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fellowshippers2007-01-31 02:06 am
pecos.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2007-01-31 02:06 am
Entry tags:
The Luckiest Dog in the World, interlude
My thanks for your patience, friends. I know that it’s been a couple of agonizing days for those who’re wondering about what happened to Sidi in his last adventure. You’ll be finding out soon, but first please let me tell you…
Series: The Luckiest Dog in the World
Title: What the Dog Didn’t See 4: Lost Dog
Author: Pecos – PecosPhil@sprintmail.com
Website: http://www.chimerafic.com
Rating: NC17 - adult language, graphic sex
between consenting male adults
Feedback: remember the golden rule, (please!)
Disclaimer: I don’t make the toys, I’m
only playing with them. No money made,
nor disrespect intended
Who’s in it?: OB/VM, SB ...and the Dog
Note 1: Please forgive any intentional or
unintentional abuse of facts and history.
This story is un-beta’d, but not out of
disrespect for my esteemed readers. Please
forgive my doubtless numerous errors
Note 2: Place in the Luckiest Dog Series: Ch. 30.5
Summary: Sidi is Orlando’s dog. The Dog tells
a pretty good tale...but he’s not always
privy to EVERYTHING that happens
What the Dog Didn’t See 4: Lost Dog
“Sidi? Sidi!” Orlando cried. The car keys fell from limp fingers as adrenalin raced through his body. The alarm had quieted with a cute little chirp, and in the ensuing silence he could hear his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears. “SIDI!” he yelled, gaze whipping from one direction to another.
“That your car, sir?” asked a young man, arriving at a jog.
“Yes, yes…” Orlando spun on him. “Did you see what happened? Where’s my Dog? Sidi?” He spun, trying to listen. He thought he could hear barking somewhere in the distance. “Sidi, heel, RIGHT NOW!”
“Sir,” the young man grabbed his arm. Orlando yanked free of the grip and ran to the open car door. The interior was empty, just a dusting of black hair on the leather upholstery. “I’m the attendant,” the young man said, coming after him. “I was only gone for just a moment. I saw a man running….”
“I asked you people to watch him!” Orlando screamed, much too loudly. He wanted to punch the kid.
“W-what?” the attendant stammered.
“My dog! Where’s my dog?”
“I just came on shift. Fernando said that there was….”
Orlando had already written off any help from that direction. He spun and ran for the street; trying to guess which direction he’d heard the barking coming from. Sounds echoed off the buildings, obscuring their source. Traffic raced by on the busy thoroughfare, radios blaring, drivers talking on their phones.
Orlando ran up the sidewalk, shouting his dog’s name.
He found his way back to the restaurant ten or twenty minutes later, only to discover a very agitated Penelope pacing near the entrance. “What happened, Orli?” the Latin beauty begged. She was surrounded by fans and admirers, most of whom were trying hard to look like they were there for some other purpose than staring at the celebrities. Orlando couldn’t be bothered to worry about them just then.
“My dog, he was in the car! I can’t find him anywhere.”
“Little Sidi? No! Did someone take him? I’ll call the police!”
Orlando suddenly turned to the group of people who’d edged nearer. “He’s got to be in the neighborhood! Can’t some of you help me look for him? He looks like a black Labrador, with a curly tail. His name is Sidi….”
“I’ve seen your dog,” a girl offered immediately. “In pictures, I mean. I’ll try to find him!” She dragged her male companion toward the cars. Several others left as well. Penelope stepped back inside to call her assistant. The more eyes searching, the better their chances. Orlando ignored the flashes of cameras and turned his back as trembling fingers searched through the numbers list on his own cell.
Ten rings or so, and then the machine picked up at Viggo’s house. “You’ve reached the tool of Satan. If you really must utilize this thing, then you likely know how. I may or may not get back to you. Peace, yeah.” That was what passed for an answering machine message at the Mortensen house. Orlando sputtered out something that was likely incompressible, and hung up on himself. Damn. He fought back a wave of panic. What if Sidi wasn’t just lost? What if he was REALLY lost?
The next number he managed to dial was answered quickly. Sean Bean was in Los Angeles doing publicity for ‘The Hitcher’. “Hey, Orlando,” the Yorkshireman drawled.
He was so relieved he almost hung up again in his excitement. “Sean, Sean, I’ve lost Sidi!”
“What? Yer Dog? What’re you saying?”
“He’s gone from the car!”
“Jesus, Orli! What? What happened? Are you still driving?”
“No, no, it’s not like that!” He had to force himself to lower his voice. The panic was starting up again. He hunched over his phone. “He was in the car, in a lot. At a restaurant. I was meeting Pen, and Sidi was sleeping. I checked on him once, he was out cold. Some guy broke into the car and Sidi took off chasing him. He’s missing! I looked everywhere…do you think I should call the Police? Or go drive around? What if he comes back and I’ve left? Oh, God, Sean…what if….” His head was starting to spin.
“Orlando, Orli.…” Sean was trying to get his attention.
“…it’s my fault! I could have left him home. At the hotel. He just…he’s probably….” Orlando could feel his vision going dark around the edges.
“ORLANDO! Stop a moment, lad. Just stop, and breathe. Come on, lad, breathe with me.” Sean had seen the young man suffer panic attacks a couple of times before. He could tell, even over the phone, that Orlando was mere moments away from losing it. “Breathe, Orli. Come on. Listen to me. Concentrate on my voice.”
“I lost my dog,” Orlando finally whispered.
“And we’ll get him back, yeah? Now, tell me where you are….”
Sean Bean drove Orlando around the neighborhood for over an hour before the young man finally admitted defeat and let his friend take him home. Sean didn’t want to return Orlando to the Chateau alone, so he headed to Viggo’s house. Sean’s girlfriend was staying with him at his own place, and she had a rather dark opinion of most of his friends. Of course the truth was that it was Sean who blatantly ‘corrupted’ those he partied with, but if his girlfriend wanted to see him as the innocent victim of bad influences he was not going to do anything to prematurely disabuse the notion.
Viggo arrived home a short time after the two men arrived, laden with mail and painting supplies, and he was immediately sorry that he hadn’t been there when Orlando had called. “I’m sorry, Angel. Didn’t even expect you back in town until next tomorrow.”
“I left you messages,” Orlando mumbled, face buried in Viggo’s shoulder.
The Dane snorted. “Like I listen to that thing. I’m sorry. But you know that Sidi’ll be all right. You do know that, don’t you? He’s a street mutt to start with – he’ll get along. Somebody’ll turn him in. You got him chipped, right?” Viggo was smiling gratefully at Sean over the young man’s shoulder as he stroked his hand delicately through the dark curls.
Snuffling, then, “Yeah, he’s chipped. And he’s got his collar, with my phone number. If anybody turns him in they’ll notify me. But what if someone just keeps him?”
“Keep that obnoxious hound?” Sean snorted. “Anybody who’s around him for more than ten minutes’ll be more than eager to get him back to you!”
“Stop trying to make me feel better, Sean,” Orlando lectured.
“I’m not. You’re dog is a BRAT. If he was your kid I’d suggest beatings, boarding school and a military career.” That finally raised a grudging smile.
“It’s not Sidi’s fault,” Viggo pointed out, helpfully. “Like daddy, like doggie. You’ve seen how well-behaved Firme is.” The puppy in question yipped for attention, considerably more politely than Sidi would have done. Sidi would have just pissed on the nearest leg and knocked over something fragile.
“Damn Sidi ate me passport once,” Sean reminisced.
“Yet you still bring him presents,” Orlando complained.
“Like I said, I don’t blame the dog. Which reminds me…” Sean dug around in his coat, finally coming up with a squeaker toy shaped like a squirrel. “I know he’s going to love this, when he gets home.” Sean handed the toy to Orlando, whose eyes swelled again with unshed tears. He squeaked it a couple of times, and then left Viggo’s arms long enough to hug Sean.
Bean kissed his forehead. “I’ve gotta get back to my girl, before she thinks I’m being all gay’d up by you two.”
“Gay’d up?” Viggo snorted.
“She’s insecure, can’t imagine why. Call me when you find yer dog, Orli. Or I’ll call you tomorrow. I gotta go or she’s gonna be all over me.”
“Pussy-whipped,” Orlando whispered as the Yorkshireman let himself out.
“I ‘erd that, fucker!” Sean yelled back through the closing door. “Sidi’ll make it home, you just wait and see.”
Smiling softly, Orlando turned his red eyes on Viggo.
“Let’s have a glass of wine,” Viggo suggested.
“I’ll forget to be worried if I get any liquor in me,” Orlando complained.
“Exactly.”
Viggo was sitting at the kitchen table, wineglass in one hand, and Orlando’s knee in the other. The younger man was sitting on the table itself, one leg wrapped around Viggo and the other swinging rhythmically. They had been munching on cheese and eating apricots. It would have been very romantic and Bohemian if they’d planned it that way, but the truth was that it was about the only thing edible in the house. Orlando reached for the bottle and Viggo promptly took it away from him, tipping the remaining contents into his own mouth.
“Hey! That was the end of it!” Orlando whined.
“Yeah, and you’ve had plenty, lightweight. If somebody calls about your dog I don’t need you going out hell-bent out the door, too drunk to walk.”
“I’m not drunk!”
“You’re damn close. You’d get a buzz from root beer.”
“I don’t drink root beer! What is that? It sounds disgusting.” They had been silent for a while, and the banter didn’t seem to stick. The kitchen fell quiet again, as Viggo laid his head against Orlando’s tummy. The younger man scooted closer, wrapping his fingers through Viggo’s hair. He tugged the longish strands and looked for gray, smiling to himself. Orlando could only hope to age as gracefully and manfully as his idol.
Viggo slid a cool hand under the edge of Orli’s shirt and pushed the soft material upward; pressing his lips to the first bit of skin he could reach. The object of his affection moaned agreeably, and bent down to kiss the crown of Viggo’s head. Calloused fingers explored further, finding the ridges of Orlando’s collarbones, tugging at the sparse hair in his armpits, gauging the amount of flesh over his ribs. Thumbs teased over hard nipples, and Orlando squirmed, trying not to laugh.
Sticking his pinkies in Viggo’s ears, Orlando rocked back to give him a crooked grin. “You are certainly not going to have your wicked way with me, Mister Mortensen.”
“Wanna bet?” Viggo asked, his voice gravelly. “I think you need a good fucking. That’s exactly what you need, Angel.”
Orlando feigned shock as Viggo stood suddenly, sweeping the table clear and pressing down over the young man’s body, grabbing at his encircling legs and pawing him like a horny teenager. Their mouths clashed, tongues and teeth doing battle. A wineglass hit the floor and shattered. Viggo didn’t own a single complete set, and considered it a badge of honor.
Groping and moaning, sucking sounds and clutching fingers. Orli was shoved across the table first one-way, and then another, and then bodily hauled back to the edge, crotch to crotch with his intimate assailant. “God…wait! Clothes! Expensive clothes, Viggo!” he panted, clawing, trying to get some tiny bit of airspace between them.
Viggo quickly started fumbling with Orlando’s waistband, trying to undo his own belt at the same time.
“Stop that! This is Versace!” Orli finally managed to squirm free, sliding to his feet again with a grace that belied Viggo’s assessment of his inebriation. He darted away from Viggo and kicked a shoe off, hopping until he had the other one off as well.
“You don’t wear your fancy duds for me,” Viggo pouted, pushing his own jeans down, thick cock springing free and promptly hiding under the hem of his shirt.
Orlando paused for a moment to admire the view. “You’re going out in public commando, and you choose this moment to criticize my wardrobe? I was meeting Penelope. She has very keenly determined views about how she likes her men to look.”
“Boy-whore,” Viggo teased, peeling his anti-Bush tee shirt off and throwing it at the fridge. Firme darted after it, unsure if this could mean Food or not. “You and your fancy girlfriends!”
Orlando was making his way through the clutter to the kitchen doorway, undressing as he moved. “I like girls, okay? I just happened to like cock too.”
“I like girls,” Viggo called after him, contorting his body as he slid his cowboy boots off, leaving them entangled in the jeans. He strutted naked after his conquest, engorged penis swinging before him like Narsul, the Pride of the King. “I’ve got some cock for you right here, boy-whore!”
He found Orlando in the doorway of the master bedroom, completely naked and posed coyly. “Boy-whore? You called me Angel before. Which is it going to be, Mister Mortensen?”
“Which one do you want to be?” Viggo whispered, taking him in strong arms and kissing a path along his hairline.
“Hmmmm,” Orli sighed. “Whore first, and then Angel. Get ready to ride this stallion, cowboy.”
Viggo’s smart-assed comment was cut short by the tongue that invaded his eager mouth. They fell into bed amongst a clutter of clothing and paper, sheets and pillows kicked out of the way. Viggo kissed the young man into incoherency, licked and bit at random, and then sucked Orlando’s cock like it was the only source of air in the room.
Yowling and clawing, Orlando orgasmed unexpectedly, surprising both of them. He’d thought that sort of hair-trigger response would have been left behind in his twenties, but Viggo always brought out Orlando’s inner teenager. He was still floating in post-coital bliss when Viggo’s slick thumb breeched his ass, preparing the way for the Dane’s considerable manhood. Plenty of lube eased the way, and then Bloom found himself being pounded into the bed, across the mattress, and nearly through the headboard.
It wasn’t pretty; it wasn’t elegant. It was fucking…just as promised.
Viggo had age and experience going for him, and he paced himself admirably. Orlando’s cock was hard again by the time Viggo was ready to head down the home stretch. Screams echoed through the house as they came together, Orli jerking his own cock while his lover held an ankle with one hand and the back of Orli’s head with the other. They fell into the sheets together, collapsing like wet laundry.
Many minutes passed before Viggo moved enough to get rid of the condom on his deflated manhood. He threw it at the trashcan overflowing in the corner.
“God, you’re disgusting,” Orlando mumbled from behind closed eyelids.
“You didn’t think so a few minutes ago, Angel.”
“No Angel quite yet. Give me a little rest, then I’ll see about taking you to heaven, my King.” His hand came up, then flopped back bonelessly.
“No stamina,” Viggo complained.
“I’ve had a bad night.”
“We’ll find Sidi tomorrow, baby.” Viggo pulled Orlando’s limp body against himself, enjoying the warmth of all that healthy young flesh.
“I know we will.” And with that, Orlando drifted off to sleep.
(Warning: this is an ADULT part of the Luckiest Dog series. If you do not wish to read NC-17 material you can just skip this chapter. I promise you’ll be able to find out what happened to Orlando’s Dog without reading this interlude)
Series: The Luckiest Dog in the World
Title: What the Dog Didn’t See 4: Lost Dog
Author: Pecos – PecosPhil@sprintmail.com
Website: http://www.chimerafic.com
Rating: NC17 - adult language, graphic sex
between consenting male adults
Feedback: remember the golden rule, (please!)
Disclaimer: I don’t make the toys, I’m
only playing with them. No money made,
nor disrespect intended
Who’s in it?: OB/VM, SB ...and the Dog
Note 1: Please forgive any intentional or
unintentional abuse of facts and history.
This story is un-beta’d, but not out of
disrespect for my esteemed readers. Please
forgive my doubtless numerous errors
Note 2: Place in the Luckiest Dog Series: Ch. 30.5
Summary: Sidi is Orlando’s dog. The Dog tells
a pretty good tale...but he’s not always
privy to EVERYTHING that happens
What the Dog Didn’t See 4: Lost Dog
“Sidi? Sidi!” Orlando cried. The car keys fell from limp fingers as adrenalin raced through his body. The alarm had quieted with a cute little chirp, and in the ensuing silence he could hear his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears. “SIDI!” he yelled, gaze whipping from one direction to another.
“That your car, sir?” asked a young man, arriving at a jog.
“Yes, yes…” Orlando spun on him. “Did you see what happened? Where’s my Dog? Sidi?” He spun, trying to listen. He thought he could hear barking somewhere in the distance. “Sidi, heel, RIGHT NOW!”
“Sir,” the young man grabbed his arm. Orlando yanked free of the grip and ran to the open car door. The interior was empty, just a dusting of black hair on the leather upholstery. “I’m the attendant,” the young man said, coming after him. “I was only gone for just a moment. I saw a man running….”
“I asked you people to watch him!” Orlando screamed, much too loudly. He wanted to punch the kid.
“W-what?” the attendant stammered.
“My dog! Where’s my dog?”
“I just came on shift. Fernando said that there was….”
Orlando had already written off any help from that direction. He spun and ran for the street; trying to guess which direction he’d heard the barking coming from. Sounds echoed off the buildings, obscuring their source. Traffic raced by on the busy thoroughfare, radios blaring, drivers talking on their phones.
Orlando ran up the sidewalk, shouting his dog’s name.
He found his way back to the restaurant ten or twenty minutes later, only to discover a very agitated Penelope pacing near the entrance. “What happened, Orli?” the Latin beauty begged. She was surrounded by fans and admirers, most of whom were trying hard to look like they were there for some other purpose than staring at the celebrities. Orlando couldn’t be bothered to worry about them just then.
“My dog, he was in the car! I can’t find him anywhere.”
“Little Sidi? No! Did someone take him? I’ll call the police!”
Orlando suddenly turned to the group of people who’d edged nearer. “He’s got to be in the neighborhood! Can’t some of you help me look for him? He looks like a black Labrador, with a curly tail. His name is Sidi….”
“I’ve seen your dog,” a girl offered immediately. “In pictures, I mean. I’ll try to find him!” She dragged her male companion toward the cars. Several others left as well. Penelope stepped back inside to call her assistant. The more eyes searching, the better their chances. Orlando ignored the flashes of cameras and turned his back as trembling fingers searched through the numbers list on his own cell.
Ten rings or so, and then the machine picked up at Viggo’s house. “You’ve reached the tool of Satan. If you really must utilize this thing, then you likely know how. I may or may not get back to you. Peace, yeah.” That was what passed for an answering machine message at the Mortensen house. Orlando sputtered out something that was likely incompressible, and hung up on himself. Damn. He fought back a wave of panic. What if Sidi wasn’t just lost? What if he was REALLY lost?
The next number he managed to dial was answered quickly. Sean Bean was in Los Angeles doing publicity for ‘The Hitcher’. “Hey, Orlando,” the Yorkshireman drawled.
He was so relieved he almost hung up again in his excitement. “Sean, Sean, I’ve lost Sidi!”
“What? Yer Dog? What’re you saying?”
“He’s gone from the car!”
“Jesus, Orli! What? What happened? Are you still driving?”
“No, no, it’s not like that!” He had to force himself to lower his voice. The panic was starting up again. He hunched over his phone. “He was in the car, in a lot. At a restaurant. I was meeting Pen, and Sidi was sleeping. I checked on him once, he was out cold. Some guy broke into the car and Sidi took off chasing him. He’s missing! I looked everywhere…do you think I should call the Police? Or go drive around? What if he comes back and I’ve left? Oh, God, Sean…what if….” His head was starting to spin.
“Orlando, Orli.…” Sean was trying to get his attention.
“…it’s my fault! I could have left him home. At the hotel. He just…he’s probably….” Orlando could feel his vision going dark around the edges.
“ORLANDO! Stop a moment, lad. Just stop, and breathe. Come on, lad, breathe with me.” Sean had seen the young man suffer panic attacks a couple of times before. He could tell, even over the phone, that Orlando was mere moments away from losing it. “Breathe, Orli. Come on. Listen to me. Concentrate on my voice.”
“I lost my dog,” Orlando finally whispered.
“And we’ll get him back, yeah? Now, tell me where you are….”
Sean Bean drove Orlando around the neighborhood for over an hour before the young man finally admitted defeat and let his friend take him home. Sean didn’t want to return Orlando to the Chateau alone, so he headed to Viggo’s house. Sean’s girlfriend was staying with him at his own place, and she had a rather dark opinion of most of his friends. Of course the truth was that it was Sean who blatantly ‘corrupted’ those he partied with, but if his girlfriend wanted to see him as the innocent victim of bad influences he was not going to do anything to prematurely disabuse the notion.
Viggo arrived home a short time after the two men arrived, laden with mail and painting supplies, and he was immediately sorry that he hadn’t been there when Orlando had called. “I’m sorry, Angel. Didn’t even expect you back in town until next tomorrow.”
“I left you messages,” Orlando mumbled, face buried in Viggo’s shoulder.
The Dane snorted. “Like I listen to that thing. I’m sorry. But you know that Sidi’ll be all right. You do know that, don’t you? He’s a street mutt to start with – he’ll get along. Somebody’ll turn him in. You got him chipped, right?” Viggo was smiling gratefully at Sean over the young man’s shoulder as he stroked his hand delicately through the dark curls.
Snuffling, then, “Yeah, he’s chipped. And he’s got his collar, with my phone number. If anybody turns him in they’ll notify me. But what if someone just keeps him?”
“Keep that obnoxious hound?” Sean snorted. “Anybody who’s around him for more than ten minutes’ll be more than eager to get him back to you!”
“Stop trying to make me feel better, Sean,” Orlando lectured.
“I’m not. You’re dog is a BRAT. If he was your kid I’d suggest beatings, boarding school and a military career.” That finally raised a grudging smile.
“It’s not Sidi’s fault,” Viggo pointed out, helpfully. “Like daddy, like doggie. You’ve seen how well-behaved Firme is.” The puppy in question yipped for attention, considerably more politely than Sidi would have done. Sidi would have just pissed on the nearest leg and knocked over something fragile.
“Damn Sidi ate me passport once,” Sean reminisced.
“Yet you still bring him presents,” Orlando complained.
“Like I said, I don’t blame the dog. Which reminds me…” Sean dug around in his coat, finally coming up with a squeaker toy shaped like a squirrel. “I know he’s going to love this, when he gets home.” Sean handed the toy to Orlando, whose eyes swelled again with unshed tears. He squeaked it a couple of times, and then left Viggo’s arms long enough to hug Sean.
Bean kissed his forehead. “I’ve gotta get back to my girl, before she thinks I’m being all gay’d up by you two.”
“Gay’d up?” Viggo snorted.
“She’s insecure, can’t imagine why. Call me when you find yer dog, Orli. Or I’ll call you tomorrow. I gotta go or she’s gonna be all over me.”
“Pussy-whipped,” Orlando whispered as the Yorkshireman let himself out.
“I ‘erd that, fucker!” Sean yelled back through the closing door. “Sidi’ll make it home, you just wait and see.”
Smiling softly, Orlando turned his red eyes on Viggo.
“Let’s have a glass of wine,” Viggo suggested.
“I’ll forget to be worried if I get any liquor in me,” Orlando complained.
“Exactly.”
Viggo was sitting at the kitchen table, wineglass in one hand, and Orlando’s knee in the other. The younger man was sitting on the table itself, one leg wrapped around Viggo and the other swinging rhythmically. They had been munching on cheese and eating apricots. It would have been very romantic and Bohemian if they’d planned it that way, but the truth was that it was about the only thing edible in the house. Orlando reached for the bottle and Viggo promptly took it away from him, tipping the remaining contents into his own mouth.
“Hey! That was the end of it!” Orlando whined.
“Yeah, and you’ve had plenty, lightweight. If somebody calls about your dog I don’t need you going out hell-bent out the door, too drunk to walk.”
“I’m not drunk!”
“You’re damn close. You’d get a buzz from root beer.”
“I don’t drink root beer! What is that? It sounds disgusting.” They had been silent for a while, and the banter didn’t seem to stick. The kitchen fell quiet again, as Viggo laid his head against Orlando’s tummy. The younger man scooted closer, wrapping his fingers through Viggo’s hair. He tugged the longish strands and looked for gray, smiling to himself. Orlando could only hope to age as gracefully and manfully as his idol.
Viggo slid a cool hand under the edge of Orli’s shirt and pushed the soft material upward; pressing his lips to the first bit of skin he could reach. The object of his affection moaned agreeably, and bent down to kiss the crown of Viggo’s head. Calloused fingers explored further, finding the ridges of Orlando’s collarbones, tugging at the sparse hair in his armpits, gauging the amount of flesh over his ribs. Thumbs teased over hard nipples, and Orlando squirmed, trying not to laugh.
Sticking his pinkies in Viggo’s ears, Orlando rocked back to give him a crooked grin. “You are certainly not going to have your wicked way with me, Mister Mortensen.”
“Wanna bet?” Viggo asked, his voice gravelly. “I think you need a good fucking. That’s exactly what you need, Angel.”
Orlando feigned shock as Viggo stood suddenly, sweeping the table clear and pressing down over the young man’s body, grabbing at his encircling legs and pawing him like a horny teenager. Their mouths clashed, tongues and teeth doing battle. A wineglass hit the floor and shattered. Viggo didn’t own a single complete set, and considered it a badge of honor.
Groping and moaning, sucking sounds and clutching fingers. Orli was shoved across the table first one-way, and then another, and then bodily hauled back to the edge, crotch to crotch with his intimate assailant. “God…wait! Clothes! Expensive clothes, Viggo!” he panted, clawing, trying to get some tiny bit of airspace between them.
Viggo quickly started fumbling with Orlando’s waistband, trying to undo his own belt at the same time.
“Stop that! This is Versace!” Orli finally managed to squirm free, sliding to his feet again with a grace that belied Viggo’s assessment of his inebriation. He darted away from Viggo and kicked a shoe off, hopping until he had the other one off as well.
“You don’t wear your fancy duds for me,” Viggo pouted, pushing his own jeans down, thick cock springing free and promptly hiding under the hem of his shirt.
Orlando paused for a moment to admire the view. “You’re going out in public commando, and you choose this moment to criticize my wardrobe? I was meeting Penelope. She has very keenly determined views about how she likes her men to look.”
“Boy-whore,” Viggo teased, peeling his anti-Bush tee shirt off and throwing it at the fridge. Firme darted after it, unsure if this could mean Food or not. “You and your fancy girlfriends!”
Orlando was making his way through the clutter to the kitchen doorway, undressing as he moved. “I like girls, okay? I just happened to like cock too.”
“I like girls,” Viggo called after him, contorting his body as he slid his cowboy boots off, leaving them entangled in the jeans. He strutted naked after his conquest, engorged penis swinging before him like Narsul, the Pride of the King. “I’ve got some cock for you right here, boy-whore!”
He found Orlando in the doorway of the master bedroom, completely naked and posed coyly. “Boy-whore? You called me Angel before. Which is it going to be, Mister Mortensen?”
“Which one do you want to be?” Viggo whispered, taking him in strong arms and kissing a path along his hairline.
“Hmmmm,” Orli sighed. “Whore first, and then Angel. Get ready to ride this stallion, cowboy.”
Viggo’s smart-assed comment was cut short by the tongue that invaded his eager mouth. They fell into bed amongst a clutter of clothing and paper, sheets and pillows kicked out of the way. Viggo kissed the young man into incoherency, licked and bit at random, and then sucked Orlando’s cock like it was the only source of air in the room.
Yowling and clawing, Orlando orgasmed unexpectedly, surprising both of them. He’d thought that sort of hair-trigger response would have been left behind in his twenties, but Viggo always brought out Orlando’s inner teenager. He was still floating in post-coital bliss when Viggo’s slick thumb breeched his ass, preparing the way for the Dane’s considerable manhood. Plenty of lube eased the way, and then Bloom found himself being pounded into the bed, across the mattress, and nearly through the headboard.
It wasn’t pretty; it wasn’t elegant. It was fucking…just as promised.
Viggo had age and experience going for him, and he paced himself admirably. Orlando’s cock was hard again by the time Viggo was ready to head down the home stretch. Screams echoed through the house as they came together, Orli jerking his own cock while his lover held an ankle with one hand and the back of Orli’s head with the other. They fell into the sheets together, collapsing like wet laundry.
Many minutes passed before Viggo moved enough to get rid of the condom on his deflated manhood. He threw it at the trashcan overflowing in the corner.
“God, you’re disgusting,” Orlando mumbled from behind closed eyelids.
“You didn’t think so a few minutes ago, Angel.”
“No Angel quite yet. Give me a little rest, then I’ll see about taking you to heaven, my King.” His hand came up, then flopped back bonelessly.
“No stamina,” Viggo complained.
“I’ve had a bad night.”
“We’ll find Sidi tomorrow, baby.” Viggo pulled Orlando’s limp body against himself, enjoying the warmth of all that healthy young flesh.
“I know we will.” And with that, Orlando drifted off to sleep.
(Warning: this is an ADULT part of the Luckiest Dog series. If you do not wish to read NC-17 material you can just skip this chapter. I promise you’ll be able to find out what happened to Orlando’s Dog without reading this interlude)
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I am keeping my fingers crossed for Sidi. He has to find a way back to Orlando, such a smart dog.
but Viggo always brought out Orlando’s inner teenager
*snicker* Like that's a bad thing.
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And Viggo certainly brings MY inner teenager out too! She's hoping that he'll drag her out and spank her!
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*snorfle*
“Boy-whore,” Viggo teased, peeling his anti-Bush tee shirt off and throwing it at the fridge. Firme darted after it, unsure if this could mean Food or not.
Looks like Sidi isn't the only one who could tell some interesting stories! But I hope Viggo and Orlando are right about finding him tomorrow - he may be the Luckiest Dog in the World, but we're all worried about him.
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