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fellowshippers2003-10-11 10:02 pm
tiniowien.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-10-11 10:02 pm
'Restless' V/O NC-17
Title: Restless.
Author: Melissa
E-Mail: dr_dana_mulder42@yahoo.com
Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/tiniowien
Pairing: Viggorli
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Orlando is having trouble relaxing during a photo shoot...
Disclaimer: I make no assumptions about the real-life sexual preferences of any of the people mentioned herein. Don't sue. I need to save if I'm going to see the boys in December.
Notes: This little piece is inspired by THIS particular Orli picture, and owes special thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lennongirl who's lovely comments about said piccy (and how 'relaxed' Orli looked in it) brought this bunny to life. Dedicated to the lovely ladies at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
vigorleancult. I couldn't find a nicer group of smut loving friends anywhere else in the world. ^_^
~*~
Stop it, he told himself firmly.
Orlando pulled his hand away from his mouth, where he had been gnawing at his thumbnail, and dropped it to his side.
He shifted slightly, feeling the back of his loose white shirt rasp against the cushions. The hand at his side now shifted to splay across one denim-clad thigh. The fingers on said hand flicked, tapping out a silent beat; something from a famous song who's name escaped him for the moment. He twisted his head left, then right, then left agai--
"Orlando? Orli!"
The photographer frowned, then smoothed out his face with an obvious effort. "Please," he stepped back and placed a hand on his hip, the camera now held loosely in the other, "Can you just stop fidgeting for one moment? I'm going to waste another roll if you don't. Now," he motioned for the lighting panel to be adjusted slightly, then crouched down and raised the camera to his face again, "Just go for relaxed. That's the look I'm trying for. Relax."
Orlando nodded and settled back further into the cushions. Relax.
...But a second later one leg began to bounce, and with a whine of irritation, the dog slipped away from his side and padded off.
"Mr Bloom!"
Formalities. Orli winced. He really was in deep shit now. Before the photographer could say anything though, Orlando pushed himself up and stood, "Look I'm really sorry, mate. I have..." he floundered for a second. What *was* wrong with him? "I have a lot of things on my mind." Almost unconsciously he ran a hand through his hair, missing the scowl from the set hairdresser, "Is it okay if I take a short break?"
The photographer whipped his arm up to look at his gaudy watch, and Orlando could practically see the quick maths flashing through the man's brain. Time versus money versus actually getting decent shots...
"Break!" he called a moment later, throwing his hands up in the air and turning to his small crew, "Everyone take an early lunch. I want you all back in an hour."
Orlando raised his eyes to the studio ceiling in silent relief. As he made to move away, the photographer placed a hand on his arm and lowered his voice, "Go and have lunch, lad. Calm down. Then come back... and when you do, I expect some results. Okay?"
Orlando nodded, gave him the ghost of a smile, turned on his heel and strode from the room, his sneakers making almost no sound on the hardwood floor as he passed over it and out into the carpeted hallway. At the moment though, he wished they could have made some sort of noise. Anything. Pounding out a rhythm might have calmed him down and perhaps taken away a fraction of his jitters.
Rounding a corner, he came to a stop and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Fuck. Why on earth couldn't he calm down? No one was going to be happy with him if he didn't come back in one hour with a clear head. Walking the length of the hallway, he pulled open the door to the wardrobe department and slipped inside. Shutting it behind him, he pressed his back up against the wood, let his head fall back and closed his eyes.
When his left foot began to tap, he launched himself off the door and paced to the end of the irritatingly small room then back again. This was getting ridiculous. The fleeting thought crossed his mind that perhaps he could run this excess energy down. But a second later he dismissed the notion; the shoot was going for relaxed, not fucking exhausted.
He made another lap of the room, his eyes roving over the makeup table and mirror, the racks of clothes coating each wall, his jacket--
His jacket. Orlando spun around and grabbed the article of clothing from where it lay draped across the back of the chair next to the mirror. Yanking his cell phone from the right pocket, he punched the first number in his speed dial and pressed the little machine to his ear.
~*~
He was going insane.
In the twenty minutes that followed, Orli had fiddled with every article of clothing on each of the racks, counted the number of light bulbs on the makeup mirror -38-, played six games of snake on his phone (finally topping Dom's score), juggled three mascara sticks -managing to drop them only a couple of times, and thumbed through an ancient edition of 'Face'. Twice.
So when the door flew open, he was immediately on his feet, "Thank God."
Viggo stepped inside, his eyes conducting a sweep of the room before landing on Orli.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Viggo asked, shutting the door and moving across the small space to stand next to Orli, "What's the emergency?"
His eyes held the faintest worried tint in their blue depths, and he reached out to wrap a hand around Orlando's forearm gently.
The touch was electric.
Feeling heat bolt through him as if Viggo were a conductor, Orli stepped forward, closing the small gap between them. Bingo. So this was the answer.
Cupping Viggo's head in his hands, he drew him into a plundering kiss. Viggo allowed it for a few moments, before pulling back, his lips moist and just slightly swollen. Orlando wanted to pull him close and never let go.
"What's up, angel?"
Orli slid his hands to Viggo's shoulders, his fingertips just resting under the collar of the man's blue shirt, and leant in to kiss Viggo's neck, moving up to nip at an earlobe and whisper, "I need you, Vig. So very badly. Right here, right now. Please."
Tilting his head slightly as Orli continued to trail moist kisses down his throat, Viggo placed his hands on Orli's waist, "What's brought all this on? Not that I'm one to complain of course." he added quickly as Orlando scrabbled at the hem of his shirt and slid his hands upwards, tracing the muscles of his stomach.
Orlando pressed up against Viggo, his body aligning so that Viggo could feel the evidence of Orli's arousal against him. "I'm so fucking fired up that I can't concentrate." he breathed in a tortured tone, his tongue licking a path along Viggo's right collarbone that lay exposed from under his shirt, "I'm bouncing off the damn walls, Vig. Please." He undulated desperately.
Viggo caught Orli's roving hands in his own and drew them out from under his shirt, where they'd been greedily mapping his chest. Ignoring the other man's frustrated growl, he linked their fingers and dipped his head, locking his gaze with the restless chocolate eyes of his lover, "How long do we have?"
Orli blinked and looked to the clock on the wall above the racks of clothes, "Not nearly enough."
Viggo followed his gaze, silent for a moment. Then he turned back to Orlando, a wicked smile on his face.
"Then let's do it right."
There were times when real life really needed a soundtrack, Orlando decided. He could really have envisioned some rock and roll track jumping to life as Viggo announced those words in a tone three shades below indecent.
And it would have been appropriate, because everything exploded.
Orli crushed his mouth to Viggo's, yanking his hands free to push him back against the nearest wall. The breath Viggo expelled as his back hit the plaster became lost in Orlando's mouth as he thrust his tongue past the other man's lips. Feeling Viggo's own slick muscle wrap around his, he moaned deep in his throat. God, how he wanted this. Wanted the man in his arms.
His tongue moving in a blatant mimicry of what he wanted to be doing at that exact moment, Orli dropped his hands to fumble blindly with the buttons on Viggo's jeans. Tugging them open, he plunged a hand inside, wrapping his fist around Viggo's swollen flesh.
The artist arched up off the wall, his eyes screwing shut as he broke the kiss. Orlando stroked him firmly a few times before shoving the offending denim out of the way, and made to drop to his knees when Viggo placed a hand on his cheek and opened his eyes. The arousal was so plain and raw there that Orli felt a surge of heat shoot straight to his cock. Viggo looked so fuckable right then -all ruffled hair and flushed skin- that he had to make an effort to hear what the man was actually saying.
"This isn't about me, Orli. Right now it's about you." Viggo lent in and kissed him quick and hard, before stepping away from the wall and swiftly reversing their positions. Kicking off his loosened jeans, he reached out and carefully drew Orli's white dress shirt over his head and laid it over the chair on top of his jacket, following immediately with the Brit's jeans and his own shirt (somewhat less carefully, Orli's dazed mind noticed absently).
A second later, he pressed up against Orlando, running his hands over every inch of bare skin, making the younger man writhe and pant; his breath coming in soft gasps against Viggo's shoulder as he dropped his head forward.
Viggo trailed his fingers across Orli's chest, dragging them teasingly across his nipples, then down his stomach -stopping to press two fingers to the sun tattoo in a gesture of reverence- before sliding down to curl his hand around Orlando's erection, pumping it with a rhythm that soon had Orli trembling, his hands clutching madly at Viggo's shoulders. The talented fingers dipped to caress his balls, brush tantalisingly close between his legs to where he *really* wanted Viggo at the moment, then resume their tortuous pace on his cock; squeezing, stroking and fondling.
Orli moved his head up shakily and kissed Viggo with a mouth that trembled slightly. The sensations were setting him on fire. Nothing existed except Viggo's hand around his cock and Viggo's mouth on his own. Eyes that he didn't even know he had closed fluttered open when Viggo's mouth left his and descended on his nipples, his tongue sliding over the nubs one after the other, teasing them into painful hardness. Orlando's hands fell back to press helplessly against the wall, palms flat and fingers curling as Viggo's own hand kept up the exquisite pace on his aching flesh. He thrust his hips in what he knew was a needy fashion and Viggo complied with the demand, squeezing and pumping roughly. The sensations coiled. Lightning and fire. Molten heat, and Orlando moaned, grasping at Viggo's hair, his voice needy and slightly cracked, "Please. Now... fuck me now."
The insane pleasure diminished slightly as Viggo drew back. Orlando whimpered and watched him through heavy-lidded eyes as Viggo reached back into the pocket of his discarded jeans and drew out a small packet of lube.
Something pierced the pleasure-induced fog that had settled itself about Orli's brain, "How on earth'd you know to come prepared, Vig?"
Blue eyes -dilated almost to black, raised to meet his own.
"I got a phone call telling me to meet you," came the simple answer, "When I get those, I'm always prepared."
Orlando felt ridiculously high. High on Viggo. What a way to go. He managed a weak, sarcastic "Ha," then felt a slick finger trail down his back, between his legs, and enter him. All other words following that became lost suddenly in a deep moan of satisfaction. The finger stretched him, and he stared unwaveringly into Viggo's passion-stained eyes as a second finger was added. He arched, then settled back down, spreading his legs and pushing himself back onto the digits. From the look on Viggo's face, he was a decadent sight.
When the fingers curled then retreated, he snatched the lube desperately and slicked his palm, before sliding it over Viggo's cock. He applied pressure with his hand and Viggo's arm shot past his head to brace himself against the wall.
Running his thumb over the head, he swirled the pearlescent drops he found there, before Viggo's hand closed over his wrist. His fingers, Orli noticed almost drunkenly, were trembling and his voice was ragged when he spoke a second later, "No time for that. This won't last if you keep it up."
Orlando grinned as Viggo lifted him smoothly, wrapping his legs around the artist's waist. He leant in and placed an open-mouthed kiss on Viggo's neck, just above the racing pulse, biting down when Viggo entered him with a sharp thrust. His moan of pain/pleasure disappeared into Viggo's skin, while the other man's breathy groan echoed in the small space.
Placing a hand on the back of Viggo's head, Orlando flexed his thighs and lifted himself up, then back down, establishing a fast rhythm that Viggo soon maintained, his hips snapping. Orli knew his back would let him know all about it tomorrow, but all he could think about was Viggo, and how damn good he felt inside him. Fuck the world outside.
He arched his back as he slammed down, rocking his pelvis and crying out as Viggo touched the spot inside him that made stars explode behind his eyelids. Fuck.
Viggo kissed him, all passion and no finesse, but Orli was exactly the same; lips and tongue battling for dominance without care. Orli reached down and cupped his straining cock, looping his other arm around Viggo's shoulders for balance as he was pushed up against the wall at a faster pace. Oh God... he needed this. Needed Viggo and how he could make him feel.
Viggo batted his hand away after a second, taking hold of Orlando's cock and pumping it roughly. Every nerve in Orli's body sang, and he laughed suddenly, at the sheer pleasure of it. That he could still have this constant in a spinning, changing world, where his feet seemed set on a swirling path; that he could still have Viggo here with him; solid, loving. Always Viggo.
Blue eyes looked up slightly bemused, and Orli smiling, kissed him, the hand now with nothing to hold onto flying out to grab one of the clothes racks. Several expensive looking shirts and their hangers clattered to the ground, but neither man paused to take note.
Gasping, Orli's head fell back, as Viggo's hand matched the pattern of the delicious cock filling him, making him feel so full, so God damn alive...
Molten light shot through his veins and he cried out, falling forward and grabbing onto Viggo as he smothered his climax in the other man's moist skin. Pleasure shot to every inch of him and he panted with breathless abandon, Viggo's name a soft chant on his lips as the other man arched and grasped Orli's hips, finding his release a moment later.
A soft hand lazily stroked Orlando's damp curls as he slumped there against Viggo's frame, returning to himself, and a rich deep voice murmured near his ear, "You know I love you, crazy boy."
A fuzzy warm sensation was creeping heavily into all his limbs, and Orlando grinned, letting out a small breathless chuckle.
~*~
Orli was already seated and ruffling the dog's fur when the photographer loped in. Picking up his camera from the small table just offside the set piece for the shoot, he stepped up and crouched down.
Orlando nodded to the man and sank down bonelessly into the cushions, turning his gaze to the camera and letting a slow, satisfied smile creep onto his face.
The camera flashed.
~*~
The End.
Author: Melissa
E-Mail: dr_dana_mulder42@yahoo.com
Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/tiniowien
Pairing: Viggorli
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Orlando is having trouble relaxing during a photo shoot...
Disclaimer: I make no assumptions about the real-life sexual preferences of any of the people mentioned herein. Don't sue. I need to save if I'm going to see the boys in December.
Notes: This little piece is inspired by THIS particular Orli picture, and owes special thanks to
lennongirl who's lovely comments about said piccy (and how 'relaxed' Orli looked in it) brought this bunny to life. Dedicated to the lovely ladies at vigorleancult. I couldn't find a nicer group of smut loving friends anywhere else in the world. ^_^ ~*~
Stop it, he told himself firmly.
Orlando pulled his hand away from his mouth, where he had been gnawing at his thumbnail, and dropped it to his side.
He shifted slightly, feeling the back of his loose white shirt rasp against the cushions. The hand at his side now shifted to splay across one denim-clad thigh. The fingers on said hand flicked, tapping out a silent beat; something from a famous song who's name escaped him for the moment. He twisted his head left, then right, then left agai--
"Orlando? Orli!"
The photographer frowned, then smoothed out his face with an obvious effort. "Please," he stepped back and placed a hand on his hip, the camera now held loosely in the other, "Can you just stop fidgeting for one moment? I'm going to waste another roll if you don't. Now," he motioned for the lighting panel to be adjusted slightly, then crouched down and raised the camera to his face again, "Just go for relaxed. That's the look I'm trying for. Relax."
Orlando nodded and settled back further into the cushions. Relax.
...But a second later one leg began to bounce, and with a whine of irritation, the dog slipped away from his side and padded off.
"Mr Bloom!"
Formalities. Orli winced. He really was in deep shit now. Before the photographer could say anything though, Orlando pushed himself up and stood, "Look I'm really sorry, mate. I have..." he floundered for a second. What *was* wrong with him? "I have a lot of things on my mind." Almost unconsciously he ran a hand through his hair, missing the scowl from the set hairdresser, "Is it okay if I take a short break?"
The photographer whipped his arm up to look at his gaudy watch, and Orlando could practically see the quick maths flashing through the man's brain. Time versus money versus actually getting decent shots...
"Break!" he called a moment later, throwing his hands up in the air and turning to his small crew, "Everyone take an early lunch. I want you all back in an hour."
Orlando raised his eyes to the studio ceiling in silent relief. As he made to move away, the photographer placed a hand on his arm and lowered his voice, "Go and have lunch, lad. Calm down. Then come back... and when you do, I expect some results. Okay?"
Orlando nodded, gave him the ghost of a smile, turned on his heel and strode from the room, his sneakers making almost no sound on the hardwood floor as he passed over it and out into the carpeted hallway. At the moment though, he wished they could have made some sort of noise. Anything. Pounding out a rhythm might have calmed him down and perhaps taken away a fraction of his jitters.
Rounding a corner, he came to a stop and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Fuck. Why on earth couldn't he calm down? No one was going to be happy with him if he didn't come back in one hour with a clear head. Walking the length of the hallway, he pulled open the door to the wardrobe department and slipped inside. Shutting it behind him, he pressed his back up against the wood, let his head fall back and closed his eyes.
When his left foot began to tap, he launched himself off the door and paced to the end of the irritatingly small room then back again. This was getting ridiculous. The fleeting thought crossed his mind that perhaps he could run this excess energy down. But a second later he dismissed the notion; the shoot was going for relaxed, not fucking exhausted.
He made another lap of the room, his eyes roving over the makeup table and mirror, the racks of clothes coating each wall, his jacket--
His jacket. Orlando spun around and grabbed the article of clothing from where it lay draped across the back of the chair next to the mirror. Yanking his cell phone from the right pocket, he punched the first number in his speed dial and pressed the little machine to his ear.
~*~
He was going insane.
In the twenty minutes that followed, Orli had fiddled with every article of clothing on each of the racks, counted the number of light bulbs on the makeup mirror -38-, played six games of snake on his phone (finally topping Dom's score), juggled three mascara sticks -managing to drop them only a couple of times, and thumbed through an ancient edition of 'Face'. Twice.
So when the door flew open, he was immediately on his feet, "Thank God."
Viggo stepped inside, his eyes conducting a sweep of the room before landing on Orli.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Viggo asked, shutting the door and moving across the small space to stand next to Orli, "What's the emergency?"
His eyes held the faintest worried tint in their blue depths, and he reached out to wrap a hand around Orlando's forearm gently.
The touch was electric.
Feeling heat bolt through him as if Viggo were a conductor, Orli stepped forward, closing the small gap between them. Bingo. So this was the answer.
Cupping Viggo's head in his hands, he drew him into a plundering kiss. Viggo allowed it for a few moments, before pulling back, his lips moist and just slightly swollen. Orlando wanted to pull him close and never let go.
"What's up, angel?"
Orli slid his hands to Viggo's shoulders, his fingertips just resting under the collar of the man's blue shirt, and leant in to kiss Viggo's neck, moving up to nip at an earlobe and whisper, "I need you, Vig. So very badly. Right here, right now. Please."
Tilting his head slightly as Orli continued to trail moist kisses down his throat, Viggo placed his hands on Orli's waist, "What's brought all this on? Not that I'm one to complain of course." he added quickly as Orlando scrabbled at the hem of his shirt and slid his hands upwards, tracing the muscles of his stomach.
Orlando pressed up against Viggo, his body aligning so that Viggo could feel the evidence of Orli's arousal against him. "I'm so fucking fired up that I can't concentrate." he breathed in a tortured tone, his tongue licking a path along Viggo's right collarbone that lay exposed from under his shirt, "I'm bouncing off the damn walls, Vig. Please." He undulated desperately.
Viggo caught Orli's roving hands in his own and drew them out from under his shirt, where they'd been greedily mapping his chest. Ignoring the other man's frustrated growl, he linked their fingers and dipped his head, locking his gaze with the restless chocolate eyes of his lover, "How long do we have?"
Orli blinked and looked to the clock on the wall above the racks of clothes, "Not nearly enough."
Viggo followed his gaze, silent for a moment. Then he turned back to Orlando, a wicked smile on his face.
"Then let's do it right."
There were times when real life really needed a soundtrack, Orlando decided. He could really have envisioned some rock and roll track jumping to life as Viggo announced those words in a tone three shades below indecent.
And it would have been appropriate, because everything exploded.
Orli crushed his mouth to Viggo's, yanking his hands free to push him back against the nearest wall. The breath Viggo expelled as his back hit the plaster became lost in Orlando's mouth as he thrust his tongue past the other man's lips. Feeling Viggo's own slick muscle wrap around his, he moaned deep in his throat. God, how he wanted this. Wanted the man in his arms.
His tongue moving in a blatant mimicry of what he wanted to be doing at that exact moment, Orli dropped his hands to fumble blindly with the buttons on Viggo's jeans. Tugging them open, he plunged a hand inside, wrapping his fist around Viggo's swollen flesh.
The artist arched up off the wall, his eyes screwing shut as he broke the kiss. Orlando stroked him firmly a few times before shoving the offending denim out of the way, and made to drop to his knees when Viggo placed a hand on his cheek and opened his eyes. The arousal was so plain and raw there that Orli felt a surge of heat shoot straight to his cock. Viggo looked so fuckable right then -all ruffled hair and flushed skin- that he had to make an effort to hear what the man was actually saying.
"This isn't about me, Orli. Right now it's about you." Viggo lent in and kissed him quick and hard, before stepping away from the wall and swiftly reversing their positions. Kicking off his loosened jeans, he reached out and carefully drew Orli's white dress shirt over his head and laid it over the chair on top of his jacket, following immediately with the Brit's jeans and his own shirt (somewhat less carefully, Orli's dazed mind noticed absently).
A second later, he pressed up against Orlando, running his hands over every inch of bare skin, making the younger man writhe and pant; his breath coming in soft gasps against Viggo's shoulder as he dropped his head forward.
Viggo trailed his fingers across Orli's chest, dragging them teasingly across his nipples, then down his stomach -stopping to press two fingers to the sun tattoo in a gesture of reverence- before sliding down to curl his hand around Orlando's erection, pumping it with a rhythm that soon had Orli trembling, his hands clutching madly at Viggo's shoulders. The talented fingers dipped to caress his balls, brush tantalisingly close between his legs to where he *really* wanted Viggo at the moment, then resume their tortuous pace on his cock; squeezing, stroking and fondling.
Orli moved his head up shakily and kissed Viggo with a mouth that trembled slightly. The sensations were setting him on fire. Nothing existed except Viggo's hand around his cock and Viggo's mouth on his own. Eyes that he didn't even know he had closed fluttered open when Viggo's mouth left his and descended on his nipples, his tongue sliding over the nubs one after the other, teasing them into painful hardness. Orlando's hands fell back to press helplessly against the wall, palms flat and fingers curling as Viggo's own hand kept up the exquisite pace on his aching flesh. He thrust his hips in what he knew was a needy fashion and Viggo complied with the demand, squeezing and pumping roughly. The sensations coiled. Lightning and fire. Molten heat, and Orlando moaned, grasping at Viggo's hair, his voice needy and slightly cracked, "Please. Now... fuck me now."
The insane pleasure diminished slightly as Viggo drew back. Orlando whimpered and watched him through heavy-lidded eyes as Viggo reached back into the pocket of his discarded jeans and drew out a small packet of lube.
Something pierced the pleasure-induced fog that had settled itself about Orli's brain, "How on earth'd you know to come prepared, Vig?"
Blue eyes -dilated almost to black, raised to meet his own.
"I got a phone call telling me to meet you," came the simple answer, "When I get those, I'm always prepared."
Orlando felt ridiculously high. High on Viggo. What a way to go. He managed a weak, sarcastic "Ha," then felt a slick finger trail down his back, between his legs, and enter him. All other words following that became lost suddenly in a deep moan of satisfaction. The finger stretched him, and he stared unwaveringly into Viggo's passion-stained eyes as a second finger was added. He arched, then settled back down, spreading his legs and pushing himself back onto the digits. From the look on Viggo's face, he was a decadent sight.
When the fingers curled then retreated, he snatched the lube desperately and slicked his palm, before sliding it over Viggo's cock. He applied pressure with his hand and Viggo's arm shot past his head to brace himself against the wall.
Running his thumb over the head, he swirled the pearlescent drops he found there, before Viggo's hand closed over his wrist. His fingers, Orli noticed almost drunkenly, were trembling and his voice was ragged when he spoke a second later, "No time for that. This won't last if you keep it up."
Orlando grinned as Viggo lifted him smoothly, wrapping his legs around the artist's waist. He leant in and placed an open-mouthed kiss on Viggo's neck, just above the racing pulse, biting down when Viggo entered him with a sharp thrust. His moan of pain/pleasure disappeared into Viggo's skin, while the other man's breathy groan echoed in the small space.
Placing a hand on the back of Viggo's head, Orlando flexed his thighs and lifted himself up, then back down, establishing a fast rhythm that Viggo soon maintained, his hips snapping. Orli knew his back would let him know all about it tomorrow, but all he could think about was Viggo, and how damn good he felt inside him. Fuck the world outside.
He arched his back as he slammed down, rocking his pelvis and crying out as Viggo touched the spot inside him that made stars explode behind his eyelids. Fuck.
Viggo kissed him, all passion and no finesse, but Orli was exactly the same; lips and tongue battling for dominance without care. Orli reached down and cupped his straining cock, looping his other arm around Viggo's shoulders for balance as he was pushed up against the wall at a faster pace. Oh God... he needed this. Needed Viggo and how he could make him feel.
Viggo batted his hand away after a second, taking hold of Orlando's cock and pumping it roughly. Every nerve in Orli's body sang, and he laughed suddenly, at the sheer pleasure of it. That he could still have this constant in a spinning, changing world, where his feet seemed set on a swirling path; that he could still have Viggo here with him; solid, loving. Always Viggo.
Blue eyes looked up slightly bemused, and Orli smiling, kissed him, the hand now with nothing to hold onto flying out to grab one of the clothes racks. Several expensive looking shirts and their hangers clattered to the ground, but neither man paused to take note.
Gasping, Orli's head fell back, as Viggo's hand matched the pattern of the delicious cock filling him, making him feel so full, so God damn alive...
Molten light shot through his veins and he cried out, falling forward and grabbing onto Viggo as he smothered his climax in the other man's moist skin. Pleasure shot to every inch of him and he panted with breathless abandon, Viggo's name a soft chant on his lips as the other man arched and grasped Orli's hips, finding his release a moment later.
A soft hand lazily stroked Orlando's damp curls as he slumped there against Viggo's frame, returning to himself, and a rich deep voice murmured near his ear, "You know I love you, crazy boy."
A fuzzy warm sensation was creeping heavily into all his limbs, and Orlando grinned, letting out a small breathless chuckle.
~*~
Orli was already seated and ruffling the dog's fur when the photographer loped in. Picking up his camera from the small table just offside the set piece for the shoot, he stepped up and crouched down.
Orlando nodded to the man and sank down bonelessly into the cushions, turning his gaze to the camera and letting a slow, satisfied smile creep onto his face.
The camera flashed.
~*~
The End.
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*worships you*
*collapses into a puddle*
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*picks you up* Hey, no need for the worshipping. Orli did all the work by looking like that. I just put it into words. ;) But thank you very much. ^_^
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Nice ;)
Sarkka
Re: Nice ;)
Lol, amen to that! ;) Thank you! ^_^
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I will never be able to look at that photo the same.
That was my intention... ;)
*huggles*
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*whips cape about her and strides off into slash shadows...*
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MWAH!
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Go Vig go!
*cheers*