Breathing Room (20/20
Feb. 20th, 2005 08:41 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: Breathing Room (20/20)
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: Monteverde X: Climax
Rating/Warnings: R, maybe NC-17. All made up. Fiction. There's not a lick of truth in it.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; don't know anything about them - they are their own. I mean no disrespect and I'm certainly not profiting from this.
A/N: There might be an epilogue. I'm not sure. As always, thanks so much for your helpful feedback. This was my first fanfic since a Star Wars/Battlestar Galactica crossover 20 years ago, and I wasn't really sure how well it would go over. You guys have been so welcoming and kind and your feedback has been incredible. Thank you so very very much.
-----------------
Previous Chapters Look under Personal Fics
January 2005, Day 14
To avoid waking Orlando, Viggo showered in his room, grinning at the dozen or more bottles of 'product' crowding the ledges of the tub. Some things didn't change. It took him a good two or three minutes just to narrow down something that might be shampoo. He was about to give up and just use the little bottle of hotel brand when he finally had a eureka moment.
It smelled kinda nice, too. Sorta like ... ginger. Or oranges. Whatever.
Clean and smelling better than he probably usually did, he chuckled to himself as he pulled on clean clothes - a well-worn pair of jeans, blue U.N. tee and a blue and green plaid shirt. A regular fashion plate. Sliding bare feet into a pair of loafers almost as old as Henry, he headed for the door to get coffee.
Sitting comfortably in a padded arm chair directly across from the suite's door was the night clerk Enrique, reading a magazine and drinking coffee. He looked up as the door opened and flashed a wide grin.
"Buenas dias, Senor Bush!"
"Buenas dias, Enrique," Viggo replied, bemused, one eyebrow cocked. "Eso es un lugar inusual a instalar un campo."
"Si, senor." Enrique stood, still grinning. "Pero debo guardarle de salir de su habitacion."
"Is that a fact?" Viggo mused. "Interesting."
"Si," Enrique agreed. "Muy interesante."
"Well, then. Hmmm. How about some coffee?"
Enrique whipped an order book out of his back pocket and a pen from a front pocket and took down the breakfast order as Viggo placed it, then stood waiting.
"Coffee and juice now. Everything else in about an hour." Viggo stood waiting.
"Si, senor." Enrique looked pointedly at the suite door.
Viggo blinked, then burst out laughing. "Okay, okay. I consider myself imprisoned. May I ask who's ordered me locked up?"
"He said to tell you the governor of Florida, senor," Enrique said. He was still chuckling when Viggo closed the suite door behind him.
-----
Once upon a time, a handsome prince fell in love with a gentle king.
The prince would have been the luckiest man on earth, if not for a habit of sticking his head up his arse on a regular basis. When he got it up there, all he could see was his own selfish wishes and he forgot that the rest of the world existed. He surrounded himself with beautiful blank puppets and every toy he'd ever imagined, and he declared himself king of the world.
But his kingdom was made ofplasticine pasteboard and cheap glitter, and the puppets all looked like reflected each other and the toys broke and were stupid anyway. The prince who thought he was a king felt hungry but food couldn't fill him. He felt cold but nothing cuold could warm him. He felt lost and no maps could locate find him. He was king of his whole world and he was empty.
Something was missing.
-----
An hour or so later, Viggo was sipping coffee and reading when breakfast was delivered. After settling that business, he picked up a loafer and threw it at his bedroom door.
"Orlando! Breakfast!" Settling down on the couch with a grin, he started to serve himself while the food was still hot, knowing from experience that Orlando wouldn't be in to eat in a hurry. A few minutes later he flung the other loafer at the door. "Orlando! Wake up!"
The huevos rancheros were delicious. It was a damn shame Orlando was only going to taste them lukewarm. Viggo looked over his shoulder at the closed door and ran an internal mood check on himself. It felt like... a good day. A day for throwing caution to the wind, maybe. He could only die so many times, after all.
On that thought, he bolted up from the couch and through the bedroom door. Crawling onto the bed where Orlando was sprawled on his back, dead to the world, he took a deep breath, straddled the sleeper, grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him awake.
Orlando woke with a jolt and a jump, eyes flying wide, entirely unsure for a moment what was happening. Then he knew, and thought he was dreaming. But it felt too real, and he was pretty sure that a dream Viggo wouldn't taste like chiles and egg.
Viggo broke the kiss and pulled back a little, hands still bracketing Orlando's face. "Breakfast's here," he said, a little breathless.
"I should get up," Orlando managed to stutter, working his hands out from under the sheets, up to grab Viggo's hair. "Do that again?"
"Yeah." Viggo leaned down again and lips met lips with an almost electric shock. The hell with the chaste kisses of two nights ago. This one was fierce, demanding, almost bruising, an urgent tangle of lips and tongues that reestablished acquaintances, drew new lines and threatened to subsume each man into the other.
They broke apart reluctantly and Viggo leaned his head against Orlando's, sucking in air.
"Not that I'm ... complaining..." Orlando gasped, running long, desperate fingers through Viggo's hair. "But what brought... this on?"
Viggo pulled in a long breath and let it out slow, trying to settle his breathing. thumbs caressing Orlando's face. "I just realized... I'm leaving here in two days." Another deep breath, this one more controlled. "And I may never see you again." He lifted his head so he could look down at Orlando, willing the younger man to understand. "Even if it hurts, I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't take one last chance to be with you. Maybe this time I can be left with good memories."
Unable to meet those stunned chocolate eyes anymore, he pressed a kiss to Orlando's forehead, then peppered a line of kisses down one side of his face, down his throat, to that hollow that begged to be kissed and licked and savored. Orlando's hands stroked his hair, roamed down to his shoulders, up to his neck, burrowed under the T-shirt to rest at the top of his back. Viggo shoved the covers down to expose smooth tanned olive skin and caressed it with hands and lips, drawing featherlight circles around each nipple before warming it with a hungry mouth. Orlando moaned softly, melting into the bed, managing one strangled, "Vig..."
Following the contours of well-defined muscle groups, Viggo traced his way down Orlando's abdomen, nipping a small circle around his navel before boring into it with his tongue and grinning at the resulting shudder. The sun tattoo drew a moment's praise while hands shoved interfering boxers out of the way. Then with no warning he took Orlando whole, one hot wet slurp, and the younger man nearly came off the bed.
"Jesus Christ!" he shouted. "Give a man some warning."
"Nope," Viggo mumbled, mouth full, and set to work bringing the boy to salvation. One thing about Viggo Mortensen: When he set out to do a thing, he did it right. So when he determined to become a cocksucker, all those many 'Hm, maybe I'm bisexual' years ago, he learned from the best. Which was why Orlando was soon a quivering mass of held-on-the-teetering-edge sexual tension and riding the kind of bliss that makes toes curl and eyeballs go numb. And when Viggo finally relented and let him go, drinking down his release in a different ecstasy, Orlando ripped the bottom sheet right off the bed and nearly fell on the floor.
Viggo rested his head on Orlando's thighs for a moment, then fell over onto his back on the bed, laughing.
"What?" Orlando managed to squawk.
"Breakfast..." Viggo snickered. "It's getting cold."
"Think I care about breakfast?" Orlando twitched as if he were considering moving, but decided against it.
"I do." Viggo smiled at the ceiling. "Hope I'm gonna need my strength."
"Pretty presumptuous for an old man."
"Old man still got your taste in my mouth." Viggo smacked once lasciviously, rolled over and winked, then climbed off the bed and ambled back out to finish his breakfast, grinning the whole way.
---------
Once upon a time, a handsome prince fell in love with a gentle king.
The prince would have been the luckiest man on earth, if not for a habit of sticking his head up his arse on a regular basis. When he did that, all he could see was his own selfish wishes and he forgot that the rest of the world existed. He surrounded himself with beautiful blank puppets and every toy he'd ever imagined, and he declared himself king of the world.
But his kingdom was made of pasteboard and cheap glitter, and the puppets all reflected each other and the toys broke and were stupid anyway. The prince who thought he was a king felt hungry but food couldn't fill him. He felt cold but nothing could warm him. He felt lost and no maps could find him. He was king of his whole world and he was empty.
Something was missing.
Then one day the two true friends he had left arrived for a visit. They met in the beautifully decorated but cold and empty royal chambers and proceeded to box the prince around the head and ears.
"You stupid git," the king of the northern country said. "Can y'not remember th'last time y'were warm and filled in a safe place where y'knew where y'were, y'daft bugger?"
And "No," the prince said, for he was exceedingly dense with his head up his arse. "Tell me!"
And whap! the prince of the southern island smacked his head. "Do y'not remember yer king, y'wee poofter?"
-----
The hot parts of breakfast were still somewhat warm by the time Orlando wandered from the bedroom in boxers and one of Viggo's sweatshirts and piled onto the couch beside the older man and his breakfast and newspaper.
"Making free with my clothes there, aren't ya, elf boy?" Viggo noted.
"I was cold," Orlando replied haughtily, dishing himself up some breakfast.
"And it was so far to your room."
"Bite me."
"Don't tempt me."
Orlando flashed a wicked grin, then turned his attention back to his food. "Besides, I happen to like your clothes."
"Developing a taste for second-hand yard sale goods as you get older, are you?" Amused.
"Rediscovering a taste for a smart-ass Disney actor who likes horses better than girls."
Snort. "Disney actor."
"Says it right there on the screen."
"Mr. Pirate of the theme ride."
"Arrrr matey."
"Eat your breakfast."
"Aye, aye, sir."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, or at least Orlando ate. Viggo munched on some fruit and read the newspaper, the rattle of pages and clink of silver on china the only sounds.
"So, I hear I'm imprisoned today," Viggo said casually when Orlando was nearly done eating.
"Yep."
"Not supposed to leave the room?"
"Nope."
"Do I get to know why?"
"If you must know." Orlando leaned over to put his empty plate on the coffee table and turned to curl up against Viggo's side. "It's because I'd planned to spend the day attempting to seduce you. But you sorta got a head start on me." He stroked the side of Viggo's face, catching the long mustache between his fingers and combing it downward. "This tickles." He looked up, brown eyes sparkling. "Everywhere it touches."
"You still can," Viggo said thoughtfully. "Attempt to seduce me. It's been a while since anybody gave a damn."
"I give a damn."
"Convince me." Abruptly he shoved a hand hard into Orlando's hair and held him so tight it hurt for a split second. "Make me believe, Lan."
"Vig..." he breathed, then slammed a kiss against his mouth, hungry and furious. The newspaper went flying all over the coffee table as they explored the parameters of each other and the couch and decided it wasn't going to work. Orlando nearly fell hurdling the couch and they were both laughing painfully by the time they ended up back on Viggo's pre-destroyed bed, clothing partially shed and partially dangling from whatever appendage was handy.
"I love your hands," Orlando said, pouring himself atop Viggo like caramel on flan and kissing the back of one hand reverently. "They're so real."
"Beat up, you mean?"
"Honest." He kissed the tiny scars that graced every knuckle, ran his tongue between the fingers, pulled one into his mouth and suckled it gently, eyes closed.
"I give you a week to stop that," Viggo murmured, barely audible. His other hand stroked the long lines of Orlando's back as far as he could reach.
"Vig..." He pulled the wet finger from his mouth and slid it over his lips, looking up, eyes nearly black. "Fuck me, okay?"
Viggo groaned. "I don't have anything... I didn't think..."
"Thank god for getting hopes up. Hold that thought." Orlando pressed another fast, bruising kiss against Viggo's lips then bounded off the bed and darted through the door.
Viggo reached down to grasp his barely there erection and squeeze gently. "Come on, damn you," he muttered. "Don't fail me now."
"Ta-dah!" Orlando tossed a tube of KY and a box of condoms on the bed and slid back up beside Viggo, taking in the self-help with a glance. "Decide to start without me?"
"Y'can take over, if y'want." Viggo rolled over and pinned Orlando to the bed, setting to work on his throat and delicious shoulders, biting and sucking. Orlando put his hands to work finding all the places that set Viggo afire, stroking and tweaking, pinching and soothing, before going back to that ignored cock to find it harder now, much closer to a full erection.
"Suck me... a little," Viggo whispered against Orlando's chest, and the younger man slithered downward to take him in a hot gulp. Viggo groaned and threw his head back, yes, that'll do it. He leaned over to grab the lube and open the box to shake out a condom. "Stop... stop..." he panted to Orlando, tugging at his hair.
Orlando slid up again to position himself in front of Viggo, catching darkened blue eyes with his own. "No prep, okay?" he said, jaw tight. "Do that for me."
"Lan - "
Orlando yanked the condom out of Viggo's fingers and ripped it open, rolled it down into place and held his hand on the hard erection. "I want it to hurt," he said firmly, almost angrily. "Just this once. Because of how much I hurt you." The cock throbbed under his fingers, so he knew that whatever Viggo said, his body wasn't averse to the idea. Holding Orlando's gaze, Viggo slathered himself with lube, then settled into position.
"I love you, y'know," Viggo said, tenderly.
"I know. And I need to be punished for what I did to you. Now fuck me, and make it hurt."
Viggo stared at the younger man for a long moment, actually biting his bottom lip, then he took a deep breath, grabbed the wooden headboard over Orlando's head and slammed in as hard as he could.
Orlando screamed. It couldn't be called anything else. He screamed, then he cried yes, yes, please... and Viggo pulled back and did it again and again. It was too intense to last long. Viggo made no attempt to hit any of Orlando's sweet spots, although he knew perfectly well how to do it. He came in almost complete silence, then pulled out, tossed the condom and lay beside Orlando as the younger man wept long and hard.
Eventually Viggo rolled over, took Orlando in his arms, and began soothing him. "It's okay, babe. Shhhh... It's all over now. I believe you. I know you're sorry." He brushed damp curls away from Orlando's face. "I won't lose you again, Lan. Make sure you're ready for that. I'll fight for you this time."
"I'll deserve you this time, my king," Orlando said. "Whatever the problems, we'll find a way to get past them. But I won't be taken from you again. Not by career, not by anything."
Viggo smiled a little, staring up into the ceiling fan. "I like the sound of that."
-------
"Okay, so yesterday I went shopping, and I got you some presents."
Laughing. "Why?"
"Because I wanted to, y'daft git. So sit on the couch and I'll play Santa."
"Santa was a month ago."
"Santa is all year round in Orlando world."
"Henry'll be glad to hear that."
"Pffft. Now, here's the first thing." Orlando brought out one shopping bag, holding two wrapped parcels, and put it beside Viggo on the couch. He plopped down on the other side of the bag and grinned, waiting.
Viggo chuckled, shaking his head, and pulled out one of the packages. Unwrapped, it turned out to be Costa Rica: The Last Country the Gods Made, a collection of photos and essays.
"This one's supposed to be really good," Orlando enthused. "Off the beaten track. Not your standard travel writing. Sounded like you."
"Looks terrific," Viggo said, flipping through the pages and smiling. "That'll be great to read back home, and remember." He picked up the second package and tore it open.
"Costa Rica: The Forests of Eden - a photo book. Kevin Schafer... I think I've heard of him," Viggo said.
"I thought you might like to have some pictures, since you didn't take many while you were down here," Orlando said quietly.
"You're awfully thoughtful," Viggo said with a smile. "Thank you, babe. I love both of these."
"But you've only begun." Orlando laughed and bounced slightly on the couch, stilling with an abrupt wince. Viggo winced as well.
"Y'okay?"
"I'm fine," Orlando assured him. "I can take rougher stuff than that." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows for effect.
"Not from me, I hope. I'm not too much about the infliction of pain."
Orlando leaned up and wrapped his arms around Viggo's shoulders. "I know, lover," he murmured. "That's why it means so much to me that you would do that, for me."
This kiss was tender, sweet as stolen candy and gentle as a lamb. Orlando rested his head on Viggo's shoulder for a moment after they slid softly apart, and Viggo nuzzled messy curls. Orlando sighed. "What was I thinking when I let you go?"
"Not much?"
"Exactly." He turned his head and kissed the side of Viggo's neck. "What a dork I was." Snort. "Okay. More presents."
Viggo was still chuckling and muttering "dork" under his breath when Orlando handed up a second bag, this one smaller, pulled out a package and handed it to Viggo.
Viggo obligingly ripped it open to find a journal with hand-made pages and a banana-leaf cover, along with three new pens. He looked up at Orlando.
"Time to start back," was all Orlando said..
Viggo nodded slowly. "You may be right. Thank you." He set the journal down atop the books. Orlando handed him a smaller rectangular package. This one turned out to be a set of watercolor pencils. Viggo was torn between laughing softly and starting to mist up. He just shook his head and opened the lid, running a finger over the sharp-tipped colors.
"So you can get an idea of the colors right," Orlando said.
"Please don't ever leave me again."
"I never will."
Orlando handed over another small rectangular package. Opened, this one revealed a sturdy leather necklace with a clasp. Viggo lifted one eyebrow. "Minimalist. I'd never have expected it of you."
"Ha," Orlando said with a grin, pulling another, even smaller package from the bag. Inside was a small pendant, an orchid carved from tagua nut, barely touched with a hint of yellow. Orlando took the necklace from Viggo hand, slid the pendant on, clasped it, then lifted the whole thing over Viggo's head. "There. A memory of Costa Rica."
"Every time I look at you I'll think of Costa Rica, babe."
"But I won't be with you all the time." Orlando grasped Viggo's hand, held it firmly. "We'll be apart a lot, at least for a while. I want to know that you're thinking of me."
"As long as I know you haven't forgotten me."
"I won't forget. Not this time."
Orlando placed another package in Viggo's hands. It turned out to be another journal, but this one was more standard, with sketchbook-style paper and heavy binding.
"Look inside," Orlando said quietly.
On the first page was simply the date. The third page held the notes from the drive to Mount Arenal. The fifth page was the napkin where Viggo scribbled his notes and made a sketch for a painting, ripped out and glued in carefully. And on the seventh page was something written carefully in Orlando's handwriting. Viggo sat back to read.
-----
Once upon a time, a handsome prince fell in love with a gentle king.
The prince would have been the luckiest man on earth, if not for a habit of sticking his head up his arse on a regular basis. When he did that, all he could see was his own selfish wishes and he forgot that the rest of the world existed. He surrounded himself with beautiful blank puppets and every toy he'd ever imagined, and he declared himself king of the world.
But his kingdom was made of pasteboard and cheap glitter, and the puppets all reflected each other and the toys broke and were stupid anyway. The prince who thought he was a king felt hungry but food couldn't fill him. He felt cold but nothing could warm him. He felt lost and no maps could find him. He was king of his whole world and he was empty.
Something was missing.
Then one day the two true friends he had left arrived for a visit. They met in the beautifully decorated but cold and empty royal chambers and proceeded to box the prince around the head and ears.
"You stupid git," the king of the northern country said. "Can y'not remember th'last time y'were warm and filled in a safe place where y'knew where y'were, y'daft bugger?"
And "No," the prince said, for he was exceedingly dense with his head up his arse. "Tell me!"
And whap! the prince of the southern island smacked his head. "Do y'not remember yer king, y'wee poofter?"
Then the scales of glitter fell from the prince's eyes, and the blank puppets fell down into the silly cutouts they were, and he remembered the gentle king. He remembered how the king made him laugh when he was sad, and fed him when he was hungry and kept him warm during cold nights. He remembered how the king was sometimes distant but never absent, sometimes preoccupied but never aloof, sometimes forgetful but never malicious. He remembered the gentleness, the tenderness, the driving passion, the care. He remembered how he never felt lost around his king.
He remembered how he felt loved.
And then the prince knew he had been a damned fucking idiot of the highest order. So he hitched a ride on the next flying carpet out of magic town and flew to the jungle where the gentle king was hiding. And he threw himself at the king's feet and said...
"I've been twelve kinds of fool, my king, but I love you. I love you, and I'm begging you for another chance. I know I hurt you, and maybe you don't want to risk it, but I have to know... Can you love me again, Viggo? Can you let me back into your life?"
-----
"Yes," Viggo said, looking up to meet Orlando's gaze head-on. "Yes. Yes. Yes."
-----
This time they made love in Orlando's room, and Viggo admitted that the anti-depressants were giving him some sex drive challenges and Orlando said who cares? We can work around it until you go off them again.
So they did. And then they worked around it again in the shower.
-----
Eventually hunger drove them out for lunch, which Orlando insisted on having delivered to the room. While they waited in robes for the food, Viggo asked when Orlando was planning to leave Monteverde. Orlando said he hadn't really thought about it.
"If you want, you could come home with me," Viggo said. "Let Brigit sniff you again. Learn where the new piles of junk are."
"I'd love it," Orlando said. "Think Henry would kill me?"
"He might," Viggo said thoughtfully. "I'd try to stop it before it went that far."
Lunch arrived, and they fell to like voracious locusts.
"What'd you say this is again?" Viggo asked, scooping up another forkful of the unusual but tasty dish.
"Closest thing to a Costa Rican national dish," Orlando said smugly. "I'm surprised you didn't find out about it yourself."
"What's it called?"
"Vigoron."
"You're shitting me."
"Never, my king."
-----------------------------
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
William Butler Yeats
---------------
Viggo has dived off into the deep end. He knows this. He should have been more careful. He knows this. He's taking a big risk. He knows this.
But he feels completely happy for the first time in years. His fingers itch to write and he can hardly wait to get back home to his paints and canvases.
Viggo loves Orlando, and if that's the riskiest thing he's ever done, so be it. What's life worth if you aren't actually living? For now he will live, and let tomorrow take care of itself.
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: Monteverde X: Climax
Rating/Warnings: R, maybe NC-17. All made up. Fiction. There's not a lick of truth in it.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; don't know anything about them - they are their own. I mean no disrespect and I'm certainly not profiting from this.
A/N: There might be an epilogue. I'm not sure. As always, thanks so much for your helpful feedback. This was my first fanfic since a Star Wars/Battlestar Galactica crossover 20 years ago, and I wasn't really sure how well it would go over. You guys have been so welcoming and kind and your feedback has been incredible. Thank you so very very much.
-----------------
Previous Chapters Look under Personal Fics
January 2005, Day 14
To avoid waking Orlando, Viggo showered in his room, grinning at the dozen or more bottles of 'product' crowding the ledges of the tub. Some things didn't change. It took him a good two or three minutes just to narrow down something that might be shampoo. He was about to give up and just use the little bottle of hotel brand when he finally had a eureka moment.
It smelled kinda nice, too. Sorta like ... ginger. Or oranges. Whatever.
Clean and smelling better than he probably usually did, he chuckled to himself as he pulled on clean clothes - a well-worn pair of jeans, blue U.N. tee and a blue and green plaid shirt. A regular fashion plate. Sliding bare feet into a pair of loafers almost as old as Henry, he headed for the door to get coffee.
Sitting comfortably in a padded arm chair directly across from the suite's door was the night clerk Enrique, reading a magazine and drinking coffee. He looked up as the door opened and flashed a wide grin.
"Buenas dias, Senor Bush!"
"Buenas dias, Enrique," Viggo replied, bemused, one eyebrow cocked. "Eso es un lugar inusual a instalar un campo."
"Si, senor." Enrique stood, still grinning. "Pero debo guardarle de salir de su habitacion."
"Is that a fact?" Viggo mused. "Interesting."
"Si," Enrique agreed. "Muy interesante."
"Well, then. Hmmm. How about some coffee?"
Enrique whipped an order book out of his back pocket and a pen from a front pocket and took down the breakfast order as Viggo placed it, then stood waiting.
"Coffee and juice now. Everything else in about an hour." Viggo stood waiting.
"Si, senor." Enrique looked pointedly at the suite door.
Viggo blinked, then burst out laughing. "Okay, okay. I consider myself imprisoned. May I ask who's ordered me locked up?"
"He said to tell you the governor of Florida, senor," Enrique said. He was still chuckling when Viggo closed the suite door behind him.
-----
Once upon a time, a handsome prince fell in love with a gentle king.
The prince would have been the luckiest man on earth, if not for a habit of sticking his head up his arse on a regular basis. When he got it up there, all he could see was his own selfish wishes and he forgot that the rest of the world existed. He surrounded himself with beautiful blank puppets and every toy he'd ever imagined, and he declared himself king of the world.
But his kingdom was made of
Something was missing.
-----
An hour or so later, Viggo was sipping coffee and reading when breakfast was delivered. After settling that business, he picked up a loafer and threw it at his bedroom door.
"Orlando! Breakfast!" Settling down on the couch with a grin, he started to serve himself while the food was still hot, knowing from experience that Orlando wouldn't be in to eat in a hurry. A few minutes later he flung the other loafer at the door. "Orlando! Wake up!"
The huevos rancheros were delicious. It was a damn shame Orlando was only going to taste them lukewarm. Viggo looked over his shoulder at the closed door and ran an internal mood check on himself. It felt like... a good day. A day for throwing caution to the wind, maybe. He could only die so many times, after all.
On that thought, he bolted up from the couch and through the bedroom door. Crawling onto the bed where Orlando was sprawled on his back, dead to the world, he took a deep breath, straddled the sleeper, grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him awake.
Orlando woke with a jolt and a jump, eyes flying wide, entirely unsure for a moment what was happening. Then he knew, and thought he was dreaming. But it felt too real, and he was pretty sure that a dream Viggo wouldn't taste like chiles and egg.
Viggo broke the kiss and pulled back a little, hands still bracketing Orlando's face. "Breakfast's here," he said, a little breathless.
"I should get up," Orlando managed to stutter, working his hands out from under the sheets, up to grab Viggo's hair. "Do that again?"
"Yeah." Viggo leaned down again and lips met lips with an almost electric shock. The hell with the chaste kisses of two nights ago. This one was fierce, demanding, almost bruising, an urgent tangle of lips and tongues that reestablished acquaintances, drew new lines and threatened to subsume each man into the other.
They broke apart reluctantly and Viggo leaned his head against Orlando's, sucking in air.
"Not that I'm ... complaining..." Orlando gasped, running long, desperate fingers through Viggo's hair. "But what brought... this on?"
Viggo pulled in a long breath and let it out slow, trying to settle his breathing. thumbs caressing Orlando's face. "I just realized... I'm leaving here in two days." Another deep breath, this one more controlled. "And I may never see you again." He lifted his head so he could look down at Orlando, willing the younger man to understand. "Even if it hurts, I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't take one last chance to be with you. Maybe this time I can be left with good memories."
Unable to meet those stunned chocolate eyes anymore, he pressed a kiss to Orlando's forehead, then peppered a line of kisses down one side of his face, down his throat, to that hollow that begged to be kissed and licked and savored. Orlando's hands stroked his hair, roamed down to his shoulders, up to his neck, burrowed under the T-shirt to rest at the top of his back. Viggo shoved the covers down to expose smooth tanned olive skin and caressed it with hands and lips, drawing featherlight circles around each nipple before warming it with a hungry mouth. Orlando moaned softly, melting into the bed, managing one strangled, "Vig..."
Following the contours of well-defined muscle groups, Viggo traced his way down Orlando's abdomen, nipping a small circle around his navel before boring into it with his tongue and grinning at the resulting shudder. The sun tattoo drew a moment's praise while hands shoved interfering boxers out of the way. Then with no warning he took Orlando whole, one hot wet slurp, and the younger man nearly came off the bed.
"Jesus Christ!" he shouted. "Give a man some warning."
"Nope," Viggo mumbled, mouth full, and set to work bringing the boy to salvation. One thing about Viggo Mortensen: When he set out to do a thing, he did it right. So when he determined to become a cocksucker, all those many 'Hm, maybe I'm bisexual' years ago, he learned from the best. Which was why Orlando was soon a quivering mass of held-on-the-teetering-edge sexual tension and riding the kind of bliss that makes toes curl and eyeballs go numb. And when Viggo finally relented and let him go, drinking down his release in a different ecstasy, Orlando ripped the bottom sheet right off the bed and nearly fell on the floor.
Viggo rested his head on Orlando's thighs for a moment, then fell over onto his back on the bed, laughing.
"What?" Orlando managed to squawk.
"Breakfast..." Viggo snickered. "It's getting cold."
"Think I care about breakfast?" Orlando twitched as if he were considering moving, but decided against it.
"I do." Viggo smiled at the ceiling. "Hope I'm gonna need my strength."
"Pretty presumptuous for an old man."
"Old man still got your taste in my mouth." Viggo smacked once lasciviously, rolled over and winked, then climbed off the bed and ambled back out to finish his breakfast, grinning the whole way.
---------
Once upon a time, a handsome prince fell in love with a gentle king.
The prince would have been the luckiest man on earth, if not for a habit of sticking his head up his arse on a regular basis. When he did that, all he could see was his own selfish wishes and he forgot that the rest of the world existed. He surrounded himself with beautiful blank puppets and every toy he'd ever imagined, and he declared himself king of the world.
But his kingdom was made of pasteboard and cheap glitter, and the puppets all reflected each other and the toys broke and were stupid anyway. The prince who thought he was a king felt hungry but food couldn't fill him. He felt cold but nothing could warm him. He felt lost and no maps could find him. He was king of his whole world and he was empty.
Something was missing.
Then one day the two true friends he had left arrived for a visit. They met in the beautifully decorated but cold and empty royal chambers and proceeded to box the prince around the head and ears.
"You stupid git," the king of the northern country said. "Can y'not remember th'last time y'were warm and filled in a safe place where y'knew where y'were, y'daft bugger?"
And "No," the prince said, for he was exceedingly dense with his head up his arse. "Tell me!"
And whap! the prince of the southern island smacked his head. "Do y'not remember yer king, y'wee poofter?"
-----
The hot parts of breakfast were still somewhat warm by the time Orlando wandered from the bedroom in boxers and one of Viggo's sweatshirts and piled onto the couch beside the older man and his breakfast and newspaper.
"Making free with my clothes there, aren't ya, elf boy?" Viggo noted.
"I was cold," Orlando replied haughtily, dishing himself up some breakfast.
"And it was so far to your room."
"Bite me."
"Don't tempt me."
Orlando flashed a wicked grin, then turned his attention back to his food. "Besides, I happen to like your clothes."
"Developing a taste for second-hand yard sale goods as you get older, are you?" Amused.
"Rediscovering a taste for a smart-ass Disney actor who likes horses better than girls."
Snort. "Disney actor."
"Says it right there on the screen."
"Mr. Pirate of the theme ride."
"Arrrr matey."
"Eat your breakfast."
"Aye, aye, sir."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, or at least Orlando ate. Viggo munched on some fruit and read the newspaper, the rattle of pages and clink of silver on china the only sounds.
"So, I hear I'm imprisoned today," Viggo said casually when Orlando was nearly done eating.
"Yep."
"Not supposed to leave the room?"
"Nope."
"Do I get to know why?"
"If you must know." Orlando leaned over to put his empty plate on the coffee table and turned to curl up against Viggo's side. "It's because I'd planned to spend the day attempting to seduce you. But you sorta got a head start on me." He stroked the side of Viggo's face, catching the long mustache between his fingers and combing it downward. "This tickles." He looked up, brown eyes sparkling. "Everywhere it touches."
"You still can," Viggo said thoughtfully. "Attempt to seduce me. It's been a while since anybody gave a damn."
"I give a damn."
"Convince me." Abruptly he shoved a hand hard into Orlando's hair and held him so tight it hurt for a split second. "Make me believe, Lan."
"Vig..." he breathed, then slammed a kiss against his mouth, hungry and furious. The newspaper went flying all over the coffee table as they explored the parameters of each other and the couch and decided it wasn't going to work. Orlando nearly fell hurdling the couch and they were both laughing painfully by the time they ended up back on Viggo's pre-destroyed bed, clothing partially shed and partially dangling from whatever appendage was handy.
"I love your hands," Orlando said, pouring himself atop Viggo like caramel on flan and kissing the back of one hand reverently. "They're so real."
"Beat up, you mean?"
"Honest." He kissed the tiny scars that graced every knuckle, ran his tongue between the fingers, pulled one into his mouth and suckled it gently, eyes closed.
"I give you a week to stop that," Viggo murmured, barely audible. His other hand stroked the long lines of Orlando's back as far as he could reach.
"Vig..." He pulled the wet finger from his mouth and slid it over his lips, looking up, eyes nearly black. "Fuck me, okay?"
Viggo groaned. "I don't have anything... I didn't think..."
"Thank god for getting hopes up. Hold that thought." Orlando pressed another fast, bruising kiss against Viggo's lips then bounded off the bed and darted through the door.
Viggo reached down to grasp his barely there erection and squeeze gently. "Come on, damn you," he muttered. "Don't fail me now."
"Ta-dah!" Orlando tossed a tube of KY and a box of condoms on the bed and slid back up beside Viggo, taking in the self-help with a glance. "Decide to start without me?"
"Y'can take over, if y'want." Viggo rolled over and pinned Orlando to the bed, setting to work on his throat and delicious shoulders, biting and sucking. Orlando put his hands to work finding all the places that set Viggo afire, stroking and tweaking, pinching and soothing, before going back to that ignored cock to find it harder now, much closer to a full erection.
"Suck me... a little," Viggo whispered against Orlando's chest, and the younger man slithered downward to take him in a hot gulp. Viggo groaned and threw his head back, yes, that'll do it. He leaned over to grab the lube and open the box to shake out a condom. "Stop... stop..." he panted to Orlando, tugging at his hair.
Orlando slid up again to position himself in front of Viggo, catching darkened blue eyes with his own. "No prep, okay?" he said, jaw tight. "Do that for me."
"Lan - "
Orlando yanked the condom out of Viggo's fingers and ripped it open, rolled it down into place and held his hand on the hard erection. "I want it to hurt," he said firmly, almost angrily. "Just this once. Because of how much I hurt you." The cock throbbed under his fingers, so he knew that whatever Viggo said, his body wasn't averse to the idea. Holding Orlando's gaze, Viggo slathered himself with lube, then settled into position.
"I love you, y'know," Viggo said, tenderly.
"I know. And I need to be punished for what I did to you. Now fuck me, and make it hurt."
Viggo stared at the younger man for a long moment, actually biting his bottom lip, then he took a deep breath, grabbed the wooden headboard over Orlando's head and slammed in as hard as he could.
Orlando screamed. It couldn't be called anything else. He screamed, then he cried yes, yes, please... and Viggo pulled back and did it again and again. It was too intense to last long. Viggo made no attempt to hit any of Orlando's sweet spots, although he knew perfectly well how to do it. He came in almost complete silence, then pulled out, tossed the condom and lay beside Orlando as the younger man wept long and hard.
Eventually Viggo rolled over, took Orlando in his arms, and began soothing him. "It's okay, babe. Shhhh... It's all over now. I believe you. I know you're sorry." He brushed damp curls away from Orlando's face. "I won't lose you again, Lan. Make sure you're ready for that. I'll fight for you this time."
"I'll deserve you this time, my king," Orlando said. "Whatever the problems, we'll find a way to get past them. But I won't be taken from you again. Not by career, not by anything."
Viggo smiled a little, staring up into the ceiling fan. "I like the sound of that."
-------
"Okay, so yesterday I went shopping, and I got you some presents."
Laughing. "Why?"
"Because I wanted to, y'daft git. So sit on the couch and I'll play Santa."
"Santa was a month ago."
"Santa is all year round in Orlando world."
"Henry'll be glad to hear that."
"Pffft. Now, here's the first thing." Orlando brought out one shopping bag, holding two wrapped parcels, and put it beside Viggo on the couch. He plopped down on the other side of the bag and grinned, waiting.
Viggo chuckled, shaking his head, and pulled out one of the packages. Unwrapped, it turned out to be Costa Rica: The Last Country the Gods Made, a collection of photos and essays.
"This one's supposed to be really good," Orlando enthused. "Off the beaten track. Not your standard travel writing. Sounded like you."
"Looks terrific," Viggo said, flipping through the pages and smiling. "That'll be great to read back home, and remember." He picked up the second package and tore it open.
"Costa Rica: The Forests of Eden - a photo book. Kevin Schafer... I think I've heard of him," Viggo said.
"I thought you might like to have some pictures, since you didn't take many while you were down here," Orlando said quietly.
"You're awfully thoughtful," Viggo said with a smile. "Thank you, babe. I love both of these."
"But you've only begun." Orlando laughed and bounced slightly on the couch, stilling with an abrupt wince. Viggo winced as well.
"Y'okay?"
"I'm fine," Orlando assured him. "I can take rougher stuff than that." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows for effect.
"Not from me, I hope. I'm not too much about the infliction of pain."
Orlando leaned up and wrapped his arms around Viggo's shoulders. "I know, lover," he murmured. "That's why it means so much to me that you would do that, for me."
This kiss was tender, sweet as stolen candy and gentle as a lamb. Orlando rested his head on Viggo's shoulder for a moment after they slid softly apart, and Viggo nuzzled messy curls. Orlando sighed. "What was I thinking when I let you go?"
"Not much?"
"Exactly." He turned his head and kissed the side of Viggo's neck. "What a dork I was." Snort. "Okay. More presents."
Viggo was still chuckling and muttering "dork" under his breath when Orlando handed up a second bag, this one smaller, pulled out a package and handed it to Viggo.
Viggo obligingly ripped it open to find a journal with hand-made pages and a banana-leaf cover, along with three new pens. He looked up at Orlando.
"Time to start back," was all Orlando said..
Viggo nodded slowly. "You may be right. Thank you." He set the journal down atop the books. Orlando handed him a smaller rectangular package. This one turned out to be a set of watercolor pencils. Viggo was torn between laughing softly and starting to mist up. He just shook his head and opened the lid, running a finger over the sharp-tipped colors.
"So you can get an idea of the colors right," Orlando said.
"Please don't ever leave me again."
"I never will."
Orlando handed over another small rectangular package. Opened, this one revealed a sturdy leather necklace with a clasp. Viggo lifted one eyebrow. "Minimalist. I'd never have expected it of you."
"Ha," Orlando said with a grin, pulling another, even smaller package from the bag. Inside was a small pendant, an orchid carved from tagua nut, barely touched with a hint of yellow. Orlando took the necklace from Viggo hand, slid the pendant on, clasped it, then lifted the whole thing over Viggo's head. "There. A memory of Costa Rica."
"Every time I look at you I'll think of Costa Rica, babe."
"But I won't be with you all the time." Orlando grasped Viggo's hand, held it firmly. "We'll be apart a lot, at least for a while. I want to know that you're thinking of me."
"As long as I know you haven't forgotten me."
"I won't forget. Not this time."
Orlando placed another package in Viggo's hands. It turned out to be another journal, but this one was more standard, with sketchbook-style paper and heavy binding.
"Look inside," Orlando said quietly.
On the first page was simply the date. The third page held the notes from the drive to Mount Arenal. The fifth page was the napkin where Viggo scribbled his notes and made a sketch for a painting, ripped out and glued in carefully. And on the seventh page was something written carefully in Orlando's handwriting. Viggo sat back to read.
-----
Once upon a time, a handsome prince fell in love with a gentle king.
The prince would have been the luckiest man on earth, if not for a habit of sticking his head up his arse on a regular basis. When he did that, all he could see was his own selfish wishes and he forgot that the rest of the world existed. He surrounded himself with beautiful blank puppets and every toy he'd ever imagined, and he declared himself king of the world.
But his kingdom was made of pasteboard and cheap glitter, and the puppets all reflected each other and the toys broke and were stupid anyway. The prince who thought he was a king felt hungry but food couldn't fill him. He felt cold but nothing could warm him. He felt lost and no maps could find him. He was king of his whole world and he was empty.
Something was missing.
Then one day the two true friends he had left arrived for a visit. They met in the beautifully decorated but cold and empty royal chambers and proceeded to box the prince around the head and ears.
"You stupid git," the king of the northern country said. "Can y'not remember th'last time y'were warm and filled in a safe place where y'knew where y'were, y'daft bugger?"
And "No," the prince said, for he was exceedingly dense with his head up his arse. "Tell me!"
And whap! the prince of the southern island smacked his head. "Do y'not remember yer king, y'wee poofter?"
Then the scales of glitter fell from the prince's eyes, and the blank puppets fell down into the silly cutouts they were, and he remembered the gentle king. He remembered how the king made him laugh when he was sad, and fed him when he was hungry and kept him warm during cold nights. He remembered how the king was sometimes distant but never absent, sometimes preoccupied but never aloof, sometimes forgetful but never malicious. He remembered the gentleness, the tenderness, the driving passion, the care. He remembered how he never felt lost around his king.
He remembered how he felt loved.
And then the prince knew he had been a damned fucking idiot of the highest order. So he hitched a ride on the next flying carpet out of magic town and flew to the jungle where the gentle king was hiding. And he threw himself at the king's feet and said...
"I've been twelve kinds of fool, my king, but I love you. I love you, and I'm begging you for another chance. I know I hurt you, and maybe you don't want to risk it, but I have to know... Can you love me again, Viggo? Can you let me back into your life?"
-----
"Yes," Viggo said, looking up to meet Orlando's gaze head-on. "Yes. Yes. Yes."
-----
This time they made love in Orlando's room, and Viggo admitted that the anti-depressants were giving him some sex drive challenges and Orlando said who cares? We can work around it until you go off them again.
So they did. And then they worked around it again in the shower.
-----
Eventually hunger drove them out for lunch, which Orlando insisted on having delivered to the room. While they waited in robes for the food, Viggo asked when Orlando was planning to leave Monteverde. Orlando said he hadn't really thought about it.
"If you want, you could come home with me," Viggo said. "Let Brigit sniff you again. Learn where the new piles of junk are."
"I'd love it," Orlando said. "Think Henry would kill me?"
"He might," Viggo said thoughtfully. "I'd try to stop it before it went that far."
Lunch arrived, and they fell to like voracious locusts.
"What'd you say this is again?" Viggo asked, scooping up another forkful of the unusual but tasty dish.
"Closest thing to a Costa Rican national dish," Orlando said smugly. "I'm surprised you didn't find out about it yourself."
"What's it called?"
"Vigoron."
"You're shitting me."
"Never, my king."
-----------------------------
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
William Butler Yeats
---------------
Viggo has dived off into the deep end. He knows this. He should have been more careful. He knows this. He's taking a big risk. He knows this.
But he feels completely happy for the first time in years. His fingers itch to write and he can hardly wait to get back home to his paints and canvases.
Viggo loves Orlando, and if that's the riskiest thing he's ever done, so be it. What's life worth if you aren't actually living? For now he will live, and let tomorrow take care of itself.
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no subject
Date: 2005-02-21 03:17 am (UTC)*lol*
I'm sad to see it ending. But it's such a perfect end ♥
Please, tell me you're going to write other stories ! You're an amazing author :D
no subject
Date: 2005-02-22 07:07 pm (UTC)I hope I'm going to write more. Time will tell.
Rain