Ficlet: An Honest Mistake?, VO, PG13
Dec. 4th, 2008 03:20 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle:An Honest Mistake?
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: PG13
Word count:730
Summary: how does it feel when moving to the next level?
“How do you feel?”
Viggo was unwilling to admit how polite and considerate he felt towards his friend, towards his lover, towards what had just happened between them. He feared that this newly acquired civility signified the first crack. The few moments following his ambiguous orgasm brought on a curious sensation; it felt as if he hadn’t known Orlando for almost a decade but as if they had just met, now staring at each other with strange eyes.
Orlando wasn’t hasty in his response, rolling words and explanations inside his shut mouth. Viggo watched him tasting around them, trying for the appropriate combination; and miserably failing as his furrowed forehead attested.
“Ehm…well…” He was staring at the ceiling, his hands crossed on top of his glistening belly with a kind of propriety that made him look silly and scared.
“There’s…um…there’s pain,” he finally offered, and Viggo felt in his heart something that he was trying hard not to feel all these years.
He propped himself on his elbow, his terribly concerned face turned to Orlando.
“I did my best not to - ”
Yes, he had taken it slow, as slow as he was physically able to, so slow it fucking hurt.
“It’s OK,” Orlando was smiling serenely, hands still clutched together against his slick skin. “It’s good pain.”
He was nodding vaguely, sweaty face pointing at the ceiling, thick eyelashes beaming up at the whiteness. Viggo, appeased by Orlando’s newfangled expression, let his head fall back down on the pillow.
He frowned as his eyes suddenly met with the surprising pattern on Orlando’s left shoulder, a constellation of moles and freckles he had never noticed before. Viggo thought that his eyes doused in every little detail of Orlando’s body every time he had the chance to see him naked - some skinny dipping into cold New Zealand rivers, some bold sunbathing in the nude, the countless times they had shed their clothes in Cuntebago and the pranks in the showers.
Viggo felt a kind of awe - maybe this is what people identify as the emotion of tenderness. The affection for those newly discovered spots on Orlando’s body prickled his eyes with varied feelings. He hastened to withdraw, both physically and emotionally. He turned to the ceiling as well, safe on his side of the bed, making sure he wasn’t touching Orlando who was equally motionless, maybe even non-existent in his own flesh.
“Are we drifting apart?” Viggo finally voiced the question. It was the same question they had been asking themselves all those years until now, when they were drunk enough to be able to admit their mutual attraction without being embarrassed. The extend of the love and respect and lust they felt for each other was a conversation that was never to be repeated the day after, when they were after all busy moaning about their hangovers. It was a fantasy doomed to be whispered only above myriad shots of whiskey and ashtrays brimming with cigarette butts.
Until now. It was so easy once their lips found their way towards each other. As easy as a lie.
“I don’t know,” came the earnest answer and then silence, as they both wondered if they had done the biggest mistake of their lives, half-disbelieving, half-wishing, and utterly curious to see how making love would alter or not alter their friendship.
Viggo played back the moment when Orlando clenched his right hand into a fist, the many shades of pleasure painting his eyes and his lips, agony being the most prominent colour in this palette of bliss that twisted Orlando’s face into something new and beautiful. Viggo had circled Orlando’s delicate wrist with his fingers, squeezed lightly but firmly, like saying something naïve along the lines of: mine and I’ll protect you.
It was a joint chorus of rumbling protest from their stomachs that made them burst into a relief of laughter. They looked into each other’s grinning eyes:
“Thai?” Orlando said.
“Pizza?” Viggo countered. They took one more long second gazing brightly at each other, before they both reached the obvious conclusion:
“Both.”
They needed nothing more than food and a friendly, teasing argument over the latest episode of Prison Break to realize, or decide, that at least tonight they were drifting more closely and more profoundly together than ever before. And that, maybe, it was OK.
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: PG13
Word count:730
Summary: how does it feel when moving to the next level?
“How do you feel?”
Viggo was unwilling to admit how polite and considerate he felt towards his friend, towards his lover, towards what had just happened between them. He feared that this newly acquired civility signified the first crack. The few moments following his ambiguous orgasm brought on a curious sensation; it felt as if he hadn’t known Orlando for almost a decade but as if they had just met, now staring at each other with strange eyes.
Orlando wasn’t hasty in his response, rolling words and explanations inside his shut mouth. Viggo watched him tasting around them, trying for the appropriate combination; and miserably failing as his furrowed forehead attested.
“Ehm…well…” He was staring at the ceiling, his hands crossed on top of his glistening belly with a kind of propriety that made him look silly and scared.
“There’s…um…there’s pain,” he finally offered, and Viggo felt in his heart something that he was trying hard not to feel all these years.
He propped himself on his elbow, his terribly concerned face turned to Orlando.
“I did my best not to - ”
Yes, he had taken it slow, as slow as he was physically able to, so slow it fucking hurt.
“It’s OK,” Orlando was smiling serenely, hands still clutched together against his slick skin. “It’s good pain.”
He was nodding vaguely, sweaty face pointing at the ceiling, thick eyelashes beaming up at the whiteness. Viggo, appeased by Orlando’s newfangled expression, let his head fall back down on the pillow.
He frowned as his eyes suddenly met with the surprising pattern on Orlando’s left shoulder, a constellation of moles and freckles he had never noticed before. Viggo thought that his eyes doused in every little detail of Orlando’s body every time he had the chance to see him naked - some skinny dipping into cold New Zealand rivers, some bold sunbathing in the nude, the countless times they had shed their clothes in Cuntebago and the pranks in the showers.
Viggo felt a kind of awe - maybe this is what people identify as the emotion of tenderness. The affection for those newly discovered spots on Orlando’s body prickled his eyes with varied feelings. He hastened to withdraw, both physically and emotionally. He turned to the ceiling as well, safe on his side of the bed, making sure he wasn’t touching Orlando who was equally motionless, maybe even non-existent in his own flesh.
“Are we drifting apart?” Viggo finally voiced the question. It was the same question they had been asking themselves all those years until now, when they were drunk enough to be able to admit their mutual attraction without being embarrassed. The extend of the love and respect and lust they felt for each other was a conversation that was never to be repeated the day after, when they were after all busy moaning about their hangovers. It was a fantasy doomed to be whispered only above myriad shots of whiskey and ashtrays brimming with cigarette butts.
Until now. It was so easy once their lips found their way towards each other. As easy as a lie.
“I don’t know,” came the earnest answer and then silence, as they both wondered if they had done the biggest mistake of their lives, half-disbelieving, half-wishing, and utterly curious to see how making love would alter or not alter their friendship.
Viggo played back the moment when Orlando clenched his right hand into a fist, the many shades of pleasure painting his eyes and his lips, agony being the most prominent colour in this palette of bliss that twisted Orlando’s face into something new and beautiful. Viggo had circled Orlando’s delicate wrist with his fingers, squeezed lightly but firmly, like saying something naïve along the lines of: mine and I’ll protect you.
It was a joint chorus of rumbling protest from their stomachs that made them burst into a relief of laughter. They looked into each other’s grinning eyes:
“Thai?” Orlando said.
“Pizza?” Viggo countered. They took one more long second gazing brightly at each other, before they both reached the obvious conclusion:
“Both.”
They needed nothing more than food and a friendly, teasing argument over the latest episode of Prison Break to realize, or decide, that at least tonight they were drifting more closely and more profoundly together than ever before. And that, maybe, it was OK.
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Date: 2008-12-04 03:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 06:08 am (UTC)Thanks for reading!
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Date: 2008-12-04 03:35 pm (UTC)Well written, well characterized and with a happy ending: it's like a xmas come early gift. :D
Thanks.
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Date: 2008-12-05 06:10 am (UTC)Thankl you for reading and commenting!
no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 04:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 06:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 08:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 06:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 04:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 06:15 am (UTC)Thank you so very much, but I really don't know if there'll be a sequel, because I never finish what I start. So maybe I'll stick with these stray, random ficlets for a while:)
Again, thanks for reading.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-06 12:18 am (UTC)I'll go for the Pizza, though. But both will do. LOL!!!
Thanks for sharing,
SP
no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 09:24 am (UTC)Thank you for reading!