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vigorlititle: Geek!Orlando, part 28
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stormatdusk
pairing: Viggo/Orlando
rating: adult
warnings: m/m sex; otherwise, none
disclaimer: this is only fiction.
a/n: starts here
picks up directly from part 27
a/n 2: icon by the brilliantlady_razzle
banner made by the so so talented galor5
Orlando woke up – for real this time, he was pretty sure – and cool, the ceiling wasn’t doing that weird slithering thing any more.
Okay, this was definitely better. His ankle was barely hurting right now, so the extra-strength ibuprofen was working great, and thankfully, that side effect of feeling all weird and inside-outty seemed to be gone. He was glad he’d stopped taking that prescription this morning. He’d have to add a note to the medical section of his All About Me spreadsheet once he got home: ix-nay on the ercocet-Pay from now on. That stuff was way out of his league.
He felt nice and rested now. He turned to glance at the clock: 9:28 pm. Oops. Not the best time to wake up all rested. Rats, he’d napped or Percocet-ed away a whole Thursday off of work, a day he could’ve spent surfing the net or hanging out with Elijah (though, duh, Elijah didn’t get the day off for a sprained ankle) or maybe watching Viggo do some painting. He wondered what Viggo was doing. Maybe he was in his studio now.
Orlando stretched in Viggo’s bed, enjoying the feel of the cool sheets on his skin and cozily breathing in the toastiness. Hee hee. It was kind of neat that Viggo’s bed smelled like toast, but without annoying toasty crumbs to deal with.
Okay, maybe there was a tiny bit of that Percocet still in his system.
His attention wandered to the TV. He vaguely remembered having asked Viggo to leave it on for some white noise during his nap. It must be tuned to HGTV or something; it was showing a pottery class. Orlando watched as a man splatted a lump of clay onto one of those wheel thingies and cupped his hands around it as the wheel started rotating.
Yeah, Orlando was definitely feeling better, because he was pretty sure watching a spinning pottery wheel last night would’ve made him fall-over dizzy. That Percocet warning was going on the spreadsheet in bold.
The guy on TV dipped his hands in a bowl of water, and now they were glistening as they molded the spinning clay into the shape of a big, smooth, clayish gumdrop. He watched as the man flexed his fingers just a bit and the gumdrop immediately reacted with an excited little wobble.
Orlando’s cock sprang up with a wobble of its own. That looked… that was kinda interesting.
Then the guy’s big hands gently bent up and turned and his thumbs – oh… oh gosh – the tips of his thumbs moved just a touch, just a smidge, into the dome of the gumdrop - -
Orlando’s cock grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.
- - and the gumdrop shape started… holy moly - - stretching, and… opening up. Wow.
The guy released the spinning clay and dipped his fingers into the water again before returning to offer the gumdrop a few whisper… soft… caresses….
Orlando’s cock polished its glasses and squinted.
Oh - - OH goodness… the thumbs were going deep into the gumdrop now, and the wet clay was stretching smoothly, and a deep tunnel was forming, and the clay looked almost as if was all achy and moany and…
Orlando’s cock two-finger whistled for Viggo to GET IN HERE AND WATCH THIS.
At that moment, beautiful, bare-chested, blue-jeaned Viggo walked in to the bedroom – Viggo’s bedroom, in Viggo’s house, Orlando scolded his bratty, demanding cock – and smiled.
“Hey, you’re awake! How’re you feeling, Princess?” He carefully sat down on the bed next to Orlando, offering a tall glass of cream soda with loads of ice.
Naked in Viggo’s bed, and cream soda? When did Orlando’s life ever get so good?
Orlando clicked off the TV, managing to hide his wince as his cock punched him hard in the upper thigh at the loss of its porn flick. He sat up and took the glass gratefully, downing a big swig of the sweet fizz.
“Better,” he nodded. “Much better. Thank you. For taking care of me, I mean.”
Orlando’s cock grumpily pointed out that it had yet to be taken care of. Resolving to ignore it, Orlando reached to Viggo’s nightstand and set down his drink. He scooted closer to Viggo, wrapping his arms around him in a grateful hug.
“You’re a good patient; it was no trouble at all,” Viggo said, squeezing Orlando back. Viggo leaned back to lay a light kiss on Orlando’s mouth, trailing a warm hand down Orlando’s side. Orlando’s cock saw its opportunity; it lurched up in a desperate attempt at direct communication with the outside world, bopping Viggo’s wrist impatiently.
Pausing in the kiss, Viggo blinked.
Oh god. Orlando was even more embarrassed than Dom had been that time he’d fallen asleep half in his Spaghettios in the break room and Elijah had taken great glee in waking him up with a Clocky.
“Sorry,” Orlando croaked. “I was - - they were showing - - uh, there was a pottery. Class. On TV.”
Viggo raised a brow. “A… pottery class?”
Orlando nodded. “Uh - - yeah. They were… it was….” The nearness of Viggo’s scent and skin and eyes and warmth was rapidly depleting Orlando’s brain’s oxygen supply. “Oh - - never… let’s - - never mind. Would you… um, do you want to…oh geez, Viggo - - will you let me…?”
Orlando flipped back the sheet, exposing his Orlandoness. He moved to the middle of the bed and pulled gently on Viggo’s arm. Viggo’s mouth dropped open. “Orlando, are you sure you’re feeling - -“
“Oh, I’m feeling something, baby,” Orlando interjected sexily, and immediately wondered who the heck had said that. Apparently his privates had taken control of his vocal cords now, too.
“But what about your ankle?” Viggo stalled unconvincingly.
Okay, Orlando’s cock was so not doing this again. It had a coupon for one free ride in the ViggoLand Tunnel of Love, NO expiration date, and it was redeeming it right now, thank you very much.
“It’s wrapped; it feels pretty good. I’ll be careful. Is… is that okay?” Orlando gently-but-not yanked his gorgeous boyfriend down onto the bed and smothered his mouth, carefully and nakedly pressing up against him with all but the one bad ankle. He kissed Viggo fiercely and writhed in insistent invitation.
“Yeah, mohkay,” Viggo mumbled to Orlando’s tonsils.
Orlando’s cock threw confetti.
Between the two of them, they stripped Viggo of his paint-stained jeans faster than a pit stop in one of Elijah’s NASCAR PS2 games, impressively managing to stay connected at the lips throughout.
“Wait.” Orlando’s brain made one more attempt to remind Orlando that he was, in fact, a gentleman. “I… I want - - “
“What is it?” Viggo panted.
“I want this to be… special. For you, I mean. I mean, I know it’s not... your first time, but… well, you made my first time really nice, and special, and I just… I wanted to do that. I wanted… you know - - candles, and maybe - - um, strawberries or something – strawberries are supposed to be romantic, right? – and music, and….”
“Orlando,” Viggo said tenderly, “every time with you is special.”
“Oh….” Orlando said dreamily, suddenly at risk of developing teenaged boobs and a period. He shook himself.
“No, really, Viggo. I wanted - - I really wanted it to be… nice. You deserve it.” He kissed Viggo again. “I know it’s… it’s dumb, but can we? Would you… would you maybe get some stuff? Just whatever you have around the house? I would do it, but I don’t know if my ankle will like it.”
“No!” Viggo said quickly, hopping out of the bed. “No, no, you just stay right here. I don’t want to take any chances of you hurting yourself again. Maybe we should tie you to the bed so you don’t fall….” Viggo trailed off.
Orlando visibly flinched and audibly oofed as his cock back-flipped in excitement at the mere mention of tying games. He looked at Viggo in obvious physical discomfort. Like, down there discomfort.
Viggo’s eyes got big. “I’ll… I’ll be right back. Just, DON’T. GET. UP. Okay?” Viggo’s naked, gorgeous butt scurried out of the bedroom.
The naked, gorgeous butt that Orlando was about to - -
Oh god. This was so exciting!!
Okay, think. Think, think, think. Orlando tried to recall his Cub Scout training. Darn it; maybe he should’ve kept going all the way to Eagle Scout so he’d be better prepared for things like this. Well, no – that wasn’t really how it worked…. Okay, whatever. THINK.
Supplies. They’d need supplies. Orlando reached over to Viggo’s nightstand and opened the drawer where he knew Viggo kept… things. There, next to the condoms and a couple of tubes, was a little travel pack of Kleenex. Just like the one that Orlando kept in the drawer at work, right next to the monitor screen cleaner wipes. For emergency nosebleeds. Orlando was sure it hadn’t been there before.
Holy. Moly. Viggo must’ve bought a little travel pack of Kleenex. For Orlando.
Viggo was totally the best boyfriend ever. Orlando was even more glad that he’d asked Viggo to get some romantic stuff.
Viggo set a new landspeed record, arriving back with an armload of CDs, the battery candles, and a huge bunch of underripe bananas. A little out of breath, he dumped his cache on the bed and looked at Orlando hopefully. “Will this work?”
Um. Bananas? Orlando felt a little meepish, and wondered slightly uncomfortably if Viggo was hinting at some sort of sex produce game he wanted to try.
“Uh… I didn’t have any strawberries in the house,” Viggo apologized, and shuffled a cute, naked, sort of embarrassed shuffle, turning to the dresser. “We can just put these… over… here.”
Orlando grinned and quickly pawed through the CDs. Neil Diamond – no (Neil Diamond? Huh, he wouldn’t have pegged Viggo for Neil Diamond)… Gin Blossoms – hmm, maybe sometime, but not tonight… ooooooh: Dire Straits. Perfect. He pushed up his glasses and passed the CD to Viggo.
Then the music had started and the candles were blown on and Viggo was in the bed, in Orlando’s arms, and they were kissing and touching and rubbing, and oh god, it was good. Orlando’s business drooled in frantic anticipation.
“Do you want to prep me?” Viggo rasped. “Or do you want me to do it?”
Orlando swallowed. “I want… I’d like to. I’m - - I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Just go slow,” Viggo said, turning onto his front. “I’ll talk you through it if you want.” Viggo rested his head on his folded arms and bent one knee, sliding the leg up and baring himself to Orlando.
Orlando froze, totally stunned at the perfection in front of him. Viggo’s ass - - god, it was just so muscular and round and- - and meaty, and he just wanted to….
“Can I touch it?” Orlando whispered, awestruck.
Viggo chuckled. “I certainly hope so.” He looked over his shoulder, grinning. “Come on, Princess. Put your hands on me.”
Orlando reached out and grasped a healthy handful of each bun and gently squeezed. The skin was so smooth under his palms, and the muscles resisted and flexed under his touch.
Viggo hummed and sighed and pressed his hips into the mattress.
With slightly shaking hands, Orlando caressed and massaged Viggo’s butt, straying often to stroke upwards across his back, and down over the backs of Viggo’s thighs. He couldn’t just get straight to… well, straight to it. He wanted Viggo to feel as relaxed and good and… cared about… as Viggo always made Orlando feel. He wanted Viggo to love it.
But neither could he resist for very long. Soon Orlando’s fingertips smoothed over the crease of Viggo’s butt with each circular, massaging stroke. He could feel the different texture there, warmer, coarser, and when Viggo hummed again, Orlando nearly jumped with want. He realized dimly that while he was hard – geez, super duper hard – still, his cock was acting sort of hushed and respectful, like it had decided to stay out of the way for now and let him concentrate. Orlando would have to think of a good reward later.
Viggo murmured to him, and Orlando spread his fingers with gel and gently, slowly worked one into Viggo’s body. His own entrance clenched, remembering the feel of Viggo inside him, and he felt dizzy with it all: wanting to do Viggo, wanting Viggo to do him, wanting everything, all at once.
Getting Viggo’s body ready wasn’t difficult at all, with Viggo quietly letting him know what felt right, and with remembering what Viggo did to him so well. Soon Viggo was pressing back against Orlando’s fingers, saying yes, yes, and Viggo was rolling to his knees, resting on bent elbows, breathing deeply.
Orlando knelt up behind him, between Viggo’s knees, deciding deliberately not to stop and think about this, not to stop and gaze at Viggo spread beneath him, or he’d never manage to keep it together. He pressed forward, eased in, stopping once the initial resistance of Viggo’s muscles allowed just the tip of him inside.
God, this was… it was weird. It was nice, but it was almost too much. Too much – pressure, heat, stimulation – something. It was like easing into a freezing lake on a hot day, rather than just jumping right in. He knew it would be great once he was in, but it was almost painful getting there. He tried to listen to Viggo, both his voice and his body, and move slowly, so slowly.
Orlando was sweating by the time his balls touched up against the smooth cool of Viggo’s skin. His cock seemed numb; Orlando hadn’t heard from it in what seemed like hours. He wondered vaguely if it had gone awol.
Viggo murmured again, telling Orlando it was okay to move, and Orlando made one slow pull out, a slower press back in. Then another. Still, no word from down below – Orlando’s cock was totally quiet. Geez, maybe he’d have to send MacGyver in on a rescue mission with a paper clip and some duct tape or something. MacGyver could do anything with a paper clip and some duct tape.
Then he felt Viggo shift a little and his muscles relax just a bit, and Orlando made a huge mistake.
He looked down.
And saw… his own cock.
Inside Viggo.
Oh god. Ohhhhhhhhh god.
Suddenly Orlando’s cock had a full signal again and cell-phoned home loud and clear that this was really a lot of freaking FUN. And it took off.
Orlando’s pelvis was moving now, moving fast and gaining speed, and Orlando grabbed onto Viggo’s hips just hoping not to be left behind.
Oh, he was - - this was - - oh, geez, pistoning. Yeah, pistoning would be the word, if Orlando could remember how to form words. Slamming into Viggo now, his cock was in full control, and Orlando felt his orgasm building way, way too fast.
He had to slow… this… down. He couldn’t come already!
He had to… he had to… think about other things – that’s it! Think of something unsexy.
Um… olives. Orlando hated olives. Yuck. He started free associating.
olives… smell like dirty diapers
diapers… babies
babies… soft skin
soft skin… the skin of Viggo’s thighs, way up near his - -
Ohhh no. Nope, not working! Orlando’s brain frantically googled for a new distraction from the delicious urgency in his privates.
Clowns. Clowns weren’t sexy. Clowns were kind of creepy. Okay, he’d think about clowns.
clowns… Ronald McDonald.
Ronald McDonald… French fries
French fries… France
France… the Chunnel
the Chunn - -
- - NOPE, not that, either. Oh god, new topic, FAST… don’t come don’t come don’t come…
Uhhhh… aerogel. Yeah, he’d just read about that funky aerogel stuff. Very cool, but not sexy. Okay, so…
aerogel… NASA
NASA… rockets
rockets - -
Oh god. It was hopeless. His first time making love to Viggo like this, and he was going to - -
Wait, a little voice inside Orlando said. Orlando stopped moving, shuddering with the effort.
Focus on Viggo. That’s what Orlando needed to do. Think about Viggo. Try to know what he’s feeling, be here for him. Be here with him.
Orlando took a deep breath. He spread his hands wide on Viggo’s back, just under the blades of Viggo’s shoulders, and closed his eyes. He forced himself to stillness, and just listened, more with his fingers than with his ears.
There. There - - he could feel it.
Under the moist heat of Viggo’s skin, he could feel Viggo’s heart pounding, strong and sure. The long muscles of Viggo’s back flexed gently, rhythmically as his lungs filled and emptied.
Orlando could feel it. Wow.
He could feel something else, too – a low, tiny something. A vibration, maybe.
Orlando opened his eyes. Viggo’s head was turned to the side; Orlando could see Viggo’s closed eyes, could see his lips moving slightly.
Viggo was whispering.
God, Viggo was… he was just beautiful. Orlando wanted - - well, he just wanted - - more than he’d ever wanted in his whole life.
“Viggo,” Orlando leaned close and quiet to Viggo’s ear. “Viggo, give me your words.” He reached to grasp Viggo’s hand, quickly weaving their fingers together.
“Baby,” Viggo said, his voice low. “It’s… s’good. So much. You’re… it’s so much. Didn’t know.”
Orlando’s hips began to thrust again, tender and strong. “Tell me,” he whispered, craving the connection that Viggo’s voice was giving them.
“I - -oh…,” Viggo gasped, at the thrust or the words, Orlando wasn’t sure. “Didn’t know. Want - - … want you, Orlando. So good. Feel so good. Right here. Right like this. So much.”
Orlando watched Viggo’s eyebrows draw together, saw Viggo pull their joined hands to his mouth, felt Viggo’s lips move wetly against their fingers.
Orlando wrapped more tightly around Viggo, his hips rocking and pulling them through it. The electric urgency in his cock become something more, something strong and right and outside himself, something that was more theirs than his. Right now, it was like he could feel what Viggo felt.
He could do this forever.
When Viggo came, his closed eyes tightening and his voice sighing out, Orlando kissed his shoulder and his back and whispered things he didn’t know into Viggo’s ear. Then Orlando’s own orgasm fell on him, slowly, washing through him, sweeping him far away, bringing him back again.
Orlando lay over Viggo with his arms around him, their left hands still clasped, and Orlando managed to nudge off his tear-streaked glasses and lay his cheek on Viggo’s back. He felt Viggo relaxing and listened to Viggo’s breathing, and let everything be quiet and amazing and still for a while.
There was that feeling again, that he was forgetting something. Someone’s birthday? It was making him kinda nuts, this feeling. Weird.
Well, he was too happy, and actually sleepy again, to worry about it now.
Orlando awkwardly took care of his condom – his condom! How weird was that!? – and flopped down next to Viggo, careful for his wrapped ankle.
Orlando’s cock lit up a bone and did its best Jeff Spicoli imitation. Dude… this was sooo awesome.
Viggo nudged him drowsily, and Orlando curled up a little more snuggly against his gorgeous boyfriend and let himself drift slowly… toward….
Wait. Orlando cracked an eyelid. “Viggo?”
Viggo hmm-ed sleepily in response.
“Last night… was I… doing - - stuff... to a chair?”
ETA: continued here
this is how i pictured viggo during this part. :)
author:
stormatduskpairing: Viggo/Orlando
rating: adult
warnings: m/m sex; otherwise, none
disclaimer: this is only fiction.
a/n: starts here
picks up directly from part 27
a/n 2: icon by the brilliant
lady_razzlegalor5Orlando woke up – for real this time, he was pretty sure – and cool, the ceiling wasn’t doing that weird slithering thing any more.
Okay, this was definitely better. His ankle was barely hurting right now, so the extra-strength ibuprofen was working great, and thankfully, that side effect of feeling all weird and inside-outty seemed to be gone. He was glad he’d stopped taking that prescription this morning. He’d have to add a note to the medical section of his All About Me spreadsheet once he got home: ix-nay on the ercocet-Pay from now on. That stuff was way out of his league.
He felt nice and rested now. He turned to glance at the clock: 9:28 pm. Oops. Not the best time to wake up all rested. Rats, he’d napped or Percocet-ed away a whole Thursday off of work, a day he could’ve spent surfing the net or hanging out with Elijah (though, duh, Elijah didn’t get the day off for a sprained ankle) or maybe watching Viggo do some painting. He wondered what Viggo was doing. Maybe he was in his studio now.
Orlando stretched in Viggo’s bed, enjoying the feel of the cool sheets on his skin and cozily breathing in the toastiness. Hee hee. It was kind of neat that Viggo’s bed smelled like toast, but without annoying toasty crumbs to deal with.
Okay, maybe there was a tiny bit of that Percocet still in his system.
His attention wandered to the TV. He vaguely remembered having asked Viggo to leave it on for some white noise during his nap. It must be tuned to HGTV or something; it was showing a pottery class. Orlando watched as a man splatted a lump of clay onto one of those wheel thingies and cupped his hands around it as the wheel started rotating.
Yeah, Orlando was definitely feeling better, because he was pretty sure watching a spinning pottery wheel last night would’ve made him fall-over dizzy. That Percocet warning was going on the spreadsheet in bold.
The guy on TV dipped his hands in a bowl of water, and now they were glistening as they molded the spinning clay into the shape of a big, smooth, clayish gumdrop. He watched as the man flexed his fingers just a bit and the gumdrop immediately reacted with an excited little wobble.
Orlando’s cock sprang up with a wobble of its own. That looked… that was kinda interesting.
Then the guy’s big hands gently bent up and turned and his thumbs – oh… oh gosh – the tips of his thumbs moved just a touch, just a smidge, into the dome of the gumdrop - -
Orlando’s cock grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.
- - and the gumdrop shape started… holy moly - - stretching, and… opening up. Wow.
The guy released the spinning clay and dipped his fingers into the water again before returning to offer the gumdrop a few whisper… soft… caresses….
Orlando’s cock polished its glasses and squinted.
Oh - - OH goodness… the thumbs were going deep into the gumdrop now, and the wet clay was stretching smoothly, and a deep tunnel was forming, and the clay looked almost as if was all achy and moany and…
Orlando’s cock two-finger whistled for Viggo to GET IN HERE AND WATCH THIS.
At that moment, beautiful, bare-chested, blue-jeaned Viggo walked in to the bedroom – Viggo’s bedroom, in Viggo’s house, Orlando scolded his bratty, demanding cock – and smiled.
“Hey, you’re awake! How’re you feeling, Princess?” He carefully sat down on the bed next to Orlando, offering a tall glass of cream soda with loads of ice.
Naked in Viggo’s bed, and cream soda? When did Orlando’s life ever get so good?
Orlando clicked off the TV, managing to hide his wince as his cock punched him hard in the upper thigh at the loss of its porn flick. He sat up and took the glass gratefully, downing a big swig of the sweet fizz.
“Better,” he nodded. “Much better. Thank you. For taking care of me, I mean.”
Orlando’s cock grumpily pointed out that it had yet to be taken care of. Resolving to ignore it, Orlando reached to Viggo’s nightstand and set down his drink. He scooted closer to Viggo, wrapping his arms around him in a grateful hug.
“You’re a good patient; it was no trouble at all,” Viggo said, squeezing Orlando back. Viggo leaned back to lay a light kiss on Orlando’s mouth, trailing a warm hand down Orlando’s side. Orlando’s cock saw its opportunity; it lurched up in a desperate attempt at direct communication with the outside world, bopping Viggo’s wrist impatiently.
Pausing in the kiss, Viggo blinked.
Oh god. Orlando was even more embarrassed than Dom had been that time he’d fallen asleep half in his Spaghettios in the break room and Elijah had taken great glee in waking him up with a Clocky.
“Sorry,” Orlando croaked. “I was - - they were showing - - uh, there was a pottery. Class. On TV.”
Viggo raised a brow. “A… pottery class?”
Orlando nodded. “Uh - - yeah. They were… it was….” The nearness of Viggo’s scent and skin and eyes and warmth was rapidly depleting Orlando’s brain’s oxygen supply. “Oh - - never… let’s - - never mind. Would you… um, do you want to…oh geez, Viggo - - will you let me…?”
Orlando flipped back the sheet, exposing his Orlandoness. He moved to the middle of the bed and pulled gently on Viggo’s arm. Viggo’s mouth dropped open. “Orlando, are you sure you’re feeling - -“
“Oh, I’m feeling something, baby,” Orlando interjected sexily, and immediately wondered who the heck had said that. Apparently his privates had taken control of his vocal cords now, too.
“But what about your ankle?” Viggo stalled unconvincingly.
Okay, Orlando’s cock was so not doing this again. It had a coupon for one free ride in the ViggoLand Tunnel of Love, NO expiration date, and it was redeeming it right now, thank you very much.
“It’s wrapped; it feels pretty good. I’ll be careful. Is… is that okay?” Orlando gently-but-not yanked his gorgeous boyfriend down onto the bed and smothered his mouth, carefully and nakedly pressing up against him with all but the one bad ankle. He kissed Viggo fiercely and writhed in insistent invitation.
“Yeah, mohkay,” Viggo mumbled to Orlando’s tonsils.
Orlando’s cock threw confetti.
Between the two of them, they stripped Viggo of his paint-stained jeans faster than a pit stop in one of Elijah’s NASCAR PS2 games, impressively managing to stay connected at the lips throughout.
“Wait.” Orlando’s brain made one more attempt to remind Orlando that he was, in fact, a gentleman. “I… I want - - “
“What is it?” Viggo panted.
“I want this to be… special. For you, I mean. I mean, I know it’s not... your first time, but… well, you made my first time really nice, and special, and I just… I wanted to do that. I wanted… you know - - candles, and maybe - - um, strawberries or something – strawberries are supposed to be romantic, right? – and music, and….”
“Orlando,” Viggo said tenderly, “every time with you is special.”
“Oh….” Orlando said dreamily, suddenly at risk of developing teenaged boobs and a period. He shook himself.
“No, really, Viggo. I wanted - - I really wanted it to be… nice. You deserve it.” He kissed Viggo again. “I know it’s… it’s dumb, but can we? Would you… would you maybe get some stuff? Just whatever you have around the house? I would do it, but I don’t know if my ankle will like it.”
“No!” Viggo said quickly, hopping out of the bed. “No, no, you just stay right here. I don’t want to take any chances of you hurting yourself again. Maybe we should tie you to the bed so you don’t fall….” Viggo trailed off.
Orlando visibly flinched and audibly oofed as his cock back-flipped in excitement at the mere mention of tying games. He looked at Viggo in obvious physical discomfort. Like, down there discomfort.
Viggo’s eyes got big. “I’ll… I’ll be right back. Just, DON’T. GET. UP. Okay?” Viggo’s naked, gorgeous butt scurried out of the bedroom.
The naked, gorgeous butt that Orlando was about to - -
Oh god. This was so exciting!!
Okay, think. Think, think, think. Orlando tried to recall his Cub Scout training. Darn it; maybe he should’ve kept going all the way to Eagle Scout so he’d be better prepared for things like this. Well, no – that wasn’t really how it worked…. Okay, whatever. THINK.
Supplies. They’d need supplies. Orlando reached over to Viggo’s nightstand and opened the drawer where he knew Viggo kept… things. There, next to the condoms and a couple of tubes, was a little travel pack of Kleenex. Just like the one that Orlando kept in the drawer at work, right next to the monitor screen cleaner wipes. For emergency nosebleeds. Orlando was sure it hadn’t been there before.
Holy. Moly. Viggo must’ve bought a little travel pack of Kleenex. For Orlando.
Viggo was totally the best boyfriend ever. Orlando was even more glad that he’d asked Viggo to get some romantic stuff.
Viggo set a new landspeed record, arriving back with an armload of CDs, the battery candles, and a huge bunch of underripe bananas. A little out of breath, he dumped his cache on the bed and looked at Orlando hopefully. “Will this work?”
Um. Bananas? Orlando felt a little meepish, and wondered slightly uncomfortably if Viggo was hinting at some sort of sex produce game he wanted to try.
“Uh… I didn’t have any strawberries in the house,” Viggo apologized, and shuffled a cute, naked, sort of embarrassed shuffle, turning to the dresser. “We can just put these… over… here.”
Orlando grinned and quickly pawed through the CDs. Neil Diamond – no (Neil Diamond? Huh, he wouldn’t have pegged Viggo for Neil Diamond)… Gin Blossoms – hmm, maybe sometime, but not tonight… ooooooh: Dire Straits. Perfect. He pushed up his glasses and passed the CD to Viggo.
Then the music had started and the candles were blown on and Viggo was in the bed, in Orlando’s arms, and they were kissing and touching and rubbing, and oh god, it was good. Orlando’s business drooled in frantic anticipation.
“Do you want to prep me?” Viggo rasped. “Or do you want me to do it?”
Orlando swallowed. “I want… I’d like to. I’m - - I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Just go slow,” Viggo said, turning onto his front. “I’ll talk you through it if you want.” Viggo rested his head on his folded arms and bent one knee, sliding the leg up and baring himself to Orlando.
Orlando froze, totally stunned at the perfection in front of him. Viggo’s ass - - god, it was just so muscular and round and- - and meaty, and he just wanted to….
“Can I touch it?” Orlando whispered, awestruck.
Viggo chuckled. “I certainly hope so.” He looked over his shoulder, grinning. “Come on, Princess. Put your hands on me.”
Orlando reached out and grasped a healthy handful of each bun and gently squeezed. The skin was so smooth under his palms, and the muscles resisted and flexed under his touch.
Viggo hummed and sighed and pressed his hips into the mattress.
With slightly shaking hands, Orlando caressed and massaged Viggo’s butt, straying often to stroke upwards across his back, and down over the backs of Viggo’s thighs. He couldn’t just get straight to… well, straight to it. He wanted Viggo to feel as relaxed and good and… cared about… as Viggo always made Orlando feel. He wanted Viggo to love it.
But neither could he resist for very long. Soon Orlando’s fingertips smoothed over the crease of Viggo’s butt with each circular, massaging stroke. He could feel the different texture there, warmer, coarser, and when Viggo hummed again, Orlando nearly jumped with want. He realized dimly that while he was hard – geez, super duper hard – still, his cock was acting sort of hushed and respectful, like it had decided to stay out of the way for now and let him concentrate. Orlando would have to think of a good reward later.
Viggo murmured to him, and Orlando spread his fingers with gel and gently, slowly worked one into Viggo’s body. His own entrance clenched, remembering the feel of Viggo inside him, and he felt dizzy with it all: wanting to do Viggo, wanting Viggo to do him, wanting everything, all at once.
Getting Viggo’s body ready wasn’t difficult at all, with Viggo quietly letting him know what felt right, and with remembering what Viggo did to him so well. Soon Viggo was pressing back against Orlando’s fingers, saying yes, yes, and Viggo was rolling to his knees, resting on bent elbows, breathing deeply.
Orlando knelt up behind him, between Viggo’s knees, deciding deliberately not to stop and think about this, not to stop and gaze at Viggo spread beneath him, or he’d never manage to keep it together. He pressed forward, eased in, stopping once the initial resistance of Viggo’s muscles allowed just the tip of him inside.
God, this was… it was weird. It was nice, but it was almost too much. Too much – pressure, heat, stimulation – something. It was like easing into a freezing lake on a hot day, rather than just jumping right in. He knew it would be great once he was in, but it was almost painful getting there. He tried to listen to Viggo, both his voice and his body, and move slowly, so slowly.
Orlando was sweating by the time his balls touched up against the smooth cool of Viggo’s skin. His cock seemed numb; Orlando hadn’t heard from it in what seemed like hours. He wondered vaguely if it had gone awol.
Viggo murmured again, telling Orlando it was okay to move, and Orlando made one slow pull out, a slower press back in. Then another. Still, no word from down below – Orlando’s cock was totally quiet. Geez, maybe he’d have to send MacGyver in on a rescue mission with a paper clip and some duct tape or something. MacGyver could do anything with a paper clip and some duct tape.
Then he felt Viggo shift a little and his muscles relax just a bit, and Orlando made a huge mistake.
He looked down.
And saw… his own cock.
Inside Viggo.
Oh god. Ohhhhhhhhh god.
Suddenly Orlando’s cock had a full signal again and cell-phoned home loud and clear that this was really a lot of freaking FUN. And it took off.
Orlando’s pelvis was moving now, moving fast and gaining speed, and Orlando grabbed onto Viggo’s hips just hoping not to be left behind.
Oh, he was - - this was - - oh, geez, pistoning. Yeah, pistoning would be the word, if Orlando could remember how to form words. Slamming into Viggo now, his cock was in full control, and Orlando felt his orgasm building way, way too fast.
He had to slow… this… down. He couldn’t come already!
He had to… he had to… think about other things – that’s it! Think of something unsexy.
Um… olives. Orlando hated olives. Yuck. He started free associating.
olives… smell like dirty diapers
diapers… babies
babies… soft skin
soft skin… the skin of Viggo’s thighs, way up near his - -
Ohhh no. Nope, not working! Orlando’s brain frantically googled for a new distraction from the delicious urgency in his privates.
Clowns. Clowns weren’t sexy. Clowns were kind of creepy. Okay, he’d think about clowns.
clowns… Ronald McDonald.
Ronald McDonald… French fries
French fries… France
France… the Chunnel
the Chunn - -
- - NOPE, not that, either. Oh god, new topic, FAST… don’t come don’t come don’t come…
Uhhhh… aerogel. Yeah, he’d just read about that funky aerogel stuff. Very cool, but not sexy. Okay, so…
aerogel… NASA
NASA… rockets
rockets - -
Oh god. It was hopeless. His first time making love to Viggo like this, and he was going to - -
Wait, a little voice inside Orlando said. Orlando stopped moving, shuddering with the effort.
Focus on Viggo. That’s what Orlando needed to do. Think about Viggo. Try to know what he’s feeling, be here for him. Be here with him.
Orlando took a deep breath. He spread his hands wide on Viggo’s back, just under the blades of Viggo’s shoulders, and closed his eyes. He forced himself to stillness, and just listened, more with his fingers than with his ears.
There. There - - he could feel it.
Under the moist heat of Viggo’s skin, he could feel Viggo’s heart pounding, strong and sure. The long muscles of Viggo’s back flexed gently, rhythmically as his lungs filled and emptied.
Orlando could feel it. Wow.
He could feel something else, too – a low, tiny something. A vibration, maybe.
Orlando opened his eyes. Viggo’s head was turned to the side; Orlando could see Viggo’s closed eyes, could see his lips moving slightly.
Viggo was whispering.
God, Viggo was… he was just beautiful. Orlando wanted - - well, he just wanted - - more than he’d ever wanted in his whole life.
“Viggo,” Orlando leaned close and quiet to Viggo’s ear. “Viggo, give me your words.” He reached to grasp Viggo’s hand, quickly weaving their fingers together.
“Baby,” Viggo said, his voice low. “It’s… s’good. So much. You’re… it’s so much. Didn’t know.”
Orlando’s hips began to thrust again, tender and strong. “Tell me,” he whispered, craving the connection that Viggo’s voice was giving them.
“I - -oh…,” Viggo gasped, at the thrust or the words, Orlando wasn’t sure. “Didn’t know. Want - - … want you, Orlando. So good. Feel so good. Right here. Right like this. So much.”
Orlando watched Viggo’s eyebrows draw together, saw Viggo pull their joined hands to his mouth, felt Viggo’s lips move wetly against their fingers.
Orlando wrapped more tightly around Viggo, his hips rocking and pulling them through it. The electric urgency in his cock become something more, something strong and right and outside himself, something that was more theirs than his. Right now, it was like he could feel what Viggo felt.
He could do this forever.
When Viggo came, his closed eyes tightening and his voice sighing out, Orlando kissed his shoulder and his back and whispered things he didn’t know into Viggo’s ear. Then Orlando’s own orgasm fell on him, slowly, washing through him, sweeping him far away, bringing him back again.
Orlando lay over Viggo with his arms around him, their left hands still clasped, and Orlando managed to nudge off his tear-streaked glasses and lay his cheek on Viggo’s back. He felt Viggo relaxing and listened to Viggo’s breathing, and let everything be quiet and amazing and still for a while.
There was that feeling again, that he was forgetting something. Someone’s birthday? It was making him kinda nuts, this feeling. Weird.
Well, he was too happy, and actually sleepy again, to worry about it now.
Orlando awkwardly took care of his condom – his condom! How weird was that!? – and flopped down next to Viggo, careful for his wrapped ankle.
Orlando’s cock lit up a bone and did its best Jeff Spicoli imitation. Dude… this was sooo awesome.
Viggo nudged him drowsily, and Orlando curled up a little more snuggly against his gorgeous boyfriend and let himself drift slowly… toward….
Wait. Orlando cracked an eyelid. “Viggo?”
Viggo hmm-ed sleepily in response.
“Last night… was I… doing - - stuff... to a chair?”
ETA: continued here
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Date: 2007-06-09 07:39 am (UTC)*dances*
thank you!