vigorli

title: The Wheel
author:

stormatdusk
pairing: Viggo/Orlando/Karl
rating: adult
warnings: none
disclaimer: this is only fiction.
a/n: inspired by and written for

slashfairy, because i love how she loves them and how she listens to them. her gorgeous universe, the little au, is here.

The Wheel

Viggo’s blue. He’s the sky he’s criss-crossed so often on his way to a new life: Venezuela, Argentina, New York, Denmark, Los Angeles, Idaho, Wellington, London, Budapest, a few dozen more. He’s the ocean that holds everything together, caresses the hard edges, takes the brittle things far away and softens them and brings them back again. He’s the eyes that Karl moved across the world to feel on him every day, that Orlando thinks of last before he drops into sleep each night, wherever he is.

Orlando’s yellow. He’s the sunlight blooming even through English clouds and southern California smog. He’s the point of radiance they follow in phototropic echoes, innocently unaware of the effect he emits on everything around him. He tends them in the winters of their souls, infusing light and life into the darkness, encouraging growth and healing. He’s the laughter that makes Viggo smile in his sleep, the embrace that soothes Karl when he’s missing his son.

Karl’s red. He’s the deep breathing rumble of the earth, the rich clay of quiet creativity. He forges their fortress, builds and protects their safe foundation with his hands, supports and stabilizes them with his heart. He’s the bedrock that anchors Viggo when he loses himself too much to the character, to the world; he’s the blood that seeped for them all when Orlando was lost.

Karl watches Orlando lower himself onto Viggo, watches Orlando smile and begin to move, listens as Orlando’s giggles become whimpers become moans, watches as Orlando’s yellow blends with Viggo’s blue until they shimmer green, renewal, life, the harmony that is the two together.

Viggo paints his mind’s photograph of them, Orlando pressing hotly into Karl, Karl clutching at the sheets, writhing and growling, fanning the embers of their fevered need until Orlando’s yellow and Karl’s red ignite, burst and flare bright orange with their passion, strength, vibrancy.

Orlando dreams of Viggo, spread wide and welcoming beneath Karl’s big hands, fluid under the elegant assault as Karl surrounds and engulfs him, dreams of Karl driving into Viggo, driving them both to another place, another level, until Karl’s red and Viggo’s blue emerge as purple, rich and sultry and timeless.

And the wheel of their love, of the three of them, goes round.

-end-