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fellowshippers2007-04-02 09:12 pm
stormatdusk.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2007-04-02 09:12 pm
Entry tags:
Geek!Orlando, part 12 (Orlando/Viggo, adult)
author: stormatdusk
pairing: Viggo/Orlando
rating: adult
warnings: m/m sex; otherwise, none
disclaimer: this is only fiction.
a/n: starts here
picks up directly from part 11
a/n 2: super cute icon by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lady_razzle - yay!
super geek!banner made by the lovelygalor5!
Orlando slept like a rock. When he finally stirred, it was early morning.
He blinked sleepily and yawned a big yawn. He wiped the sleep-drool off his cheek.
Then he remembered.
Wow.
Viggo.
He turned his head.
Viggo was gone.
Or had he even been there? Maybe Orlando had dreamed the whole thing. Maybe Orlando was actually sitting in the Best Buys ‘R Us car, right now, in Viggo’s driveway, about to go knock at his door for a routine repair visit, and Orlando had just cut his hand on the steering wheel. Maybe Viggo had never kissed him and told him he liked him and brought him orange roses and taken him to dinner and to get new glasses and then - - … last night. Maybe the past few days had all been just a really intense, really great dream.
But Orlando’s pillow smelled – just a little bit – like toast.
No, Viggo wasn’t gone.
It was Sunday morning then… and oh man, he so had to get to the Laundry Pile today. It was the morning after Saturday night. The morning after Viggo and Orlando had… what had Viggo called it?
Made love.
Well, Viggo was nice. Viggo was really nice. He would call it… that, rather than something, well, less… nice. Orlando knew that it was just a phrase, just words.
Viggo didn’t really… that.
Orlando didn’t… that, either.
That would be dumb, after only a few weeks of knowing someone. After only a few days of knowing them better. After only one night of being their boyfriend.
Right?
Orlando could hear footsteps in the hall. It wouldn’t be Josh; Orlando’s roommate wasn’t due to come home until tomorrow.
Viggo entered the bedroom.
Tall, Handsome, Smiling, Damp-Viggo-In-A-Towel-And-Nothing-Else entered the bedroom.
Orlando blinked.
He wondered faintly how he’d managed to win the Gorgeous Boyfriend jackpot when he’d never even bought a Powerball ticket.
Viggo stood there, damp and towel-wrapped and tall, smiling at him. At Orlando.
Holy moly.
“Hi, you,” Viggo said, coming to sit on the edge of Orlando’s small bed. He leaned to kiss Orlando’s lips, then pressed another kiss to Orlando’s forehead. “Sleep well?”
Orlando nodded. He reached out a surprisingly bold hand out and set it on Viggo’s arm.
Actually he didn’t seem to do it - - the hand did. Orlando’s hand, yeah, but it seemed to act on its own. Ew, like that one creepy movie he saw on late-night reruns when he was a kid, where the guy loses his hand in a really gross car accident and they never find it and then it crawls after him, following the guy around and strangling people who make him mad. Only this hand, Orlando’s hand, only seemed to want to pet Viggo’s arm, not strangle him. Thankfully.
But ew, Orlando still couldn’t let himself ride with his arm hanging out of the car window.
Oh, Viggo was talking.
“…hungry? I thought I’d reheat some of the dinner you made last night; I’m starving.”
“Oh gosh!” Orlando sputtered. “I forgot to turn off the oven!”
“I smelled it cooking after you fell asleep last night, so I ran downstairs and popped it in the fridge.” Viggo smiled. “It just browned up nicely; it’s definitely still edible. What is it?”
“Wow… thanks,” Orlando blinked. “It’s chicken and Ritz. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s really good.”
Viggo tilted his head. “Haven’t heard of chicken and Ritz before. Want some if I heat some up?”
Orlando nodded and shifted to sit up.
Ow.
His… um… well - - … he was… ouch. Kind of. Down there.
Viggo wrinkled his nose in sympathy. “Sore?”
Orlando nodded, frozen in mid-sitting up mode.
“I’m sorry,” Viggo soothed, running gentle knuckles over Orlando’s cheek. “Some of that’s normal, unfortunately. I’ve got just the cure, though.” He reached to his bag and pulled out a bottle of something milky-looking. “A nice warm soak with some of this and you’ll feel much better.”
Viggo disappeared into the bathroom. Orlando heard the tub start to fill.
Wow.
A minute later, Viggo returned. He knelt at the side of the bed, his face close to Orlando’s.
“How are you? Other than feeling sore, I mean,” Viggo asked quietly.
Orlando thought of the mystery shoppers that came into the store to rate how well the employees interacted with the customers. Orlando’s reports were always good; his product knowledge was top mark, and he always scored well on politeness. But he sometimes forgot to Check for Satisfaction, to ask the customer, “Have I answered all your questions today? Have you gotten the information you were looking for? Is there anything else I can help you with today?”
Viggo would SO score top mark on Checking for Satisfaction.
Viggo’s eyes were so nice. And so… blue. Orlando tried to get his brain to respond. “I’m - - um - - … I’m good. Er - - no, I’m more than goo - -… I’m…”
Orlando grabbed Viggo’s head and kissed his mouth. Hard.
Viggo let him. A soft chuckle rumbled deep in Viggo’s throat.
Orlando pulled back, eyes wide. What the heck was he doing? He wasn’t usually like this!
Viggo was smiling. “Climb into that tub then. I’ll get some food going.” Viggo walked out, still smiling.
Orlando gingerly got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, grabbing his blue and orange plaid flannel bathrobe on the way. He was stiff, yeah, but it wasn’t too bad. Still, it would be nice to get clean.
He took care of his morning pee, brushed his teeth, and eased into the warm, warm water.
Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
This. Was. Wonderful.
It smelled all coconutty, and fresh, and soothing. And the bubbles tickled at him, but only in a good way.
He didn’t remember the last time he’d had a bubble bath.
He closed his eyes and let the coconut smell take him off to the beach. Or what he imagined the beach would be. He’d just lie there, relaxing under a big umbrella, with a tall cool glass of Tang in his hand.
And watch Baywatch Viggo run in slow motion baaaack and forrrrth across the sand in front of him.
Mmmmmmm.
“Orlando?” Viggo’s voice called up to him. “I saw your toaster in your linen closet when I grabbed a towel for my shower; I wasn’t sure if maybe it was broken. Is it okay to use?”
Orlando froze.
Oh god.
ETA: continued here
pairing: Viggo/Orlando
rating: adult
warnings: m/m sex; otherwise, none
disclaimer: this is only fiction.
a/n: starts here
picks up directly from part 11
a/n 2: super cute icon by
lady_razzle - yay! super geek!banner made by the lovely
galor5!Orlando slept like a rock. When he finally stirred, it was early morning.
He blinked sleepily and yawned a big yawn. He wiped the sleep-drool off his cheek.
Then he remembered.
Wow.
Viggo.
He turned his head.
Viggo was gone.
Or had he even been there? Maybe Orlando had dreamed the whole thing. Maybe Orlando was actually sitting in the Best Buys ‘R Us car, right now, in Viggo’s driveway, about to go knock at his door for a routine repair visit, and Orlando had just cut his hand on the steering wheel. Maybe Viggo had never kissed him and told him he liked him and brought him orange roses and taken him to dinner and to get new glasses and then - - … last night. Maybe the past few days had all been just a really intense, really great dream.
But Orlando’s pillow smelled – just a little bit – like toast.
No, Viggo wasn’t gone.
It was Sunday morning then… and oh man, he so had to get to the Laundry Pile today. It was the morning after Saturday night. The morning after Viggo and Orlando had… what had Viggo called it?
Made love.
Well, Viggo was nice. Viggo was really nice. He would call it… that, rather than something, well, less… nice. Orlando knew that it was just a phrase, just words.
Viggo didn’t really… that.
Orlando didn’t… that, either.
That would be dumb, after only a few weeks of knowing someone. After only a few days of knowing them better. After only one night of being their boyfriend.
Right?
Orlando could hear footsteps in the hall. It wouldn’t be Josh; Orlando’s roommate wasn’t due to come home until tomorrow.
Viggo entered the bedroom.
Tall, Handsome, Smiling, Damp-Viggo-In-A-Towel-And-Nothing-Else entered the bedroom.
Orlando blinked.
He wondered faintly how he’d managed to win the Gorgeous Boyfriend jackpot when he’d never even bought a Powerball ticket.
Viggo stood there, damp and towel-wrapped and tall, smiling at him. At Orlando.
Holy moly.
“Hi, you,” Viggo said, coming to sit on the edge of Orlando’s small bed. He leaned to kiss Orlando’s lips, then pressed another kiss to Orlando’s forehead. “Sleep well?”
Orlando nodded. He reached out a surprisingly bold hand out and set it on Viggo’s arm.
Actually he didn’t seem to do it - - the hand did. Orlando’s hand, yeah, but it seemed to act on its own. Ew, like that one creepy movie he saw on late-night reruns when he was a kid, where the guy loses his hand in a really gross car accident and they never find it and then it crawls after him, following the guy around and strangling people who make him mad. Only this hand, Orlando’s hand, only seemed to want to pet Viggo’s arm, not strangle him. Thankfully.
But ew, Orlando still couldn’t let himself ride with his arm hanging out of the car window.
Oh, Viggo was talking.
“…hungry? I thought I’d reheat some of the dinner you made last night; I’m starving.”
“Oh gosh!” Orlando sputtered. “I forgot to turn off the oven!”
“I smelled it cooking after you fell asleep last night, so I ran downstairs and popped it in the fridge.” Viggo smiled. “It just browned up nicely; it’s definitely still edible. What is it?”
“Wow… thanks,” Orlando blinked. “It’s chicken and Ritz. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s really good.”
Viggo tilted his head. “Haven’t heard of chicken and Ritz before. Want some if I heat some up?”
Orlando nodded and shifted to sit up.
Ow.
His… um… well - - … he was… ouch. Kind of. Down there.
Viggo wrinkled his nose in sympathy. “Sore?”
Orlando nodded, frozen in mid-sitting up mode.
“I’m sorry,” Viggo soothed, running gentle knuckles over Orlando’s cheek. “Some of that’s normal, unfortunately. I’ve got just the cure, though.” He reached to his bag and pulled out a bottle of something milky-looking. “A nice warm soak with some of this and you’ll feel much better.”
Viggo disappeared into the bathroom. Orlando heard the tub start to fill.
Wow.
A minute later, Viggo returned. He knelt at the side of the bed, his face close to Orlando’s.
“How are you? Other than feeling sore, I mean,” Viggo asked quietly.
Orlando thought of the mystery shoppers that came into the store to rate how well the employees interacted with the customers. Orlando’s reports were always good; his product knowledge was top mark, and he always scored well on politeness. But he sometimes forgot to Check for Satisfaction, to ask the customer, “Have I answered all your questions today? Have you gotten the information you were looking for? Is there anything else I can help you with today?”
Viggo would SO score top mark on Checking for Satisfaction.
Viggo’s eyes were so nice. And so… blue. Orlando tried to get his brain to respond. “I’m - - um - - … I’m good. Er - - no, I’m more than goo - -… I’m…”
Orlando grabbed Viggo’s head and kissed his mouth. Hard.
Viggo let him. A soft chuckle rumbled deep in Viggo’s throat.
Orlando pulled back, eyes wide. What the heck was he doing? He wasn’t usually like this!
Viggo was smiling. “Climb into that tub then. I’ll get some food going.” Viggo walked out, still smiling.
Orlando gingerly got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, grabbing his blue and orange plaid flannel bathrobe on the way. He was stiff, yeah, but it wasn’t too bad. Still, it would be nice to get clean.
He took care of his morning pee, brushed his teeth, and eased into the warm, warm water.
Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
This. Was. Wonderful.
It smelled all coconutty, and fresh, and soothing. And the bubbles tickled at him, but only in a good way.
He didn’t remember the last time he’d had a bubble bath.
He closed his eyes and let the coconut smell take him off to the beach. Or what he imagined the beach would be. He’d just lie there, relaxing under a big umbrella, with a tall cool glass of Tang in his hand.
And watch Baywatch Viggo run in slow motion baaaack and forrrrth across the sand in front of him.
Mmmmmmm.
“Orlando?” Viggo’s voice called up to him. “I saw your toaster in your linen closet when I grabbed a towel for my shower; I wasn’t sure if maybe it was broken. Is it okay to use?”
Orlando froze.
Oh god.
ETA: continued here