vigorli

Though I haven't written much VigOrli for a while, I do have a bunch of stories from the LotR 'era.' I've been posting them on my lj but I doubt many people have seen them. They are pretty rough in that I don't actually know a whole heck of a lot about Viggo or Orlando, but I try to edit when I hear something new that I completely got wrong in a fic. Anyways, here's my first offering. Enjoy!
Title: As Blue As Your Eyes
Author: ranmaru
Pairing: VigOrli
Rating: R
Summary: Sappiness abounds on a hot summer day.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, just having fun.

There was something to be said about gorgeous California days, the sun shining bright, blue sky overhead, and lush, green grass under their backs. Orlando congratulated himself on not thinking about the little critters that live in the lush, green grass because Viggo was laying beside him, all carefree smiles and relaxed fucking sexy body, and from time to time, the younger man peeked at the hedges that surrounded their little patch of paradise behind Viggo’s house to make sure there were no prying eyes watching. Prying eyes would be bad because eventually things were going to get hot, not just weather-wise, and there would be a hell of a lot of nakedness on this lovely grass, little critters be damned, just because Viggo was Viggo and that made Orli forget everything else.

“And see how the dark blue fades as it reaches the clouds on the horizon? That’s the color of your eyes.” Orlando paused before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh god, that was awful.”

Viggo cheerfully grinned. “Well, I’d say something poetic about your eyes but all I can come up with is that they’re like sexy mud pies. Give me some time, I’m sure I can come up with something better, though.” He nudged his lover. “I am a poet after all.”

“Shut up. I think I’m offended. Mud pies?”

“I used to spend hours making them when we lived in Venezuela during the wet season.”

“Cute image, but still, mud is not sexy.” And would probably hurt to have in his eyes. Or as eyes. Orli wondered if he’d accidentally inhaled something mind-altering. Maybe there were some interesting little bushes with funny shaped leaves? He scanned the area again.

“Well,” Viggo tapped his chin as if this was a terribly important quandary. “There’s mud wrestling.”

Orli snorted and waved his hands in the air. “That’s for women and well…” He thought about Angelina Jolie all muddy and panting. “Okay, I can see the sexiness in that but just in case you haven’t noticed? I’m a guy.” Orli considered going for crude and grabbing his crotch but he was half-hard, not unusual since, well Viggo, but laying here was nice and the hot stuff was going to come later. He turned his head to the side at that little mental innuendo.

“I’m sure there’s male mud wrestling. Somewhere.” It looked like Viggo was really giving this some serious consideration, if that little furrow between his brows meant anything.

“Which gay clubs have you been frequenting lately?” Orli shook his head. “Glitter and silly string maybe, but not mud.” And maybe extensive use of latex body paints, the Brit wasn’t sure but somehow that just seemed like a brilliant idea. He eyed his lover speculatively.

“What if you think of it as the soil of our beloved Earth, moistened by Mother Nature’s tears of joy?”

“I think I’m gonna heave.” Because, yeah.

Viggo snickered then was a quiet. “So, just how many gay clubs have you, ah, frequented?”

Orli cleared his throat and felt himself blushing. No, that wasn’t right. Blushing was for girls and hadn’t he just pointed out he wasn’t one? “In person?”

“I didn’t realize there was another way,” Viggo teased, sounding way too mature and adult for someone who still giggled like a middle-aged madman over Bugs Bunny.

“Prat. Look, I’ve watched enough telly to get the jist of gay club life, okay?”

“And the jist is glittery and roped with silly string?”

“Shut up.” And wouldn’t it be nice if he didn’t sound like a petulant five year old?

“I’ve never been to a gay club,” Viggo mused, absently trailing his fingers over Orli’s which made the younger man think of the critters he wasn’t thinking of and he grunted in annoyance and linked their fingers, holding tightly. He could still feel little phantom ants on his knuckles.

“Are you saying you want to?” Orli wasn’t so sure that would be a good idea but if he was drunk enough, he could be talked into anything. He made a mental note to hide the vodka. Then again…Glittery Viggo did sound interesting. Or maybe it was the finding the glitter all over Viggo that Orli liked. Hm…

“No, just saying. Would be kind of cool though.” It struck Orlando that Viggo was the only man over thirty that still sounded, well, cool, when he said things like, “cool.” Maybe his English brain just wasn’t used to the California sun.

“Dancing with a bunch of other guys?” Would Viggo be shirtless like those men on tv?

“Dancing can be like fucking in public if you do it right.”

Orli didn’t have an answer for that because he knew Viggo could do it right. Very right. Incredibly, mind-blowingly right. So right most latin music had Orli hard by the second refrain.

“Not sure if I want anyone else seeing you though.” Viggo shifted to lean on his elbow and stare down at Orli. The Brit smiled dreamily up at his lover. God he was fucking gorgeous.

“Ashamed of my dancing?” Oh yeah. There was that amazing heat in Viggo’s eyes. Things were going to get naked soon. If naked was an adjective.

“You’re sexy when you dance,” Viggo said softly, his gaze dropping from Orli’s to focus on the younger man’s mouth. The Brit fought the need to lick his lips.

“Only with you. Alone I look like a spastic monkey.” And wasn’t that the painful truth. He’d have thought God would have at least made him coordinated if he was going to be this good-looking. Hell, he couldn’t even sing.

“My spastic monkey.”

“That would be kind of romantic if you weren’t agreeing with and insulting me.” Orli stretched up to nip Viggo’s chin before falling back down. Sexy chin. Sexy man. Fuck he was so in love.

“I’m horny.” Never let it be said that Viggo Mortensen liked to beat around the bush.

“My dick is hardening with joy.” And it was, and his shorts were going to have a hard time containing it. And it would be really bad to start laughing but he was because he was suddenly thinking of some strange kind of porno-Alien scene and Viggo looked adorable when he was confused. And horny. Oh yeah.

“Have you been sniffing my paint thinner again?”

“Um, no? But if I had, it would explain a lot.” But whatever because Viggo was laughing and leaning down and smiling against Orli’s lips and everything was dark, closed eyes had that effect, but not, because the sun was too bright and kissing Viggo made his synapses…do what they do and made colors appear on his eyelids.

“Bed, bed, bed,” Orli chanted against Viggo’s throat and got a moan in response. Lush, green grass was great but still, critters, and maybe Viggo couldn’t make him forget everything.

The shuffling, stumbling walk was too slow and they made it as far as the kitchen before they were horizontal again. Orli grimaced because linoleum was not skin’s best friend but then Viggo was sucking his cock and oh, who the fuck cared?

“In me, come on Viggo, fuck me,” Orli gasped pushing at Viggo’s shoulders. The world tilted when the artist moved away and Orli grabbed himself and arched off the floor. “Hurry,” he moaned, fuzzy mind knowing Viggo needed lube but not caring if he used a stick of butter and long as he…ohh…

It was fast, and Orli wanted to remember everything Viggo gasped and groaned as he thrust inside but he couldn’t stay focused. Rough hands held him by the wrists, and all he could do was stare into intense blue eyes and ride it out. Orgasm hit hard and too fast and Orli knew he heard Viggo whimper about the same time he did and that was the hottest thing he’d ever heard in his life since the last time.

Viggo caught himself before slumping down on Orli and that just pissed off the younger man. He was sated and panting and he really just wanted to hold his lover as tight as he could and hope nothing broke.

“You’re not that heavy,” Orli mumbled, pressing down on Viggo’s muscled shoulders with the heels on his hands. He was pretty sure he didn’t sound like he was whining. Or begging.

“Mm,” Viggo gently lowered himself down. Orli happily wrapped arms and legs around him and sighed. Except that his legs were still trembling and he had to let them fall back to the floor. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warm breath against his throat and tried to not think about how slippery the floor was under his ass.

“You really do make a great pillow,” said Viggo. Orli would have replied with something incredibly witty if Viggo hadn’t then licked a stripe from his Adam’s Apple to his ear.

“Um...” He was pretty sure he said that out loud but with gentle teeth worrying his earlobe, things got a bit addled.

“Bet the floor is hard. And wet.”

“Uh-huh.” And yes it was wet and Orli was beginning to think it might be worse than critters skittering around in the grass. Or not.

The bed was the absolute epitome of comfortable and Orli made disgusting girly sounds as he snuggled down into the pillows. There really was no need to leach onto Viggo for heat or sex because he wasn’t up to another round but soon, oh very soon, yet he wound himself around the older man anyway. Fingers threaded through his hair, over and over until Orli was positive every bone in his body had melted like candle wax. He stared out of the window, sometimes rubbing his cheek against the sparse, wiry hairs on Viggo’s chest.

“Sky still looks like your eyes,” he said, not feeling quite so stupid about saying it. He was jostled by Viggo’s amused exhale of breath.

“Stay out of my studio,” Viggo warned. Orli grinned and pressed a kiss to his lover’s skin before falling asleep.

The End

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