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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 10
That damnable mask Orlando was coming to hate dropped over the overseer’s face immediately, leaving Orlando with only the faintest hope that he had seen desire in the blue gaze before it was cut off. Forcing himself to keep his movements relaxed, he wrapped the towel tightly around his waist, covering the lower half of his body from view before turning the rest of the way around so that he faced the object of his secret fantasies straight on.
The jacket and hat that never seemed to leave Viggo’s body were absent now, leaving the overseer clad only in his pants and shirt, the tails of which brushed the tops of his thighs, a towel hanging from his hand at his side. The top two buttons on the shirt and, oddly enough, the bottom two, were open, giving Orlando a glimpse of the lightly furred chest that had haunted his dreams, waking and sleeping, for the past week. He also caught sight of a sliver of skin above the waistband of the overseer’s pants. It seemed Mr. Mortensen had lost some weight over the winter, for with no belt to hold them in place, they rode low on his hips, revealing a darker line of hair that bisected his belly and dipped beneath the line of fabric, tempting Orlando’s eyes lower. Unfortunately, the heavy cloth hid any possible evidence of interest on the overseer’s part. Stifling a sigh and adjusting the towel to hide his own growing arousal, Orlando forced his eyes up to Viggo’s face as he reached for his clean shirt.
Mortified to have been caught staring, Viggo forced his eyes to stay fixed on Orlando’s face rather than wandering over the blacksmith’s front as they had already done to his back. To his surprise, he saw no sign of rejection or outrage on the other man’s face. In fact, he thought he caught a hint of… interest? He mentally shook himself to rid himself of such delusions. Orlando was a young man with his whole life ahead of him, a life he had made very clear he wanted to live out on the island, not following an itinerant overseer wherever his employer sent him.
When he could trust his voice not to betray him, he said, “I didn’t realize you used this shower. I’ll pay more attention next time before I come barging in.”
No need, Orlando wanted to say, but he held his tongue. If his attention was not returned, such a comment could destroy the working relationship he had succeeded in building with his employer, a relationship he needed if he was to stay here in the relative safety of the camp until Sean captured Jude’s killer.
Even so, the reflexive way Viggo moved the towel in front of him, as if to hide something he did not want Orlando to see, gave the blacksmith hope. Not enough hope to do anything so brash as approaching the overseer, but enough hope to keep watching for other little signs of possible interest. He had been the pursuer in every relationship he had attempted thus far. It would not bother him to do so now as long as he had some guarantee that his attentions would not ruin his current situation. He was not ready to take that step yet, but the time neared, he thought, when he might have the assurances he needed.
Knowing the length of his shirt would preserve his modesty, Orlando pulled the towel from around his waist and reached for his pants, stepping into them without looking away from Viggo. “Don’t let me keep you from your shower. You needn’t worry I’ll bother you,” he said. “I’ll be done here in a minute anyway.”
He did not pause in dressing to wait for Viggo’s reaction, but he did keep an eye on the sexy overseer out of the corner of his eye to see what effect his comment might have had on the older man.
A tremor of desire ran through the overseer at Orlando’s words. He would not, could not admit it, but he almost wished the blacksmith would take advantage, would approach him with undisguised intent. Perhaps if he did, Viggo could let himself give in, could console himself later with the thought that the decision had been taken out of his hands. It was the coward’s way out and he knew it, hated it, but it was a step he could not take on his own. Too much was at stake. His eyes, though, never left Orlando as he dressed, hiding the tawny skin that already occupied pride of place in his fantasies. Now, having seen the perfect concinnity of his obsession’s form, he suspected his fascination would only deepen.
Orlando’s words pricked his pride, as he was sure the blacksmith had intended, but knowing that did not lessen the impact. Tossing the towel over the edge of the enclosure, Viggo unbuttoned the next button on his shirt. He kept telling himself that he had done this once before already, that removing his shirt now was no different than a week ago at the pump. He kept repeating it, but he found he did not believe his own words, not when the overwhelming sense of intimacy intensified with each button he prised from its hole with fingers made clumsy with lust.
Orlando stifled a gasp when he realized Viggo had accepted his dare, beginning to undress before him. He desperately wanted to stay and watch the show, or even reach for the buttons himself, but he knew they would quickly reach a line he was not sure they could safely cross yet. Besides, he had told Viggo he was almost ready to leave. He delayed as long as he could, but far sooner than he would have liked, he had no reason to tarry. At least he had gotten another glimpse of the strong chest and pale skin that haunted his dreams. Picking up his towel, he walked to the door to the enclosure. “Enjoy your shower,” he said as he left.
Viggo’s breath rushed out of him when he was finally alone, the tension of the moment draining away with his solitude. As he let his guard down, the rush of adrenaline he felt at finding Orlando there and naked, augmented by his own frustrated desire, set his hands to trembling. He scrubbed at his face, struggling for control again. He could not do this! Orlando was his employee, but that was the least of his reasons. The blacksmith was young, not even thirty, while Viggo was nearing fifty. Even if the younger man felt some attraction now, what would he feel when he was still in his prime and Viggo well into his dotage? Then there was the issue of residence. Orlando was clearly settled here on the island while Viggo’s work required a certain degree of transience. No building occurred on the island in the winter and while he had been here for several summers in a row now, he had no idea how long that would last. If the current boom ended in Bar Harbor, Viggo would have to go elsewhere to find work. His pride would not allow him to be dependent on Orlando. Even if it did, they would never be able to build a life together on the island given the climate of intolerance that had led to one murder and the vandalism to Orlando’s home and forge. No, he could not do this, for both of their sakes.
Having renewed his resolve, he finished stripping, throwing his pants over the top of the wall of the shower and turning on the water to begin cleaning up.
A few feet away, hidden by the thick foliage of the island forest, Orlando listened and imagined what was taking place just beyond his sight. He saw Viggo’s pants land on the top of the shower wall and closed his eyes, his mind’s eye conjuring up a vision designed to drive him mad with desire. He had spent the past week thoroughly, if discreetly, studying the overseer. He knew every line of the man’s body as completely as he knew his own. He could see the long legs, devoid in his vision of clothing, muscular but lean, covered in the same dusting of hair that was sprinkled over the man’s chest. The water was cold, he knew well, but that did not keep him from picturing the overseer’s erection in all its glory, for surely such a fine specimen of masculinity would be equally well-endowed.
Wet from the spray, Viggo’s hand slid down to encircle the hard flesh that even the douse of cold water had not softened. As tempted as he was by what he had seen earlier, nothing short of orgasm would ease his tension now. He moaned softly as he tugged on his engorged cock. He wanted to indulge his fantasies and whisper Orlando’s name, but he dared not, remembering all too well how little privacy he truly had here. After all, had he not just walked in on Orlando? And while there was no shame in self-pleasure, he did not want anyone to know of the secret lust he harbored for the blacksmith. Such knowledge could ruin him in the eyes of his employees.
The moan that drifted to his ears fueled Orlando’s fantasies. He knew the sounds of pleasure a man made, whether they were self-induced or wrung from him by an attentive lover, and Viggo was definitely making those sounds now. It was a simple matter to arrange his mental image to fit the noise coming from the shower, Viggo’s fist closed around his cock, pumping slowly, a little twist to his wrist at the top, teasing the frenulum, then pulling back the foreskin on the downward slide, letting the purpled tip peek out. Despite his recent climax, the vivid image in Orlando’s mind sent desire rushing through him again, leaving him trembling with need .He wanted to slip his hand inside his trousers and caress himself as he knew Viggo was doing, but if he were caught, if someone found him there, his obsession would be revealed and his situation made more complicated than it already was. He could not afford that. He would just have to deal with the unassuaged desire until he could find time alone again. Instead, though he knew it would only make his problem worse, he imagined himself in the shower with Viggo, his hand replacing the overseer’s, their bodies brushing together teasingly, intimately. He shuddered when another groan reached his ears.
Holding the vision of Orlando naked and bent over in his mind, Viggo tightened his fist and imagined thrusting into the blacksmith’s tight channel, imagined the velvet depths closing around him, squeezing him firmly, massaging his aching cock until he came hard, as hard as he had ever come. He managed to silence the shout that wanted to leave his lips, Orlando’s name a supplication for fulfillment, but he could not stifle the long, low moan that accompanied his release.
Orlando knew that sound, too, the one that accompanied a climax. He stayed where he was, fighting the urge to barge back in to the shower enclosure and find his pleasure in Viggo’s body. If he had been sure the overseer would welcome him, he would have done it, his passion roused enough that his inhibitions were burned away. Only the thought that Viggo might not be willing held him back.
When he looked toward the enclosure and realized Viggo’s towel was gone, he slipped away toward the camp, not wanting the overseer to find him spying.
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 10
That damnable mask Orlando was coming to hate dropped over the overseer’s face immediately, leaving Orlando with only the faintest hope that he had seen desire in the blue gaze before it was cut off. Forcing himself to keep his movements relaxed, he wrapped the towel tightly around his waist, covering the lower half of his body from view before turning the rest of the way around so that he faced the object of his secret fantasies straight on.
The jacket and hat that never seemed to leave Viggo’s body were absent now, leaving the overseer clad only in his pants and shirt, the tails of which brushed the tops of his thighs, a towel hanging from his hand at his side. The top two buttons on the shirt and, oddly enough, the bottom two, were open, giving Orlando a glimpse of the lightly furred chest that had haunted his dreams, waking and sleeping, for the past week. He also caught sight of a sliver of skin above the waistband of the overseer’s pants. It seemed Mr. Mortensen had lost some weight over the winter, for with no belt to hold them in place, they rode low on his hips, revealing a darker line of hair that bisected his belly and dipped beneath the line of fabric, tempting Orlando’s eyes lower. Unfortunately, the heavy cloth hid any possible evidence of interest on the overseer’s part. Stifling a sigh and adjusting the towel to hide his own growing arousal, Orlando forced his eyes up to Viggo’s face as he reached for his clean shirt.
Mortified to have been caught staring, Viggo forced his eyes to stay fixed on Orlando’s face rather than wandering over the blacksmith’s front as they had already done to his back. To his surprise, he saw no sign of rejection or outrage on the other man’s face. In fact, he thought he caught a hint of… interest? He mentally shook himself to rid himself of such delusions. Orlando was a young man with his whole life ahead of him, a life he had made very clear he wanted to live out on the island, not following an itinerant overseer wherever his employer sent him.
When he could trust his voice not to betray him, he said, “I didn’t realize you used this shower. I’ll pay more attention next time before I come barging in.”
No need, Orlando wanted to say, but he held his tongue. If his attention was not returned, such a comment could destroy the working relationship he had succeeded in building with his employer, a relationship he needed if he was to stay here in the relative safety of the camp until Sean captured Jude’s killer.
Even so, the reflexive way Viggo moved the towel in front of him, as if to hide something he did not want Orlando to see, gave the blacksmith hope. Not enough hope to do anything so brash as approaching the overseer, but enough hope to keep watching for other little signs of possible interest. He had been the pursuer in every relationship he had attempted thus far. It would not bother him to do so now as long as he had some guarantee that his attentions would not ruin his current situation. He was not ready to take that step yet, but the time neared, he thought, when he might have the assurances he needed.
Knowing the length of his shirt would preserve his modesty, Orlando pulled the towel from around his waist and reached for his pants, stepping into them without looking away from Viggo. “Don’t let me keep you from your shower. You needn’t worry I’ll bother you,” he said. “I’ll be done here in a minute anyway.”
He did not pause in dressing to wait for Viggo’s reaction, but he did keep an eye on the sexy overseer out of the corner of his eye to see what effect his comment might have had on the older man.
A tremor of desire ran through the overseer at Orlando’s words. He would not, could not admit it, but he almost wished the blacksmith would take advantage, would approach him with undisguised intent. Perhaps if he did, Viggo could let himself give in, could console himself later with the thought that the decision had been taken out of his hands. It was the coward’s way out and he knew it, hated it, but it was a step he could not take on his own. Too much was at stake. His eyes, though, never left Orlando as he dressed, hiding the tawny skin that already occupied pride of place in his fantasies. Now, having seen the perfect concinnity of his obsession’s form, he suspected his fascination would only deepen.
Orlando’s words pricked his pride, as he was sure the blacksmith had intended, but knowing that did not lessen the impact. Tossing the towel over the edge of the enclosure, Viggo unbuttoned the next button on his shirt. He kept telling himself that he had done this once before already, that removing his shirt now was no different than a week ago at the pump. He kept repeating it, but he found he did not believe his own words, not when the overwhelming sense of intimacy intensified with each button he prised from its hole with fingers made clumsy with lust.
Orlando stifled a gasp when he realized Viggo had accepted his dare, beginning to undress before him. He desperately wanted to stay and watch the show, or even reach for the buttons himself, but he knew they would quickly reach a line he was not sure they could safely cross yet. Besides, he had told Viggo he was almost ready to leave. He delayed as long as he could, but far sooner than he would have liked, he had no reason to tarry. At least he had gotten another glimpse of the strong chest and pale skin that haunted his dreams. Picking up his towel, he walked to the door to the enclosure. “Enjoy your shower,” he said as he left.
Viggo’s breath rushed out of him when he was finally alone, the tension of the moment draining away with his solitude. As he let his guard down, the rush of adrenaline he felt at finding Orlando there and naked, augmented by his own frustrated desire, set his hands to trembling. He scrubbed at his face, struggling for control again. He could not do this! Orlando was his employee, but that was the least of his reasons. The blacksmith was young, not even thirty, while Viggo was nearing fifty. Even if the younger man felt some attraction now, what would he feel when he was still in his prime and Viggo well into his dotage? Then there was the issue of residence. Orlando was clearly settled here on the island while Viggo’s work required a certain degree of transience. No building occurred on the island in the winter and while he had been here for several summers in a row now, he had no idea how long that would last. If the current boom ended in Bar Harbor, Viggo would have to go elsewhere to find work. His pride would not allow him to be dependent on Orlando. Even if it did, they would never be able to build a life together on the island given the climate of intolerance that had led to one murder and the vandalism to Orlando’s home and forge. No, he could not do this, for both of their sakes.
Having renewed his resolve, he finished stripping, throwing his pants over the top of the wall of the shower and turning on the water to begin cleaning up.
A few feet away, hidden by the thick foliage of the island forest, Orlando listened and imagined what was taking place just beyond his sight. He saw Viggo’s pants land on the top of the shower wall and closed his eyes, his mind’s eye conjuring up a vision designed to drive him mad with desire. He had spent the past week thoroughly, if discreetly, studying the overseer. He knew every line of the man’s body as completely as he knew his own. He could see the long legs, devoid in his vision of clothing, muscular but lean, covered in the same dusting of hair that was sprinkled over the man’s chest. The water was cold, he knew well, but that did not keep him from picturing the overseer’s erection in all its glory, for surely such a fine specimen of masculinity would be equally well-endowed.
Wet from the spray, Viggo’s hand slid down to encircle the hard flesh that even the douse of cold water had not softened. As tempted as he was by what he had seen earlier, nothing short of orgasm would ease his tension now. He moaned softly as he tugged on his engorged cock. He wanted to indulge his fantasies and whisper Orlando’s name, but he dared not, remembering all too well how little privacy he truly had here. After all, had he not just walked in on Orlando? And while there was no shame in self-pleasure, he did not want anyone to know of the secret lust he harbored for the blacksmith. Such knowledge could ruin him in the eyes of his employees.
The moan that drifted to his ears fueled Orlando’s fantasies. He knew the sounds of pleasure a man made, whether they were self-induced or wrung from him by an attentive lover, and Viggo was definitely making those sounds now. It was a simple matter to arrange his mental image to fit the noise coming from the shower, Viggo’s fist closed around his cock, pumping slowly, a little twist to his wrist at the top, teasing the frenulum, then pulling back the foreskin on the downward slide, letting the purpled tip peek out. Despite his recent climax, the vivid image in Orlando’s mind sent desire rushing through him again, leaving him trembling with need .He wanted to slip his hand inside his trousers and caress himself as he knew Viggo was doing, but if he were caught, if someone found him there, his obsession would be revealed and his situation made more complicated than it already was. He could not afford that. He would just have to deal with the unassuaged desire until he could find time alone again. Instead, though he knew it would only make his problem worse, he imagined himself in the shower with Viggo, his hand replacing the overseer’s, their bodies brushing together teasingly, intimately. He shuddered when another groan reached his ears.
Holding the vision of Orlando naked and bent over in his mind, Viggo tightened his fist and imagined thrusting into the blacksmith’s tight channel, imagined the velvet depths closing around him, squeezing him firmly, massaging his aching cock until he came hard, as hard as he had ever come. He managed to silence the shout that wanted to leave his lips, Orlando’s name a supplication for fulfillment, but he could not stifle the long, low moan that accompanied his release.
Orlando knew that sound, too, the one that accompanied a climax. He stayed where he was, fighting the urge to barge back in to the shower enclosure and find his pleasure in Viggo’s body. If he had been sure the overseer would welcome him, he would have done it, his passion roused enough that his inhibitions were burned away. Only the thought that Viggo might not be willing held him back.
When he looked toward the enclosure and realized Viggo’s towel was gone, he slipped away toward the camp, not wanting the overseer to find him spying.
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