Fic: One of Those Days (2 of 2) OB/VM R

[skyeathena.livejournal.com]

Title: One of Those Days (2 of 2)
Author: Skyeathena (marmalade_skye@msn.com)
Rating: R
Pairing: Viggorli
Summary: Turns out Orlando isn’t just a friend after all…
Disclaimer: I own nothing and know nobody. 100% fiction.
Notes: This is for jennandanica and maidazia
More Notes: The first doesn’t really need to be read but it can be found here. This takes place months after what happened with Karl and Orlando and is in Vig’s pov. Enjoy!!!



Orlando’s voice rambled on my answering machine.

“….So yeah, I figured that since we’re all in LA and you’re being a bastard by not coming then maybe we could meet up at your place….afterwards. Lij said that award show parties scare him.” There was a pause. “So we’ll be there really late tomorrow, I think there are about a dozen or so when you include people’s dates.” Another pause. “Uh, Vig, you don’t mind me inviting everybody over, right?”

By his second pause I had finally gotten my key in the door, diving to pick up the phone.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“You’re out of breath.” He observed.

“Well that’s what happens when you rush in the door.” I close it behind me, lifting the paper bags I was carrying to the kitchen counter. “So tell me now, what were you on about? All I heard was you talking about going somewhere because Lij was scared of famous people.”

“Your house. After the Oscars.”

“Why my house?”

“Because we want to see you.” He explained. “And there’s no way that you’re going to show up, right?”

“Right. It’s against my religion.”

Orlando gave that sigh, the one he only used around me when I was being difficult. “And what’s that? Reclusive hippie-anity?

“Something like that.” I give my own sigh, the one that suggested to Orlando how nauseatingly upbeat he was all the time. “It’s already late tonight, Orlando. I don’t have enough time to get everything in order.”

“Who says you have to? We don‘t need to be impressed.”

“And by ‘we’ you mean?”

“Well it wouldn’t be nice of me if I didn’t include everybody who was going. Hey, Ian may bring Nick!”

“Unlike you, that himbo doesn’t do anything for me.”

“And what does do it for you?” He jokingly purred.

I put away some groceries. “Guys who call me before inviting people to my house.”

“Come off it, Vig! You’re not that mad about it so don’t even pretend like this is a big deal. You’re a giving spirit, this is what you do.”

“Fine. But I only do this as part of my anti-oscar stance.”

“How so?”

“If you come here then it means you wont be dragged off to some magazine’s after party, right?”

“Yep.”

“So I’m saving you from cocaine, stringy haired sluts and florescent lighting.”

Orlando laughed. “My savoir. Oh please Vig, protect me from being a teen idol. Let me be a bohemian cliché with you instead!”

“Why is it that I can never say no to you?”

“Because you know I’d be lost if you did.” His voice was serious, even he noticed it by trying to cover it up quickly. “And because we’re such great mates. You know I’d kill somebody for you, right Vig.”

“Yes, I know.”

He continued. “Seriously. If there’s some conservative militant that is getting on your nerves, just let me know, okay?”

I smiled. Maybe this party wasn’t such a bad idea, it’d give me the kick in the ass I seem to need lately.

“So where are you now anyways?”

“In LA. I’m heading toward my hotel as we speak.”

“How was your flight?”

“Blah-blah, blah-blah! You’re horrible at small talk Viggo and I refuse to call you for those purposes.”

I felt strangely flattered. “Okay then. What do you want me to tell you; that there’s some kind of lunar eclipse tonight? To be honest with you Orlando, I don’t have anything interesting to say or think about and it’s depressing the fuck out of me.”

“Poor thing.” He calls out for a taxi, under the impression he was in New York or something. “We should do something about that.”

“You know how to get here?”

“Yep! So does everybody else. I’m going to let you go, okay Vig? My reception in cars is shite.”

“Okay.” I manage before he hangs up. Without even thinking I race to my desk drawer, searching for Karl’s number.

“What time is it there?” I immediately ask as he answers.

“About noon, tomorrow.”

“So.” I begin, not even sure why I called him in the first place. “When you and Orlando broke up…”

“We were never really together in the first place Vig. It was just a couple of random flings.”

“Anyways, did you miss him when he was gone?”

“Well yeah, I guess.”

“I mean really miss him; as if your life cannot be complete ever again now that he’s worked himself out of it. Did you?”

“No but I’ve had that feeling with an ex of mine before.”

“Well I think I’m feeling that now.”

“But you two are friends…” He began.

“I know!”

“I mean, if something was going to happen you’d figure it would have already.”

I sat atop my counter. “Back in New Zealand it just never came up. Neither of us felt the need I suppose. Since filming ended, everything seems wrong somehow and now he just called me and I felt every nerve in my body spasm at just the sound of his voice.”

“Maybe you’re just in some kind of weird mood today. He caught you off guard. Don’t ruin a perfectly good friendship over one occurrence.”

And I listened to him. After all, we did have a perfectly good friendship. Orlando looked to me for guidance and support and if anything were to happen with us, that trust would go straight to hell. Funny how the more intimate you become with a person, the more distant your relationship is. At least that’s how it always worked with me.

I never wondered why some people in the cast assumed we were together. Even though Orlando was open with his sexuality, he never really flirted with me.

It’s the next night. I’ve managed to lock myself in the studio to get all of these notions of passion and love out of my system. Every so often I’d check on my computer to see what we’ve won, just out of curiosity’s sake.

Finally it’s about three in the morning. I spent the evening walking around the house, not stopping to ask how anybody’s doing because that would require me staying and listening. Somehow ‘about a dozen’ turned into a couple dozen. People brought their friends, their friends brought a date and so on. All seemingly good people however, so I wasn’t worried. Anyways, most of them left by now.

Orlando comes in through the front door, looking around at what a success his little planned event ended up being. A circle of the remaining twenty somethings and baby boomers were passing around a bowl, smoke hovering above them. They giggled about the music selection and proceeded to rehash all of the inside jokes of the evening.

My brit crosses the room, his tux has decayed into the pants and white shirt, half unbuttoned. He wore new looking blue sandals that he probably bought at a drug store due to uncomfortable dress loafers. He’d been upstairs talking to somebody’s distraught girlfriend the whole night, then proceeded to give the woman a ride home.

“I can’t believe I’m just now getting to say hello to you.”

“Well, there you go. Was it good?” I smile weakly, hoping he isn’t going to hug me.

He hugs me, burying his face into my neck. “It was incomplete.”

I’m not even sure if we’re talking about getting to say hello, the oscars or life. Nothing seems to make sense right now, except for the smell of champagne which is on Orlando’s collar. Oh yeah, and the fact that he said something is incomplete. I really want to change that.

So I tell him.

“Something is incomplete? I want to change that.”

“Really? You mean that?”

I nod. I really hope he doesn’t ask me to kill somebody for him.

“Then tell everybody you’re going upstairs for the evening.”

I walk into the room, make my announcement. A woman I’ve never met before feels the need to get up and hug me. The rest wave me on.

“There? Happy?”

He takes my hand and we go upstairs. “Is this your room here?” He points at the open door.

I just nod, too shaken to do anything else.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, Orlando doesn’t hesitate to find a seat on my lap facing me.

“Don’t you think it’s funny how everybody thinks we’ve slept together?”

“Maybe not funny…” I begin.

“I mean, they’d say it with both of us in the room and we’d just say no without any sign of panic towards one another.”

“Well, we were friends.”

He settles in deeper onto my lap. Everything inside me jolts, my pulse seems to shake the bed.

“What about now? Do you want to be friends?”

“I want what you want.”

“I want to give you a blow job and then I want to go to sleep and spend the rest of this week with you.”

I stroke his cheek, so completely happy I wonder if I’m glowing.

“Can’t we have more than that? I want to make you happy.”

He shakes his head. “Nope. That isn’t how the fantasy works. Just let me have this tonight.”

And I don’t know what to say because I’m not used to people fussing over me. I don’t think that I deserve to have my beautiful young Orlando laying me down on my own bed, his lips on my neck.

“Let me kiss you.” I beg as he works on my pants.

“Afterwards.” He says.

I plop my head back down on the pillow. How was I supposed to enjoy this when it’s so one sided? All thoughts of equality and guilt left my mind as I felt his warm tongue hover along my length.

“Shit, sorry.” I mumble as he gags a little after I thrust my hips up; a reaction to him completely taking me in. Oh Jesus, I’m afraid I’m going to do it again because he is going to smooth, so rhythmic that if he were to make any change whatsoever, I’d explode.

His teeth gently graze my cock and his tongue is swirling along with his bobbing mouth. This is the point where I loose all control and release. That climatic moment seemed to last forever, I was still bound in it’s waves when Orlando slid up my body, smiling coyly.

“I think I enjoyed your fantasy more than you did.” I sigh, combing my fingers through the chocolate silk of his hair.

“No. You have no idea how much I wanted to do this for you.” He then places his lips on mine, with all the hesitance that should be there with an old friend. Funny how he was shy about kissing but just dived right in for that blow job.

I place my hand behind his neck, bringing him in closer and parting his lips with my tongue. Tasting breath mints and the salty remains of myself, I wonder if it’s possible for me to do this with him forever. Would he really mind if I asked him to spend the rest of eternity doing this?

“God,” He sighed between kisses. “I could do this forever.”

“My thoughts exactly.” I take off his shirt and throw the covers over us.

Sorry to disprove you Karl, but this definitely is not going to be a fling.

~end~