vigorli

author:

zebraljb
rating: nc17
disclaimer: I know nothing of their real lives. This is all made up, with love.
note: I traveled to a sex boutique with a friend this weekend. They actually sold one of these. :) Who wouldn't be inspired? I SO miss writing these boys.

Viggo pinned the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he dipped the brush into the vibrant red that always made him think of Orlando. “So you’ll be landing around four, then?”

“Yes, thank God,” Orlando grumbled. Viggo smiled, imagining him flopped on a chair, hat drawn low over his chocolate eyes, lips drawn into an adorable pout. “I’m so fucking sick of being here, Vig, you can’t even imagine.”

“Yes, I can imagine, Orlando, because you’ve told me that every time you’ve called,” Viggo said, grinning at his canvas.

“Okay, so maybe this shoot has been a living nightmare,” Orlando said, chuckling as well. “How do you put up with me?”

“I take a lot of vitamins,” Viggo said seriously. “Get regular injections, stuff like that.” An annoyed squawk in his ear made him laugh out loud. “Thanks a lot...I just smeared paint.”

“The perfect Viggo made a mistake? Bloody unlikely,” Orlando remarked.

Viggo frowned. “I’m far from perfect.”

“Not to me, and you know it,” Orlando said. “Six years has done nothing to knock you from that pedestal, Viggo. You’re perfect. Head to toe. One of us has to be.”

Viggo put down his paintbrush, glancing at a photo that hung by the easel. Orlando’s charming smile shone out from the halo of dark curls that framed his face. “You’re pretty damn close to perfect yourself,” Viggo said softly.

“Now how’d I know you would say that?” Orlando said. Viggo was warmed by the smile he heard in Orlando’s tone, but a shock of anxiety still fluttered through his veins. “I can’t wait to come home, Viggo. Thursday can’t come soon enough, and just to know that I don’t have to come back...just knowing that you’ll be there, just like always. You’ll have dinner ready, those stupid brown sheets you love will be on the bed...”

“Beige,” Viggo said almost absently. “They’re beige.”

“Whatever. Everything will be just as it always is, and that’s HOME.” Orlando chattered a bit more, his normal good mood obviously restored, but Viggo only made rudimentary comments, words that served only to keep Orlando talking. Viggo’s mind was elsewhere.

Five hours later, when Viggo was crawling into bed alone, the conversation was still fresh in his mind. He knew that Orlando meant it as a compliment, that he saw the comfortable sameness of home as a wonderful place to be, but to Viggo, it only meant one thing. He, Viggo, was boring.

Viggo clutched the sheets, pulling them up tight under his chin. He had known from the start of their relationship that he would always be the rock to Orlando’s wind. Orlando was light and beauty and action, while Viggo was stability and constancy. He knew that Orlando would be a bigger star, get the richer roles, and eventually become the more famous of the two. Viggo honestly didn’t mind. He enjoyed his work, but he was just as happy taking breaks between movies and spending time on his California ranch. Due to Orlando’s celebrity status, their relationship had to remain private, but the important people knew, and that’s all that mattered. Now, however, he was wondering if he was really enough for Orlando. He was nineteen years older than Orlando. AARP was knocking at the door, and though he was physically quite able to keep up with Orlando, home and quiet was much more appealing than going out on the town. Orlando never asked him to go out, never tried to force the issue, and seemed just as happy to sit in front of the fire, watching a movie or just snuggling and talking. Viggo was worried, though. How long would that be enough? Orlando’s co-stars in his movies were as young as he, and though Viggo had no qualms about the actresses Orlando worked with, the actors were young and strong and virile...and he was sure they could show Orlando the sort of good time that Viggo really wasn’t interested in.

Stop it, Viggo finally told himself, rolling over and clutching Orlando’s pillow tight in his arms. If you think you’re such an old fuddy-duddy, then do something about it. Or you’ll never get to sleep.

Viggo heard the trunk of the taxi slam shut, and he nervously rubbed his hands across the thighs of his jeans. Suitcases thunked onto the wood of the front porch, and then the taxi was rumbling away. Keys fumbled in the lock and Viggo stood up from the kitchen table, a welcoming smile on his face. “Hello, Orl-“

“Bloody hell, Viggo, it’s so fucking good to see you.” A nest of dark curls was shoved into Viggo’s nose as he found himself with arms full of his Elf. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Viggo whispered, hugging the slender body tight. “Did you eat at ALL while you were there? You’re nothing.” Viggo stepped back and looked Orlando over from the battered brown sandals to the riot of brown hair.

“M’fine. I ate every day,” Orlando promised. His hands kneaded at Viggo’s chest, as if he couldn’t keep them to himself.

“Three crackers and a handful of M&Ms does NOT count as eating,” Viggo said. He knew Orlando’s on-set eating habits very well. At home, Orlando ate like a horse, but he was so nervous during filming that he rarely shoved anything bigger than a kiwi into his mouth.

“But now I’m home and I know you’ll take care of that,” Orlando said with his sunny grin. “I AM thirsty, though.”

“Tea?” Viggo began rummaging through cabinets. “I just restocked that orange shit you like.”

“My sweet Yank...” Orlando came up behind him, pressing his face against Viggo’s broad back. “This is JUST how I pictured it,” he said with a happy sigh. “M’gonna go out and get my bags, then take a shower, okay? Then...”

“Quit planning and just do it,” Viggo ordered, turning around and planting a kiss on Orlando’s forehead. “Live in the now.”

Orlando blinked. “Okay.”

“I’ll put your tea on the bathroom cabinet,” Viggo called after him. He took a deep breath as he watched Orlando leaving the room.

He put the teakettle on the stove and watched through the kitchen entryway as Orlando breezed out to the porch. He winced as the bags were dragged into the house, closing his eyes and waiting for the inevitable curse as Orlando dropped something on his foot or ran into something. He was an amazing Legolas, but Orlando as Orlando was a horrible klutz.

The bags thumped up the hardwood steps to the second floor, which was covered almost entirely by the master suite. Viggo’s eyes ran along the ceiling of the kitchen as he heard the bags fall by the closet, then listened as Orlando’s steps creaked along the floor. He could imagine Orlando peeling his clothes off, leaving them on a pile next to the hamper. The tea kettle whistled just as Viggo heard the shower turn on, but he poured it over the tea leaves and let it steep for a few moments before fixing a cup for Orlando and silently carrying it up the stairs.

He cracked the bathroom door just enough to set the cup on the large cabinet next to the sink. “Here you go, Orlando.”

“Thanks, love,” Orlando called over the running water.

“Sure thing.” Viggo closed the door and went to the top drawer of his dresser. He took something out, eyeing the box warily. It’s now or never, he told himself. Just pray that he doesn’t call the men with the straitjackets after this.

“Fuck that feels good,” Orlando said from underneath a towel as he came out of the bathroom. He was running a smaller towel over his curls, a burgundy-colored bath sheet slung low on his slender waist. Steam from the bathroom framed his tall body, and he looked like any gay man’s dream.

“Looks good, too,” Viggo remarked.

Orlando snorted from under the towel. “Ah, forgot my tea.” He returned to the bathroom, coming back out with the head towel. “Good stuff,” he remarked, sipping at the tea. His eyes wandered over the cup’s rim to the bed, and tea spewed everywhere.

Viggo frowned. Not quite the reaction he had expected.

Orlando choked for a moment, managing to get the cup to the dresser before it ended up on the floor. Once he got himself under control, he stared at Viggo. “What the hell is that?”

“What does it look like?” Viggo lounged on the bed, one hand propping up his head. He was naked except for what was pretty much a pouch on a strap around his waist.

“It looks...” Orlando actually closed his eyes, rubbed them, and opened them again. “It looks like a fucking candy necklace, Vig.”

“I thought you loved candy.” Viggo was feeling more and more like an idiot by the second. He stretched out, hands behind himself, a seductive smile on his face.

“I, uh, of course I do. I just...” Orlando let loose with a nervous laugh. “I just...yeah. Never thought I’d see something like that on YOU.”

“Maybe that’s the problem, Orlando,” Viggo snapped, embarrassment clouding into anger. “You see me one way, and that’s it. Comfortable, dependable Viggo. Always there, waiting on his beige sheets. Orange tea always in the cupboard.”

“Vig, what the hell?” Orlando said. “What’s this all about?”

“Maybe I’m feeling a little taken for granted.” Viggo sat up, wincing as a piece of candy dug into a particularly tender spot. He adjusted himself but could not meet Orlando’s eyes. “All that rot about you knowing that everything will be just the same when you get home. Made me feel like part of the furniture.”

“It’s not like that and you know it.” Orlando refused to let Viggo’s illogical conversation fuel him into anger. “You know that the only thing keeping me sane on location is the thought that I’ll be coming home to you. I LOVE home. And to me, home is wherever YOU are, so don’t even fucking start.” Orlando leaned against the dresser, arms folded over his bare chest. “What the FUCK is going on, really?”

Viggo sighed, fully aware that he was acting like a toddler. “I just thought maybe you were...that I was...getting boring. I thought I’d try something new. Make you...”

“Make me want to stay?” Orlando blinked. “I wasn’t aware I wanted to leave. I’m sorry if it sounded that way, like I thought you were predictable and boring, but I don’t. Definitely not.” Orlando ran a hand through his wet hair. “If I was bored, Viggo, I respect you, us, and our six years together too damn much not to talk to you about it. I promise you that.”

“I’m sorry. This was so fucking stupid.” Viggo shook his head and stood up. “Let me take this off and...”

“No.”

“No?”

“Did I stutter?” Orlando sauntered over, his towel falling in his wake. For once, Viggo didn’t complain about Orlando leaving his things all over the floor. “I said, no.” Orlando took Viggo by the waist, his thumbs lightly running under the elastic candy strings. “Actually, amend that to a FUCK no, you are not taking this thing off.” He turned Viggo, then sat on the bed in front of him.

Viggo hissed as Orlando’s warm breath hit his genitals through the net of candy. “Orlando...”

“Shhh...I can’t hold a conversation with you, Viggo. My mouth will be full.” Orlando turned his head and nibbled at some candy at Viggo’s hipbone. Viggo hissed and fisted his hand in Orlando’s hair. “These things are just as good as I remembered.” Orlando daintily bit his way down first one side, then the other. “M’surprised this elastic is holding up,” he murmured, letting his tongue lick from Viggo’s lower abdomen down. He let his tongue flicker in through the lines of candy, but did not bite. “I don’t want to do any damage,” he whispered. “I’ll just play a bit.”

“Orlando,” Viggo growled. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“YOU’RE the one who was laying here all sexy,” Orlando countered. He let a finger run under the candy netting. He chuckled as he widened one of the gaps and Viggo’s cock shoved through. “Now THAT is tasty.”

The idea that he’d be quite sticky and in desperate need of a shower flickered through Viggo’s mind, but any other rational thought was murdered by the heat of Orlando’s mouth enveloping his cock. “God...Orlando...”

“Now this is getting annoying.” Orlando tugged at the elastic until it broke, candy pieces rattling all over the floor. He pulled Viggo down onto the bed, hands gripping at Viggo’s legs and waist.

Viggo’s back arched as he pushed himself into Orlando’s mouth. “This won’t...take long...” he gasped. “Been too long...”

“The quicker the better,” Orlando grinned, biting Viggo’s inner thigh. “You’re the sweetest thing I could taste, anyway.”

“Fuck!” Viggo cried out as Orlando added a hand. His hips shoved into Orlando’s touch, and one hand fisted in Orlando’s hair, the other in the bed sheets as he came. “Cheeky...bastard...” he panted.

“Quit talking Brit,” Orlando said, licking his lips and moving to bury his head in Viggo’s chest. “I love you so much, Viggo. NEVER think you’re boring or that you’re not enough for me, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Viggo murmured, one hand rubbing over Orlando’s bare back.

“Don’t be,” Orlando said. He sat up a bit and looked at the bed. “Hey, you changed the sheets.”

“Got them yesterday. The color reminds me of you.” Viggo ran his hand over the bright red fabric.

“Mmm...” Orlando murmured, kissing Viggo’s chest.

“Do you want, uh...”

“No.” Orlando gave Viggo a hard kiss on the lips and sat up. “I’m going to get dressed and you’re going to shower, because you’re all sticky. Then you’re feeding me dinner and bringing me back up here to fuck my brains out.”

“THAT sounds like a plan,” Viggo said, smiling as he got up and headed for the shower.

-THE END-