in those nocturnal fantasies, and nothing kept Orlando from indulging himself, his hands exploring the solid planes of the overseer’s body, mapping every valley and plane. In his dreams, Viggo welcomed those touches and reciprocated enthusiastically.
Orlando groaned as those images, as vivid in his waking mind as they had been asleep, sent fresh desire sizzling through his body. He was grateful for the time alone to shower. Karl, Eric, and Johnny had long ago worked out a schedule that gave each man some private time in the shower they shared. It had been easy to work Orlando in as well, giving him the privacy he did not have in the tent at night to attend to the nagging ache that was his constant companion these days. His soapy hand slid down his torso to lather the curls around the base of his erection. Another low groan escaped as he closed his eyes and gave his imagination free rein.
His previous lovers had all been men like Jude, attractive in a boyishly pretty sort of way, slender and willowy rather than solid and strong, their bodies giving in to his so beautifully. He did not delude himself that Viggo would give the same way. No, the overseer was easily a match for Orlando’s strength as he had proven the night they met. Having felt the weight of the other man’s body atop his, Orlando found himself eager to repeat the experience, eager to know the other side of the equation. He closed his eyes and conjured the sensations that had stayed with him for the past week, Viggo’s strength pitted against his and winning, Viggo pinning him to the ground, moving over him, atop him.
Into him.
It only took a few strokes of his hand to relieve the tension that built predictably over the course of the day, the glimpses he caught of Viggo as he worked stoking the ever-burning fire in his belly. With a muffled groan, he spilled his seed onto the soft, wet loam, watching it mingle with the soap that had slid from his skin. Sighing at the lack of true satisfaction from the self-induced orgasm, Orlando turned on the shower again, washing away the soap and the evidence of his passion.
When he was clean, he shut off the water and began to dry off, wishing again that he were at home in front of his fireplace where he could relax and not feel constrained to dress again immediately if he was so inclined.
Relieved that another long day had ended, Viggo crossed the camp, towel in hand. He knew Eric and Karl would both shower after dinner and Johnny when he finished his watch. That had been their schedule for as long as they had worked for him, which meant the shower would be empty now, giving him time to clean up and relax a little before Mrs. Weaving rang the supper bell. Rubbing absently at the back of his neck to dispel the tension from the day, he pulled open the door to the shower enclosure and froze.
There, in front of him, was the embodiment of every fantasy he had allowed himself this past week. Orlando’s shoulders were as broad as he had imagined, skin dark enough, even after the long winter, to tell Viggo that the blacksmith preferred to go without a shirt in the summer. The solid torso tapered to a narrow waist and hips and the most beautiful heart-shaped bottom he had ever seen. His fingers itched to reach out and touch, to cup the firm globes and see if the skin was as soft as it looked. Orlando lifted a foot and bent to towel it dry, the movement parting the man’s nether cheeks and giving the overseer a glimpse of the bounty within. He must have made a sound because Orlando’s head turned and their eyes met.
“Mr. Mortensen.”
Author: Ariel Tachna
Type: RPS
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Just sex
Disclaimer: I don’t know the actors. I just make up stories when I get bored. Any real places or historical figures are represented to the best of my knowledge and with nothing but the most profound respect.
Feedback: Please.
Beta: the irreplaceable namárië120
Summary: In protecting a local blacksmith from a murderer, overseer Viggo Mortensen meets the love of his life. Does he dare to claim that love for his own?
Banner by
mesnicaChapter 9
They think they’re so smart, the sheriff and the sodomite, hiding him away where I can’t get to him. Don’t think I haven’t tried, but the camp is too busy now during the day, with the construction starting and more men arriving daily. I tried at night as well, but they set a watch, and the pervert shares a tent with three other men. How they sleep at night is beyond me, but perhaps they share his sickness. I can’t get at them right now any more than I can at him, but I will. They’ll have to leave the Manor grounds eventually and when they do, I’ll be ready.
It hasn’t been a wasted week, though, not entirely. Law had more than one associate on this island. Today there is one fewer. Bean tried to warn the bugger, but he wasn’t interested in what the sheriff had to say. Now he isn’t interested in anything.
He repented before he died, begging for his life, promising to give up his homosexuality and live a good life. I might have spared him if he had repented before I began, but a confession, a promise made under torture has no value.
With Leto gone, the time has come to try for the blacksmith again. Then I will see who else has been infected by their perversions.
***********
Sean stared down at the body. The young man lived in Eden, not in Bar Harbor, but his body had been found in Sean’s jurisdiction so it was his case. He had warned Jared Leto earlier in the week that Jude’s killer was almost certainly targeting Jude’s associates. He had not used the word lover, knowing how defensive the suggestion would probably make the man. Maybe he should have said it. Maybe Leto would have taken him more seriously if he had. He would never know.
With a sigh, he began the grisly process of making the corpse presentable enough to take to the mortician. The body was naked, bruised and bloodied, the gaping maw across the man’s neck clearly the cause of death. He could only guess that Leto had put up more of a fight than Law. Either that or the killer took his anger at not being able to get to Orlando out on this victim. Jude had not been beaten the way Jared clearly had been. The thought chilled him. He knew the signs of acceleration in a murderer, and he saw them here. Knowing his friend, his little brother, was also a target strengthened his resolve to find this bastard and stop him.
This clearing was not very different than the one where he had found Jude. The biggest difference was the state of the two bodies. The only marks on Jude’s body had been the blood on his throat and from his anus. Jared, though, was covered in bruises, his face, chest, and back showing signs of abuse. Sean wondered if the killer used the broomstick to hammer him before using it to rape him.
His eyes closed in fear and desperation, his imagination supplying all too easily images of Orlando in place of the dead man. Pushing aside those thoughts – he had a job to do, one that if he did right would keep those visions from materializing – he started quartering the clearing, searching for anything that might help him trace the killer.
He decided almost immediately that the culprit had not caught Jared there in the clearing. For one thing, the victim’s clothing was not in evidence, despite his naked state. Jude’s had been still at his house, along with evidence of a struggle. Sean imagined Leto’s would be the same way. Still, he would search the surrounding woods just to make sure.
He studied the few footprints he could find in the leaf-covered ground, trying to determine if he was dealing with one killer or a band. He wanted to believe it was only one man, but the degree of violence made him fear that his murderer had an accomplice. Law had been a slender man, not terribly muscular. It was relatively easy to imagine him succumbing to the strength of a single larger man. Leto, though, was a farmer and led a more active life. Unless he was unconscious, he should have put up a struggle, especially against just one man. He found no sign of a struggle in the clearing, though. If Leto had been conscious for the abuse inflicted on him, he had been bound or it had happened elsewhere.
Returning to the body, he flipped it over, studying the ground beneath it. There was no puddle of blood there. Wherever the murder had taken place, this was not it. The placement of the body was deliberate then, a ploy to catch his attention. The killer was baiting him, reminding him of his relative helplessness.
Deciding he had learned all he could from the scene, he gently pulled the broomstick from Leto’s body – the town did not need those details – and lifted him into the wagon to take into town. He would go by Leto’s house later and see if he could learn anything else, either from the state of his home or from his neighbors, but he was not hopeful. No one had seen anything when Law was killed. This, he feared, would be no different.
********************
Tired after another long day but pleased with all he had accomplished, Orlando returned to the tent he continued to share with the crew bosses for a clean shirt and pants. Johnny had rigged several outdoor showers, one the workmen could use to clean up and one that the three crew bosses and the overseer used. They had offered to let him use it as well so that he would not have to share with the general crew whose tolerance for his homosexuality was only minimal. The water was no warmer than the pump since it came from the same well, but the enclosure guaranteed some privacy and the spray of water offered a better bath than the pump. Of course, he regretted his wooden bathtub on the hearth at home, where he could heat the water and soak away the tension that built in his shoulders from the hard work at the forge, but he would have to wait for Sean to catch Jude’s killer before he could enjoy that luxury again.
Stripping down, he turned on the water and stepped beneath it long enough to wet himself thoroughly. Later, when the temperature rose, he would enjoy standing under the spray of cold water. For now, though, he moved away from it as quickly as he could. Grabbing the bar of soap, he worked up a lather and began running the washrag over his sweaty skin. As he cleaned up, his thoughts drifted back over the last week. He had honestly not believed Viggo when the overseer said he would fire anyone who harassed Orlando. That disbelief had lasted all of a day.
Two days after his arrival on the island, Viggo had started assembling a crew, many of them men he clearly knew from years past. Orlando recognized some of them as other islanders from the nearby towns. Others, he did not know. He overheard snatches of conversation over the course of the day and knew that Jude’s murder was on everyone’s minds. Most of the men were suitably horrified that someone on the small island had been killed, a sentiment Orlando echoed silently every time he heard it expressed. One man, though – Orlando did not know his name – had been quite voluble in his disgust for the entire situation and had adamantly condemned Jude and anyone involved with him. The man had made the mistake of appealing to others around him for support in his argument, becoming so effusive that he drew the overseer’s attention. Viggo had asked what was going on and been told. Calmly, he had asked the other man if he could contain his animosity enough to work with one of the deceased’s associates. At the vitriolic refusal, Viggo’s face had hardened slightly, but enough that Orlando had picked up on it. The overseer picked up the employment rolls he kept and crossed out the man’s name.
“You’re entitled to your opinion,” he had told the other man, “but you need to find another job for the summer. I won’t have you, or anyone, bringing conflict onto my site.”
The man had spluttered defensively, but Viggo was implacable. Eventually, the fired man had no choice but to leave. Orlando only hoped he would bow out with good grace and not make matters worse. Even so, the memory warmed him as he fought the rise of gooseflesh from a cool breeze. Viggo had not been obliged to fire the other man, one he had hired in the past. The overseer could have left Orlando to fight his own battles when they came and suffer the scorn of the crew in silence. Instead, he had defended the blacksmith and guaranteed his ability to work in peace. Even more interesting had been the conversation his three new friends had in their tent that evening.
“I’m glad Mr. Mortensen sent Farrell packing,” Karl commented. “He always had something to say. He never crossed the line before today, but he wasn’t an easy man to work with.”
“You, too?” Eric asked, surprised. “I thought it was just me he irritated.”
Both Karl and Johnny laughed. “Why didn’t we figure this out years ago and ask Mr. Mortensen to get rid of him?” Johnny wanted to know.
“He’d do that?” Orlando inquired curiously.
Johnny nodded. “He takes our advice seriously. The final decision is his, but if all three of us had gone to him with problems from the same man, he would have reconsidered the man’s employment. It doesn’t happen often, but we’ve gotten a few people dismissed in the past. Usually, it’s for drunkenness or dangerous conduct, and it’s usually a pattern before we take it to him, but he trusts us. That’s why we’re crew bosses.”
He had looked for an opportunity to speak with Viggo, to thank him, but the overseer remained determinedly elusive, so much that Orlando wondered if the man was deliberately avoiding him. If so, it was subtly done, Viggo making a point of eating with a different group of men each noon and night so he could stay abreast of all the work on the site and all the undercurrents that ran between the different groups. Orlando respected that and had not tried to impose, biding his time and hoping an occasion would arise. So far, the only time it had was when the overseer came to the forge with a request for something. Those moments, though, were brief and all business, something ineffable setting a tone that did not engender any kind of personal conversation.
Despite Viggo’s aloofness, Orlando caught the overseer watching him. Not obviously, but definitely keeping an eye on him. He knew those lingering glances could have a hundred different explanations, none of them related to anything other than work, but they gave Orlando hope nonetheless, because every once in a while, he would surprise a look of more than professional interest on Viggo’s face.
That hope had fueled his hypnagogic adventures, his imagination throwing up again and again the image of Viggo’s bare torso as he bathed the first day Orlando spent on the site. In his dreams, though, he did not stop at looking. Karl and Johnny were unsurprisingly absent in those nocturnal fantasies, and nothing kept Orlando from indulging himself, his hands exploring the solid planes of the overseer’s body, mapping every valley and plane. In his dreams, Viggo welcomed those touches and reciprocated enthusiastically.
Orlando groaned as those images, as vivid in his waking mind as they had been asleep, sent fresh desire sizzling through his body. He was grateful for the time alone to shower. Karl, Eric, and Johnny had long ago worked out a schedule that gave each man some private time in the shower they shared. It had been easy to work Orlando in as well, giving him the privacy he did not have in the tent at night to attend to the nagging ache that was his constant companion these days. His soapy hand slid down his torso to lather the curls around the base of his erection. Another low groan escaped as he closed his eyes and gave his imagination free rein.
His previous lovers had all been men like Jude, attractive in a boyishly pretty sort of way, slender and willowy rather than solid and strong, their bodies giving in to his so beautifully. He did not delude himself that Viggo would give the same way. No, the overseer was easily a match for Orlando’s strength as he had proven the night they met. Having felt the weight of the other man’s body atop his, Orlando found himself eager to repeat the experience, eager to know the other side of the equation. He closed his eyes and conjured the sensations that had stayed with him for the past week, Viggo’s strength pitted against his and winning, Viggo pinning him to the ground, moving over him, atop him.
Into him.
It only took a few strokes of his hand to relieve the tension that built predictably over the course of the day, the glimpses he caught of Viggo as he worked stoking the ever-burning fire in his belly. With a muffled groan, he spilled his seed onto the soft, wet loam, watching it mingle with the soap that had slid from his skin. Sighing at the lack of true satisfaction from the self-induced orgasm, Orlando turned on the shower again, washing away the soap and the evidence of his passion.
When he was clean, he shut off the water and began to dry off, wishing again that he were at home in front of his fireplace where he could relax and not feel constrained to dress again immediately if he was so inclined.
Relieved that another long day had ended, Viggo crossed the camp, towel in hand. He knew Eric and Karl would both shower after dinner and Johnny when he finished his watch. That had been their schedule for as long as they had worked for him, which meant the shower would be empty now, giving him time to clean up and relax a little before Mrs. Weaving rang the supper bell. Rubbing absently at the back of his neck to dispel the tension from the day, he pulled open the door to the shower enclosure and froze.
There, in front of him, was the embodiment of every fantasy he had allowed himself this past week. Orlando’s shoulders were as broad as he had imagined, skin dark enough, even after the long winter, to tell Viggo that the blacksmith preferred to go without a shirt in the summer. The solid torso tapered to a narrow waist and hips and the most beautiful heart-shaped bottom he had ever seen. His fingers itched to reach out and touch, to cup the firm globes and see if the skin was as soft as it looked. Orlando lifted a foot and bent to towel it dry, the movement parting the man’s nether cheeks and giving the overseer a glimpse of the bounty within. He must have made a sound because Orlando’s head turned and their eyes met.
“Mr. Mortensen.”
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update
Date: 2006-10-13 06:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-15 10:55 pm (UTC)Well well can't wait to see what these two will do now ! =)
no subject
Date: 2006-10-19 02:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-19 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-20 02:57 am (UTC)