vigorli

I cannot thank everyone enough for helping me find a way to post that pic of OB!

some1elsesboyagree it comes from a ROTK press shoot in Japan. I'll have more details later. Also I've starred a quote that, if I remember correctly, is a REAL quote about Viggo's book Recent Forgeries, just after it came out. Funny enough, when I tried to find it again (four years later) all I found were positive reviews, which were scarce at the time of the book's release because I'd been hesitant to buy the book because of them. Those reviews, and then the picture of OB were the inspiration for this fic. I hope everyone enjoys this. It's one of my very favorites.

Title: Photographic Memory
Author: ranmaru
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A photograph brings back a memory for Viggo.
Feedback: It gets me through the day!
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, just playing.
Beta'd by the lovely

lenalove! *hugs*

It hadn’t been a good day, Viggo remembered, the tip of his index finger lightly tracing the cool, flat surface of the photo. He’d retreated into his studio after reading a review of his latest book, wanting to lick his wounds in privacy. He hated it when he couldn’t smile through the pain, couldn’t relegate the scathing words to a little box in his mind and lock it forever. Hated it when it mattered. It wasn’t always easy to say to himself that some people simply did not see the world with the same eyes or felt the need to highlight the insignificant moments of life. That they couldn’t read his words and relate.

The photo was black and white, Orli’s skin like hand-carved ivory. It had been taken just before his funny goatee had come in but the shadow over and under his lips was there, seeming more like faint swipes of charcoal. His dark hair had been pulled back in a tiny ponytail but the wind had run teasing fingers through the shorter strands, letting them fly loose. One soft lock fell over his forehead like a miniature angel’s wing, and Viggo traced down the curve to the feathered ends. He smiled. The Englishman wouldn’t like the heavenly comparison.

He hadn’t meant to pick up his camera that day. Pictures were clinical and detached, an immediate solution with delayed results. He’d wanted to get dirty, feel slick paint squish between his fingers and rough canvas scrape over his skin. He hadn’t wanted the stillness of finding the perfect shot but exaggerated motion, feeling his muscles strain and pull as he dashed his pain against the canvas, the splatters of paint ringing in his ears.

Orlando had come home from an interview slash photo-shoot wearing a printed flannel shirt and cotton trousers that were held up with suspenders. The scarf he’d found while on vacation with Henry and given to Orli was around his neck. Viggo remembered seeing the younger man standing in the open doorway of the studio silently watching him stomping around the crowded room and shivering with shame.

Viggo hadn’t wanted Orli to know about his humiliation, his “childish interpretation of the world best left to toddlers*” as one critic had written, but then he’d seen the same damned magazine rolled up in his lover’s hand. Anger tightened his skin until he felt as if his skin would split if he moved but fear of the pity that would be in those beautiful brown eyes buzzed in his veins until he had no choice but to chance it, pivoting on the balls of his feet and reaching out for the dusty fedora that he wouldn’t admit was used more like a veil than a hat as he smashed it on his head and pulled it low over his eyes.

The camera had been under his hat and he’d picked it up automatically, the strap swinging uselessly below. Orli had moved closer and it seemed he could feel the heat from his young body even though they were still on opposite sides of the room. Viggo raised the camera defensively, the mounted flash attachment knocking the brim of his hat back. He sighted Orlando’s face, ready to press the shutter, some insane thought flittering through his mind that he could distract the Englishman with the flash, and make a run for it.

There had been no pity in Orli’s eyes. Instinct made his finger move, guilt filled him as Orlando flinched, squeezing his eyes closed and stumbling back. The camera lowered but Viggo could still see his face, concern etching the faintest lines across his forehead, eyelids lowered in sadness but lips slightly tipped up to combat misery with encouragement. It was too much and Viggo found himself also stumbling back. The camera might have fallen carelessly to the floor if Orli hadn’t snatched it from his nerveless hands and set it back on the small folding table.

He’d never dealt with hurt very well, hated for anyone to see his weakness. Viggo couldn’t understand why he let Orli get so close, too close, pulling him into an embrace and murmuring quietly into his ear. He couldn’t remember what had been said. He wasn’t sure if it mattered.

Warmth had folded around him. It was like gliding through warm, crystal-clear water, making him weightless and feeling as though he could do anything while in its protection. Awareness was the crackle of lightening that made the waters dangerous and exciting. He turned the anguish into desire, opening his mouth over the sensitive skin of Orlando’s neck and sucking until the body pressed against him shuddered and a quiet moan reverberated under his lips.

They didn’t take the time to undress completely. It had to be fast, it had to be hard, it had to hurt and feel so good the smeared colors from his canvas were painted against his eyelids and swirled every time he blinked. The wall was cold against his cheek, the palms of his hands, but the tongue lashing at his hole was hot and made him shake and whine in a voice he barely recognized as his own. Fingers stabbed inside, not wet enough, not hard enough, not big enough. Not enough.

Maybe he said it, shouted it, screamed it. Maybe Orli instinctively knew because suddenly he was there, thrusting, making Viggo choke on his cries. He ached, his cheek, his ass, his cock. He burned with a savage love for the man taking him against the wall of his studio. Fucking him and loving him, understanding rejection and letting his body sooth the invisible wounds Viggo would never give voice to.

A steady rhythm on his dick had him bucking forward and levering against the wall to push back, impaling himself, needing Orlando to just hit that spot, Jesus Christ now and he did and time froze as come splattered against the painted sheetrock. Orgasm made the room disappear and he was back in the water, floating yet anchored by the arms around his middle. Orli drove in once more, deep and hard, almost sobbing Viggo’s name as he climaxed.

Somehow they made it to the shabby couch he’d picked up at the Salvation Army too many years ago, Viggo pressing his sweaty back to Orli’s sweaty front, trying to ignore the burning in his ass by concentrating on the light kisses being rained on his neck. Sweet, silent apologies.

He’d found the magazine the next day, lying forgotten next to a can of paint thinner. He hadn’t picked it up right away, staying still to probe around his heart for the ragged pain he’d felt only hours before but there’d been nothing. Just in case he’d carried the magazine outside and tossed it into the barrel he’d designated for burnable trash. A lit match had swiftly followed.

“Will you use that in your next book?” The softly spoken words came only milliseconds before strong arms slid around his neck from behind.

“No,” Viggo answered, laying the photo down and closing his eyes to nuzzle Orli’s neck. “Just thinking.”

“Good thoughts?”

Viggo kissed him in answer.

The End

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

roomfor2.livejournal.com

Now that was just lovely. Perfect even. Your descriptions were fabulous.

sitaray.livejournal.com

I love it!!!! It's absolutly beautiful and your descriptions are right on!

lenalove.livejournal.com

Genius, Ranny. You have captured the strange look on Orlando's face perfectly, and Viggo's strange and complicated mind all in one beautifully descriptive and poetic piece of writing. *hugs*

ranmaru.livejournal.com

It is such an odd look, isn't it?

nienna77.livejournal.com

loved this. its so beautiful and descriptive and wonderful and...wonderfully beautiful. lol. =D

i dont think i've commented on your other stories but i have read them all and loved those as well.

amazing!

I'm glad you've been enjoying them!!

ireth06.livejournal.com

I think it's incredible how people ***and now you too!*** can write a fic on account of a single picture. And this one is so well done!

Thanks for sharing, huggles!!