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fellowshippers2004-08-03 06:13 pm
fairyspell.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-08-03 06:13 pm
The Black Book Chapter Four
Title: The Black Book Chapter 4/?
Author: Fairyspell
Rating: NC-17 VM/OB RPS
Summary: Viggo lets the last of his defenses go.
Warnings: None this chapter
Disclaimer: Total fiction, I make no claims of knowledge about the lifestyles or sexual preferences for any characters portrayed here. I intend no disrespect or offense, it was created for my own enjoyment and I seek no profit from it.
Feedback: Please, would love to hear from you!
Archive: Viggorously, Vigorlean Cult, Carefully Kissed, X posted everywhere, sorry for the dupes on your flists.
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moblo413 is still frolicking in the sand and surf. Please let me know if you find errors.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
The Black Book, Chapter Four
Orlando had noted a change in Viggo tonight and was curious but didn't ask, he was happy just to be here with him. Comfortable conversation was common between them now while they continued to learn about each other and discover bits and pieces of what made them who they were. Orlando's first real kiss, to a girl, was when he was twelve and he described it as the fumbling mess that honest men remember those moments to be like. His first time kissing a man was also his first time sleeping with one, and that was described with much more dignity but with the same sense of botched ideas and hopes for the experience. He had met the man at a club in his late teens and the evening progressed into Orlando's final acknowledgment that he was indeed gay, even though the sex was not pleasant for him and his partner wasn't at all concerned about his enjoyment of it.
Their backgrounds were similar in many ways. They both grew up without the presence of one parent in the home and were treated with respect for their own ideas and successes regardless of what age they occurred at. Viggo had more of a commune family for his upbringing and was raised mostly among adults, learning to be comfortable with them and the subjects of the world at a young age. Orlando guessed this is where the older man's intuitiveness came from and they way he spoke of Henry, it seemed his son saw the world through his Father's eyes as well.
Orlando told of his dyslexia and how he'd kept journals since he was old enough to write, believing that doing so helped him overcome the roughest parts of the difficulty, and over time it had turned into a bearable part of his persona kept at bay by not giving in and simply working through it. He wrote songs which very few people had ever heard, and Viggo had no doubt they were the younger man's unpolluted convictions set to music. He respected that Orlando held back something for himself and expressed his hope that maybe one day he would share them with him. From the expressive and evocative statue Viggo had seen in the park, he could only imagine how much of Orlando's spirit would undoubtedly resonate in his music as well.
Their meal was finished and the lemonade was gone. Both men were happy to be outside but the bugs were arriving at a rapid rate and Orlando again made the offer of a tour. They left the cooler on the back steps of the screened porch and made their way into the barn first. Sliding open the large heavy red door, Orlando warned Viggo to watch his step. When the bare hanging bulbs were turned on Viggo could see metal and plastic shelving weighed down with tools and rolls of heavy solder and mangled globular scraps. Scanning the considerable space he definately understood how it would be easy to trip if you weren't familiar with the layout.
The middle of the earth floor had been carved out into a foot deep large square and the sandy colored surface was scared with brown and black splotches that looked like stained sand. Inside, the square boxes were lined in rows, sorted by size and type of object, many metal elbow joints Viggo noticed, all in different sizes. One corner was the obvious work area, the ground again was dug out into a neat 10x10 square leaving a shallower step down to get into that space. A tarp covered something tall underneath it and the shrouded object stood upon a large wooden square platform. The old distressed workbench nearby held a welders helmet, a flint and torch, a small stereo and what Viggo assumed to be miscellaneous welders tools he didn't recognize. Hanging on nails along the wall next to the bench were stained one piece jumpsuits with burn holes and a pair of boots resting underneath, one laying on it's side. There was a short stool on the platform beside the tarped work in progress and Viggo noticed ladders, taller stools and a hose at the ready along the back wall.
"Watch your step there, mate, I've twisted an ankle or two on that little dip."
"Why the pitted dirt, to keep the ground level?"
"The platform has risers at the corners for angle and pitch, the sand covering floor is for fire prevention, dirt and sand don't burn too easily."
Orlando moved over next to him as he spoke and continued. "I use the platform after most of the base work is attached, hot metal has a tendency to get drippy when it's bloody mood isn't right."
Viggo shook his head in understanding and hadn't thought about the possibility of fires in here until now. He could smell an odor of old dusty smoke and imagined flame orange metal drooping and breaking off into glowing red blobs, cooling on the sandy earth at Orlando's feet. The old hay loft was full of what looked to be completed works and that was where Viggo wanted to be.
"Can we go up?" Viggo pointed to the direction of the loft and noticed the mechanical pulley affixed and jutting out from the wall, assuming it's purpose was for moving the heavy objects around. He made his way to the wooden ladder after Orlando smiled his approval and the men climbed to the hay covered planked flooring above where they were. Sitting everywhere were planters, bird feeders, tables and chairs, water sculptures, garden statuary, intricate furniture pieces Viggo assumed were to hold electronics such as TV's and stereo's, even bed frames. An incredible assortment of works were up here and Viggo was astonished at what he saw. Each piece had it's own flair, some special detailing that made it unique and set it apart from the rest. In the far corner covered with another dirty tarp was the tallest object, and Orlando could tell Viggo was curious.
"Go ahead. . ., have a look." Orlando offered and nodded to the direction of the corner Viggo was lingering in.
Viggo pulled off the tarp carefully and took a step back before looking up. He was surprised at the content of what he saw but not at all shocked at the detailing and evidence of fine craftsmanship that went into it. He knew already Orlando didn't belong to a formal church and neither did he, they both practiced their own version of personal spirituality and Orlando's view of that was obvious in this piece.
Standing before him was a sculpture that for all intents and purposes was a crucifix, but it wasn't. Two heavy twisted building supports were crossed above center, black and angry looking. Affixed to the center was a kaleidoscope of many faces showing every emotion Viggo could possibly recognize and among those were Mothers nursing babies and Fathers mowing lawns, clouds and dragonflies, a child on a bike and a young woman sewing, a toddlers first steps and a couple at the alter. Everything represented here was life affirming and hopeful against the dark acrimonious beams. Silver and copper shapes and small figures all harmonized brightly together into the shape of a body shrouded against the gloomy wrenched background.
The older man took another step backward and absorbed the piece. Not quite having the immediate words to ask for information on the art, he outstretched his arm towards it, still taking in all it represented and made him feel.
"I made it in 1995 after the Oklahoma City Bombing...," Orlando shuffled through the sea of objects to stand next to the older man. "I made it as an application for a monument outside the Murrah Building after the bombing. . . , it was appraised as too controversial because of the religious tone and the bid went to someone else." Orlando noticed and wiped the sole streak of dampness away from Viggo's cheek. "Are you okay?" Orlando smiled at the older man's face. "I have to admit my ego is rather beefing up from your reaction, yeah." Orlando rubbed his hand along Viggo's back once then again looking at the other man.
"You mean people haven't reacted this way towards it. . . ? How could someone not be awed by it's voice...," Viggo moved and reached up to touch the cold crossbeam and run his fingers across the shapes there. "I can't believe something else won the bid." Viggo shook his head as while the depth of the representation continued to steal his words and he moved his awed focus on to the other designs around the loft.
Viggo turned his eyes to the younger man and spoke point blank "It's incredible..., everything here is, you have such a gift Orlando...,"
"Thanks mate, I'm just thrilled that you like it all so much...," Orlando felt pride from Viggo's appreciation of his work and smiled inwardly as the older man moved throughout the space.
"I really do..., all of it!"
Orlando told the stories behind some of the other pieces in the loft, which ones were made for commission or for personal enjoyment, before Viggo helped him put the tarp back over the crucifix and make for the house. Viggo invited him to come and see his studio inside the club and Orlando looked forward to seeing deeper inside Viggo than what he had seen hanging publicly. They were definitely kindred spirits in their creativity and expression and Orlando was amazed at how much Viggo could see and feel from his works. It was as if the older man could read his heart and soul and that exhilarated Orlando to no end.
After the leftover food was put away from the picnic cooler and Siti was settled quietly after a game of fetch with Viggo, the men settled into the deep couch in the living room. Orlando had lit the abundance of candles inside the stone fireplace and one small red shaded lamp by the door lit the rest of the room in a soft glow. The slatted walls were white except for the one along the kitchen side, which was Indian red, and the candles flickered their dancing flames against the hardwood floors and maize ceiling. Orlando asked Viggo to choose some music while he prepared their drinks and the older man selected a CD of soft classic rock.
Viggo excused himself before Orlando returned and took notice of the claw foot tub in the middle of the bathroom floor. It had an old fashioned shower curtain ring hanging from the ceiling and Viggo thought to himself that the two of them would never fit in there together without side walls, let alone have enough room for a soak together in that small tub. Washing his hands he caught himself in the mirror and chuckled lightly, he realized then that the blunt image of the two of them in the tub came easily and without hesitation or doubt. "You're gonna be all right Mortensen." he spoke quietly to his reflection, smiled to himself and dried his hands.
Sitting down next to a waiting Orlando on the couch, he accepted the glass offered him and clanked it gently against the younger man's before sipping the familiar spiked lemonade. Orlando was positioned with one leg tucked underneath him and an arm over the back of the couch facing the older man. Viggo slid off his shoes and adjusted similarly, running his hand over Orlando's arm.
"Will you play something for me?" Viggo nodded towards the guitar in it's stand next to the stereo.
"Um...sure, what do you want to hear?"
"You're choice, anything . . . , I just want to hear you play."
Orlando didn't want to leave the closeness of the other man or the warm hand caressing his arm, but he got up to retrieve the instrument and returned to his place next to Viggo. Doing a few warm up strums, tweaking the strings for tune, he smiled to Viggo and fell into it. Immediately recognizing the upbeat theme song for 'The Flintstones' Viggo let out a huge laugh at Orlando's clowning and the younger man grinned and winked at him. Continuing to play, his guitar slipped into a tune Viggo didn't recognize. Orlando's face changed as he played and so did the mood in the room. His fingers moved over the strings in a slow tender flow and subtle joy was written in his expression. Thick lashes covered his downward focused eyes and a slight up curve on his lips bared just a hint of the white teeth behind them. His eyes would close occasionally when the pattern of the notes would pick up, the instrument bleeding out feeling in it's tone, and his head would move marginally with the rhythm of the music he was making. Viggo assumed there were no words to the song as none were sung, they certainly weren't needed to convey the emotion streaming from the guitar or it's player.
"That was beautiful, what's it called?"
"Nothing so far. . . , just started it last night actually," Orlando set the guitar down and shifted a little, getting his placement as close to Viggo as it was before swinging a leg up onto Viggo's lap.
"I thought you said you didn't play original songs for anyone?" Viggo raised a teasing flirty eyebrow resuming his hand play along Orlando's arm and rubbing his thumb in circles on the younger man's lower thigh.
"I said hardly. . . , besides, it's a special occasion." Orlando's hand made it's way to Viggo's elbow and upper arm. He could feel the prominent strong muscle he secretly yearned over all afternoon and had fantasized about holding him tight as they made love the night before.
"I feel honored, it was beautiful. . . ," Viggo looked intently at the younger man, his blue eyes burning into his brown counterpart and he wanted nothing more than to close the distance and press his lips against the soft smile in front of him.
"You are the one who is beautiful, Viggo. . . ," Orlando continued running his hand slowly along Viggo's arm, dancing his fingers under the edge of the sleeve leaving goose flesh in the wake of his movement. "You seem to get me. . . , yeah?" It was a statement more than a question and Viggo understood exactly what he meant.
"Yeah. . .,"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Do you dance, Viggo Mortensen...?"
"I'm told my feet are dangerous, consider yourself warned. . . ,"
Orlando rose up off the couch first, changed the CD and met Viggo in the middle of the room. Intertwining their limbs lightly they began a slow dance facing each other. The music flowed leisurely and the light from the candle flames danced around them. Orlando moved Viggo's arm so he could grasp his hand and he brought it up to his cheek, lightly pressing it against his face and smiling into Viggo's warm blue eyes.
"You dance very well, what is this nasty rumor about two left feet?" Orlando tilted his head to the side slanting his eyes teasingly.
"I guess I have the right partner this time. . . ," Viggo responded with seriousness and dragged the previously held hand down Orlando's slowly, tracing his jawbone gracefully then lower down his neck, feeling the younger man's beating pulse. Viggo fondled the skin gently, tracing his fingers along the sinewey line and randomly stroked the suppleness that beckoned to his mouth with every surface of his fingers.
Orlando's eyes had closed, entranced in the moment, and his mind was numb except for Viggo's touches. He no longer heard the music or the slight shuffle of their clothing, only his own breathing and the rush of blood in his ears as the older man explored and taunted his heated skin. His cock thickened with the smooth skimming against his neck and there was no mistaking Viggo's passion for him in the matching bulge pressed against his pelvis. Orlando moved his head with Viggo's traveling fingers, drinking in the light touches and the dizzy euphoria they generated.
Viggo lingered momentarily on each of the few small freckles dotting the delicate skin before he pulled the younger man closer, pressing him fully against his body. He brushed his lips over the shell of Orlando's ear, making only the slightest contact, and he felt the younger man's pulse quicken underneath his fingertips resting against the pulse point. He breathed in Orlando's redolence deeply, burning the ginger and rain into his memory, feeling the body heat radiating against his face from under Orlando's hair and along the back of his neck. He exhaled slowly, "I get you. . . ,"
Tracing Orlando's ear again with his lips, barely touching the delicate shape Viggo abstained from tasting the younger man with his tongue. "You are the me I left adrift. . . ," Orlando let out a yielding feathery moan, paralyzed by the breath of words and Viggo's grazing touches. "And now I reclaim. . . ," Viggo's hands began to move again. One arm keeping the clutch at the waist while that hand ran exploring circles over the small of Orlando's back. The other slowly traced Orlando's deistic face with the same gentle fingertips. Gradually crawling along in butterfly strokes over his sharp cheekbones, lidded eyes and bow shaped mouth.
Viggo felt Orlando attempt to take in his finger when passing across the younger man's lips but Viggo didn't allow him to. Instead, he pulled himself away from Orlando's neck and watched as the thick lashes fluttered open and the dark mocha eyes refocused on his in the dim candlelight. "Stay tonight...," Orlando rested his forehead against Viggo's and his eyes closed again. "We don't have to share a bed..., just stay."
~TBC~
Author: Fairyspell
Rating: NC-17 VM/OB RPS
Summary: Viggo lets the last of his defenses go.
Warnings: None this chapter
Disclaimer: Total fiction, I make no claims of knowledge about the lifestyles or sexual preferences for any characters portrayed here. I intend no disrespect or offense, it was created for my own enjoyment and I seek no profit from it.
Feedback: Please, would love to hear from you!
Archive: Viggorously, Vigorlean Cult, Carefully Kissed, X posted everywhere, sorry for the dupes on your flists.
Beta:
moblo413 is still frolicking in the sand and surf. Please let me know if you find errors. Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
The Black Book, Chapter Four
Orlando had noted a change in Viggo tonight and was curious but didn't ask, he was happy just to be here with him. Comfortable conversation was common between them now while they continued to learn about each other and discover bits and pieces of what made them who they were. Orlando's first real kiss, to a girl, was when he was twelve and he described it as the fumbling mess that honest men remember those moments to be like. His first time kissing a man was also his first time sleeping with one, and that was described with much more dignity but with the same sense of botched ideas and hopes for the experience. He had met the man at a club in his late teens and the evening progressed into Orlando's final acknowledgment that he was indeed gay, even though the sex was not pleasant for him and his partner wasn't at all concerned about his enjoyment of it.
Their backgrounds were similar in many ways. They both grew up without the presence of one parent in the home and were treated with respect for their own ideas and successes regardless of what age they occurred at. Viggo had more of a commune family for his upbringing and was raised mostly among adults, learning to be comfortable with them and the subjects of the world at a young age. Orlando guessed this is where the older man's intuitiveness came from and they way he spoke of Henry, it seemed his son saw the world through his Father's eyes as well.
Orlando told of his dyslexia and how he'd kept journals since he was old enough to write, believing that doing so helped him overcome the roughest parts of the difficulty, and over time it had turned into a bearable part of his persona kept at bay by not giving in and simply working through it. He wrote songs which very few people had ever heard, and Viggo had no doubt they were the younger man's unpolluted convictions set to music. He respected that Orlando held back something for himself and expressed his hope that maybe one day he would share them with him. From the expressive and evocative statue Viggo had seen in the park, he could only imagine how much of Orlando's spirit would undoubtedly resonate in his music as well.
Their meal was finished and the lemonade was gone. Both men were happy to be outside but the bugs were arriving at a rapid rate and Orlando again made the offer of a tour. They left the cooler on the back steps of the screened porch and made their way into the barn first. Sliding open the large heavy red door, Orlando warned Viggo to watch his step. When the bare hanging bulbs were turned on Viggo could see metal and plastic shelving weighed down with tools and rolls of heavy solder and mangled globular scraps. Scanning the considerable space he definately understood how it would be easy to trip if you weren't familiar with the layout.
The middle of the earth floor had been carved out into a foot deep large square and the sandy colored surface was scared with brown and black splotches that looked like stained sand. Inside, the square boxes were lined in rows, sorted by size and type of object, many metal elbow joints Viggo noticed, all in different sizes. One corner was the obvious work area, the ground again was dug out into a neat 10x10 square leaving a shallower step down to get into that space. A tarp covered something tall underneath it and the shrouded object stood upon a large wooden square platform. The old distressed workbench nearby held a welders helmet, a flint and torch, a small stereo and what Viggo assumed to be miscellaneous welders tools he didn't recognize. Hanging on nails along the wall next to the bench were stained one piece jumpsuits with burn holes and a pair of boots resting underneath, one laying on it's side. There was a short stool on the platform beside the tarped work in progress and Viggo noticed ladders, taller stools and a hose at the ready along the back wall.
"Watch your step there, mate, I've twisted an ankle or two on that little dip."
"Why the pitted dirt, to keep the ground level?"
"The platform has risers at the corners for angle and pitch, the sand covering floor is for fire prevention, dirt and sand don't burn too easily."
Orlando moved over next to him as he spoke and continued. "I use the platform after most of the base work is attached, hot metal has a tendency to get drippy when it's bloody mood isn't right."
Viggo shook his head in understanding and hadn't thought about the possibility of fires in here until now. He could smell an odor of old dusty smoke and imagined flame orange metal drooping and breaking off into glowing red blobs, cooling on the sandy earth at Orlando's feet. The old hay loft was full of what looked to be completed works and that was where Viggo wanted to be.
"Can we go up?" Viggo pointed to the direction of the loft and noticed the mechanical pulley affixed and jutting out from the wall, assuming it's purpose was for moving the heavy objects around. He made his way to the wooden ladder after Orlando smiled his approval and the men climbed to the hay covered planked flooring above where they were. Sitting everywhere were planters, bird feeders, tables and chairs, water sculptures, garden statuary, intricate furniture pieces Viggo assumed were to hold electronics such as TV's and stereo's, even bed frames. An incredible assortment of works were up here and Viggo was astonished at what he saw. Each piece had it's own flair, some special detailing that made it unique and set it apart from the rest. In the far corner covered with another dirty tarp was the tallest object, and Orlando could tell Viggo was curious.
"Go ahead. . ., have a look." Orlando offered and nodded to the direction of the corner Viggo was lingering in.
Viggo pulled off the tarp carefully and took a step back before looking up. He was surprised at the content of what he saw but not at all shocked at the detailing and evidence of fine craftsmanship that went into it. He knew already Orlando didn't belong to a formal church and neither did he, they both practiced their own version of personal spirituality and Orlando's view of that was obvious in this piece.
Standing before him was a sculpture that for all intents and purposes was a crucifix, but it wasn't. Two heavy twisted building supports were crossed above center, black and angry looking. Affixed to the center was a kaleidoscope of many faces showing every emotion Viggo could possibly recognize and among those were Mothers nursing babies and Fathers mowing lawns, clouds and dragonflies, a child on a bike and a young woman sewing, a toddlers first steps and a couple at the alter. Everything represented here was life affirming and hopeful against the dark acrimonious beams. Silver and copper shapes and small figures all harmonized brightly together into the shape of a body shrouded against the gloomy wrenched background.
The older man took another step backward and absorbed the piece. Not quite having the immediate words to ask for information on the art, he outstretched his arm towards it, still taking in all it represented and made him feel.
"I made it in 1995 after the Oklahoma City Bombing...," Orlando shuffled through the sea of objects to stand next to the older man. "I made it as an application for a monument outside the Murrah Building after the bombing. . . , it was appraised as too controversial because of the religious tone and the bid went to someone else." Orlando noticed and wiped the sole streak of dampness away from Viggo's cheek. "Are you okay?" Orlando smiled at the older man's face. "I have to admit my ego is rather beefing up from your reaction, yeah." Orlando rubbed his hand along Viggo's back once then again looking at the other man.
"You mean people haven't reacted this way towards it. . . ? How could someone not be awed by it's voice...," Viggo moved and reached up to touch the cold crossbeam and run his fingers across the shapes there. "I can't believe something else won the bid." Viggo shook his head as while the depth of the representation continued to steal his words and he moved his awed focus on to the other designs around the loft.
Viggo turned his eyes to the younger man and spoke point blank "It's incredible..., everything here is, you have such a gift Orlando...,"
"Thanks mate, I'm just thrilled that you like it all so much...," Orlando felt pride from Viggo's appreciation of his work and smiled inwardly as the older man moved throughout the space.
"I really do..., all of it!"
Orlando told the stories behind some of the other pieces in the loft, which ones were made for commission or for personal enjoyment, before Viggo helped him put the tarp back over the crucifix and make for the house. Viggo invited him to come and see his studio inside the club and Orlando looked forward to seeing deeper inside Viggo than what he had seen hanging publicly. They were definitely kindred spirits in their creativity and expression and Orlando was amazed at how much Viggo could see and feel from his works. It was as if the older man could read his heart and soul and that exhilarated Orlando to no end.
After the leftover food was put away from the picnic cooler and Siti was settled quietly after a game of fetch with Viggo, the men settled into the deep couch in the living room. Orlando had lit the abundance of candles inside the stone fireplace and one small red shaded lamp by the door lit the rest of the room in a soft glow. The slatted walls were white except for the one along the kitchen side, which was Indian red, and the candles flickered their dancing flames against the hardwood floors and maize ceiling. Orlando asked Viggo to choose some music while he prepared their drinks and the older man selected a CD of soft classic rock.
Viggo excused himself before Orlando returned and took notice of the claw foot tub in the middle of the bathroom floor. It had an old fashioned shower curtain ring hanging from the ceiling and Viggo thought to himself that the two of them would never fit in there together without side walls, let alone have enough room for a soak together in that small tub. Washing his hands he caught himself in the mirror and chuckled lightly, he realized then that the blunt image of the two of them in the tub came easily and without hesitation or doubt. "You're gonna be all right Mortensen." he spoke quietly to his reflection, smiled to himself and dried his hands.
Sitting down next to a waiting Orlando on the couch, he accepted the glass offered him and clanked it gently against the younger man's before sipping the familiar spiked lemonade. Orlando was positioned with one leg tucked underneath him and an arm over the back of the couch facing the older man. Viggo slid off his shoes and adjusted similarly, running his hand over Orlando's arm.
"Will you play something for me?" Viggo nodded towards the guitar in it's stand next to the stereo.
"Um...sure, what do you want to hear?"
"You're choice, anything . . . , I just want to hear you play."
Orlando didn't want to leave the closeness of the other man or the warm hand caressing his arm, but he got up to retrieve the instrument and returned to his place next to Viggo. Doing a few warm up strums, tweaking the strings for tune, he smiled to Viggo and fell into it. Immediately recognizing the upbeat theme song for 'The Flintstones' Viggo let out a huge laugh at Orlando's clowning and the younger man grinned and winked at him. Continuing to play, his guitar slipped into a tune Viggo didn't recognize. Orlando's face changed as he played and so did the mood in the room. His fingers moved over the strings in a slow tender flow and subtle joy was written in his expression. Thick lashes covered his downward focused eyes and a slight up curve on his lips bared just a hint of the white teeth behind them. His eyes would close occasionally when the pattern of the notes would pick up, the instrument bleeding out feeling in it's tone, and his head would move marginally with the rhythm of the music he was making. Viggo assumed there were no words to the song as none were sung, they certainly weren't needed to convey the emotion streaming from the guitar or it's player.
"That was beautiful, what's it called?"
"Nothing so far. . . , just started it last night actually," Orlando set the guitar down and shifted a little, getting his placement as close to Viggo as it was before swinging a leg up onto Viggo's lap.
"I thought you said you didn't play original songs for anyone?" Viggo raised a teasing flirty eyebrow resuming his hand play along Orlando's arm and rubbing his thumb in circles on the younger man's lower thigh.
"I said hardly. . . , besides, it's a special occasion." Orlando's hand made it's way to Viggo's elbow and upper arm. He could feel the prominent strong muscle he secretly yearned over all afternoon and had fantasized about holding him tight as they made love the night before.
"I feel honored, it was beautiful. . . ," Viggo looked intently at the younger man, his blue eyes burning into his brown counterpart and he wanted nothing more than to close the distance and press his lips against the soft smile in front of him.
"You are the one who is beautiful, Viggo. . . ," Orlando continued running his hand slowly along Viggo's arm, dancing his fingers under the edge of the sleeve leaving goose flesh in the wake of his movement. "You seem to get me. . . , yeah?" It was a statement more than a question and Viggo understood exactly what he meant.
"Yeah. . .,"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Do you dance, Viggo Mortensen...?"
"I'm told my feet are dangerous, consider yourself warned. . . ,"
Orlando rose up off the couch first, changed the CD and met Viggo in the middle of the room. Intertwining their limbs lightly they began a slow dance facing each other. The music flowed leisurely and the light from the candle flames danced around them. Orlando moved Viggo's arm so he could grasp his hand and he brought it up to his cheek, lightly pressing it against his face and smiling into Viggo's warm blue eyes.
"You dance very well, what is this nasty rumor about two left feet?" Orlando tilted his head to the side slanting his eyes teasingly.
"I guess I have the right partner this time. . . ," Viggo responded with seriousness and dragged the previously held hand down Orlando's slowly, tracing his jawbone gracefully then lower down his neck, feeling the younger man's beating pulse. Viggo fondled the skin gently, tracing his fingers along the sinewey line and randomly stroked the suppleness that beckoned to his mouth with every surface of his fingers.
Orlando's eyes had closed, entranced in the moment, and his mind was numb except for Viggo's touches. He no longer heard the music or the slight shuffle of their clothing, only his own breathing and the rush of blood in his ears as the older man explored and taunted his heated skin. His cock thickened with the smooth skimming against his neck and there was no mistaking Viggo's passion for him in the matching bulge pressed against his pelvis. Orlando moved his head with Viggo's traveling fingers, drinking in the light touches and the dizzy euphoria they generated.
Viggo lingered momentarily on each of the few small freckles dotting the delicate skin before he pulled the younger man closer, pressing him fully against his body. He brushed his lips over the shell of Orlando's ear, making only the slightest contact, and he felt the younger man's pulse quicken underneath his fingertips resting against the pulse point. He breathed in Orlando's redolence deeply, burning the ginger and rain into his memory, feeling the body heat radiating against his face from under Orlando's hair and along the back of his neck. He exhaled slowly, "I get you. . . ,"
Tracing Orlando's ear again with his lips, barely touching the delicate shape Viggo abstained from tasting the younger man with his tongue. "You are the me I left adrift. . . ," Orlando let out a yielding feathery moan, paralyzed by the breath of words and Viggo's grazing touches. "And now I reclaim. . . ," Viggo's hands began to move again. One arm keeping the clutch at the waist while that hand ran exploring circles over the small of Orlando's back. The other slowly traced Orlando's deistic face with the same gentle fingertips. Gradually crawling along in butterfly strokes over his sharp cheekbones, lidded eyes and bow shaped mouth.
Viggo felt Orlando attempt to take in his finger when passing across the younger man's lips but Viggo didn't allow him to. Instead, he pulled himself away from Orlando's neck and watched as the thick lashes fluttered open and the dark mocha eyes refocused on his in the dim candlelight. "Stay tonight...," Orlando rested his forehead against Viggo's and his eyes closed again. "We don't have to share a bed..., just stay."
~TBC~
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