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fellowshippers2007-06-28 02:50 pm
stormatdusk.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2007-06-28 02:50 pm
Entry tags:
Geek!Orlando, part 29 (Orlando/Viggo, adult)
title: Geek!Orlando, part 29
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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 28
a/n 2: icon by the audacioustularia
banner made by generously talented galor5
Orlando’s cock was totally hung over.
Well, not hung over. Just… tired. Really, really happy, and really, really tired.
Like it had climbed every mountain… forded every stream… followed every rainbow.
Till Viggo made it cream.
Geez! Where were these freaky thoughts coming from?! He’d just started having sex and already he’d brain-morphed into Hugh Hefner. Or Elijah. Double geez!
Orlando sort of couldn’t believe it still. He’d… well…he’d made love. To Viggo.
He’d made love to Viggo last night.
Orlando let his mind replay a scene from it. There was Viggo, the warm, smooth skin of his back beneath Orlando’s hands… his eyes closed, his lips moving against their fingers, all tangled together.
Nope. Not even a wibble from Orlando’s exhausted dick. But his brain was getting hard.
Was that possible?
If last night was like… the movie, this morning must be like… the DVD extras. Like his cock was being interviewed about ‘the making of’, sitting there in a director’s chair, someone off-camera asking it questions and filming its answers. Maybe some makeup girl was patting and dabbing away at it while the cameras were rolling.
Nah, he didn’t really want there to be a makeup girl patting at his cock. But Viggo could.
Yes, it was a wonderful experience. I have to admit that I was pretty nervous going in, but everyone involved was so great to work with.
Oh, we definitely have great chemistry together. Viggo’s such a giving performer. In all our scenes together, he made me feel so at home.
Why yes, I did all the stunts myself. It was nerve-wracking at times, let me tell you! But I’m really happy with how it all turned out in the end.
Oh, I definitely hope to do another project like this soon.
Hmmm. Orlando thought for a minute about that last one.
Yes, it had been great. Holy moly - - more than great. Absolutely great. Incredible, even. Viggo’s body had been so warm and so tight and so smooth around him; it felt like nothing Orlando had ever imagined. And the way Viggo had reacted - - well, that had totally put Orlando into the stratosphere.
But… as wonderful as it had been, Orlando wasn’t sure if it was something he’d want all the time. Throwi - - no no, topping - - was… well, it was awesome. But it was sort of like… a little goes a long way. Like, a 5-hour Monopoly marathon. Or really, really rich fudge. Or Jerry Lewis movies. Or DisneyWorld.
Huh. He hoped that Viggo would be okay with that. How was he going to tell Viggo without hurting his feelings?
Gosh, what if Viggo thought that things should be… well… sort of, 50/50 or something? What if he wanted Orlando to do the throw - - argh, topping! - - all the time?!
Okay, enough. It was time to fix this problem with the word ‘topping’. Orlando knew exactly what to do.
Years ago, he used to constantly go blank on the word ‘articulate’. It was like it was stored in a dead brain cell or something. He’d go to use the word in a sentence and it just would not come out of his mouth. It was a pretty ironic word to forget, too: talking to his mom or a friend or someone, and all of a sudden, he’d be stuttering something like, “Well, you know… it’s that word… you know… that word that means… you can… um, talk… you know, uh - … good?”
Finally after the gazillionth time of forgetting that same word, Orlando had decided to try something he’d read about. He’d sat on his bed and closed his eyes and imagined himself walking through his own mind, in a big warehouse kind of space, with rows and rows and rows of file cabinets. He pictured himself walking up to the file cabinet where ‘ARTICULATE’ was stored, and pulling and jerking and finally yanking open that stuck drawer. Then he pulled out ‘ARTICULATE’ and stuck it in the next file cabinet drawer, which was working just fine.
And Orlando had never once forgotten the word ‘articulate’ since.
Hey, maybe he should imagine going back in there and lubricating the rollers on that stuck drawer. Brain space was a valuable thing, after all. Maybe he could go online today and learn a new word to store in that drawer. Or a juggling trick or something.
Hey, wait a minute. Where was Viggo?
Oh wow, Orlando totally needed to get his butt out of bed and be a gentleman!
He awkwardly pulled on his - - er, Viggo’s - - deep red robe and grabbed the crutches the doctor had given him and crutch-limped out of the bedroom. Oh, YUM. It was obvious from the smell of bacon frying that Viggo was in the kitchen. Orlando tested his ankle cautiously as he worked his way down the hall. Yep, he was definitely able to put more weight on it this morning.
Orlando made it around the corner and stopped to appreciate the view. Standing there at the stovetop was his gorgeous boyfriend, still damp from the shower. Orlando gawked for a minute at that broad, muscular, shirtless back and that gorgeous denim-covered butt. Viggo looked even better than an all clear/no viruses message from Scandisk.
Viggo turned, then quickly stepped to the table and pulled out a chair for Orlando. “Hey, you,” Viggo smiled. “How’s it feeling?” he asked, setting a glass of Tang on the table.
Kind of happily exhausted…, Orlando almost said, thankfully realizing just in time that Viggo was not asking about his dick. “Oh! Um, better, I think.” Orlando tried to stutter through and hope that Viggo didn’t notice. “How are you? Feeling, I mean. Are you feeling good?” Orlando lowered himself into the chair as Viggo leaned his crutches against the wall.
Viggo bent to kiss Orlando’s forehead. “I’m good. You hungry?” He went back to fiddling at the stovetop for a few moments, and Orlando sat and watched the muscles behind Viggo’s shoulder blades wink and flex at him. He inhaled deeply, sucking in the salty scent of the bacon and the toasty aroma of Viggo.
There were blue carnations on the table. Those smelled good, too.
Orlando smiled. It was like… Official Nose Paradise here. Gosh, it was wonderful.
Viggo put down a plate with pancakes and bacon in front of Orlando. “I hope you like it.” Viggo smiled almost shyly. He went back to fix his own plate.
Orlando thumbed up his glasses and picked up his fork. “It smells great.” He looked down and stopped with a snort. “Ha! The syrup made a heart.”
Viggo turned with sort of an… odd… look on his face. Confused, maybe? Orlando guessed so. He explained, “Uh, the syrup. It accidentally went on in a heart shape.”
“Oh. Uh, yeah,” Viggo said. He smiled briefly and turned away.
The pancakes were delicious, and Orlando moaned a little. He dug in, hungrier than he’d realized. Topping - - hey, he got it right! - - must be hungry work.
He looked up with a grin, faltering when he saw that Viggo was eating where he stood. “Aren’t you going to sit down?” Orlando asked.
“I’m okay here,” Viggo said, blushing a little. “Sorry - - not very polite, I know.”
Well, that was kind of odd, that Viggo standing at the counter eating his pancakes and bacon instead of sitting down at the table with Orlando…. Was Viggo upset with him about something? If everything was okay, why wouldn’t he just sit dow….
Oh.
OH.
“Oh! Gosh, Viggo - - !“ Orlando pushed back his chair and stood, completely forgetting his sprained ankle. He squeaked and sat down hard as some high voltage hit his youch-o-meter. Viggo quickly set down his plate and came to kneel at Orlando’s chair, hands gentle on Orlando’s calf.
“Have you hurt it again?” Viggo asked in concern.
“No, it’ll be fine,” Orlando said, frustrated. “Geez, Viggo, I’m sorry! You’re… sore? From last night? Gosh, Viggo, did I hurt you? Did I - - was it - - I was too - -?”
Ten minutes later, despite Viggo’s protests that he was fine, Orlando was helping Viggo into a coconut-scented bubble bath. Well, Viggo was sort of helping himself in, since Orlando didn’t really have the hang of the crutch-limping well enough yet. But he had drawn the bath and added the bubbles, and now he found a clean towel and rolled it into a pillow before slipping it gently behind Viggo’s neck. He smiled kind of proudly as Viggo hummed and settled another few inches deeper into the steamy water.
Orlando gingerly lowered himself to the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t get up and do this for you right away this morning,” he said.
“Please, don’t,” Viggo urged, a bubbly hand patting Orlando’s where it rested on the side of the tub. “Not that it isn’t very sweet of you to have done it now.” Viggo closed his eyes and rested his head back to enjoy the heat of the water.
Viggo was so… beautiful. Orlando could look at him all day. Even through his partly steamed-up glasses.
The tub wasn’t deep enough to cover Viggo’s shoulders. Orlando slipped one arm out of the robe so he didn’t get its sleeve wet, and reached in. The temperature was wonderful, and Viggo’s slick skin was even better. Orlando gently sluiced some of the warm water up over Viggo’s shoulders. And over that neat indentation thingy at the base of Viggo’s throat that seemed to be the perfect shape for Orlando’s tongue. Orlando loved the sounds Viggo made when he licked that spot.
Viggo’s eyes came open. He sat in silence, watching as Orlando slowly stroked the water up again and again.
Orlando lost track of everything except the feel of Viggo’s skin, the sound of Viggo’s quiet breathing, the beachy smell of the bubbles. He just enjoyed bringing the hot water up to Viggo’s throat and shoulders, then turning his hand to stroke smoothly down Viggo’s wet chest and arms, over and over, slow, relaxed. He lay his cheek on the side of the tub and just rested there, stroking Viggo, warming him. Warming them both.
Many minutes passed in quiet.
“Orlando… I lo - - “
Orlando startled out of his near-hypnotic state. “Hm?”
Viggo’s eyes got big.
“I - - uh… I mean… olives.” Viggo stammered. “Olives - - uh… need to go on the grocery list. Yes. I think I’m out. Of olives.”
Orlando yuck-shivered a little. “Well, I won’t fight you for those. I hate olives.” He started to pull his arm out of the bath water. “Do you want me to go put it on the list right now so you don’t forget?”
“No, no…” Viggo said, seemingly flustered. “Well, yes. Yes, actually. Please. I’ll finish my bath and join you in a few minutes. Okay?”
“Uh… okay,” Orlando mumbled, struggling to his feet. He crutch-limped out of the room, closing the door carefully behind him.
At the kitchen table, he wrote 'olives' on a doodled-on piece of paper he found on the fridge. He sat for a long time then, wondering.
It had kind of felt like Viggo wanted some privacy just now.
He knew Viggo wasn’t shy about being naked and stuff.
Orlando bit his lip. Maybe Viggo felt like they were spending too much time together?
Gosh, he hoped not.
Oh, great. Here was that stupid, 'there’s something I’m forgetting,' feeling again, too.
Orlando sighed.
ETA: continued here
author:
stormatduskpairing: Viggo/Orlando
rating: adult
warnings: m/m sex; otherwise, none
disclaimer: this is only fiction.
a/n: starts here
picks up directly from part 28
a/n 2: icon by the audacious
tulariagalor5Orlando’s cock was totally hung over.
Well, not hung over. Just… tired. Really, really happy, and really, really tired.
Like it had climbed every mountain… forded every stream… followed every rainbow.
Till Viggo made it cream.
Geez! Where were these freaky thoughts coming from?! He’d just started having sex and already he’d brain-morphed into Hugh Hefner. Or Elijah. Double geez!
Orlando sort of couldn’t believe it still. He’d… well…he’d made love. To Viggo.
He’d made love to Viggo last night.
Orlando let his mind replay a scene from it. There was Viggo, the warm, smooth skin of his back beneath Orlando’s hands… his eyes closed, his lips moving against their fingers, all tangled together.
Nope. Not even a wibble from Orlando’s exhausted dick. But his brain was getting hard.
Was that possible?
If last night was like… the movie, this morning must be like… the DVD extras. Like his cock was being interviewed about ‘the making of’, sitting there in a director’s chair, someone off-camera asking it questions and filming its answers. Maybe some makeup girl was patting and dabbing away at it while the cameras were rolling.
Nah, he didn’t really want there to be a makeup girl patting at his cock. But Viggo could.
Yes, it was a wonderful experience. I have to admit that I was pretty nervous going in, but everyone involved was so great to work with.
Oh, we definitely have great chemistry together. Viggo’s such a giving performer. In all our scenes together, he made me feel so at home.
Why yes, I did all the stunts myself. It was nerve-wracking at times, let me tell you! But I’m really happy with how it all turned out in the end.
Oh, I definitely hope to do another project like this soon.
Hmmm. Orlando thought for a minute about that last one.
Yes, it had been great. Holy moly - - more than great. Absolutely great. Incredible, even. Viggo’s body had been so warm and so tight and so smooth around him; it felt like nothing Orlando had ever imagined. And the way Viggo had reacted - - well, that had totally put Orlando into the stratosphere.
But… as wonderful as it had been, Orlando wasn’t sure if it was something he’d want all the time. Throwi - - no no, topping - - was… well, it was awesome. But it was sort of like… a little goes a long way. Like, a 5-hour Monopoly marathon. Or really, really rich fudge. Or Jerry Lewis movies. Or DisneyWorld.
Huh. He hoped that Viggo would be okay with that. How was he going to tell Viggo without hurting his feelings?
Gosh, what if Viggo thought that things should be… well… sort of, 50/50 or something? What if he wanted Orlando to do the throw - - argh, topping! - - all the time?!
Okay, enough. It was time to fix this problem with the word ‘topping’. Orlando knew exactly what to do.
Years ago, he used to constantly go blank on the word ‘articulate’. It was like it was stored in a dead brain cell or something. He’d go to use the word in a sentence and it just would not come out of his mouth. It was a pretty ironic word to forget, too: talking to his mom or a friend or someone, and all of a sudden, he’d be stuttering something like, “Well, you know… it’s that word… you know… that word that means… you can… um, talk… you know, uh - … good?”
Finally after the gazillionth time of forgetting that same word, Orlando had decided to try something he’d read about. He’d sat on his bed and closed his eyes and imagined himself walking through his own mind, in a big warehouse kind of space, with rows and rows and rows of file cabinets. He pictured himself walking up to the file cabinet where ‘ARTICULATE’ was stored, and pulling and jerking and finally yanking open that stuck drawer. Then he pulled out ‘ARTICULATE’ and stuck it in the next file cabinet drawer, which was working just fine.
And Orlando had never once forgotten the word ‘articulate’ since.
Hey, maybe he should imagine going back in there and lubricating the rollers on that stuck drawer. Brain space was a valuable thing, after all. Maybe he could go online today and learn a new word to store in that drawer. Or a juggling trick or something.
Hey, wait a minute. Where was Viggo?
Oh wow, Orlando totally needed to get his butt out of bed and be a gentleman!
He awkwardly pulled on his - - er, Viggo’s - - deep red robe and grabbed the crutches the doctor had given him and crutch-limped out of the bedroom. Oh, YUM. It was obvious from the smell of bacon frying that Viggo was in the kitchen. Orlando tested his ankle cautiously as he worked his way down the hall. Yep, he was definitely able to put more weight on it this morning.
Orlando made it around the corner and stopped to appreciate the view. Standing there at the stovetop was his gorgeous boyfriend, still damp from the shower. Orlando gawked for a minute at that broad, muscular, shirtless back and that gorgeous denim-covered butt. Viggo looked even better than an all clear/no viruses message from Scandisk.
Viggo turned, then quickly stepped to the table and pulled out a chair for Orlando. “Hey, you,” Viggo smiled. “How’s it feeling?” he asked, setting a glass of Tang on the table.
Kind of happily exhausted…, Orlando almost said, thankfully realizing just in time that Viggo was not asking about his dick. “Oh! Um, better, I think.” Orlando tried to stutter through and hope that Viggo didn’t notice. “How are you? Feeling, I mean. Are you feeling good?” Orlando lowered himself into the chair as Viggo leaned his crutches against the wall.
Viggo bent to kiss Orlando’s forehead. “I’m good. You hungry?” He went back to fiddling at the stovetop for a few moments, and Orlando sat and watched the muscles behind Viggo’s shoulder blades wink and flex at him. He inhaled deeply, sucking in the salty scent of the bacon and the toasty aroma of Viggo.
There were blue carnations on the table. Those smelled good, too.
Orlando smiled. It was like… Official Nose Paradise here. Gosh, it was wonderful.
Viggo put down a plate with pancakes and bacon in front of Orlando. “I hope you like it.” Viggo smiled almost shyly. He went back to fix his own plate.
Orlando thumbed up his glasses and picked up his fork. “It smells great.” He looked down and stopped with a snort. “Ha! The syrup made a heart.”
Viggo turned with sort of an… odd… look on his face. Confused, maybe? Orlando guessed so. He explained, “Uh, the syrup. It accidentally went on in a heart shape.”
“Oh. Uh, yeah,” Viggo said. He smiled briefly and turned away.
The pancakes were delicious, and Orlando moaned a little. He dug in, hungrier than he’d realized. Topping - - hey, he got it right! - - must be hungry work.
He looked up with a grin, faltering when he saw that Viggo was eating where he stood. “Aren’t you going to sit down?” Orlando asked.
“I’m okay here,” Viggo said, blushing a little. “Sorry - - not very polite, I know.”
Well, that was kind of odd, that Viggo standing at the counter eating his pancakes and bacon instead of sitting down at the table with Orlando…. Was Viggo upset with him about something? If everything was okay, why wouldn’t he just sit dow….
Oh.
OH.
“Oh! Gosh, Viggo - - !“ Orlando pushed back his chair and stood, completely forgetting his sprained ankle. He squeaked and sat down hard as some high voltage hit his youch-o-meter. Viggo quickly set down his plate and came to kneel at Orlando’s chair, hands gentle on Orlando’s calf.
“Have you hurt it again?” Viggo asked in concern.
“No, it’ll be fine,” Orlando said, frustrated. “Geez, Viggo, I’m sorry! You’re… sore? From last night? Gosh, Viggo, did I hurt you? Did I - - was it - - I was too - -?”
Ten minutes later, despite Viggo’s protests that he was fine, Orlando was helping Viggo into a coconut-scented bubble bath. Well, Viggo was sort of helping himself in, since Orlando didn’t really have the hang of the crutch-limping well enough yet. But he had drawn the bath and added the bubbles, and now he found a clean towel and rolled it into a pillow before slipping it gently behind Viggo’s neck. He smiled kind of proudly as Viggo hummed and settled another few inches deeper into the steamy water.
Orlando gingerly lowered himself to the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t get up and do this for you right away this morning,” he said.
“Please, don’t,” Viggo urged, a bubbly hand patting Orlando’s where it rested on the side of the tub. “Not that it isn’t very sweet of you to have done it now.” Viggo closed his eyes and rested his head back to enjoy the heat of the water.
Viggo was so… beautiful. Orlando could look at him all day. Even through his partly steamed-up glasses.
The tub wasn’t deep enough to cover Viggo’s shoulders. Orlando slipped one arm out of the robe so he didn’t get its sleeve wet, and reached in. The temperature was wonderful, and Viggo’s slick skin was even better. Orlando gently sluiced some of the warm water up over Viggo’s shoulders. And over that neat indentation thingy at the base of Viggo’s throat that seemed to be the perfect shape for Orlando’s tongue. Orlando loved the sounds Viggo made when he licked that spot.
Viggo’s eyes came open. He sat in silence, watching as Orlando slowly stroked the water up again and again.
Orlando lost track of everything except the feel of Viggo’s skin, the sound of Viggo’s quiet breathing, the beachy smell of the bubbles. He just enjoyed bringing the hot water up to Viggo’s throat and shoulders, then turning his hand to stroke smoothly down Viggo’s wet chest and arms, over and over, slow, relaxed. He lay his cheek on the side of the tub and just rested there, stroking Viggo, warming him. Warming them both.
Many minutes passed in quiet.
“Orlando… I lo - - “
Orlando startled out of his near-hypnotic state. “Hm?”
Viggo’s eyes got big.
“I - - uh… I mean… olives.” Viggo stammered. “Olives - - uh… need to go on the grocery list. Yes. I think I’m out. Of olives.”
Orlando yuck-shivered a little. “Well, I won’t fight you for those. I hate olives.” He started to pull his arm out of the bath water. “Do you want me to go put it on the list right now so you don’t forget?”
“No, no…” Viggo said, seemingly flustered. “Well, yes. Yes, actually. Please. I’ll finish my bath and join you in a few minutes. Okay?”
“Uh… okay,” Orlando mumbled, struggling to his feet. He crutch-limped out of the room, closing the door carefully behind him.
At the kitchen table, he wrote 'olives' on a doodled-on piece of paper he found on the fridge. He sat for a long time then, wondering.
It had kind of felt like Viggo wanted some privacy just now.
He knew Viggo wasn’t shy about being naked and stuff.
Orlando bit his lip. Maybe Viggo felt like they were spending too much time together?
Gosh, he hoped not.
Oh, great. Here was that stupid, 'there’s something I’m forgetting,' feeling again, too.
Orlando sighed.
ETA: continued here
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Also, I love how Viggo calls him Princess. That absolutely cracks me up! It's incongruous and appropriate all at the same time for this version of Orlando. Reminds me of a fic (by willowwing, I think) in which someone called Orlando "Blossom". Stuff like this has me in hysterics every time!
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'princess' hit me sort of by surprise. if viggo had nicknamed him that, out of the blue, i would've cringed, i think. but orlando sort of suggested it first, and viggo just latched onto it, and orlando liked it so much, that it doesn't bother me. it tickles me that you like it! :)
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I'll just sit back here and watch him stumble in geek fashion onto Viggo's sudden need for olives. (I wonder if he'll surprise Viggo with every variety of olives he can find. :-)
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Viggo looked even better than an all clear/no viruses message from Scandisk.
This made my day!
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thanks for the great comment! *hugs*
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And, awww... ;)
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What an opening line. And another great chapter, unbelievably innovative humour and a beautiful tender moment in the bathroom.
But I'm getting a bit impatient with Orlando “Uh, the syrup. It accidentally went on in a heart shape.” Wakey, wakey, dear!!! But maybe not too soon, this story is just too good :)
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no worries; guaranteed happy ending with this sugar fest. i'm amazed they managed to sneak in even this tiny bit of angst! ;)
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thanks for hanging around!