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fellowshippers2006-09-11 01:02 pm
v-angelique.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-09-11 01:02 pm
Fic: Controlled 15/45
Title: Controlled (15/45)
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Email: viktoria_angelique@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for series, hard PG-13 for this part
Pairing: Elijah/Viggo
Warnings: BDSM
Disclaimer: If this were true the world might be a better place.
Feedback: I love it!
Summary: Viggo and Elijah return to New Zealand.
A/N: Hey look, 1/3 the way through! And finally, a semi-satisfying part for you wonderful people. Thank you so much for all the feedback; it's really inspired me to keep writing and given me an idea in editing of what you need clarified and what you enjoyed.
Previous Chapters
For the month of January, the two words that most dominated Elijah’s vocabulary were words that he hadn’t really needed to use since he had last lived in this house.
Sexual. Frustration.
Viggo, in the words Elijah used in his own head, was being a sadistic little bitch. To Viggo himself, Elijah used tamer arguments, but always with the same response.
“I want to get to know you."
"If we don’t take this slow, how long will it last?"
"We need to be comfortable with each other.”
Elijah thought he was pretty fucking comfortable by now, but every time he thought of a smart response to Viggo’s arguments, he was rationally argued into being convinced that Viggo, indeed, was right. The fucker was always right.
True, they had gotten to know each other much better in LA. Viggo’s rationale of discovering each other in a safe space made a certain amount of sense. Elijah saw the apartment Viggo kept in LA—regrettably, only the living area, kitchen, and bathroom—and he got to play Playstation with Henry one weekend when the boy was visiting his father. He was taken out on real, honest-to-God dates, which he hadn’t had the privilege of much in life. It was kind of fun to be on the receiving end of such affections, as Viggo was a gentleman with all the door-holding and buying dinners that the term implied.
Still, with all this holding back and getting-to-know you routine, Elijah had to admit he was a bit shocked when, less than twelve minutes after setting foot in his new house in Wellington, he was practically attacked by five feet and ten inches of solid muscle and unyielding flesh.
“Mmph,” he muttered, the only sound he could make on impact when his back connected with the wall of the entranceway, deft hands rubbing up his arms to clasp his biceps, pushing them harder against unyielding drywall. “What the hell has gotten into you?” he muttered softly when Viggo finally pulled away, just a centimetre, to catch his breath.
“You have, little one,” Viggo replied with a smile, and returned to his actions, licking and nibbling at Elijah’s full lower lip. Elijah moaned when Viggo’s lips trailed down one side of his neck, but didn’t argue as sharp teeth settled in the hollow below his throat and pulled gently at the skin there.
“What happened to…” Gasp. “…taking our time?” Elijah panted, his fingers tightening in the fabric at the shoulders of Viggo’s dress shirt.
“Oh, I’m done with that,” Viggo explained with a wry smile, and then returned to making short work of Elijah’s collarbone, tugging his t-shirt to the side so that it rubbed just this side of painful against the other side of his neck.
Sure, they had kissed. They had even made out a bit, but Viggo was careful never to move it to a bedroom, never to let it last longer than ten, fifteen minutes. It wasn’t foreplay, it was just kissing, and yet this managed to make Elijah harder and more ready to go further than he ever in his life had been. Those nights burned a fiery white imprint on his brain, energizing his hand as he reached under the covers to stroke himself after Viggo dropped him off just shy of midnight. He couldn’t wait to relay his very specific, quite explicit fantasies to the older man, but it wasn’t time yet. Viggo had made that painfully clear.
“Oh God,” Elijah murmured as warm hands made their flat-palmed way up under his shirt, smoothing over flat plane of stomach and chest, calloused thumbs caressing nipples in a breathtakingly practiced way. Elijah sucked in air sharply, suddenly afraid that there wasn’t enough in the room, that Viggo was drawing it all away from him with his knowing hands and tender lips.
“Fuck, that’s beautiful,” Viggo murmured, his lips still brushing against the base of Elijah’s throat and his gaze raised reverently to meet Elijah’s. Elijah, for his part, was at a loss for words, and simply threaded his fingers tightly in Viggo’s hair as he let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thump.
“Yesss,” he hissed, trying to push Viggo to continue with one hand, hoping his message got across. More. Harder. Teeth. Please.
But… “No.” Viggo was insistent, gently reached up to take Elijah’s hand, guide it down to the side, raise his own head. Gentle, but firm enough to be clear. Viggo was calling the shots. “Look at me,” he commanded, and the soft reprimand was enough to make Elijah’s eyes flick open again, his head slowly tilting down to level, his eyes meeting Viggo’s own intensity. “I won’t fuck you with your eyes closed,” Viggo warned in a hoarse whisper. Elijah gasped, almost choked on the simple act of air intake, immediately tensed. His eyes were wide, searching, but he wanted it. God he wanted it.
“I want you to,” Elijah whispered, steadily, hoping he was understood. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered, and his voice wavered but he knew what it was he wanted. “Please?”
Viggo smiled at the urgency, shook his head. “Not now,” he replied, and Elijah groaned, dropped his head back against the wall again in frustration.
Gasped.
Viggo’s hand was quicker than lightning, like a clap of thunder that occurred before you expected it to and made your body jerk with the surprise of it. Meant the storm was closer than you had originally thought.
Elijah whimpered.
He hadn’t meant to sound so needy, so feminine, but the sharp tug of Viggo’s fingers in his hair, wrenching his head in place, made his voice box revert to the instinctive, the natural, and it was the only sound he could make.
“Look. At. Me.”
Elijah tried to nod, eyes wide, but he couldn’t, for Viggo’s hand still restrained him, at the base of his neck now, fingers and thumb lightly squeezing but not hard enough to leave a bruise. Viggo knew what he was doing, or else he had done his homework.
“Yes,” he whispered, for lack of being able to move, and Viggo smiled—slow, seductive, and almost deadly. Elijah gulped, clenched his hands at his sides, and then relaxed them again. Willed himself to be patient, to wait for a cue. Viggo was an actor. Viggo knew about cues.
“On your knees.”
Well, yeah. That was a cue.
Elijah sank to the carpet like he was born to do it, under the compulsion of his own weight, suddenly like lead. The grasp on his neck slackened, but did not disappear completely, shifting instead to a light caress, Viggo’s arm extended completely, and a thumb gently stroked behind his ear, calming him.
“I want you to keep your eyes on me, Elijah,” Viggo warned when Elijah’s eyes drifted to the seam in front of him, to the bulge against Viggo’s zipper. There was no anger in his tone, however, and Elijah supposed he was being indulgent. After all, it was kind of right there, in front of his face. “That’s it,” Viggo cooed when blue eyes flicked up to meet his own. “Keep your eyes on mine.”
Viggo’s fingers threaded through Elijah’s hair, lightly, dull fingernails just scraping the scalp. He continued this motion, gently, for upwards of five minutes, and Elijah was struggling to keep his eyes open as the urge to relax overwhelmed him. He felt like Frodo under compulsion of the ring at Osgiliath, tempted to fall into the swoon brought on by so much power, and at the same time intensely confused. You order me to my knees for a fucking scalp massage? he wanted to shout, but it was too much effort. Instead, he kept his eyes on Viggo’s, and unintentionally, he purred.
Elijah was pretty sure such a sound had never escaped his lips before, on purpose or no, but Viggo didn’t appear surprised. He just smiled, lazily, and kept his fingers moving, raking back and forth, up and down, around the sensitive curve of skin that protected Elijah’s skull.
“I could do so much to you, here,” Viggo whispered, reverently. And Elijah nodded, agreeing, but Viggo wasn’t going to. He knew that. There was something thrilling about the fact, for he knew that he would do anything that Viggo asked, now, now that Viggo had Elijah in this headspace, but Viggo respected him, and he knew where the limits were, even if Elijah didn’t. Elijah trusted Viggo.
Viggo smiled as Elijah let out a long, breathy sigh, almost as if he could read Elijah’s mind. “I’ve got you,” he cooed, and Elijah smiled, almost shyly, leaning into Viggo’s caress.
“Do you want me to…?” His eyes flicked down to Viggo’s zipper very briefly, returning in an instant to his eyes, but Viggo just shook his head.
“No. There will be plenty of time for that later. Now, I just want you used to this.”
“To being on my knees?” Elijah asked, his breath hitching. God, I hope so.
Viggo smiled, still stroking Elijah’s hair. “That’s part of it,” he replied, voice full of promise. Elijah just stared, and he figured that this should be uncomfortable, like the game Dom and Billy sometimes played, waiting for one to be the first to blink, but it wasn’t. Viggo’s gaze felt approving. He felt loved.
“What would you like me to do, then?” Elijah asked, choosing his words carefully.
“I’d like you to be patient.” A gently chiding smile. “I’d like you to enjoy yourself.”
Elijah breathed through a slightly open mouth, captivated by Viggo’s eyes. “Pretty good so far,” he whispered, and Viggo chuckled gently, his hand dropping slightly to again cup the back of Elijah’s neck.
“I want you comfortable,” Viggo spoke after thinking for a moment. “Come with me.” Elijah watched as Viggo slowly backed out of the entry corridor, his eyes still locked on Elijah. Elijah had the momentary thought that, walking backwards, no one should be able to look quite so much like a tiger, or a panther, but Viggo achieved it quite gracefully.
Not daring to look down, and not having been told to stand, Elijah tipped forward carefully, catching himself on his hands. He crawled forward not exactly gracefully, but carefully, slowly, his eyes holding on to Viggo’s. It was almost humorous, in fact, Elijah slinking forward on all fours but Viggo clearly in the role of the predator. They stopped in the living room, and Viggo sat on the couch, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and carelessly tossing a cushion to the floor. “Kneel there,” he commanded, pointing, and Elijah hurried to obey, assuming his former position just a couple of feet in front of Viggo. Unblinking, he started to sit back on his heels, but Viggo just shook his head sharply, and he quickly rose again, shifting his weight to be more comfortable. “Hands behind your back,” Viggo continued. “And no fidgeting.”
Elijah took a deep breath, calming himself on the exhale, and clasped his hands loosely behind his back. He knew it would be difficult, as he was full of nervous energy, but he wanted badly to please Viggo.
“Now Elijah,” Viggo continued with a smile. “I want you to talk to me.” Elijah waited, but Viggo didn’t continue.
“Talk?”
“Yes. I want you to tell me some things. I’ve enjoyed the past month, getting to know you, but I still have some questions,” Viggo admitted. “I want to ask these questions before we move on to something of a more… physical nature.” Elijah smiled slightly at the idea, and nodded.
“Ask away.”
“Do you think about me a lot?” Viggo asked. Elijah nodded, quickly.
“All the time,” he admitted.
“And what do you think about?” Viggo prodded.
“Well… a lot of things. Sexually, you mean?” Elijah asked.
“Generally speaking, but yes, I’m curious about sex.”
Elijah giggled. “Just curious?”
“I asked you a question,” Viggo replied, not cracking a smile.
Elijah’s expression immediately went serious again, and he quit dodging. “I… I fantasize about you a lot,” he admitted.
“What about, specifically?”
“Well… the usual, I guess. Sucking you off. You fucking me. And some kinkier things,” Elijah added, hoping he wasn’t blushing.
“Such as?” Viggo’s eyes were firm, and Elijah was tempted to risk a glance downwards to see how much this conversation was really affecting him.
“Well, you know… like you tying me up. I think about that one a lot, actually,” Elijah added.
“You want me to tie you up?” Viggo asked.
“Yes,” Elijah exhaled, reminding himself not to squirm under the directness of Viggo’s gaze.
“And what else?” Viggo prompted.
“Well… sometimes I think about other things, like candles. I really like candles.”
“Have you ever spilled wax on yourself? On purpose?” Viggo clarified.
“Yeah. While masturbating. It was… different. I liked it. But I think I’d like it more if I were tied up. It would be more thrilling.”
“You want me to control your pleasure, then?” Viggo asked.
“Yes.”
“And your pain?” He continued.
“That, too,” Elijah admitted. “I don’t want to think about it, just to feel.” Viggo smiled, genuinely.
“Well that I’d be happy to help with, Elijah. Now are there any other things? Fantasies?”
“Well…” Elijah hesitated, wondering how much Viggo wanted to know. “I guess a lot of the time I imagine you… teasing me. Well not teasing so much, but holding back a little.”
“Making you beg for what you want?” Viggo asked, just the hint of a smile at the corner of his eyes.
“Oh God yes,” Elijah agreed in a rush of air, feeling a bit embarrassed by the extremity of his response. He tried to look down, but then almost felt the tangible effect of Viggo’s eyes on him, and jerked his gaze up. “Sorry. Sorry…”
“That’s okay. I won’t ask again,” he stated, and it was more of a promise than a threat.
“I… God, Viggo. You have no idea how much I… I mean, I….” Elijah stammered, suddenly feeling almost trapped by the weight of his boyfriend’s gaze.
“Yes, I do,” Viggo replied simply, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward a bit on the couch. “I know exactly what you’re asking for,” he stated confidently. “In fact, Elijah, you have no idea how easy you are to read.”
Elijah blushed, tried not to shift weight.
“It’s not a criticism,” Viggo continued. “I find it endearing. You’re a very good read, I assure you,” he added with a smile, reaching out to gently cup Elijah’s chin. His thumb brushed the jawbone, and Elijah smiled in response, again leaning into the touch like a pet would.
“We’re not going to do anything tonight, are we?” Elijah finally asked in a soft tone after a few minutes of simply being observed.
Viggo smiled and shook his head. “You’re very eager, little one. You’ve given me some information, which I would like to think over. And we start filming tomorrow, so I want you to get plenty of rest. But I’ll tell you what you’re going to do, okay?”
Elijah nodded.
“I’m going to leave here, and you’re going to stand up, drink a glass of water, take a shower, and go to bed. You’re not going to masturbate. You’re going to go right to sleep, and have sweet dreams, and then you’re going to wake up and go to Feet. Sound good?”
Elijah cocked his head, considering. “You know I’ll be awfully horny tomorrow, right?”
Viggo smiled and nodded. “I know, little hobbit. That’s okay. But keep it under wraps, all right?”
“When do you want to tell everyone about us?” Elijah asked.
“Saturday. Everyone’s coming to my place for the welcome-back party, remember?” Elijah nodded. “We’ll tell them then. And you’ll be staying.”
Elijah gulped. “Staying the night, you mean? At your house?” Viggo nodded. “Are we just going to talk and sleep? Cause I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”
Viggo laughed and stroked Elijah’s face a bit. “You’ll take it as long as I want you to, darling,” he answered, and Elijah shuddered in anticipation. “But no, we won’t just be talking. I want you to think about this. For the rest of the week, you can have it on the back of your mind. I don’t have to tell you to be professional on set, but I know you’ll think about it when you go home, and I want you to.” Elijah inhaled and nodded. “Now, I’m going to go home. Anything you need before I go?”
Elijah thought about the obvious answers, but knew he wouldn’t get what he really wanted, so instead asked hesitantly, “could I have another one of those kisses, like in the doorway?”
Viggo grinned and dropped to his own knees, grasping Elijah’s head firmly in his hands, Elijah’s ears fitting perfectly in the dip between thumb and index finger. His lips were imploring, experienced, and Elijah opened wilfully, allowing Viggo to set the pace, pulling away to drag Elijah’s bottom lip through his teeth and then sweeping back in with his tongue. It lasted about five minutes, and then Viggo was rising to his feet, still holding Elijah’s head, and bending down to kiss the crown.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Viggo instructed, and then he was out the door as mysteriously as he had come, leaving Elijah to groan and leave unpacking for later, stumbling to the kitchen to drink some water, put feeling back into his leg muscles, and take a quick shower. With the jet lag, he fell easily into a deep slumber, but there was only one name on his lips as he quickly drifted off.
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Email: viktoria_angelique@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for series, hard PG-13 for this part
Pairing: Elijah/Viggo
Warnings: BDSM
Disclaimer: If this were true the world might be a better place.
Feedback: I love it!
Summary: Viggo and Elijah return to New Zealand.
A/N: Hey look, 1/3 the way through! And finally, a semi-satisfying part for you wonderful people. Thank you so much for all the feedback; it's really inspired me to keep writing and given me an idea in editing of what you need clarified and what you enjoyed.
Previous Chapters
For the month of January, the two words that most dominated Elijah’s vocabulary were words that he hadn’t really needed to use since he had last lived in this house.
Sexual. Frustration.
Viggo, in the words Elijah used in his own head, was being a sadistic little bitch. To Viggo himself, Elijah used tamer arguments, but always with the same response.
“I want to get to know you."
"If we don’t take this slow, how long will it last?"
"We need to be comfortable with each other.”
Elijah thought he was pretty fucking comfortable by now, but every time he thought of a smart response to Viggo’s arguments, he was rationally argued into being convinced that Viggo, indeed, was right. The fucker was always right.
True, they had gotten to know each other much better in LA. Viggo’s rationale of discovering each other in a safe space made a certain amount of sense. Elijah saw the apartment Viggo kept in LA—regrettably, only the living area, kitchen, and bathroom—and he got to play Playstation with Henry one weekend when the boy was visiting his father. He was taken out on real, honest-to-God dates, which he hadn’t had the privilege of much in life. It was kind of fun to be on the receiving end of such affections, as Viggo was a gentleman with all the door-holding and buying dinners that the term implied.
Still, with all this holding back and getting-to-know you routine, Elijah had to admit he was a bit shocked when, less than twelve minutes after setting foot in his new house in Wellington, he was practically attacked by five feet and ten inches of solid muscle and unyielding flesh.
“Mmph,” he muttered, the only sound he could make on impact when his back connected with the wall of the entranceway, deft hands rubbing up his arms to clasp his biceps, pushing them harder against unyielding drywall. “What the hell has gotten into you?” he muttered softly when Viggo finally pulled away, just a centimetre, to catch his breath.
“You have, little one,” Viggo replied with a smile, and returned to his actions, licking and nibbling at Elijah’s full lower lip. Elijah moaned when Viggo’s lips trailed down one side of his neck, but didn’t argue as sharp teeth settled in the hollow below his throat and pulled gently at the skin there.
“What happened to…” Gasp. “…taking our time?” Elijah panted, his fingers tightening in the fabric at the shoulders of Viggo’s dress shirt.
“Oh, I’m done with that,” Viggo explained with a wry smile, and then returned to making short work of Elijah’s collarbone, tugging his t-shirt to the side so that it rubbed just this side of painful against the other side of his neck.
Sure, they had kissed. They had even made out a bit, but Viggo was careful never to move it to a bedroom, never to let it last longer than ten, fifteen minutes. It wasn’t foreplay, it was just kissing, and yet this managed to make Elijah harder and more ready to go further than he ever in his life had been. Those nights burned a fiery white imprint on his brain, energizing his hand as he reached under the covers to stroke himself after Viggo dropped him off just shy of midnight. He couldn’t wait to relay his very specific, quite explicit fantasies to the older man, but it wasn’t time yet. Viggo had made that painfully clear.
“Oh God,” Elijah murmured as warm hands made their flat-palmed way up under his shirt, smoothing over flat plane of stomach and chest, calloused thumbs caressing nipples in a breathtakingly practiced way. Elijah sucked in air sharply, suddenly afraid that there wasn’t enough in the room, that Viggo was drawing it all away from him with his knowing hands and tender lips.
“Fuck, that’s beautiful,” Viggo murmured, his lips still brushing against the base of Elijah’s throat and his gaze raised reverently to meet Elijah’s. Elijah, for his part, was at a loss for words, and simply threaded his fingers tightly in Viggo’s hair as he let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thump.
“Yesss,” he hissed, trying to push Viggo to continue with one hand, hoping his message got across. More. Harder. Teeth. Please.
But… “No.” Viggo was insistent, gently reached up to take Elijah’s hand, guide it down to the side, raise his own head. Gentle, but firm enough to be clear. Viggo was calling the shots. “Look at me,” he commanded, and the soft reprimand was enough to make Elijah’s eyes flick open again, his head slowly tilting down to level, his eyes meeting Viggo’s own intensity. “I won’t fuck you with your eyes closed,” Viggo warned in a hoarse whisper. Elijah gasped, almost choked on the simple act of air intake, immediately tensed. His eyes were wide, searching, but he wanted it. God he wanted it.
“I want you to,” Elijah whispered, steadily, hoping he was understood. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered, and his voice wavered but he knew what it was he wanted. “Please?”
Viggo smiled at the urgency, shook his head. “Not now,” he replied, and Elijah groaned, dropped his head back against the wall again in frustration.
Gasped.
Viggo’s hand was quicker than lightning, like a clap of thunder that occurred before you expected it to and made your body jerk with the surprise of it. Meant the storm was closer than you had originally thought.
Elijah whimpered.
He hadn’t meant to sound so needy, so feminine, but the sharp tug of Viggo’s fingers in his hair, wrenching his head in place, made his voice box revert to the instinctive, the natural, and it was the only sound he could make.
“Look. At. Me.”
Elijah tried to nod, eyes wide, but he couldn’t, for Viggo’s hand still restrained him, at the base of his neck now, fingers and thumb lightly squeezing but not hard enough to leave a bruise. Viggo knew what he was doing, or else he had done his homework.
“Yes,” he whispered, for lack of being able to move, and Viggo smiled—slow, seductive, and almost deadly. Elijah gulped, clenched his hands at his sides, and then relaxed them again. Willed himself to be patient, to wait for a cue. Viggo was an actor. Viggo knew about cues.
“On your knees.”
Well, yeah. That was a cue.
Elijah sank to the carpet like he was born to do it, under the compulsion of his own weight, suddenly like lead. The grasp on his neck slackened, but did not disappear completely, shifting instead to a light caress, Viggo’s arm extended completely, and a thumb gently stroked behind his ear, calming him.
“I want you to keep your eyes on me, Elijah,” Viggo warned when Elijah’s eyes drifted to the seam in front of him, to the bulge against Viggo’s zipper. There was no anger in his tone, however, and Elijah supposed he was being indulgent. After all, it was kind of right there, in front of his face. “That’s it,” Viggo cooed when blue eyes flicked up to meet his own. “Keep your eyes on mine.”
Viggo’s fingers threaded through Elijah’s hair, lightly, dull fingernails just scraping the scalp. He continued this motion, gently, for upwards of five minutes, and Elijah was struggling to keep his eyes open as the urge to relax overwhelmed him. He felt like Frodo under compulsion of the ring at Osgiliath, tempted to fall into the swoon brought on by so much power, and at the same time intensely confused. You order me to my knees for a fucking scalp massage? he wanted to shout, but it was too much effort. Instead, he kept his eyes on Viggo’s, and unintentionally, he purred.
Elijah was pretty sure such a sound had never escaped his lips before, on purpose or no, but Viggo didn’t appear surprised. He just smiled, lazily, and kept his fingers moving, raking back and forth, up and down, around the sensitive curve of skin that protected Elijah’s skull.
“I could do so much to you, here,” Viggo whispered, reverently. And Elijah nodded, agreeing, but Viggo wasn’t going to. He knew that. There was something thrilling about the fact, for he knew that he would do anything that Viggo asked, now, now that Viggo had Elijah in this headspace, but Viggo respected him, and he knew where the limits were, even if Elijah didn’t. Elijah trusted Viggo.
Viggo smiled as Elijah let out a long, breathy sigh, almost as if he could read Elijah’s mind. “I’ve got you,” he cooed, and Elijah smiled, almost shyly, leaning into Viggo’s caress.
“Do you want me to…?” His eyes flicked down to Viggo’s zipper very briefly, returning in an instant to his eyes, but Viggo just shook his head.
“No. There will be plenty of time for that later. Now, I just want you used to this.”
“To being on my knees?” Elijah asked, his breath hitching. God, I hope so.
Viggo smiled, still stroking Elijah’s hair. “That’s part of it,” he replied, voice full of promise. Elijah just stared, and he figured that this should be uncomfortable, like the game Dom and Billy sometimes played, waiting for one to be the first to blink, but it wasn’t. Viggo’s gaze felt approving. He felt loved.
“What would you like me to do, then?” Elijah asked, choosing his words carefully.
“I’d like you to be patient.” A gently chiding smile. “I’d like you to enjoy yourself.”
Elijah breathed through a slightly open mouth, captivated by Viggo’s eyes. “Pretty good so far,” he whispered, and Viggo chuckled gently, his hand dropping slightly to again cup the back of Elijah’s neck.
“I want you comfortable,” Viggo spoke after thinking for a moment. “Come with me.” Elijah watched as Viggo slowly backed out of the entry corridor, his eyes still locked on Elijah. Elijah had the momentary thought that, walking backwards, no one should be able to look quite so much like a tiger, or a panther, but Viggo achieved it quite gracefully.
Not daring to look down, and not having been told to stand, Elijah tipped forward carefully, catching himself on his hands. He crawled forward not exactly gracefully, but carefully, slowly, his eyes holding on to Viggo’s. It was almost humorous, in fact, Elijah slinking forward on all fours but Viggo clearly in the role of the predator. They stopped in the living room, and Viggo sat on the couch, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and carelessly tossing a cushion to the floor. “Kneel there,” he commanded, pointing, and Elijah hurried to obey, assuming his former position just a couple of feet in front of Viggo. Unblinking, he started to sit back on his heels, but Viggo just shook his head sharply, and he quickly rose again, shifting his weight to be more comfortable. “Hands behind your back,” Viggo continued. “And no fidgeting.”
Elijah took a deep breath, calming himself on the exhale, and clasped his hands loosely behind his back. He knew it would be difficult, as he was full of nervous energy, but he wanted badly to please Viggo.
“Now Elijah,” Viggo continued with a smile. “I want you to talk to me.” Elijah waited, but Viggo didn’t continue.
“Talk?”
“Yes. I want you to tell me some things. I’ve enjoyed the past month, getting to know you, but I still have some questions,” Viggo admitted. “I want to ask these questions before we move on to something of a more… physical nature.” Elijah smiled slightly at the idea, and nodded.
“Ask away.”
“Do you think about me a lot?” Viggo asked. Elijah nodded, quickly.
“All the time,” he admitted.
“And what do you think about?” Viggo prodded.
“Well… a lot of things. Sexually, you mean?” Elijah asked.
“Generally speaking, but yes, I’m curious about sex.”
Elijah giggled. “Just curious?”
“I asked you a question,” Viggo replied, not cracking a smile.
Elijah’s expression immediately went serious again, and he quit dodging. “I… I fantasize about you a lot,” he admitted.
“What about, specifically?”
“Well… the usual, I guess. Sucking you off. You fucking me. And some kinkier things,” Elijah added, hoping he wasn’t blushing.
“Such as?” Viggo’s eyes were firm, and Elijah was tempted to risk a glance downwards to see how much this conversation was really affecting him.
“Well, you know… like you tying me up. I think about that one a lot, actually,” Elijah added.
“You want me to tie you up?” Viggo asked.
“Yes,” Elijah exhaled, reminding himself not to squirm under the directness of Viggo’s gaze.
“And what else?” Viggo prompted.
“Well… sometimes I think about other things, like candles. I really like candles.”
“Have you ever spilled wax on yourself? On purpose?” Viggo clarified.
“Yeah. While masturbating. It was… different. I liked it. But I think I’d like it more if I were tied up. It would be more thrilling.”
“You want me to control your pleasure, then?” Viggo asked.
“Yes.”
“And your pain?” He continued.
“That, too,” Elijah admitted. “I don’t want to think about it, just to feel.” Viggo smiled, genuinely.
“Well that I’d be happy to help with, Elijah. Now are there any other things? Fantasies?”
“Well…” Elijah hesitated, wondering how much Viggo wanted to know. “I guess a lot of the time I imagine you… teasing me. Well not teasing so much, but holding back a little.”
“Making you beg for what you want?” Viggo asked, just the hint of a smile at the corner of his eyes.
“Oh God yes,” Elijah agreed in a rush of air, feeling a bit embarrassed by the extremity of his response. He tried to look down, but then almost felt the tangible effect of Viggo’s eyes on him, and jerked his gaze up. “Sorry. Sorry…”
“That’s okay. I won’t ask again,” he stated, and it was more of a promise than a threat.
“I… God, Viggo. You have no idea how much I… I mean, I….” Elijah stammered, suddenly feeling almost trapped by the weight of his boyfriend’s gaze.
“Yes, I do,” Viggo replied simply, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward a bit on the couch. “I know exactly what you’re asking for,” he stated confidently. “In fact, Elijah, you have no idea how easy you are to read.”
Elijah blushed, tried not to shift weight.
“It’s not a criticism,” Viggo continued. “I find it endearing. You’re a very good read, I assure you,” he added with a smile, reaching out to gently cup Elijah’s chin. His thumb brushed the jawbone, and Elijah smiled in response, again leaning into the touch like a pet would.
“We’re not going to do anything tonight, are we?” Elijah finally asked in a soft tone after a few minutes of simply being observed.
Viggo smiled and shook his head. “You’re very eager, little one. You’ve given me some information, which I would like to think over. And we start filming tomorrow, so I want you to get plenty of rest. But I’ll tell you what you’re going to do, okay?”
Elijah nodded.
“I’m going to leave here, and you’re going to stand up, drink a glass of water, take a shower, and go to bed. You’re not going to masturbate. You’re going to go right to sleep, and have sweet dreams, and then you’re going to wake up and go to Feet. Sound good?”
Elijah cocked his head, considering. “You know I’ll be awfully horny tomorrow, right?”
Viggo smiled and nodded. “I know, little hobbit. That’s okay. But keep it under wraps, all right?”
“When do you want to tell everyone about us?” Elijah asked.
“Saturday. Everyone’s coming to my place for the welcome-back party, remember?” Elijah nodded. “We’ll tell them then. And you’ll be staying.”
Elijah gulped. “Staying the night, you mean? At your house?” Viggo nodded. “Are we just going to talk and sleep? Cause I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”
Viggo laughed and stroked Elijah’s face a bit. “You’ll take it as long as I want you to, darling,” he answered, and Elijah shuddered in anticipation. “But no, we won’t just be talking. I want you to think about this. For the rest of the week, you can have it on the back of your mind. I don’t have to tell you to be professional on set, but I know you’ll think about it when you go home, and I want you to.” Elijah inhaled and nodded. “Now, I’m going to go home. Anything you need before I go?”
Elijah thought about the obvious answers, but knew he wouldn’t get what he really wanted, so instead asked hesitantly, “could I have another one of those kisses, like in the doorway?”
Viggo grinned and dropped to his own knees, grasping Elijah’s head firmly in his hands, Elijah’s ears fitting perfectly in the dip between thumb and index finger. His lips were imploring, experienced, and Elijah opened wilfully, allowing Viggo to set the pace, pulling away to drag Elijah’s bottom lip through his teeth and then sweeping back in with his tongue. It lasted about five minutes, and then Viggo was rising to his feet, still holding Elijah’s head, and bending down to kiss the crown.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Viggo instructed, and then he was out the door as mysteriously as he had come, leaving Elijah to groan and leave unpacking for later, stumbling to the kitchen to drink some water, put feeling back into his leg muscles, and take a quick shower. With the jet lag, he fell easily into a deep slumber, but there was only one name on his lips as he quickly drifted off.