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fellowshippers2006-10-16 09:12 pm
v-angelique.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-10-16 09:12 pm
Fic: Controlled 24/45
Title: Controlled (24/45)
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Email: viktoria_angelique@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for series and for this part
Pairing: Elijah/Viggo
Warnings: BDSM, sex, kink
Disclaimer: If this were true the world might be a better place.
Feedback: I love it!
Summary: Viggo and Elijah get a holiday.
Previous Chapters
Elijah came downstairs the morning after Pete’s party, bleary because it was seven am and he had one fuck of a hangover, and Viggo was there and yelling his name and… the fuck?
He reached the fourth step from the bottom and just stared, because Viggo was standing there grinning and throwing some things into Elijah’s own big duffle, and Elijah’s backpack was sitting atop it, and he supposed Viggo must have gotten those out of Elijah’s bedroom while he was sleeping because he did sleep like the living dead, but then what the hell was he packing Elijah’s suitcase for?
“We’re going on a trip, Elijah. Just you and I. Get dressed and be back in five minutes,” Viggo announced, smile bright but tone brokering no argument, though at least he extended a thermos of strong coffee as a peace offering. Elijah stared at him for a minute, and then went back up the stairs, trying not to think of it.
The bed was extremely tempting, covers messy and oh-so-inviting, and Elijah groaned as he passed it, flipping the dials on the shower in practiced motions and stripping off lazily as he sucked down coffee without a care for the blisters that would soon be on the roof of his mouth. He took a piss, put his contacts in, and brushed his teeth, noticing that his own toothbrush appeared to have been packed but the spare for Viggo was still there and what’s a borrowed toothbrush between friends? Similarly, his usual bath gel and loofah were gone, so he scrubbed his back and front and under his arms with a plain bar of Ivory soap, and washed his hair with an little bottle of hotel shampoo from a trip he couldn’t recall. The steam of the shower was nice, invigorating, almost, and he figured he had forty-five minutes before crashing again.
Five minutes, Viggo had said, and it had been at least ten, but he would take a punishment later if he had to, worth it for the jolt of the shower and the feeling of being clean. He wrapped a fluffy towel around his waist and rifled through his armoire, finding about a third of the clothing gone, and finally selected a pair of navy blue boxers, well-worn jeans with holes in the knees, and a Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt. His hair was towel dried and spiky, barring the use of a comb, and he shoved the contact case in his front pocket, the cleansing solution already gone. When he locked the door and joined Viggo in the car, the other man was whistling.
“Thirteen minutes, Elijah.”
“Where the fuck are we going?” Elijah grumbled, the sun bright as he wondered what Viggo had done with his shades.
And just like that, there was a fist in the front of his shirt and he was being yanked somewhat painfully over the gearshift, Viggo’s eyes just inches away from his own. “You’re worn down and you’re tired, Elijah. I’ve spent weeks planning a way to get you away from it all and get you relaxed, so when I ask you to do something, for the love of God, do it. Always in your best interest, remember.”
Elijah nodded, slowly, noticing how Viggo could be both sweet and scary like this, and let out a breath as he was lowered back into his seat.
“Where are we going, then?” Elijah asked a bit more politely, buckling his seatbelt both to protect himself from the road and from any future outbursts from Viggo.
“All over. But I promise you nearly two weeks of no Middle Earth, no scripts, no Pete, no Dom or Orlando or hobbits or Elves…”
“…and lots and lots of fucking?” Elijah asked hopefully, with a bit of a smirk.
Viggo laughed and nodded. “I think we’ll get that in there somewhere, yeah. Your shades are in the glove compartment,” he added, noticing how Elijah squinted, and Elijah grinned at his level of preparation.
“Cheers, mate.”
“You’ll also find a map in there, if you’d like to follow along,” Viggo suggested, and Elijah obediently pulled out and unfolded the massive New Zealand road map.
“Okay, tell me which way we’re going at least.”
“Find Wellington on the map and then trace east along Highway 2. We’re going to start with Wairarapa, over the Rimutaka hills there, and then spend the night in Martinborough.”
“What’s there?”
“Wine, my dear hobbit. It’s a village where you can walk between wineries, rather than driving. I think you’ll like it.”
“Are grapes in season now?”
“Yeah, April is the main month for the grape harvest. It doesn’t really matter though, as you’re not going to be drinking this year’s wine.”
“What kinds do they make, then?”
“Pinot Noir is what they’re most popular for in this region, although they also produce a fair amount of Sauvignon Blanc, like the rest of New Zealand, and a bit of Chardonnay and Riesling as well.”
“Oh, I like Sauvignon Blanc. I had a glass in Australia, it was kind of fruity… almost like peaches.”
Viggo smiled at Elijah’s description as he steered onto the highway. “It is good, especially with lighter food. In any event, I imagine we’ll walk around the town a bit, tour some vineyards, have a nice dinner, and maybe you can try a few glasses of the local vintages.”
“Trying to put some culture into me, old man?” Elijah joked, grinning as he playfully nudged Viggo’s shoulder.
“Well, someone’s got to,” Viggo reasoned, grinning back. “Anyway, we’ll spend the night in an inn in Martinborough, and then get back on the road tomorrow.”
Elijah turned back to the map. “Where after that, then?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow. A man’s got to have his secrets, no?”
Elijah laughed at Viggo’s aloofness and nodded. “Fine, fair enough.” They drove in silence for a while and then Elijah turned in his seat, studying Viggo’s rather handsome profile as he drove, his skin tanned from the fading New Zealand summer and his posture relaxed. Smiling, he let his head fall to Viggo’s shoulder. “Thank you, for all of this.”
Viggo didn’t answer, but let one hand leave the wheel to rest in Elijah’s hair, stroking fondly. That was enough.
The Rimutaka hills were beautiful, and they drove in contented silence, with Elijah dozing on and off until they reached the village, a lively place with wine everywhere you looked. It was ten am when they showed up, so they spent some time just looking around. Elijah was delighted that in this somewhat protected atmosphere where neither of their faces would be instantly recognisable, Viggo took his hand and fell into step as they explored the village. It wouldn’t always be like this, but Elijah would enjoy it while he could, the late season sun and the relaxation of a holiday—finally—brightening his mood.
They window-shopped playfully, commenting over interesting tchatchkes with no intent to buy, until they finally ended up at the Alana Estate, a vineyard that Elijah marginally recognised from the bottle labels in the supermarket. The café was open and outdoor seating was available on the terrace, so they decided to enjoy a nice long lunch, something that Elijah hadn’t done in awhile. It felt very much like the dates they had back in Los Angeles, while getting to know each other, and the memory made Elijah grin.
“What’re you laughing about, little hobbit?” Viggo asked as he took a bite of his lamb. The food here was actually matched to the wine, and so Viggo had ordered panfried lamb kidneys to go with the local Pinot Noir, while Elijah wrinkled his nose and went for the “safer” option of smashed kumara (a local sweet potato) with kalamata olives and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.
“Just thinking back. This is nice, you know. Reminds me of where we started.”
Viggo smiled and sipped leisurely at his wine, reclining in his chair as he reached out with his foot to playfully rub Elijah’s ankle. “What, you nearly lighting my house on fire in attempt to bring me a birthday beer?”
Elijah laughed out loud at that memory, shaking his head and trying not to draw attention to himself as his covered his mouth to keep his chuckles down. “No, not that start… I was thinking of LA.”
“Oh,” Viggo replied, still smiling. “Do you miss it?”
“Not LA, specifically. I miss being able to this,” Elijah admitted, gesturing to their surroundings, “with you. I miss going out on dates and having you treat me like a prince. Though it does make me wonder if I really deserve you,” Elijah added with a frown.
Viggo’s expression too went serious as he leaned forward and laid a gentle hand on Elijah’s forearm where it rested on the table. “You deserve anything you want in life, Elijah. I’d give anything in the world for a thousand more moments like these. I don’t think you even realise how much you’re giving me in return.”
Elijah blushed and smiled at that, shaking his head honestly. “I don’t think I do. But I do try.”
Viggo smiled and nodded. “That’s all you can do. But I hope, in time, to show you what you mean to me.”
Later that evening, in a room in a cosy, out of the way inn, Viggo started to give Elijah a bit of an idea.
The afternoon spent touring vineyards in the bright sun started to remind Elijah of the measly four hours of sleep he had gotten, and the glasses of wine consumed both tasting and at dinner were making him pleasantly drowsy, but a little out of it. By eight o clock, they were ready to return to the room, where Viggo forced Elijah to drink a bottle of water to stay hydrated, let him have the shower, and then sent him straight to bed for a nap. By the time Viggo had indulged in his own long shower, Elijah was just on the verge of waking, sighing sleepily as he watched Viggo dress through half-lidded eyes.
The older man wore a pair of loose white linen pants and a peach-coloured shirt, also loose, with the sleeves rolled up. Elijah had rarely seen Viggo looking quite so relaxed, nor quite so in his element, and he sighed happily when he felt a warm weight join him on the bed.
“Lay still, little one,” Viggo whispered against the nape of Elijah’s neck, his tone low and rolling, comforting as a summer storm. Elijah sighed again and focused on letting the anticipatory tension in his muscles dissolve, only jerking somewhat reflexively when Viggo sat firmly atop his rump and something cool pressed against his lower back.
“Still,” Viggo whispered again, his palm flattening against Elijah’s bare shoulder blade, calming him much as he would a skittish Ureasus on set. “Just enjoy,” he cooed, and Elijah’s tension began to melt again as the solid object began to move against his skin, gliding effortlessly as its surface began to warm. The slickening warmth of the bar traced the entire plane of his back, venturing up to his neck and across his shoulders, down his arms and back, then rising briefly as Viggo shifted weight before sliding down each leg in turn. He furrowed his brow in confusion when the object was put down out of his sight, but when Viggo returned to his original position and began to rub his fingers harder into the tight cords of Elijah’s lower back, the slippery substance warming as Viggo rubbed it in, he caught a familiar whiff of honey.
“My massage bar!” Elijah exclaimed happily, solving the puzzle, and Viggo chuckled as he bore down harder, wresting a satisfied groan from Elijah’s lips.
“That it is, love. Thought I would put it to good use. Now let me take care of you,” Viggo instructed firmly, and Elijah saw no reason to disobey, happy noises continuing to issue from his lips as Viggo paid careful attention to every centimetre of skin. From the lower back, his thumbs caressed outward from the spine, inching upwards until he came to Elijah’s shoulder blades. The heels of Viggo’s hands then worked in a circular motion followed by the kneading of his fingers as he concentrated on the upper half of Elijah’s back. By the time Viggo reached the particularly tense junction of neck and shoulder, careful but strong thumbs kneading out the tightness there, Elijah was letting out keening moans, completely unabashedly, wriggling his arse up against Viggo to see if he could get his attention.
Viggo just laughed and moved his attention to Elijah’s neck, pressing down harder with his hips to keep Elijah from squirming. “Patience, little hobbit. I’m going to teach you to relax, and to enjoy. You’ll get what you want, but only if you’re willing to wait for it,” he warned, hands smoothing over Elijah’s shoulders before he moved both hands to the left arm, working methodically downwards as he massaged with both hands in alternating strokes all the way down to the wrist.
Elijah groaned, but forced his brain to obey, trying to ignore his arousal pressing against the bedclothes and instead think of Viggo’s hands, Viggo’s bloody brilliant hands, now giving his own hand a thorough massage before continuing to the other side. Elijah’s muscles felt like jello, while his skin was on fire, letting his body be manipulated like this, and it was amazing. He wanted more, but he also loved that Viggo said “no,” and that he was going to be forced to take the full-length massage that he was in clear need of, whether he had realised it or not.
As Viggo worked down his legs, using his knuckles to knead into the backs of Elijah’s thighs, he felt the stress and strain of months of filming melt away. He could almost forget that there would be nearly another month of night shoots for Viggo when they returned, forget that this break was only three weeks and then it was back to the old grind. Now, it felt like there were years ahead of them, and maybe there were. It wasn’t a familiar feeling, but it was a good one.
“Roll over, hobbit,” Viggo whispered, and it was only at these words that Elijah realised Viggo had stopped the massage. His muscles protested against being moved, but Viggo helped to turn him onto his back, and when he realised what was going to happen next, he gasped loudly, followed by a throaty moan.
“That’s it, darling. Just let me do the work,” Viggo mumbled as he teased Elijah’s nipple with his lips and tongue, spending a moment there before he worked his way down Elijah’s abdomen, marking each rib with a little hollow suck. His tongue defined the rest of the trail, dipping into Elijah’s belly button and then just barely touching as it moved down the fine path of hair. He stopped to give Elijah a cheeky grin, chin resting just above Elijah’s obvious arousal, before he slid the offending boxer shorts down and returned to his task.
“Oh, Jesus, Viggo! Fucking Christ,” Elijah groaned as Viggo’s lips slipped crudely down his length, not trying to mask the slurping noises he made as the “o” of his mouth made a slow path down and back up, suction just enough to be delightful but not sufficient to achieve any quick results. Elijah groaned louder when Viggo locked eyes with him and again used only his tongue, and this time just the tip, to play with the ridge where Elijah’s foreskin had been cut, making little circles around the head and tracing over the slit that was now oozing pre-come.
His eyes didn’t leave Elijah’s as he tasted, licked his lips, and tasted again, wrapping a lazy fist around the shaft as he sampled his treat. Elijah’s moans increased in volume, his hands snaking back to wrap around the old-fashioned iron latticework in the bed railing, and he used every muscle available to avoid thrusting up into Viggo’s hot mouth.
“Please, Vig, God… please…” Elijah begged, breathily. Viggo just smiled. He kept his eyes trained on Elijah as he pressed his lips against the tip of Elijah’s cock, just a kiss, and then harder, experimenting with the texture of lips versus penis, sliding his lips out further to press the silky skin inside against Elijah’s and then drawing back again. He rubbed his lips back and forth, then brushed them lightly against the head, another kiss.
Elijah felt like he was dying, and a sweet death it was indeed, as Viggo brought his tongue back into the game, pressing the tip hard in a path around that ridge again, and then down the vein along the underside. He gasped and began to buck when Viggo reached out with his other hand to steady him, palm flat on his belly in simultaneous comfort and warning. He nodded, okay, I’m ready, and Viggo continued, just licking up and down him like a piece of candy. He traced that path, up and down, six times, moving gradually around the circumference of Elijah’s cock as he went, the pressure on Elijah’s belly increasing as resistance built up.
“I’m not going to suck you,” Viggo mumbled, his chin settling on Elijah’s hipbone, erection bumping his cheek. Elijah groaned. “No, I’m not going to suck you, Elijah. I’m going to make you come,” he announced. Elijah wasn’t quite sure of the distinction, but he gasped all the same when Viggo bent again and took one of Elijah’s balls in his mouth, rolling it around gently and using his tongue to stimulate further. He moved to the other then, and Elijah felt so full, like he was going to burst, and he realised this was what Viggo wanted.
Viggo’s hand didn’t move, just holding Elijah steady in his fist, but what Elijah saw when he looked down was nearly enough to do him in. No longer could he see Viggo’s eyes, but now what he saw, as his eyes traced down, was this—Viggo’s hand, splayed across his belly, holding him still as his chest rose and fell in a near-panic. Viggo’s other hand, curled in a fist around his cock, which was standing straight up and leaking happily from a purpled head, fluid collecting in the fleshy space between Viggo’s thumb and forefinger. Viggo’s hair, tawny and partially damp from sweat, brushing against the other side of his cock, and God that was a sensation to die for, smooth as anything and so light. And below, where he couldn’t see, was Viggo’s tongue, licking a clean stripe from balls to arse, setting his thighs to quivering. God, he was so close.
Viggo raised his head, smile lazy, and then pinned Elijah with a downright dangerous look. His fist tightened, his stare hardened, and his words were but a whisper. “Come, now,” he instructed, his tongue flicking out hard against the head of Elijah’s cock. On command, Elijah’s body jerked up against Viggo’s palm, and then he was watching himself spill over Viggo’s other hand, and watching Viggo lick him up as he came, lapping up semen straight from the source. And then, his muscles all gave out at once, and he was lying on his back, unmoving, completely blissed-out. He vaguely registered a warm cloth soothing him, and a blanket being pulled over his near-lifeless body, and a strong form spooning up behind him, neglected erection nestled comfortably between his arse cheeks, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Just too… good. Elijah’s only regret, as he finally faded completely into sleep, was that he didn’t have enough energy left to smile.
When Elijah awoke in the morning, it was to the breeze from an open window ruffling his hair and the smell of olives and something sweeter in the air. His lover’s sleeping embrace kept his body warm, and the sheet, which came up to his hip, was crisp and cool. He sighed, content, and snuggled further into Viggo’s arms, pressing a kiss high on his chest. Bliss, for Elijah, was waking without an alarm, with the man he loved, and three weeks’ holiday ahead of them to explore the country and each other.
It wasn’t long before Viggo did rise, however, and after a few kisses insisted that they rise, shower, and be on their way. He was in quite a hurry to get to their destination which, he explained to Elijah when they were back on the road and the younger man was again unfolding the road map across his lap, was Tonagariro National Park, an area a few hours to the north with three active volcanoes.
“Isn’t that where Mount Doom is?”
“Ruapehu, yeah. So you’ll probably be sick of it pretty soon, but I thought you might like to see the area with me before you start filming there. It really is beautiful.”
“Okay.”
For the rest of the drive, Elijah sat back and enjoyed the scenery around him. A lot of the filming would be done on the South Island, which is why Viggo chose to tour the North, but a few scenes took place on the North side as well. Still, it was completely different to see these places through Viggo’s eyes, to hear about the history and things Viggo had read about them, and to watch how he photographed them, than it was to be spending long days pretending that they were actually on Middle Earth. Elijah was grateful for the trip.
“Hey sleepyhead. Take a look around you.” Elijah shifted slightly in his seat at Viggo’s almost cooing tone, and blearily opened his eyes. The sun was high overhead, and what he saw amazed him. After so much time spent in this country, visiting amazing landscapes on every part of both islands, it surprised him that he could still felt that thrill in his heart at a new sight, but he did. Ruapehu was erupting, the peak already snowy as the New Zealand autumn drew to a close, a crystal lake filling in the foreground. Viggo had stopped the car on the side of the road for the view, and Elijah felt a sudden urge to kiss the man. So he did.
“All right, all right, come on. I’ve got to get this on film,” Viggo insisted, laughing, after a minute of romance. “You’re not going to see this if all you’re focused on is me,” he pointed out, climbing out of the car with Elijah in tow, camera in hand.
“All I’m ever focused on is you,” Elijah mumbled as he sat on the bonnet, and Viggo smiled.
“I heard that, little hobbit,” he replied, squeezing Elijah’s thigh before he begun shooting the scene. After a few minutes, the eruption was over, and Viggo turned his attention to Elijah, knees tucked up to his chest, arms around them, chin on his knees, looking strangely vulnerable in his jeans and UCLA sweatshirt.
“Don’t move,” Viggo whispered, and Elijah didn’t, still staring off into the distance with a slightly sad expression on his face. By now, he knew better than to smile or turn when Viggo asked him to be still for a picture, and he indulged until the camera’s whir-and-click subsided.
“Beautiful.” Viggo spoke softly, raking his fingers through Elijah’s wayward tufts of hair, leaning down to place a soft kiss to his jaw. The other hand rested on Elijah’s knee. “I love you,” he whispered, and Elijah smiled, his half-lidded eyes putting Viggo’s face in soft focus.
“That’s the first time you’ve told me that as a lover,” Elijah replied, and Viggo just smiled, kissing him lightly on the mouth.
“Well I wanted to be sure I meant it before I said it. And I do.”
Elijah grinned. “I love you too, Vig. So fucking much.”
Viggo grinned back and nipped at Elijah’s earlobe before pulling him into a hug.
“All right, hobbit that I love so dearly. Shall we get going, then?”
Elijah just stuck his tongue out at him as he slid back in the car.
The volcanoes were, unsurprisingly, even more beautiful close-up. After lunch, they spent the afternoon on a guided hike, and then got back in the car to continue northward and east, arriving at the coast in time for a late supper.
“There’s something I want to do for you,” Viggo announced when they were lying in bed together at a bed & breakfast, their home for the night, in jeans and no shirts and the lamplight soft and warm. “Or to you, rather. You have to trust me,” Viggo warned, and Elijah nodded, his eyes soft and unfocused as the back of Viggo’s hand brushed down his bicep.
“I do.”
“I know.”
Viggo bent forwards and kissed him, and it was still soft and warm and unhurried, but just when Elijah got the chance to get used to it he was knocked flat on his back, Viggo wrenching his wrists up and it was actually painful, but not so much that a little moan didn’t escape Elijah’s lips
“Grab,” Viggo ordered, and Elijah’s hands snaked around the bedposts, a little far apart, the muscles in his arms strained slightly under the effort. “We’re going to try something new tonight. Last night, I felt something in you, something a bit restless. You need to go down for me tonight,” Viggo said matter-of-factly, and then he was bending over the bed and rummaging through his bag, coming up with a few things, lengths of silk and leather wrist cuffs Elijah didn’t know he had.
Elijah couldn’t see his own wrists as Viggo cuffed them, but he showed Elijah first—simple brown leather cuffs, very well made, lined with cream-coloured fleece and fitted with little metal loops through which Viggo could easily thread the strong silk rope, tying it effectively to the bedposts. Once Elijah’s arms were restrained, Viggo presented another length of silk and tied it securely around Elijah’s head, a strong knot at the back.
“Okay?” Viggo asked, and Elijah nodded. “Can you see?” Elijah shook his head. “Good. Remember, you can tell me to stop at any time… but I’d prefer you didn’t unless you really need to. I’ve been watching you lately, Elijah. You need this.” Elijah nodded once more, for of course Viggo was right, and then Viggo was moving down the mattress, bending Elijah’s knees so that his feet rested flat on the bed, legs spread decently far apart.
Elijah gasped when a finger breached him, slick and cool, but it warmed almost instantly, and Elijah recognised the warming lube Viggo had recently purchased. He smiled at the consideration and let his legs fall slightly further open, feet still planted, breathing deeply and allowing the tension to leave his inner muscles as Viggo pressed in quickly with a second finger.
“Wonderful, Elijah. You’re doing beautifully,” Viggo encouraged, and Elijah found himself leaning towards the sound of his lover’s voice without the benefit of sight. “Can you take some more?” he asked, hooking his fingers so that Elijah could feel the stroke against his prostate. Elijah nodded eagerly, forgetting apparently that he was only bound and not gagged.
There was a pause, and then something foreign and inflexible pressing against his opening. He tensed at first, but then took another deep breath and willed himself to relax, calmed by Viggo’s palm pressing firmly against his stomach to ground him. The object seeking entrance did so with a dull pop, passing the objecting ring and then slipping easily into place, slimmer than Viggo’s cock but still unsettling. Viggo’s hand remained in place on Elijah’s stomach, and the other left the plug briefly, reaching up to trail the backs of his nails over Elijah’s nipple.
“Like the first time,” Elijah breathed, not worrying about making sense, floating in a space that he was just beginning to understand.
“Yes. Yes, Elijah,” Viggo breathed, pressing gently with the hand on his stomach to show he understood. “Only a few months, but you’ve come so far since then. I’m so proud of you, baby. My beautiful, beautiful boy,” he cooed, dropping a kiss to Elijah’s throat as the younger man sighed in pleasure. “Will you take a bit more for me tonight, Eljiah? Tonight, I want to tease you until you think you can’t bear it, you see. Tonight I want you not just to beg, but to scream. Can you let go for me, baby? You’re doing great so far.”
Elijah nodded, sighing and sinking further into the pleasant place with Viggo’s low, encouraging voice. It wasn’t quite his conversational tone, but something richer and somehow more full. Elijah responded eagerly to it, a low hum resonating in his throat as Viggo bent to roll Elijah’s nipple in his teeth, at the same time reaching back down with his hand to work the plug in Elijah’s arse.
It was a slow build-up, slow and intense, but as Viggo worked his way up to Elijah’s throat, nipping and sucking skin that he had license to mark now that they were on a break, Elijah’s moans began to increase in volume. The artificial penis rocked steadily against his prostate, but it wasn’t quite hard enough to make him come. The dull buzz of pleasure went from pleasant to frustrating, and it was after fifteen long minutes of this treatment that the first request came from his lips.
“Please…”
“Please what, my beautiful boy? Tell me what you need,” Viggo growled right at his ear, brushing sweaty hair back from his forehead as the other hand still worked the plug maddeningly slowly at his hole.
“Please, Viggo… God, need more. More than this.”
“Greedy boy. This isn’t good for you?” Viggo asked, teasing, drawing the plug out to trace the circle of Elijah’s still open hole, pushing just the first inch in before it could clench closed again and twisting teasingly.
“Oh… no, it’s good, but… I…” Elijah hesitated, not wanting to upset Viggo or be too greedy. He let Viggo rock that first inch for another few minutes, an index finger tracing his opening, as Viggo gave him time.
“Please, Viggo!” Elijah gasped again when it got to be too much, and not nearly enough.
“Tell me, little Elijah. You’re not telling me what you want, boy. Tell me.”
“I… fuck… it’s not enough, please. I need more. Need harder.”
“Harder, you say?” Elijah could almost hear the grin in Viggo’s voice. “Like this, then?” Viggo twisted the plug, pushing hard against the muscled ring, but didn’t go any further. Elijah let out a pained gasp, trying to buck his hips and force more of the object inside, but Viggo’s hand on his stomach stopped him.
“Please! Deeper,” Elijah moaned. “I need it.”
“Deeper, then.” Viggo let the plug slide in to the hilt, and Elijah wanted to cry out with relief, but the glide was maddeningly slow and imprecise. In all the way, then back out. Slow, methodical, not nearly enough. “That what you were looking for, boy?”
“Viggo!” Elijah cried, his head thrashing a bit now, his wrists tugging at the cuffs. He wanted to see, to touch, but all he could do was speak. His cock was leaking against his stomach, and he knew he had to ask for what he wanted. It was one of the hardest things for him to do, but Viggo was going to make him. Make him. Fuck.
“Yes, precious?”
“Fuck, Viggo. Please, I need…”
“What do you need, sweetheart? I’ve got all night.”
Elijah let out a long, desperate cry from somewhere deep in his throat, whimpering as the relentless strokes continued to give him not quite enough. “Please, Vig, give me more. Not just harder or deeper, give me….”
“Yes?”
“I…” Fuck. Be specific, Elijah. You can do this. “Your cock, Viggo. I need your cock. I need you to fuck me, please.”
“Oh you do, do you?” Viggo’s tone was positively evil, and Elijah wanted to cry when he withdrew the plug completely.
“Yes! Damnit Viggo, please!”
“I should wash that mouth out with soap, boy.”
“Fu… um… oh God… please…” Elijah panicked slightly, his head twisting from side to side to listen for his lover, when Viggo’s touch left his body entirely.
“Tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you, Elijah,” Viggo growled from somewhere in the room, maybe a few feet away. Elijah couldn’t gauge the direction well as he would’ve liked, and so he simply turned his face to the ceiling, breathing deeply to gather his courage.
“Hard, Viggo. I want you to fill me up, to split me open with your cock. I want you to split me open, and…. oh God, I can’t do this…” Elijah felt tears pricking hot behind the blindfold.
“Why can’t you do this?” Viggo purred, close to his ear now but still no touching. “Why can’t you tell me what you want?”
“I… so ashamed. It’s… what I want… it’s dirty…” Elijah didn’t even realise, in a conscious place, that this was how he felt, but suddenly it was clear to him. “It’s wrong to want it,” he finished, his voice impossibly small.
“No,” Viggo growled, and Elijah gasped as his chin was yanked to the right side, Viggo’s breath suddenly hot on his lips. “You will tell me, and you will not hold back,” he commanded, tone low and more dangerous than Elijah could remember hearing. He shivered, genuinely scared. “You will tell me everything, or I will show you the meaning of withholding,” Viggo warned, and the hand was suddenly gone, and again Elijah was alone.
“I want you to fuck me hard as you can, harder than I think I can take it,” Elijah replied suddenly, scared into desperate frankness by Viggo’s threats. “I want you to… hurt me, and use me, and… oh God,” he gasped, feeling his cock twitch as his secret desires were spoken out loud. “I want it dirty, naughty…”
“How, Elijah? Describe for me.”
“Please… I…” Elijah took a deep breath, and forced himself to continue. “I want you to manhandle me, yank my ankles up by my shoulders and just use my hole for your pleasure. Take me, Viggo, please… I want to feel it when you’re finished, want to feel it for days. Want to be fucked hard, like a whore,” he choked out, speaking a fantasy for the first time.
“Yes,” Viggo hissed, and then he was on him, Elijah’s legs thrown back and an insistent shove forcing his arse to open again.
“Fuck!” Elijah screamed, the word ripped from his lungs as Viggo reached over his head and grasped the headboard, using his knees under Elijah’s arse to force him to the most accommodating position.
“Take it, Elijah. Take it as you want it,” Viggo growled. “Want you like you want me, want to fuck you just like you’ve only dreamed of,” he rasped, fucking Elijah so hard the bed shook. The stretch was delicious, and though earlier preparation ensured that Elijah wouldn’t actually be hurt, the mindfuck worked wonders on him, moans falling from his lips unintentionally as Viggo’s teeth latched onto his neck. He couldn’t hold out long, and he came as if in a daze, screaming a second time without realising he was doing it, gasping as Viggo used his nearly limp body to bring himself to orgasm.
Almost as soon as he was through, Viggo reached up to undo the cuffs that bound Elijah to the bed, gingerly lowering his legs and rolling him onto his side to pull him into Viggo’s arms from behind. He reached up for the blindfold last, but Elijah stopped him with a whisper.
“Wait,” Elijah begged. “Just a little longer.”
Viggo nodded, pulling Elijah tightly to his body, and gave him a moment to recover before speaking. “You like that? Not being able to see?”
“I like you being in control. You decide what I get. It’s safe that way,” Elijah murmured.
“I gave you a lot of control tonight. Tied you up and blindfolded you, but I made you ask for what you want.”
“Yes,” Elijah agreed, wriggling a bit to snuggle closer.
“And did you like it?”
“Not the asking,” Elijah admitted. “It was scary, but then actually doing it…”
“It was good?” Viggo prompted.
“It was like a secret thrill. A dark, dirty, secret thrill. I don’t want to ask you to hurt me… I know you don’t like to hurt me,” Elijah admitted, his tone more serious as he crept towards lucidity.
“No. I wouldn’t want to hurt you seriously, but it can be done. In your mind, like tonight. It’ll be a little sore for a few days, but it was mostly in your mind…”
“And it was good like that. Scary, but good.”
“You said you were ashamed?” Viggo prodded. “Can you tell me why?”
“I… the things in my mind, I’m afraid they’re not quite right. Disturbing, a bit.”
“But they’re only in your head, you know that, right? And I want to help you fulfil your fantasies, even if we can’t play them all out to the letter. Fantasies are an expression of a more general desire, usually. If you had a fantasy of being raped, for example, I couldn’t do that for you, but I could tie you up and make it feel like you didn’t have a choice without actually hurting you. Do you understand?”
“I think so. Or, I’m beginning to,” Elijah corrected himself. “This was good… I like the way you controlled the other variables, you know? You made me talk, but you controlled everything else. The cuffs, the blindfold…”
“They made you feel safe?” Elijah nodded. “Good. I thought they might. And the plug? How did you feel about that?”
“Like you better,” Elijah mumbled, and Viggo laughed, dropping a kiss on his shoulder.
“Good. Now you know why I didn’t get a bigger one,” he teased.
“Would’ve liked you better anyway,” Elijah insisted, and Viggo smiled.
“Mmm. Would you like to do it to me sometime? Fuck me?” Viggo purred, and Elijah shivered.
“Jesus, man. Don’t do that to me when I’m trying to be all sleepy and post-orgasmic.” Viggo laughed louder as Elijah made it clear that he had completely left subspace and was back to his joking “normal” self.
“Just an idea. You know, for later. I think now we probably should sleep, before the people in the next room complain,” Viggo suggested as he untied the knot at the back of Elijah’s head and tossed the blindfold aside.
“Fuck!” Elijah cursed. “I didn’t even think of that….”
“To be fair, you weren’t thinking of anything,” Viggo pointed out. “I’m flattered. Means I did my job.”
“Yeah, well. Just try to make sure ‘doing your job’ doesn’t get us arrested.”
“What? Sure you don’t have any kinky prison fantasies you want to live out?”
The only response was the sound smack of a pillow.
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Email: viktoria_angelique@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for series and for this part
Pairing: Elijah/Viggo
Warnings: BDSM, sex, kink
Disclaimer: If this were true the world might be a better place.
Feedback: I love it!
Summary: Viggo and Elijah get a holiday.
Previous Chapters
Elijah came downstairs the morning after Pete’s party, bleary because it was seven am and he had one fuck of a hangover, and Viggo was there and yelling his name and… the fuck?
He reached the fourth step from the bottom and just stared, because Viggo was standing there grinning and throwing some things into Elijah’s own big duffle, and Elijah’s backpack was sitting atop it, and he supposed Viggo must have gotten those out of Elijah’s bedroom while he was sleeping because he did sleep like the living dead, but then what the hell was he packing Elijah’s suitcase for?
“We’re going on a trip, Elijah. Just you and I. Get dressed and be back in five minutes,” Viggo announced, smile bright but tone brokering no argument, though at least he extended a thermos of strong coffee as a peace offering. Elijah stared at him for a minute, and then went back up the stairs, trying not to think of it.
The bed was extremely tempting, covers messy and oh-so-inviting, and Elijah groaned as he passed it, flipping the dials on the shower in practiced motions and stripping off lazily as he sucked down coffee without a care for the blisters that would soon be on the roof of his mouth. He took a piss, put his contacts in, and brushed his teeth, noticing that his own toothbrush appeared to have been packed but the spare for Viggo was still there and what’s a borrowed toothbrush between friends? Similarly, his usual bath gel and loofah were gone, so he scrubbed his back and front and under his arms with a plain bar of Ivory soap, and washed his hair with an little bottle of hotel shampoo from a trip he couldn’t recall. The steam of the shower was nice, invigorating, almost, and he figured he had forty-five minutes before crashing again.
Five minutes, Viggo had said, and it had been at least ten, but he would take a punishment later if he had to, worth it for the jolt of the shower and the feeling of being clean. He wrapped a fluffy towel around his waist and rifled through his armoire, finding about a third of the clothing gone, and finally selected a pair of navy blue boxers, well-worn jeans with holes in the knees, and a Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt. His hair was towel dried and spiky, barring the use of a comb, and he shoved the contact case in his front pocket, the cleansing solution already gone. When he locked the door and joined Viggo in the car, the other man was whistling.
“Thirteen minutes, Elijah.”
“Where the fuck are we going?” Elijah grumbled, the sun bright as he wondered what Viggo had done with his shades.
And just like that, there was a fist in the front of his shirt and he was being yanked somewhat painfully over the gearshift, Viggo’s eyes just inches away from his own. “You’re worn down and you’re tired, Elijah. I’ve spent weeks planning a way to get you away from it all and get you relaxed, so when I ask you to do something, for the love of God, do it. Always in your best interest, remember.”
Elijah nodded, slowly, noticing how Viggo could be both sweet and scary like this, and let out a breath as he was lowered back into his seat.
“Where are we going, then?” Elijah asked a bit more politely, buckling his seatbelt both to protect himself from the road and from any future outbursts from Viggo.
“All over. But I promise you nearly two weeks of no Middle Earth, no scripts, no Pete, no Dom or Orlando or hobbits or Elves…”
“…and lots and lots of fucking?” Elijah asked hopefully, with a bit of a smirk.
Viggo laughed and nodded. “I think we’ll get that in there somewhere, yeah. Your shades are in the glove compartment,” he added, noticing how Elijah squinted, and Elijah grinned at his level of preparation.
“Cheers, mate.”
“You’ll also find a map in there, if you’d like to follow along,” Viggo suggested, and Elijah obediently pulled out and unfolded the massive New Zealand road map.
“Okay, tell me which way we’re going at least.”
“Find Wellington on the map and then trace east along Highway 2. We’re going to start with Wairarapa, over the Rimutaka hills there, and then spend the night in Martinborough.”
“What’s there?”
“Wine, my dear hobbit. It’s a village where you can walk between wineries, rather than driving. I think you’ll like it.”
“Are grapes in season now?”
“Yeah, April is the main month for the grape harvest. It doesn’t really matter though, as you’re not going to be drinking this year’s wine.”
“What kinds do they make, then?”
“Pinot Noir is what they’re most popular for in this region, although they also produce a fair amount of Sauvignon Blanc, like the rest of New Zealand, and a bit of Chardonnay and Riesling as well.”
“Oh, I like Sauvignon Blanc. I had a glass in Australia, it was kind of fruity… almost like peaches.”
Viggo smiled at Elijah’s description as he steered onto the highway. “It is good, especially with lighter food. In any event, I imagine we’ll walk around the town a bit, tour some vineyards, have a nice dinner, and maybe you can try a few glasses of the local vintages.”
“Trying to put some culture into me, old man?” Elijah joked, grinning as he playfully nudged Viggo’s shoulder.
“Well, someone’s got to,” Viggo reasoned, grinning back. “Anyway, we’ll spend the night in an inn in Martinborough, and then get back on the road tomorrow.”
Elijah turned back to the map. “Where after that, then?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow. A man’s got to have his secrets, no?”
Elijah laughed at Viggo’s aloofness and nodded. “Fine, fair enough.” They drove in silence for a while and then Elijah turned in his seat, studying Viggo’s rather handsome profile as he drove, his skin tanned from the fading New Zealand summer and his posture relaxed. Smiling, he let his head fall to Viggo’s shoulder. “Thank you, for all of this.”
Viggo didn’t answer, but let one hand leave the wheel to rest in Elijah’s hair, stroking fondly. That was enough.
The Rimutaka hills were beautiful, and they drove in contented silence, with Elijah dozing on and off until they reached the village, a lively place with wine everywhere you looked. It was ten am when they showed up, so they spent some time just looking around. Elijah was delighted that in this somewhat protected atmosphere where neither of their faces would be instantly recognisable, Viggo took his hand and fell into step as they explored the village. It wouldn’t always be like this, but Elijah would enjoy it while he could, the late season sun and the relaxation of a holiday—finally—brightening his mood.
They window-shopped playfully, commenting over interesting tchatchkes with no intent to buy, until they finally ended up at the Alana Estate, a vineyard that Elijah marginally recognised from the bottle labels in the supermarket. The café was open and outdoor seating was available on the terrace, so they decided to enjoy a nice long lunch, something that Elijah hadn’t done in awhile. It felt very much like the dates they had back in Los Angeles, while getting to know each other, and the memory made Elijah grin.
“What’re you laughing about, little hobbit?” Viggo asked as he took a bite of his lamb. The food here was actually matched to the wine, and so Viggo had ordered panfried lamb kidneys to go with the local Pinot Noir, while Elijah wrinkled his nose and went for the “safer” option of smashed kumara (a local sweet potato) with kalamata olives and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.
“Just thinking back. This is nice, you know. Reminds me of where we started.”
Viggo smiled and sipped leisurely at his wine, reclining in his chair as he reached out with his foot to playfully rub Elijah’s ankle. “What, you nearly lighting my house on fire in attempt to bring me a birthday beer?”
Elijah laughed out loud at that memory, shaking his head and trying not to draw attention to himself as his covered his mouth to keep his chuckles down. “No, not that start… I was thinking of LA.”
“Oh,” Viggo replied, still smiling. “Do you miss it?”
“Not LA, specifically. I miss being able to this,” Elijah admitted, gesturing to their surroundings, “with you. I miss going out on dates and having you treat me like a prince. Though it does make me wonder if I really deserve you,” Elijah added with a frown.
Viggo’s expression too went serious as he leaned forward and laid a gentle hand on Elijah’s forearm where it rested on the table. “You deserve anything you want in life, Elijah. I’d give anything in the world for a thousand more moments like these. I don’t think you even realise how much you’re giving me in return.”
Elijah blushed and smiled at that, shaking his head honestly. “I don’t think I do. But I do try.”
Viggo smiled and nodded. “That’s all you can do. But I hope, in time, to show you what you mean to me.”
Later that evening, in a room in a cosy, out of the way inn, Viggo started to give Elijah a bit of an idea.
The afternoon spent touring vineyards in the bright sun started to remind Elijah of the measly four hours of sleep he had gotten, and the glasses of wine consumed both tasting and at dinner were making him pleasantly drowsy, but a little out of it. By eight o clock, they were ready to return to the room, where Viggo forced Elijah to drink a bottle of water to stay hydrated, let him have the shower, and then sent him straight to bed for a nap. By the time Viggo had indulged in his own long shower, Elijah was just on the verge of waking, sighing sleepily as he watched Viggo dress through half-lidded eyes.
The older man wore a pair of loose white linen pants and a peach-coloured shirt, also loose, with the sleeves rolled up. Elijah had rarely seen Viggo looking quite so relaxed, nor quite so in his element, and he sighed happily when he felt a warm weight join him on the bed.
“Lay still, little one,” Viggo whispered against the nape of Elijah’s neck, his tone low and rolling, comforting as a summer storm. Elijah sighed again and focused on letting the anticipatory tension in his muscles dissolve, only jerking somewhat reflexively when Viggo sat firmly atop his rump and something cool pressed against his lower back.
“Still,” Viggo whispered again, his palm flattening against Elijah’s bare shoulder blade, calming him much as he would a skittish Ureasus on set. “Just enjoy,” he cooed, and Elijah’s tension began to melt again as the solid object began to move against his skin, gliding effortlessly as its surface began to warm. The slickening warmth of the bar traced the entire plane of his back, venturing up to his neck and across his shoulders, down his arms and back, then rising briefly as Viggo shifted weight before sliding down each leg in turn. He furrowed his brow in confusion when the object was put down out of his sight, but when Viggo returned to his original position and began to rub his fingers harder into the tight cords of Elijah’s lower back, the slippery substance warming as Viggo rubbed it in, he caught a familiar whiff of honey.
“My massage bar!” Elijah exclaimed happily, solving the puzzle, and Viggo chuckled as he bore down harder, wresting a satisfied groan from Elijah’s lips.
“That it is, love. Thought I would put it to good use. Now let me take care of you,” Viggo instructed firmly, and Elijah saw no reason to disobey, happy noises continuing to issue from his lips as Viggo paid careful attention to every centimetre of skin. From the lower back, his thumbs caressed outward from the spine, inching upwards until he came to Elijah’s shoulder blades. The heels of Viggo’s hands then worked in a circular motion followed by the kneading of his fingers as he concentrated on the upper half of Elijah’s back. By the time Viggo reached the particularly tense junction of neck and shoulder, careful but strong thumbs kneading out the tightness there, Elijah was letting out keening moans, completely unabashedly, wriggling his arse up against Viggo to see if he could get his attention.
Viggo just laughed and moved his attention to Elijah’s neck, pressing down harder with his hips to keep Elijah from squirming. “Patience, little hobbit. I’m going to teach you to relax, and to enjoy. You’ll get what you want, but only if you’re willing to wait for it,” he warned, hands smoothing over Elijah’s shoulders before he moved both hands to the left arm, working methodically downwards as he massaged with both hands in alternating strokes all the way down to the wrist.
Elijah groaned, but forced his brain to obey, trying to ignore his arousal pressing against the bedclothes and instead think of Viggo’s hands, Viggo’s bloody brilliant hands, now giving his own hand a thorough massage before continuing to the other side. Elijah’s muscles felt like jello, while his skin was on fire, letting his body be manipulated like this, and it was amazing. He wanted more, but he also loved that Viggo said “no,” and that he was going to be forced to take the full-length massage that he was in clear need of, whether he had realised it or not.
As Viggo worked down his legs, using his knuckles to knead into the backs of Elijah’s thighs, he felt the stress and strain of months of filming melt away. He could almost forget that there would be nearly another month of night shoots for Viggo when they returned, forget that this break was only three weeks and then it was back to the old grind. Now, it felt like there were years ahead of them, and maybe there were. It wasn’t a familiar feeling, but it was a good one.
“Roll over, hobbit,” Viggo whispered, and it was only at these words that Elijah realised Viggo had stopped the massage. His muscles protested against being moved, but Viggo helped to turn him onto his back, and when he realised what was going to happen next, he gasped loudly, followed by a throaty moan.
“That’s it, darling. Just let me do the work,” Viggo mumbled as he teased Elijah’s nipple with his lips and tongue, spending a moment there before he worked his way down Elijah’s abdomen, marking each rib with a little hollow suck. His tongue defined the rest of the trail, dipping into Elijah’s belly button and then just barely touching as it moved down the fine path of hair. He stopped to give Elijah a cheeky grin, chin resting just above Elijah’s obvious arousal, before he slid the offending boxer shorts down and returned to his task.
“Oh, Jesus, Viggo! Fucking Christ,” Elijah groaned as Viggo’s lips slipped crudely down his length, not trying to mask the slurping noises he made as the “o” of his mouth made a slow path down and back up, suction just enough to be delightful but not sufficient to achieve any quick results. Elijah groaned louder when Viggo locked eyes with him and again used only his tongue, and this time just the tip, to play with the ridge where Elijah’s foreskin had been cut, making little circles around the head and tracing over the slit that was now oozing pre-come.
His eyes didn’t leave Elijah’s as he tasted, licked his lips, and tasted again, wrapping a lazy fist around the shaft as he sampled his treat. Elijah’s moans increased in volume, his hands snaking back to wrap around the old-fashioned iron latticework in the bed railing, and he used every muscle available to avoid thrusting up into Viggo’s hot mouth.
“Please, Vig, God… please…” Elijah begged, breathily. Viggo just smiled. He kept his eyes trained on Elijah as he pressed his lips against the tip of Elijah’s cock, just a kiss, and then harder, experimenting with the texture of lips versus penis, sliding his lips out further to press the silky skin inside against Elijah’s and then drawing back again. He rubbed his lips back and forth, then brushed them lightly against the head, another kiss.
Elijah felt like he was dying, and a sweet death it was indeed, as Viggo brought his tongue back into the game, pressing the tip hard in a path around that ridge again, and then down the vein along the underside. He gasped and began to buck when Viggo reached out with his other hand to steady him, palm flat on his belly in simultaneous comfort and warning. He nodded, okay, I’m ready, and Viggo continued, just licking up and down him like a piece of candy. He traced that path, up and down, six times, moving gradually around the circumference of Elijah’s cock as he went, the pressure on Elijah’s belly increasing as resistance built up.
“I’m not going to suck you,” Viggo mumbled, his chin settling on Elijah’s hipbone, erection bumping his cheek. Elijah groaned. “No, I’m not going to suck you, Elijah. I’m going to make you come,” he announced. Elijah wasn’t quite sure of the distinction, but he gasped all the same when Viggo bent again and took one of Elijah’s balls in his mouth, rolling it around gently and using his tongue to stimulate further. He moved to the other then, and Elijah felt so full, like he was going to burst, and he realised this was what Viggo wanted.
Viggo’s hand didn’t move, just holding Elijah steady in his fist, but what Elijah saw when he looked down was nearly enough to do him in. No longer could he see Viggo’s eyes, but now what he saw, as his eyes traced down, was this—Viggo’s hand, splayed across his belly, holding him still as his chest rose and fell in a near-panic. Viggo’s other hand, curled in a fist around his cock, which was standing straight up and leaking happily from a purpled head, fluid collecting in the fleshy space between Viggo’s thumb and forefinger. Viggo’s hair, tawny and partially damp from sweat, brushing against the other side of his cock, and God that was a sensation to die for, smooth as anything and so light. And below, where he couldn’t see, was Viggo’s tongue, licking a clean stripe from balls to arse, setting his thighs to quivering. God, he was so close.
Viggo raised his head, smile lazy, and then pinned Elijah with a downright dangerous look. His fist tightened, his stare hardened, and his words were but a whisper. “Come, now,” he instructed, his tongue flicking out hard against the head of Elijah’s cock. On command, Elijah’s body jerked up against Viggo’s palm, and then he was watching himself spill over Viggo’s other hand, and watching Viggo lick him up as he came, lapping up semen straight from the source. And then, his muscles all gave out at once, and he was lying on his back, unmoving, completely blissed-out. He vaguely registered a warm cloth soothing him, and a blanket being pulled over his near-lifeless body, and a strong form spooning up behind him, neglected erection nestled comfortably between his arse cheeks, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Just too… good. Elijah’s only regret, as he finally faded completely into sleep, was that he didn’t have enough energy left to smile.
When Elijah awoke in the morning, it was to the breeze from an open window ruffling his hair and the smell of olives and something sweeter in the air. His lover’s sleeping embrace kept his body warm, and the sheet, which came up to his hip, was crisp and cool. He sighed, content, and snuggled further into Viggo’s arms, pressing a kiss high on his chest. Bliss, for Elijah, was waking without an alarm, with the man he loved, and three weeks’ holiday ahead of them to explore the country and each other.
It wasn’t long before Viggo did rise, however, and after a few kisses insisted that they rise, shower, and be on their way. He was in quite a hurry to get to their destination which, he explained to Elijah when they were back on the road and the younger man was again unfolding the road map across his lap, was Tonagariro National Park, an area a few hours to the north with three active volcanoes.
“Isn’t that where Mount Doom is?”
“Ruapehu, yeah. So you’ll probably be sick of it pretty soon, but I thought you might like to see the area with me before you start filming there. It really is beautiful.”
“Okay.”
For the rest of the drive, Elijah sat back and enjoyed the scenery around him. A lot of the filming would be done on the South Island, which is why Viggo chose to tour the North, but a few scenes took place on the North side as well. Still, it was completely different to see these places through Viggo’s eyes, to hear about the history and things Viggo had read about them, and to watch how he photographed them, than it was to be spending long days pretending that they were actually on Middle Earth. Elijah was grateful for the trip.
“Hey sleepyhead. Take a look around you.” Elijah shifted slightly in his seat at Viggo’s almost cooing tone, and blearily opened his eyes. The sun was high overhead, and what he saw amazed him. After so much time spent in this country, visiting amazing landscapes on every part of both islands, it surprised him that he could still felt that thrill in his heart at a new sight, but he did. Ruapehu was erupting, the peak already snowy as the New Zealand autumn drew to a close, a crystal lake filling in the foreground. Viggo had stopped the car on the side of the road for the view, and Elijah felt a sudden urge to kiss the man. So he did.
“All right, all right, come on. I’ve got to get this on film,” Viggo insisted, laughing, after a minute of romance. “You’re not going to see this if all you’re focused on is me,” he pointed out, climbing out of the car with Elijah in tow, camera in hand.
“All I’m ever focused on is you,” Elijah mumbled as he sat on the bonnet, and Viggo smiled.
“I heard that, little hobbit,” he replied, squeezing Elijah’s thigh before he begun shooting the scene. After a few minutes, the eruption was over, and Viggo turned his attention to Elijah, knees tucked up to his chest, arms around them, chin on his knees, looking strangely vulnerable in his jeans and UCLA sweatshirt.
“Don’t move,” Viggo whispered, and Elijah didn’t, still staring off into the distance with a slightly sad expression on his face. By now, he knew better than to smile or turn when Viggo asked him to be still for a picture, and he indulged until the camera’s whir-and-click subsided.
“Beautiful.” Viggo spoke softly, raking his fingers through Elijah’s wayward tufts of hair, leaning down to place a soft kiss to his jaw. The other hand rested on Elijah’s knee. “I love you,” he whispered, and Elijah smiled, his half-lidded eyes putting Viggo’s face in soft focus.
“That’s the first time you’ve told me that as a lover,” Elijah replied, and Viggo just smiled, kissing him lightly on the mouth.
“Well I wanted to be sure I meant it before I said it. And I do.”
Elijah grinned. “I love you too, Vig. So fucking much.”
Viggo grinned back and nipped at Elijah’s earlobe before pulling him into a hug.
“All right, hobbit that I love so dearly. Shall we get going, then?”
Elijah just stuck his tongue out at him as he slid back in the car.
The volcanoes were, unsurprisingly, even more beautiful close-up. After lunch, they spent the afternoon on a guided hike, and then got back in the car to continue northward and east, arriving at the coast in time for a late supper.
“There’s something I want to do for you,” Viggo announced when they were lying in bed together at a bed & breakfast, their home for the night, in jeans and no shirts and the lamplight soft and warm. “Or to you, rather. You have to trust me,” Viggo warned, and Elijah nodded, his eyes soft and unfocused as the back of Viggo’s hand brushed down his bicep.
“I do.”
“I know.”
Viggo bent forwards and kissed him, and it was still soft and warm and unhurried, but just when Elijah got the chance to get used to it he was knocked flat on his back, Viggo wrenching his wrists up and it was actually painful, but not so much that a little moan didn’t escape Elijah’s lips
“Grab,” Viggo ordered, and Elijah’s hands snaked around the bedposts, a little far apart, the muscles in his arms strained slightly under the effort. “We’re going to try something new tonight. Last night, I felt something in you, something a bit restless. You need to go down for me tonight,” Viggo said matter-of-factly, and then he was bending over the bed and rummaging through his bag, coming up with a few things, lengths of silk and leather wrist cuffs Elijah didn’t know he had.
Elijah couldn’t see his own wrists as Viggo cuffed them, but he showed Elijah first—simple brown leather cuffs, very well made, lined with cream-coloured fleece and fitted with little metal loops through which Viggo could easily thread the strong silk rope, tying it effectively to the bedposts. Once Elijah’s arms were restrained, Viggo presented another length of silk and tied it securely around Elijah’s head, a strong knot at the back.
“Okay?” Viggo asked, and Elijah nodded. “Can you see?” Elijah shook his head. “Good. Remember, you can tell me to stop at any time… but I’d prefer you didn’t unless you really need to. I’ve been watching you lately, Elijah. You need this.” Elijah nodded once more, for of course Viggo was right, and then Viggo was moving down the mattress, bending Elijah’s knees so that his feet rested flat on the bed, legs spread decently far apart.
Elijah gasped when a finger breached him, slick and cool, but it warmed almost instantly, and Elijah recognised the warming lube Viggo had recently purchased. He smiled at the consideration and let his legs fall slightly further open, feet still planted, breathing deeply and allowing the tension to leave his inner muscles as Viggo pressed in quickly with a second finger.
“Wonderful, Elijah. You’re doing beautifully,” Viggo encouraged, and Elijah found himself leaning towards the sound of his lover’s voice without the benefit of sight. “Can you take some more?” he asked, hooking his fingers so that Elijah could feel the stroke against his prostate. Elijah nodded eagerly, forgetting apparently that he was only bound and not gagged.
There was a pause, and then something foreign and inflexible pressing against his opening. He tensed at first, but then took another deep breath and willed himself to relax, calmed by Viggo’s palm pressing firmly against his stomach to ground him. The object seeking entrance did so with a dull pop, passing the objecting ring and then slipping easily into place, slimmer than Viggo’s cock but still unsettling. Viggo’s hand remained in place on Elijah’s stomach, and the other left the plug briefly, reaching up to trail the backs of his nails over Elijah’s nipple.
“Like the first time,” Elijah breathed, not worrying about making sense, floating in a space that he was just beginning to understand.
“Yes. Yes, Elijah,” Viggo breathed, pressing gently with the hand on his stomach to show he understood. “Only a few months, but you’ve come so far since then. I’m so proud of you, baby. My beautiful, beautiful boy,” he cooed, dropping a kiss to Elijah’s throat as the younger man sighed in pleasure. “Will you take a bit more for me tonight, Eljiah? Tonight, I want to tease you until you think you can’t bear it, you see. Tonight I want you not just to beg, but to scream. Can you let go for me, baby? You’re doing great so far.”
Elijah nodded, sighing and sinking further into the pleasant place with Viggo’s low, encouraging voice. It wasn’t quite his conversational tone, but something richer and somehow more full. Elijah responded eagerly to it, a low hum resonating in his throat as Viggo bent to roll Elijah’s nipple in his teeth, at the same time reaching back down with his hand to work the plug in Elijah’s arse.
It was a slow build-up, slow and intense, but as Viggo worked his way up to Elijah’s throat, nipping and sucking skin that he had license to mark now that they were on a break, Elijah’s moans began to increase in volume. The artificial penis rocked steadily against his prostate, but it wasn’t quite hard enough to make him come. The dull buzz of pleasure went from pleasant to frustrating, and it was after fifteen long minutes of this treatment that the first request came from his lips.
“Please…”
“Please what, my beautiful boy? Tell me what you need,” Viggo growled right at his ear, brushing sweaty hair back from his forehead as the other hand still worked the plug maddeningly slowly at his hole.
“Please, Viggo… God, need more. More than this.”
“Greedy boy. This isn’t good for you?” Viggo asked, teasing, drawing the plug out to trace the circle of Elijah’s still open hole, pushing just the first inch in before it could clench closed again and twisting teasingly.
“Oh… no, it’s good, but… I…” Elijah hesitated, not wanting to upset Viggo or be too greedy. He let Viggo rock that first inch for another few minutes, an index finger tracing his opening, as Viggo gave him time.
“Please, Viggo!” Elijah gasped again when it got to be too much, and not nearly enough.
“Tell me, little Elijah. You’re not telling me what you want, boy. Tell me.”
“I… fuck… it’s not enough, please. I need more. Need harder.”
“Harder, you say?” Elijah could almost hear the grin in Viggo’s voice. “Like this, then?” Viggo twisted the plug, pushing hard against the muscled ring, but didn’t go any further. Elijah let out a pained gasp, trying to buck his hips and force more of the object inside, but Viggo’s hand on his stomach stopped him.
“Please! Deeper,” Elijah moaned. “I need it.”
“Deeper, then.” Viggo let the plug slide in to the hilt, and Elijah wanted to cry out with relief, but the glide was maddeningly slow and imprecise. In all the way, then back out. Slow, methodical, not nearly enough. “That what you were looking for, boy?”
“Viggo!” Elijah cried, his head thrashing a bit now, his wrists tugging at the cuffs. He wanted to see, to touch, but all he could do was speak. His cock was leaking against his stomach, and he knew he had to ask for what he wanted. It was one of the hardest things for him to do, but Viggo was going to make him. Make him. Fuck.
“Yes, precious?”
“Fuck, Viggo. Please, I need…”
“What do you need, sweetheart? I’ve got all night.”
Elijah let out a long, desperate cry from somewhere deep in his throat, whimpering as the relentless strokes continued to give him not quite enough. “Please, Vig, give me more. Not just harder or deeper, give me….”
“Yes?”
“I…” Fuck. Be specific, Elijah. You can do this. “Your cock, Viggo. I need your cock. I need you to fuck me, please.”
“Oh you do, do you?” Viggo’s tone was positively evil, and Elijah wanted to cry when he withdrew the plug completely.
“Yes! Damnit Viggo, please!”
“I should wash that mouth out with soap, boy.”
“Fu… um… oh God… please…” Elijah panicked slightly, his head twisting from side to side to listen for his lover, when Viggo’s touch left his body entirely.
“Tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you, Elijah,” Viggo growled from somewhere in the room, maybe a few feet away. Elijah couldn’t gauge the direction well as he would’ve liked, and so he simply turned his face to the ceiling, breathing deeply to gather his courage.
“Hard, Viggo. I want you to fill me up, to split me open with your cock. I want you to split me open, and…. oh God, I can’t do this…” Elijah felt tears pricking hot behind the blindfold.
“Why can’t you do this?” Viggo purred, close to his ear now but still no touching. “Why can’t you tell me what you want?”
“I… so ashamed. It’s… what I want… it’s dirty…” Elijah didn’t even realise, in a conscious place, that this was how he felt, but suddenly it was clear to him. “It’s wrong to want it,” he finished, his voice impossibly small.
“No,” Viggo growled, and Elijah gasped as his chin was yanked to the right side, Viggo’s breath suddenly hot on his lips. “You will tell me, and you will not hold back,” he commanded, tone low and more dangerous than Elijah could remember hearing. He shivered, genuinely scared. “You will tell me everything, or I will show you the meaning of withholding,” Viggo warned, and the hand was suddenly gone, and again Elijah was alone.
“I want you to fuck me hard as you can, harder than I think I can take it,” Elijah replied suddenly, scared into desperate frankness by Viggo’s threats. “I want you to… hurt me, and use me, and… oh God,” he gasped, feeling his cock twitch as his secret desires were spoken out loud. “I want it dirty, naughty…”
“How, Elijah? Describe for me.”
“Please… I…” Elijah took a deep breath, and forced himself to continue. “I want you to manhandle me, yank my ankles up by my shoulders and just use my hole for your pleasure. Take me, Viggo, please… I want to feel it when you’re finished, want to feel it for days. Want to be fucked hard, like a whore,” he choked out, speaking a fantasy for the first time.
“Yes,” Viggo hissed, and then he was on him, Elijah’s legs thrown back and an insistent shove forcing his arse to open again.
“Fuck!” Elijah screamed, the word ripped from his lungs as Viggo reached over his head and grasped the headboard, using his knees under Elijah’s arse to force him to the most accommodating position.
“Take it, Elijah. Take it as you want it,” Viggo growled. “Want you like you want me, want to fuck you just like you’ve only dreamed of,” he rasped, fucking Elijah so hard the bed shook. The stretch was delicious, and though earlier preparation ensured that Elijah wouldn’t actually be hurt, the mindfuck worked wonders on him, moans falling from his lips unintentionally as Viggo’s teeth latched onto his neck. He couldn’t hold out long, and he came as if in a daze, screaming a second time without realising he was doing it, gasping as Viggo used his nearly limp body to bring himself to orgasm.
Almost as soon as he was through, Viggo reached up to undo the cuffs that bound Elijah to the bed, gingerly lowering his legs and rolling him onto his side to pull him into Viggo’s arms from behind. He reached up for the blindfold last, but Elijah stopped him with a whisper.
“Wait,” Elijah begged. “Just a little longer.”
Viggo nodded, pulling Elijah tightly to his body, and gave him a moment to recover before speaking. “You like that? Not being able to see?”
“I like you being in control. You decide what I get. It’s safe that way,” Elijah murmured.
“I gave you a lot of control tonight. Tied you up and blindfolded you, but I made you ask for what you want.”
“Yes,” Elijah agreed, wriggling a bit to snuggle closer.
“And did you like it?”
“Not the asking,” Elijah admitted. “It was scary, but then actually doing it…”
“It was good?” Viggo prompted.
“It was like a secret thrill. A dark, dirty, secret thrill. I don’t want to ask you to hurt me… I know you don’t like to hurt me,” Elijah admitted, his tone more serious as he crept towards lucidity.
“No. I wouldn’t want to hurt you seriously, but it can be done. In your mind, like tonight. It’ll be a little sore for a few days, but it was mostly in your mind…”
“And it was good like that. Scary, but good.”
“You said you were ashamed?” Viggo prodded. “Can you tell me why?”
“I… the things in my mind, I’m afraid they’re not quite right. Disturbing, a bit.”
“But they’re only in your head, you know that, right? And I want to help you fulfil your fantasies, even if we can’t play them all out to the letter. Fantasies are an expression of a more general desire, usually. If you had a fantasy of being raped, for example, I couldn’t do that for you, but I could tie you up and make it feel like you didn’t have a choice without actually hurting you. Do you understand?”
“I think so. Or, I’m beginning to,” Elijah corrected himself. “This was good… I like the way you controlled the other variables, you know? You made me talk, but you controlled everything else. The cuffs, the blindfold…”
“They made you feel safe?” Elijah nodded. “Good. I thought they might. And the plug? How did you feel about that?”
“Like you better,” Elijah mumbled, and Viggo laughed, dropping a kiss on his shoulder.
“Good. Now you know why I didn’t get a bigger one,” he teased.
“Would’ve liked you better anyway,” Elijah insisted, and Viggo smiled.
“Mmm. Would you like to do it to me sometime? Fuck me?” Viggo purred, and Elijah shivered.
“Jesus, man. Don’t do that to me when I’m trying to be all sleepy and post-orgasmic.” Viggo laughed louder as Elijah made it clear that he had completely left subspace and was back to his joking “normal” self.
“Just an idea. You know, for later. I think now we probably should sleep, before the people in the next room complain,” Viggo suggested as he untied the knot at the back of Elijah’s head and tossed the blindfold aside.
“Fuck!” Elijah cursed. “I didn’t even think of that….”
“To be fair, you weren’t thinking of anything,” Viggo pointed out. “I’m flattered. Means I did my job.”
“Yeah, well. Just try to make sure ‘doing your job’ doesn’t get us arrested.”
“What? Sure you don’t have any kinky prison fantasies you want to live out?”
The only response was the sound smack of a pillow.
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You are a tease, you know that? Making us all wait days for more! I guess you are Doing your job too! ;)
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