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fellowshippers2006-03-09 04:01 pm
pecos.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-03-09 04:01 pm
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I know it's been a really, REALLY long time since I posted a chapter to this story, but on the off chance that someone out there is still interested I humbly offer:
TITLE: Beyond Design Limitations
CHAPTER: Fourteen – Whole Once More
AUTHOR: Pecos – PecosPhil@sprintmail.com
WEBSITE: http://www.chimerafic.com
BETA: Gloria Mundi - viva_gloria@livejournal.com
RATING: Varies by chapter. This one is NC-17
Sexual innuendo, very bad language, angst
DISCLAIMER: I don’t make the toys, I’m only
playing with them. No money made, nor
disrespect intended. This is FICTION
WHAT IS IT?: RPS / AU
Sequel to ‘Prophecy: Destiny & Design’
which can be found on my website
WHO’S IN IT?: Sean Bean, Orlando Bloom,
Johnny Depp, Viggo Mortensen and other
actors from ‘The Lord of the Rings’, ‘Pirates
of the Caribbean’, ‘Hidalgo’ and others
FEEDBACK: remember the golden rule, (please!)
NOTE: Please forgive any intentional or
unintentional abuse of facts or history
NOTE 2: Story takes place in early 2002
NOTE 3: Thanks to Ana for sharing some very
interesting insights into these characters!
Beyond Design Limitations
Chapter Fourteen: Whole Once More
Johnny
Only pausing at the door, Johnny rapped on the wood and passed through into the dim interior of the hotel room. It was evening now, and the tree frogs had started their nightly chorus. The curtains in this room had been recently drawn, and candles were lit on several surfaces. A scent of local flowers had cleared the funk that had marked the room previously, and the unpleasant jumble of medical paraphernalia had been shoved into the far corner, likely on its way out. Depp nodded approvingly at the change, then stepped further into the dim light to the occupant of the bed.
Rucked up yellow pajama bottoms were the only thing covering Orlando as he lay on his side, eyes shut in what looked far more like sleep than the worrisome state in which Johnny’d last seen this young man. A red teddy bear and a blue rag of some kind wrapped around his wrist made Orli appear even more like a large, but sad child. Johnny found himself smiling wistfully as he leaned closer, reaching out to stroke a few stray curls away from a warm forehead.
“Lovely kid, isn’t he?” asked a voice from the shadows. Johnny jumped despite himself, and he turned to find a cowboy leaning back in a chair, a book held open in his lap even though it was far too dark to read.
“Allow me to introduce myself, please,” the cowboy said softly, getting quickly to his feet, a warm smile on his very handsome, somewhat rugged face.
“No need, Mr. Mortensen,” Johnny rapidly inserted, reaching for the extended hand. “I think I’d recognize you just about anywhere, even if I hadn’t known that you’re Orlando’s friend. I’m Johnny.”
“Depp…of course. It’s really a pleasure to meet you.”
“Orlando’s not only talked about you on every possible occasion, but even in his sleep - on the few times we’ve shared a room or plane.” He smiled to let Viggo know he was fully aware of the extent of their friendship, should one wish to call it that, and consciously neglected to mention that Orli mentioned someone named Sean nearly as often. Johnny didn’t find anything wrong with the arrangement. He was a practical man, and he figured that it didn’t matter who you loved, as long as it was someone who would love you back. If Viggo was at Orli’s side when he needed him, then he loved the kid back. “Our blacksmith’s an open book, so to speak,” he explained.
“Boy couldn’t keep a surprise party for his granny secret,” Viggo said with a grin. Depp glanced at what Viggo had been reading: Ayn Rand, one of her lesser-known works. There were depths here that could use some exploration.
Laughing softly, Johnny had to agree. “He’d call her up for suggestions with the decorations.”
“Oh, like you two would know,” whispered an indignant voice from the bed. Johnny spun to find the dark eyes focused on Viggo’s face. Although he looked much better, you could still see how tired and drawn the young man appeared now that he was awake.
“Orli-Bear,” Viggo practically purred, stepping past Johnny and taking a seat on the side of the mattress. “I’m sorry we woke you. I was just introducing myself to your co-star.”
“My guardian angel,” Orlando said, reaching out to snag Johnny’s hand, smiling up at him. “He’s been there for me loads of times, Filthy Human.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Johnny questioned, taken aback at being called an angel and a dirty old man all in the same speech.
Snorting with amusement, Viggo explained without breaking eye contact with the ‘patient’. “He meant me. I’m his Filthy Human, and he’s my Prissy Elf.”
“New Zealand thing,” Orli said softly, letting his eyes drift shut in pleasure as Viggo stroked his hair, very much the way that Johnny had started to when he’d come into the room.
“Of course,” Depp murmured, thinking how pretty the two of them looked together. He briefly wondered what it would take to get them to kiss in front of him. Johnny loved beautiful things. This obvious affection between the two men was a lovely thing indeed.
“Thank for coming by to check up on him,” Viggo said softly, his tone implying a possessiveness that seemed at odds with Mortensen’s reputation for free thinking and independence. That was certainly interesting. Come to think of it, wasn’t Viggo supposed to be working on a different Disney picture on a different continent? Strange that he would have come all this way just because Orlando had fallen ill with heat stroke and poor judgment.
“Got nothing better to do,” Johnny lied blatantly. “There won’t be any Pirate hi-jinx for a few days while Wonder Boy here gets his feet under him again.” That was completely untrue – they were sending Johnny out to the ship in the morning for solo cover shots, and then to a local beach on a nearby speck of an island for a few scenes with Keira. Everyone was busy except Orli. Johnny just wanted to make it sound like a nice little vacation so the kid wouldn’t feel any guiltier than he already did.
“All the same,” Viggo muttered, smiling briefly at him in obvious dismissal. His hand had moved to cup Orlando’s cheek, thumb tracing the thin hairs on his face affectionately. “I appreciate your keeping an eye on my problem child.”
“Yes, well, I’ll just get the door on my way out, then, shall I?” Johnny knew an exit sign when he saw one. He’d just have to delve into this Viggo business at a later date. What would it take to get them to kiss?
Viggo
He watched the door close and rose to lock it, then checked the windows and curtains to be sure they would remain undisturbed for a while. The ceiling fan was bumped up a notch and a couple of the candles blown out before Viggo ran a bath and returned. He clicked on the bedside lamp and took his seat again on the edge of the bed. Orlando had drifted back to sleep in the few moments he’d been alone.
“Wake up, Orlando,” the Dane said gently, shaking his shoulder with a light touch. Sleepy brown eyes crept open enough to confirm his presence, then tried to slide shut again. Viggo shook him a bit more firmly. “Come on, you. I’ve got a bath ready. I know how much you love your baths.”
“Hmmm, water,” Orlando sighed, stretching. “Carry me?” he cooed, trying to look coquettish, but failing rather badly.
“Hell, no. I’m too old to be hauling your lazy butt around. Get up,” Viggo demanded.
“My hero,” the young man sighed, stirring slowly.
“I’ve done the hero thing. It’s overrated. Get up already or the water’ll get cold.”
Orlando rose unsteadily to his feet, but of course Viggo was there to guide his steps. “I want it cold, thanks. Nothing around here is ever cold enough for me.”
“Then stop agreeing to do movies in hot climates, you wilted daisy,” Viggo sighed. Between the two of them they got Orli settled in the tub, where he moaned appreciatively and slid out of sight beneath the surface. It was more than a minute before he came up again, his hair slicked back, blinking big brown eyes and looking remarkably like a seal. Viggo had a pretty good idea where the legends of selkies came from – gorgeous boys like Orlando. He cocked a grin and handed him a washcloth and the soap.
“Aren’t you going to wash me?” the bathing beauty asked.
“No. I am not. I haven’t washed anybody else’s balls since before Henry had any.”
Orlando winced at the very thought, and methodically started scrubbing. “You’re being a lousy boyfriend.”
“Maybe, but your arms aren’t broken. You want tender loving care then you get your ass cleaned up and into bed again, then maybe we’ll see about some loving.” The wink rather spoiled his intended threat.
Orlando smirked, working up a lather to clean his face. Viggo went through the contents of the bathroom cabinet, throwing one bottle after another into the trash. “B-12, don’t need it, Zinc, don’t think so, St. John’s Wort, worthless…damn it, Lambda, is there anything in the local pharmacist’s that you haven’t been taking?”
“People give me stuff. They mean well.”
“Yeah…well, I want you to be well, Puppy. If you were eating a good enough diet and getting some sleep you wouldn’t have to take half of this stuff.” The remaining bottles hit the trashcan.
“I’m not supposed to stop taking the anti-depressants,” Orlando told him sheepishly.
“We’ll taper you off those,” Viggo agreed, setting that one back onto the shelf, after he’d examined the contents and sniffed the pills suspiciously. “Did Depp have anything to do with giving you pills?”
“Johnny? Uh, no. No, he’s not like that.” Orlando narrowed his eyes, obviously suspecting some sort of jealousy. “He’s really been nice, Viggo.”
“Yeah, I can see that. I’m just curious about why he’s got such an interest in you.”
“’Cause I’m fun to be around? I can tell jokes. I’m cute.”
“You’re cute all right,” Viggo smirked, splashing water in his face. He had every intention of filling in those blanks later.
Rho
Sitting back on his haunches, Rocoto watched as Sean expertly handled Mickey’s wounded neck and scalp. Apparently this sort of thing didn’t much faze Sean, and certainly not Mickey. Rho shuddered and glanced down once again at the rim of dark red around his own fingernails. He hadn’t been able to wash all the blood away yet, and he wanted more than anything to go to the sink and scrub until his skin was raw. But that wasn’t what was needed – or expected – of him at the moment. He tore his gaze away from the incriminating remainders and forced himself to watch Sean. There was something to learn here…something that he might need later.
“I think that’s got it, Spook,” Sean said, leaning back to examine his improvised bandages. “I’m sure a stitch or two wouldn’t be out of order on that big glass cut, but the bleeding’s mostly stopped. The bullet graze was really the least of your injuries. It’s like it cauterized or something.”
“High caliber shell,” Mickey explained. “Bet it tore a pretty good hole in the seat. We may lose our deposit on that rental car, Actor Boy.” Mickey had turned his head stiffly, but it was enough that he could wink at Rho. The clone felt a flood of warmth spread outwards from the pit of his stomach at the gesture. He’d been afraid that Mickey would be angry with him. “Thanks for putting pressure on my neck, kid. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to drive us out of there.”
“It was quite a ride,” Rho said. Of course he hadn’t known what to do when he saw the window explode – but Mickey had known, so Rho'd just done the right thing. He was an expert at doing the right thing…usually at the right time. Whatever was expected of him. Mickey got up from the closed toilet and headed back into the bedroom of their hastily-acquired hotel room, and Sean spent a moment picking up bloody bandages and the odds and ends of the first aid supplies they’d bought. Rho took advantage of the time to wash his hands again. He needed some sort of nailbrush…like they’d had in the surgical suites at the labs. Blood was a strange substance, he reflected.
Finishing with his ablutions at last, Rho turned to find that Sean was patiently waiting for his own chance to wash away the stains of Mickey’s blood. Rho ducked aside guiltily, and Sean watched him in the mirror while he paused to sniff the soap. Rho wondered if he’d left some sort of smell on the soap that Sean was appraising.
“Hotel soap always smells like cheap hookers,” Sean said casually. Of course he knew what Rho was thinking. “Not that I’d expect you to know that.” He grinned toothily, and Rho found himself smiling back. Sean washed quickly, and Rho handed him the one towel that hadn’t been fouled with blood or iodine or soaked with peroxide, which was already bleaching the cloths in pale blotches. They’d made a mess of the hotel bathroom as well as the rental car.
“So much for another deposit,” Rho quipped, wondering if it was okay to make a joke.
Sean hooted with laughter and grabbed Rho around the neck, squeezing him for a moment. “Don’t look so worried, lad. You did good!” He pushed Rho into the bedroom, where Mickey was seated at the head of the bed, fiddling with the contents of his small travel bag. “So, Mickey, who’s taking potshots at us? Or was it just you? I know you make a lot of people want to shoot you.”
“Most people don’t miss with high-caliber rifles,” Mickey said flatly. “That was either a warning shot, a stray bullet, or the worst hit man on the planet. I’m not counting on it being a stray bullet.” He produced a small, dark red book from somewhere inside his bag. “Here, Rocoto. You’re going to need this. I think we should get you out of Mexico; the sooner the better.”
Rho took the object, seeing that it was a passport from the United Kingdom. He’d never been there. He cautiously opened it, and found Orlando Bloom’s face gazing up at his from the inside page. A shiver ran through him as he stared into eyes that were not his own. Was this Orlando Alpha? Or had it been Gamma? Could this be Lambda’s passport? Sean was frowning at the document. He took it from Rho’s passive grasp and turned the pages, looking at the multitude of colorful stamps and paper visas tucked inside.
“You got this from the Colt? When you were in the Caribbean?”
“I borrowed it. He doesn’t need it for a while. Kid’s not going anywhere until that movie’s done. Besides, he’d just as likely lose it. Lambda is not exactly good with material possessions. We’ll get it back to him before he needs it. I’m just going to have to fake up an entry mark for Mexico so they won’t red-flag Rocoto when he goes to leave.”
“With me,” Sean added, studying the photo himself.
Rho held his breath for a moment, wondering if he understood correctly what Sean had said. Was he planning to take Rho somewhere? Was Sean really accepting custody of him? That’s what Mickey had wanted to do, hand Rho off as quickly as possible. Mickey had another burning mission to attend to, and he’d only found Rho on Sean’s orders. But Rho had been harboring a secret fear that he would prove disappointing to Sean in some way, lacking some essential ingredient that the man had been searching for. Since it was now obvious that there were more than just two clones still alive, Rho had been afraid that Sean would find another of them better fitted to fill the hole in his heart that Gamma's death had carved.
Tearing himself away from the picture of this other Orlando Bloom, Sean promptly put the passport back into Rho’s hand, closing his fingers over the small book. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you using it, lad. Mickey’s right. We need to move on, and you’re not going to go anywhere without this.” Sean’s keen green gaze drilled into Rho’s soul through the open portals of his own eyes. He could never hide anything from this man, even if he tried. Sean could read him like a script. Rho could only hope that Sean liked the story.
“Will you relax?” Sean said quickly, smiling. “It’s going to be okay. Mickey’s not seriously hurt. We’ll sort things out. I’m not leaving you here. We’ll figure out what’s going to be best for everyone, and then how to do it.” Sean folded him into a tight embrace, and Rho’s fears subsided, washed away by something far sweeter than hotel soap.
Maybe there was a way to work it out for everyone…every one.
“Shhhhhh,” Sean whispered in his ear.
“Do you two mind?” Mickey sighed, reaching for his cell phone. “I could use some time to make arrangements without the whole Actor Boy Drama Club thing, okay? Why don’t you two fuck off and get us something to eat? Something gooey and spicy and untouched by local water. I don’t need a raging case of diarrhea to add to the joys of this day.”
“Yes Sir!” Sean quipped, grinning at Rho. “I suppose you speak pretty good Spanish, yeah?”
Rho nodded, tucking the passport as deep into his pocket as he could. It felt strange to be trusted with such an important thing. He eagerly led Sean out of the hotel in search of a meal. This was Mexico City, and he was at home here as he ever would be anywhere. At least that was what Rho told himself. He hoped that he would be proven wrong some day.
Dominic
He pulled into the driveway as cautiously as a teenager taking his driving test. He was sure that Astin was smirking at him from the passenger seat, which, by the way, was where Dominic should be sitting to drive, but this ass backward country just got everything wrong. He parked only a little bit too close on the right and breathed a sigh of relief as he shut off the motor.
“Pussy,” Astin declared.
“Eat me, Sean. Those fucking Los Angeles motorways are a nightmare.”
“Freeways,” Astin corrected, climbing out of the car with a grunt.
“Free of what, I ask you?” Dom grumbled, following. He let his hand run unobtrusively down the wing of his new car. His car, damn it. Well, his as soon as he could pay Sean for it. But the keys went into his own pocket, and he’d fight off anyone who tried to take them.
“We’ll get you over to the Driver’s License Bureau next week,” Astin was saying happily, pausing to pinch old buds off the petunias in a hanging basket. He was always so proud of himself when he took care of things. “And then there’s the insurance and all…”
Dominic groaned as he followed his fellow Hobbit inside the house. There had been no room to wiggle out of a dinner date, especially not with the favors Sean had already done for him that day. He heard hurried whispers from just inside the door, and furtive movements, but Dom fixed a smile on his face and proceeded like a condemned man, vowing to be brave. No doubt Allie had some little surprise in store for her favorite uncle. He turned the corner to the salon and walked right into Billy Boyd’s open arms.
“Merry!” Billy squealed in that embarrassingly girly voice of his – the one that always made Dom laugh.
There was a mad tangle of arms and legs and Dom was pretty sure that he was squealing as well, and then Billy was wrapped around him like a drunk Ringer and they were both doing the pogo around Sean and Christine’s furniture.
“You’re in Mexico!” Dom almost yelled into his dear friend’s open face.
“They’ve got aeroplanes and things, you know!”
Dom immediately suspected that Elijah was to blame for most of the day’s events, but he was really just too glad to see Billy again to bother being anything but chuffed.
Billy pulled loose and hurried over to grab a box from a small table. He held it behind his back for a moment, green eyes dancing with mischief. “I was gonna get you a weta for your birthday, but Richard said it’s illegal to ship them.”
“Imagine that,” Dom laughed, eager to see what was in the clear plastic box, obviously a portable terrarium of some sort. “Besides, my birthday’s in December, you mad bastard.”
“Elijah told me about yer apartment, and yer roommates!” Billy cooed in his thickest Glaswegian accent. “I could’na let that kinda thing slide!”
“You mean Columbia?” Dom asked, thinking about his lovely mantis.
“Is that what you call yer apartment, then?” Billy laughed, producing the box with a flourish, the lid unhinged.
Dom leaned in close, only to see two of the biggest bugs he’d ever laid eyes on – brown and gold chitineous exoskeletons nearly the size of his index finger! “Save the Baby Jesus,” Dom mumbled, unable to form a more coherent thought. “You got me roaches?”
“Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches!” Billy squealed excitedly. He shook the box and the roaches both produced a distinct rattling noise.
There was a choice to be made, and not much time to make it. Be utterly appalled and incensed at the crassness of his friends making fun of his situation, or thank Billy for caring and for knowing Dom so well. Dom reached out for the box slowly, realizing that they were actually very impressive insects. He’d always liked insects. A smile slowly grew on his face, and he could see the relief in Billy’s eyes.
“Close that box up this instant!” Christine announced from the kitchen doorway. She was wearing an apron, brandishing a wooden spoon stained red, and massively, splendidly pregnant. “If one of those bugs gets loose inside my house I’ll be having both of your scrotums for coin purses!” Dom had to blink at that image. Mad. Everyone in the Astin household was utterly mad. “All right then,” Christine sighed. “Put them outside and come eat, the two of you.” She went to the stairs to call Allie.
“I’ve missed you, git,” Billy mumbled in his ear.
After the highly excellent dinner Dom and Billy were told that no, they could not participate in cleaning up. They went outside and got comfortable on patio chairs. Dom took the lid off the box again to play with his new pets. “Who’s a lovely lad then, eh?” he enquired of one of the roaches, trying to scoop it up. It hissed at him heartily.
“You are a sick, sick bastard,” Billy laughed.
The sliding door behind them opened and Allie announced proudly, “I drew a picture of your Manascatter hissers, Uncle Dom!” She skipped over and produced a crayon drawing of big brown blobs on a field of sloppy blossoms.
He admired the portrait in mock sincerity. “Why, that’s utterly brilliant, Sunshine! You’re a regular Georgia O’Keefe with the flowers. Are you going to help me name my cockroaches?”
“How about Peter and Fran?” Billy offered.
“Shut it, you,” Dom said under his breath.
Allie had plopped down on the patio and was working meticulously with her crayons again. “I think they have a pet dog too!” She was putting in another roach blob, attaching it with a leash to one of the big roach’s antennae, or feet, or hands…something. She then started filling in the center of a flower with deft stabs of vermilion.
“George and Gracie, aye?” Billy quipped.
“You’re thinking of the whales in Star Trek Four,” Dom told him. He’d managed to get his fingers under the roach and it was now exploring the back of his hand intently.
“Time for your bath, Allie,” Sean announced, stepping out of the door, a towel in one hand. His daughter sighed dramatically and put the drawing on the pavement stones while she stood up. She contemplated her artwork for a moment, and then stomped her little foot down several times over the crayon roaches, going to far as to grind them out like a cigarette butt. Dom shuddered so hard that he dropped his new pet back into its box, where it hissed warningly. Allie danced off to the door, scooting past her abashed father.
“Uh, yeah, I know,” Astin sighed. “Sometimes I wonder just how much of my mom’s genes are lurking in the mix.”
Billy burst into peals of laughter, then asked, “Mind if I spend the night at your place, Dommie?”
Orlando
Viggo had even remade the bed with clean sheets. That was about the sweetest thing Orlando thought anyone had ever done for him. He slid between the smooth, cool sheets and felt them settle around his naked body gently. His skin was saturated and plump from the bath, his long hair still damp. There was a towel over the pillow – Viggo had thought of everything. Orlando wondered what it was like to be able to think of everything at once. How did anyone get to be that smart and thoughtful and kind? He closed his eyes and listened to the familiar sounds of the hotel and of Viggo moving around quietly, picking things up and getting ready for bed himself.
His fingers and toes tingled, and the sheets felt curiously heavy across his chest, but Orlando didn’t mind any of it. All the light but a few candles had been extinguished when Viggo lifted the edge of the sheet and patted Orlando’s hip. “Scoot over, Puppy.” He obliged awkwardly, turning to face his savior, forcing heavy eyelids open to admire the handsome face of the man who’d come to fix him. Viggo got comfortable on his own side, then gathered the clone into his arms, tucking him under his chin. “I’ve got you,” he mumbled.
Orlando suddenly felt hot tears coursing from his eyes, and a horrible tightness clamped in his throat. He’d never felt like this before, and he had no idea what it was. He felt frightened, but didn’t know why. He felt ashamed, but he wasn’t sure what of. He felt like he wanted to climb inside Viggo’s skin and stay there forever. He shuddered with the strength of the new emotions and a soft moan escaped between clamped teeth.
Viggo was stroking his back in long, gentle circles. If he was alarmed or appalled by the raw display he did nothing to show that. It took many minutes for Orlando to get control of himself again. He was as lost as a hiker in a whiteout, no idea where home was or where he was putting his feet or what dangers lurked just out of reach. Viggo pulled away long enough to reach the bottle of water on the night table, and Orlando gulped nearly the entire thing, trying to ease the pressure in his throat and head. “I’ve got you,” Viggo muttered again. “Let yourself go, Puppy.”
The pain lifted, and Orlando felt curiously empty without it. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling fan, trying to understand what had happened. For once he was sure that wasn’t a lingering wisp of Gamma’s life influencing him. This distress was his own, and he’d made it for himself. He just had no idea how or why.
“This is being alive, Orli,” Viggo said softly, his hand soothing gently up and down Orlando’s limbs. “You don’t have to tamp it all down and pretend it’s not there. You just have to live your life, good and bad, happy and sad.”
“But they want me to be happy, really. Everyone wants me to be happy. Why can’t I just….” He didn’t even finish the thought. It sounded stupid already. He knew better than that. He knew that it didn’t work that way. “I don’t know how,” he finally said.
“None of us are born knowing how. You just have to find your own way. Your way, Orlando…Lambda.” Viggo cupped his face and kissed him softly.
“Viggo…will you make love to me?” Orlando whispered, eyes fluttering at the sensations overwhelming him from every direction.
“Of course I will, baby. But not right now. I don’t think you’re ready and I don’t want to rush things. Frankly it’s been a while for me, and…well…you’re looking pretty inviting and vulnerable and I don’t want to have even a chance that I’m taking advantage of you.”
Orlando had to process all that information. “But you do still want to make love to me, right?”
Viggo smiled warmly, showing all of his laugh lines and dimples. “You have no idea how much, Puppy. I’ll admit that I’m a horny old bastard right now.” He shifted and lifted the edge of the sheet to display his full erection, cock so hard that it touched his corded abdomen, head nestling amongst the brown curls halfway to his navel. “I wish I could be proud of that, but it’s more just a response to being around you after such a long wait. It’s not that I don’t want to love you, but right now my cock is begging for a fuck, and I don’t think you need to be fucked.”
“Yes, I do,” Orlando purred, sliding his fingers down Viggo’s belly to enclose that magnificent cock in his warm hand. He moaned at the silk over steel sensation. Yes…he was quite willing to just be fucked. He gently stroked Viggo’s cock a few times, tugging the skin of the shaft up to the head, twisting slightly. The masculine smell of the man was a powerful aphrodisiac.
Growling, Viggo claimed Orlando’s mouth in a passionate kiss. Viggo was a hell of a kisser, and Orlando felt his own cock tingle with anticipation, as hard as the Dane’s, his balls pulling tight. More kissing, more stroking, and then Viggo rolled him onto his back again and slid the sheet down. Nips and kisses rained down Orlando’s torso and then Viggo’s lips found his cock. That was almost enough to bring an orgasm right then, but Orli did everything he could to relax and hold off. He finally pushed Viggo away and brought their bodies into line with each other, returning to kissing and stroking each other. Their cocks rubbed and slid together, fingers fumbling, hands darting from one position to another.
He hadn’t been kidding about being horny. Viggo came with a growl and a panted series of mumbled Spanish endearments. Orlando came as soon as he applied the warmth of Viggo’s seed to his own raging shaft, and tears tracked his cheeks once again as his world turned inside out. Viggo held him tightly through the shuddering and gasping, and then Orlando felt all the energy in his body lift and drain away. He collapsed against his lover’s chest, barely able to do much more than remove his hand from his own sated organ.
Pulling free of the limpet-like young man, Viggo got a towel to clean them both up, and then blew out the remaining candles and slid back into bed. They cuddled up like a pair of contented cats and both slept deep and long.
TITLE: Beyond Design Limitations
CHAPTER: Fourteen – Whole Once More
AUTHOR: Pecos – PecosPhil@sprintmail.com
WEBSITE: http://www.chimerafic.com
BETA: Gloria Mundi - viva_gloria@livejournal.com
RATING: Varies by chapter. This one is NC-17
Sexual innuendo, very bad language, angst
DISCLAIMER: I don’t make the toys, I’m only
playing with them. No money made, nor
disrespect intended. This is FICTION
WHAT IS IT?: RPS / AU
Sequel to ‘Prophecy: Destiny & Design’
which can be found on my website
WHO’S IN IT?: Sean Bean, Orlando Bloom,
Johnny Depp, Viggo Mortensen and other
actors from ‘The Lord of the Rings’, ‘Pirates
of the Caribbean’, ‘Hidalgo’ and others
FEEDBACK: remember the golden rule, (please!)
NOTE: Please forgive any intentional or
unintentional abuse of facts or history
NOTE 2: Story takes place in early 2002
NOTE 3: Thanks to Ana for sharing some very
interesting insights into these characters!
Beyond Design Limitations
Chapter Fourteen: Whole Once More
Johnny
Only pausing at the door, Johnny rapped on the wood and passed through into the dim interior of the hotel room. It was evening now, and the tree frogs had started their nightly chorus. The curtains in this room had been recently drawn, and candles were lit on several surfaces. A scent of local flowers had cleared the funk that had marked the room previously, and the unpleasant jumble of medical paraphernalia had been shoved into the far corner, likely on its way out. Depp nodded approvingly at the change, then stepped further into the dim light to the occupant of the bed.
Rucked up yellow pajama bottoms were the only thing covering Orlando as he lay on his side, eyes shut in what looked far more like sleep than the worrisome state in which Johnny’d last seen this young man. A red teddy bear and a blue rag of some kind wrapped around his wrist made Orli appear even more like a large, but sad child. Johnny found himself smiling wistfully as he leaned closer, reaching out to stroke a few stray curls away from a warm forehead.
“Lovely kid, isn’t he?” asked a voice from the shadows. Johnny jumped despite himself, and he turned to find a cowboy leaning back in a chair, a book held open in his lap even though it was far too dark to read.
“Allow me to introduce myself, please,” the cowboy said softly, getting quickly to his feet, a warm smile on his very handsome, somewhat rugged face.
“No need, Mr. Mortensen,” Johnny rapidly inserted, reaching for the extended hand. “I think I’d recognize you just about anywhere, even if I hadn’t known that you’re Orlando’s friend. I’m Johnny.”
“Depp…of course. It’s really a pleasure to meet you.”
“Orlando’s not only talked about you on every possible occasion, but even in his sleep - on the few times we’ve shared a room or plane.” He smiled to let Viggo know he was fully aware of the extent of their friendship, should one wish to call it that, and consciously neglected to mention that Orli mentioned someone named Sean nearly as often. Johnny didn’t find anything wrong with the arrangement. He was a practical man, and he figured that it didn’t matter who you loved, as long as it was someone who would love you back. If Viggo was at Orli’s side when he needed him, then he loved the kid back. “Our blacksmith’s an open book, so to speak,” he explained.
“Boy couldn’t keep a surprise party for his granny secret,” Viggo said with a grin. Depp glanced at what Viggo had been reading: Ayn Rand, one of her lesser-known works. There were depths here that could use some exploration.
Laughing softly, Johnny had to agree. “He’d call her up for suggestions with the decorations.”
“Oh, like you two would know,” whispered an indignant voice from the bed. Johnny spun to find the dark eyes focused on Viggo’s face. Although he looked much better, you could still see how tired and drawn the young man appeared now that he was awake.
“Orli-Bear,” Viggo practically purred, stepping past Johnny and taking a seat on the side of the mattress. “I’m sorry we woke you. I was just introducing myself to your co-star.”
“My guardian angel,” Orlando said, reaching out to snag Johnny’s hand, smiling up at him. “He’s been there for me loads of times, Filthy Human.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Johnny questioned, taken aback at being called an angel and a dirty old man all in the same speech.
Snorting with amusement, Viggo explained without breaking eye contact with the ‘patient’. “He meant me. I’m his Filthy Human, and he’s my Prissy Elf.”
“New Zealand thing,” Orli said softly, letting his eyes drift shut in pleasure as Viggo stroked his hair, very much the way that Johnny had started to when he’d come into the room.
“Of course,” Depp murmured, thinking how pretty the two of them looked together. He briefly wondered what it would take to get them to kiss in front of him. Johnny loved beautiful things. This obvious affection between the two men was a lovely thing indeed.
“Thank for coming by to check up on him,” Viggo said softly, his tone implying a possessiveness that seemed at odds with Mortensen’s reputation for free thinking and independence. That was certainly interesting. Come to think of it, wasn’t Viggo supposed to be working on a different Disney picture on a different continent? Strange that he would have come all this way just because Orlando had fallen ill with heat stroke and poor judgment.
“Got nothing better to do,” Johnny lied blatantly. “There won’t be any Pirate hi-jinx for a few days while Wonder Boy here gets his feet under him again.” That was completely untrue – they were sending Johnny out to the ship in the morning for solo cover shots, and then to a local beach on a nearby speck of an island for a few scenes with Keira. Everyone was busy except Orli. Johnny just wanted to make it sound like a nice little vacation so the kid wouldn’t feel any guiltier than he already did.
“All the same,” Viggo muttered, smiling briefly at him in obvious dismissal. His hand had moved to cup Orlando’s cheek, thumb tracing the thin hairs on his face affectionately. “I appreciate your keeping an eye on my problem child.”
“Yes, well, I’ll just get the door on my way out, then, shall I?” Johnny knew an exit sign when he saw one. He’d just have to delve into this Viggo business at a later date. What would it take to get them to kiss?
Viggo
He watched the door close and rose to lock it, then checked the windows and curtains to be sure they would remain undisturbed for a while. The ceiling fan was bumped up a notch and a couple of the candles blown out before Viggo ran a bath and returned. He clicked on the bedside lamp and took his seat again on the edge of the bed. Orlando had drifted back to sleep in the few moments he’d been alone.
“Wake up, Orlando,” the Dane said gently, shaking his shoulder with a light touch. Sleepy brown eyes crept open enough to confirm his presence, then tried to slide shut again. Viggo shook him a bit more firmly. “Come on, you. I’ve got a bath ready. I know how much you love your baths.”
“Hmmm, water,” Orlando sighed, stretching. “Carry me?” he cooed, trying to look coquettish, but failing rather badly.
“Hell, no. I’m too old to be hauling your lazy butt around. Get up,” Viggo demanded.
“My hero,” the young man sighed, stirring slowly.
“I’ve done the hero thing. It’s overrated. Get up already or the water’ll get cold.”
Orlando rose unsteadily to his feet, but of course Viggo was there to guide his steps. “I want it cold, thanks. Nothing around here is ever cold enough for me.”
“Then stop agreeing to do movies in hot climates, you wilted daisy,” Viggo sighed. Between the two of them they got Orli settled in the tub, where he moaned appreciatively and slid out of sight beneath the surface. It was more than a minute before he came up again, his hair slicked back, blinking big brown eyes and looking remarkably like a seal. Viggo had a pretty good idea where the legends of selkies came from – gorgeous boys like Orlando. He cocked a grin and handed him a washcloth and the soap.
“Aren’t you going to wash me?” the bathing beauty asked.
“No. I am not. I haven’t washed anybody else’s balls since before Henry had any.”
Orlando winced at the very thought, and methodically started scrubbing. “You’re being a lousy boyfriend.”
“Maybe, but your arms aren’t broken. You want tender loving care then you get your ass cleaned up and into bed again, then maybe we’ll see about some loving.” The wink rather spoiled his intended threat.
Orlando smirked, working up a lather to clean his face. Viggo went through the contents of the bathroom cabinet, throwing one bottle after another into the trash. “B-12, don’t need it, Zinc, don’t think so, St. John’s Wort, worthless…damn it, Lambda, is there anything in the local pharmacist’s that you haven’t been taking?”
“People give me stuff. They mean well.”
“Yeah…well, I want you to be well, Puppy. If you were eating a good enough diet and getting some sleep you wouldn’t have to take half of this stuff.” The remaining bottles hit the trashcan.
“I’m not supposed to stop taking the anti-depressants,” Orlando told him sheepishly.
“We’ll taper you off those,” Viggo agreed, setting that one back onto the shelf, after he’d examined the contents and sniffed the pills suspiciously. “Did Depp have anything to do with giving you pills?”
“Johnny? Uh, no. No, he’s not like that.” Orlando narrowed his eyes, obviously suspecting some sort of jealousy. “He’s really been nice, Viggo.”
“Yeah, I can see that. I’m just curious about why he’s got such an interest in you.”
“’Cause I’m fun to be around? I can tell jokes. I’m cute.”
“You’re cute all right,” Viggo smirked, splashing water in his face. He had every intention of filling in those blanks later.
Rho
Sitting back on his haunches, Rocoto watched as Sean expertly handled Mickey’s wounded neck and scalp. Apparently this sort of thing didn’t much faze Sean, and certainly not Mickey. Rho shuddered and glanced down once again at the rim of dark red around his own fingernails. He hadn’t been able to wash all the blood away yet, and he wanted more than anything to go to the sink and scrub until his skin was raw. But that wasn’t what was needed – or expected – of him at the moment. He tore his gaze away from the incriminating remainders and forced himself to watch Sean. There was something to learn here…something that he might need later.
“I think that’s got it, Spook,” Sean said, leaning back to examine his improvised bandages. “I’m sure a stitch or two wouldn’t be out of order on that big glass cut, but the bleeding’s mostly stopped. The bullet graze was really the least of your injuries. It’s like it cauterized or something.”
“High caliber shell,” Mickey explained. “Bet it tore a pretty good hole in the seat. We may lose our deposit on that rental car, Actor Boy.” Mickey had turned his head stiffly, but it was enough that he could wink at Rho. The clone felt a flood of warmth spread outwards from the pit of his stomach at the gesture. He’d been afraid that Mickey would be angry with him. “Thanks for putting pressure on my neck, kid. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to drive us out of there.”
“It was quite a ride,” Rho said. Of course he hadn’t known what to do when he saw the window explode – but Mickey had known, so Rho'd just done the right thing. He was an expert at doing the right thing…usually at the right time. Whatever was expected of him. Mickey got up from the closed toilet and headed back into the bedroom of their hastily-acquired hotel room, and Sean spent a moment picking up bloody bandages and the odds and ends of the first aid supplies they’d bought. Rho took advantage of the time to wash his hands again. He needed some sort of nailbrush…like they’d had in the surgical suites at the labs. Blood was a strange substance, he reflected.
Finishing with his ablutions at last, Rho turned to find that Sean was patiently waiting for his own chance to wash away the stains of Mickey’s blood. Rho ducked aside guiltily, and Sean watched him in the mirror while he paused to sniff the soap. Rho wondered if he’d left some sort of smell on the soap that Sean was appraising.
“Hotel soap always smells like cheap hookers,” Sean said casually. Of course he knew what Rho was thinking. “Not that I’d expect you to know that.” He grinned toothily, and Rho found himself smiling back. Sean washed quickly, and Rho handed him the one towel that hadn’t been fouled with blood or iodine or soaked with peroxide, which was already bleaching the cloths in pale blotches. They’d made a mess of the hotel bathroom as well as the rental car.
“So much for another deposit,” Rho quipped, wondering if it was okay to make a joke.
Sean hooted with laughter and grabbed Rho around the neck, squeezing him for a moment. “Don’t look so worried, lad. You did good!” He pushed Rho into the bedroom, where Mickey was seated at the head of the bed, fiddling with the contents of his small travel bag. “So, Mickey, who’s taking potshots at us? Or was it just you? I know you make a lot of people want to shoot you.”
“Most people don’t miss with high-caliber rifles,” Mickey said flatly. “That was either a warning shot, a stray bullet, or the worst hit man on the planet. I’m not counting on it being a stray bullet.” He produced a small, dark red book from somewhere inside his bag. “Here, Rocoto. You’re going to need this. I think we should get you out of Mexico; the sooner the better.”
Rho took the object, seeing that it was a passport from the United Kingdom. He’d never been there. He cautiously opened it, and found Orlando Bloom’s face gazing up at his from the inside page. A shiver ran through him as he stared into eyes that were not his own. Was this Orlando Alpha? Or had it been Gamma? Could this be Lambda’s passport? Sean was frowning at the document. He took it from Rho’s passive grasp and turned the pages, looking at the multitude of colorful stamps and paper visas tucked inside.
“You got this from the Colt? When you were in the Caribbean?”
“I borrowed it. He doesn’t need it for a while. Kid’s not going anywhere until that movie’s done. Besides, he’d just as likely lose it. Lambda is not exactly good with material possessions. We’ll get it back to him before he needs it. I’m just going to have to fake up an entry mark for Mexico so they won’t red-flag Rocoto when he goes to leave.”
“With me,” Sean added, studying the photo himself.
Rho held his breath for a moment, wondering if he understood correctly what Sean had said. Was he planning to take Rho somewhere? Was Sean really accepting custody of him? That’s what Mickey had wanted to do, hand Rho off as quickly as possible. Mickey had another burning mission to attend to, and he’d only found Rho on Sean’s orders. But Rho had been harboring a secret fear that he would prove disappointing to Sean in some way, lacking some essential ingredient that the man had been searching for. Since it was now obvious that there were more than just two clones still alive, Rho had been afraid that Sean would find another of them better fitted to fill the hole in his heart that Gamma's death had carved.
Tearing himself away from the picture of this other Orlando Bloom, Sean promptly put the passport back into Rho’s hand, closing his fingers over the small book. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you using it, lad. Mickey’s right. We need to move on, and you’re not going to go anywhere without this.” Sean’s keen green gaze drilled into Rho’s soul through the open portals of his own eyes. He could never hide anything from this man, even if he tried. Sean could read him like a script. Rho could only hope that Sean liked the story.
“Will you relax?” Sean said quickly, smiling. “It’s going to be okay. Mickey’s not seriously hurt. We’ll sort things out. I’m not leaving you here. We’ll figure out what’s going to be best for everyone, and then how to do it.” Sean folded him into a tight embrace, and Rho’s fears subsided, washed away by something far sweeter than hotel soap.
Maybe there was a way to work it out for everyone…every one.
“Shhhhhh,” Sean whispered in his ear.
“Do you two mind?” Mickey sighed, reaching for his cell phone. “I could use some time to make arrangements without the whole Actor Boy Drama Club thing, okay? Why don’t you two fuck off and get us something to eat? Something gooey and spicy and untouched by local water. I don’t need a raging case of diarrhea to add to the joys of this day.”
“Yes Sir!” Sean quipped, grinning at Rho. “I suppose you speak pretty good Spanish, yeah?”
Rho nodded, tucking the passport as deep into his pocket as he could. It felt strange to be trusted with such an important thing. He eagerly led Sean out of the hotel in search of a meal. This was Mexico City, and he was at home here as he ever would be anywhere. At least that was what Rho told himself. He hoped that he would be proven wrong some day.
Dominic
He pulled into the driveway as cautiously as a teenager taking his driving test. He was sure that Astin was smirking at him from the passenger seat, which, by the way, was where Dominic should be sitting to drive, but this ass backward country just got everything wrong. He parked only a little bit too close on the right and breathed a sigh of relief as he shut off the motor.
“Pussy,” Astin declared.
“Eat me, Sean. Those fucking Los Angeles motorways are a nightmare.”
“Freeways,” Astin corrected, climbing out of the car with a grunt.
“Free of what, I ask you?” Dom grumbled, following. He let his hand run unobtrusively down the wing of his new car. His car, damn it. Well, his as soon as he could pay Sean for it. But the keys went into his own pocket, and he’d fight off anyone who tried to take them.
“We’ll get you over to the Driver’s License Bureau next week,” Astin was saying happily, pausing to pinch old buds off the petunias in a hanging basket. He was always so proud of himself when he took care of things. “And then there’s the insurance and all…”
Dominic groaned as he followed his fellow Hobbit inside the house. There had been no room to wiggle out of a dinner date, especially not with the favors Sean had already done for him that day. He heard hurried whispers from just inside the door, and furtive movements, but Dom fixed a smile on his face and proceeded like a condemned man, vowing to be brave. No doubt Allie had some little surprise in store for her favorite uncle. He turned the corner to the salon and walked right into Billy Boyd’s open arms.
“Merry!” Billy squealed in that embarrassingly girly voice of his – the one that always made Dom laugh.
There was a mad tangle of arms and legs and Dom was pretty sure that he was squealing as well, and then Billy was wrapped around him like a drunk Ringer and they were both doing the pogo around Sean and Christine’s furniture.
“You’re in Mexico!” Dom almost yelled into his dear friend’s open face.
“They’ve got aeroplanes and things, you know!”
Dom immediately suspected that Elijah was to blame for most of the day’s events, but he was really just too glad to see Billy again to bother being anything but chuffed.
Billy pulled loose and hurried over to grab a box from a small table. He held it behind his back for a moment, green eyes dancing with mischief. “I was gonna get you a weta for your birthday, but Richard said it’s illegal to ship them.”
“Imagine that,” Dom laughed, eager to see what was in the clear plastic box, obviously a portable terrarium of some sort. “Besides, my birthday’s in December, you mad bastard.”
“Elijah told me about yer apartment, and yer roommates!” Billy cooed in his thickest Glaswegian accent. “I could’na let that kinda thing slide!”
“You mean Columbia?” Dom asked, thinking about his lovely mantis.
“Is that what you call yer apartment, then?” Billy laughed, producing the box with a flourish, the lid unhinged.
Dom leaned in close, only to see two of the biggest bugs he’d ever laid eyes on – brown and gold chitineous exoskeletons nearly the size of his index finger! “Save the Baby Jesus,” Dom mumbled, unable to form a more coherent thought. “You got me roaches?”
“Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches!” Billy squealed excitedly. He shook the box and the roaches both produced a distinct rattling noise.
There was a choice to be made, and not much time to make it. Be utterly appalled and incensed at the crassness of his friends making fun of his situation, or thank Billy for caring and for knowing Dom so well. Dom reached out for the box slowly, realizing that they were actually very impressive insects. He’d always liked insects. A smile slowly grew on his face, and he could see the relief in Billy’s eyes.
“Close that box up this instant!” Christine announced from the kitchen doorway. She was wearing an apron, brandishing a wooden spoon stained red, and massively, splendidly pregnant. “If one of those bugs gets loose inside my house I’ll be having both of your scrotums for coin purses!” Dom had to blink at that image. Mad. Everyone in the Astin household was utterly mad. “All right then,” Christine sighed. “Put them outside and come eat, the two of you.” She went to the stairs to call Allie.
“I’ve missed you, git,” Billy mumbled in his ear.
After the highly excellent dinner Dom and Billy were told that no, they could not participate in cleaning up. They went outside and got comfortable on patio chairs. Dom took the lid off the box again to play with his new pets. “Who’s a lovely lad then, eh?” he enquired of one of the roaches, trying to scoop it up. It hissed at him heartily.
“You are a sick, sick bastard,” Billy laughed.
The sliding door behind them opened and Allie announced proudly, “I drew a picture of your Manascatter hissers, Uncle Dom!” She skipped over and produced a crayon drawing of big brown blobs on a field of sloppy blossoms.
He admired the portrait in mock sincerity. “Why, that’s utterly brilliant, Sunshine! You’re a regular Georgia O’Keefe with the flowers. Are you going to help me name my cockroaches?”
“How about Peter and Fran?” Billy offered.
“Shut it, you,” Dom said under his breath.
Allie had plopped down on the patio and was working meticulously with her crayons again. “I think they have a pet dog too!” She was putting in another roach blob, attaching it with a leash to one of the big roach’s antennae, or feet, or hands…something. She then started filling in the center of a flower with deft stabs of vermilion.
“George and Gracie, aye?” Billy quipped.
“You’re thinking of the whales in Star Trek Four,” Dom told him. He’d managed to get his fingers under the roach and it was now exploring the back of his hand intently.
“Time for your bath, Allie,” Sean announced, stepping out of the door, a towel in one hand. His daughter sighed dramatically and put the drawing on the pavement stones while she stood up. She contemplated her artwork for a moment, and then stomped her little foot down several times over the crayon roaches, going to far as to grind them out like a cigarette butt. Dom shuddered so hard that he dropped his new pet back into its box, where it hissed warningly. Allie danced off to the door, scooting past her abashed father.
“Uh, yeah, I know,” Astin sighed. “Sometimes I wonder just how much of my mom’s genes are lurking in the mix.”
Billy burst into peals of laughter, then asked, “Mind if I spend the night at your place, Dommie?”
Orlando
Viggo had even remade the bed with clean sheets. That was about the sweetest thing Orlando thought anyone had ever done for him. He slid between the smooth, cool sheets and felt them settle around his naked body gently. His skin was saturated and plump from the bath, his long hair still damp. There was a towel over the pillow – Viggo had thought of everything. Orlando wondered what it was like to be able to think of everything at once. How did anyone get to be that smart and thoughtful and kind? He closed his eyes and listened to the familiar sounds of the hotel and of Viggo moving around quietly, picking things up and getting ready for bed himself.
His fingers and toes tingled, and the sheets felt curiously heavy across his chest, but Orlando didn’t mind any of it. All the light but a few candles had been extinguished when Viggo lifted the edge of the sheet and patted Orlando’s hip. “Scoot over, Puppy.” He obliged awkwardly, turning to face his savior, forcing heavy eyelids open to admire the handsome face of the man who’d come to fix him. Viggo got comfortable on his own side, then gathered the clone into his arms, tucking him under his chin. “I’ve got you,” he mumbled.
Orlando suddenly felt hot tears coursing from his eyes, and a horrible tightness clamped in his throat. He’d never felt like this before, and he had no idea what it was. He felt frightened, but didn’t know why. He felt ashamed, but he wasn’t sure what of. He felt like he wanted to climb inside Viggo’s skin and stay there forever. He shuddered with the strength of the new emotions and a soft moan escaped between clamped teeth.
Viggo was stroking his back in long, gentle circles. If he was alarmed or appalled by the raw display he did nothing to show that. It took many minutes for Orlando to get control of himself again. He was as lost as a hiker in a whiteout, no idea where home was or where he was putting his feet or what dangers lurked just out of reach. Viggo pulled away long enough to reach the bottle of water on the night table, and Orlando gulped nearly the entire thing, trying to ease the pressure in his throat and head. “I’ve got you,” Viggo muttered again. “Let yourself go, Puppy.”
The pain lifted, and Orlando felt curiously empty without it. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling fan, trying to understand what had happened. For once he was sure that wasn’t a lingering wisp of Gamma’s life influencing him. This distress was his own, and he’d made it for himself. He just had no idea how or why.
“This is being alive, Orli,” Viggo said softly, his hand soothing gently up and down Orlando’s limbs. “You don’t have to tamp it all down and pretend it’s not there. You just have to live your life, good and bad, happy and sad.”
“But they want me to be happy, really. Everyone wants me to be happy. Why can’t I just….” He didn’t even finish the thought. It sounded stupid already. He knew better than that. He knew that it didn’t work that way. “I don’t know how,” he finally said.
“None of us are born knowing how. You just have to find your own way. Your way, Orlando…Lambda.” Viggo cupped his face and kissed him softly.
“Viggo…will you make love to me?” Orlando whispered, eyes fluttering at the sensations overwhelming him from every direction.
“Of course I will, baby. But not right now. I don’t think you’re ready and I don’t want to rush things. Frankly it’s been a while for me, and…well…you’re looking pretty inviting and vulnerable and I don’t want to have even a chance that I’m taking advantage of you.”
Orlando had to process all that information. “But you do still want to make love to me, right?”
Viggo smiled warmly, showing all of his laugh lines and dimples. “You have no idea how much, Puppy. I’ll admit that I’m a horny old bastard right now.” He shifted and lifted the edge of the sheet to display his full erection, cock so hard that it touched his corded abdomen, head nestling amongst the brown curls halfway to his navel. “I wish I could be proud of that, but it’s more just a response to being around you after such a long wait. It’s not that I don’t want to love you, but right now my cock is begging for a fuck, and I don’t think you need to be fucked.”
“Yes, I do,” Orlando purred, sliding his fingers down Viggo’s belly to enclose that magnificent cock in his warm hand. He moaned at the silk over steel sensation. Yes…he was quite willing to just be fucked. He gently stroked Viggo’s cock a few times, tugging the skin of the shaft up to the head, twisting slightly. The masculine smell of the man was a powerful aphrodisiac.
Growling, Viggo claimed Orlando’s mouth in a passionate kiss. Viggo was a hell of a kisser, and Orlando felt his own cock tingle with anticipation, as hard as the Dane’s, his balls pulling tight. More kissing, more stroking, and then Viggo rolled him onto his back again and slid the sheet down. Nips and kisses rained down Orlando’s torso and then Viggo’s lips found his cock. That was almost enough to bring an orgasm right then, but Orli did everything he could to relax and hold off. He finally pushed Viggo away and brought their bodies into line with each other, returning to kissing and stroking each other. Their cocks rubbed and slid together, fingers fumbling, hands darting from one position to another.
He hadn’t been kidding about being horny. Viggo came with a growl and a panted series of mumbled Spanish endearments. Orlando came as soon as he applied the warmth of Viggo’s seed to his own raging shaft, and tears tracked his cheeks once again as his world turned inside out. Viggo held him tightly through the shuddering and gasping, and then Orlando felt all the energy in his body lift and drain away. He collapsed against his lover’s chest, barely able to do much more than remove his hand from his own sated organ.
Pulling free of the limpet-like young man, Viggo got a towel to clean them both up, and then blew out the remaining candles and slid back into bed. They cuddled up like a pair of contented cats and both slept deep and long.
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“Aren’t you going to wash me?” the bathing beauty asked.
“No. I am not. I haven’t washed anybody else’s balls since before Henry had any.”
- and his compassion, and his wisdom.
“This is being alive, Orli,” Viggo said softly, his hand soothing gently up and down Orlando’s limbs. “You don’t have to tamp it all down and pretend it’s not there. You just have to live your life, good and bad, happy and sad.”
“But they want me to be happy, really. Everyone wants me to be happy. Why can’t I just….” He didn’t even finish the thought. It sounded stupid already. He knew better than that. He knew that it didn’t work that way. “I don’t know how,” he finally said.
“None of us are born knowing how. You just have to find your own way. Your way, Orlando…Lambda.”
No wonder Lambda asks himself How did anyone get to be that smart and thoughtful and kind? I have a sneaking suspicion they aren't going to be able to enjoy their moment of peace for long, though.
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Thank you very much for the kind and generous comments on the story. I've made a promise to myself that I'm going to stick to this until it's finished I'm very gratified that you're reading it!
Cheers!