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fellowshippers2008-06-02 09:46 pm
stormatdusk.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2008-06-02 09:46 pm
Entry tags:
Geek!Orlando interlude 1 (Viggo/Orlando, adult)
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: the story a/n: starts here. this bit fits in some time after the 'i love you's' and before the wedding. :)
a/n 2: written forshegollum, my cherished sister in stormhood, a few days late for her birthday. ♥
wonderful manip made by the talenteddesire_billy
icon by the lovelypaulabm
“Where’s the sheet?!??”
Oh god... Orlando couldn’t find the sheet.
He’d raced home from his repair call (thank goodness it was the last one of the day) without getting a speeding ticket. He'd even managed to drive safely and not cause himself or anyone else physical harm (if he didn't count his cock’s grumpy assertion that the amount of discomfort it was in might very well qualify as ‘harm’).
He’d top-speedy shuffle-hobbled into the house, inhaled deeply, locked onto his favorite toast-smelling homing signal, and hobble-bolted straight to the studio.
He’d grabbed his very surprised, gorgeous, paint-covered boyfriend from where he stood at a wet canvas and nearly dragged him into their bedroom.
And now, oh god oh god oh god, he couldn't find the sheet.
The sheet. The sheet they spread on the bed (or the couch, or the floor, or that one really memorable time, sort of halfway up onto the hood of Orlando's green 2001 Plymouth Voyager minivan parked out in the driveway at 3am on a starry July night. For three weeks afterward, Orlando couldn't even look at his van without wanting to molest Viggo all over again; actually driving it was out of the question) to protect the bed (or the couch, or the floor, or wherever) from paint stains when Viggo was a mess from painting but they just could not wait.
Okay, fine: usually, when Orlando couldn't wait.
“Where’s the sheet where’s the sheet!?!??” Yeah, definitely starting to freak out, now.
He'd thrown open the closet doors and reached up, top shelf on the left - - but no, it wasn't there. Now he was rifling through the dirty laundry basket, Viggo's paint-mucked flannel shirts and his own Best Buys 'R Us work shirts and both their underwear - - geez, they went through a lot of underwear - - sailing through the air in frantic arcs.
But no, not here either. He was sure he'd washed it last Friday Night Laundry Night... or had he...?
Viggo cautiously cleared his throat. "I could just grab a quick shower, hon - - "
"SHEEEEEET!!!!"
Huh. Orlando didn’t recall ever having been able to hit high C before.
Viggo blinked. Then he exploded into action, frantically groping the shelves of the closet.
Orlando's cock clicked on its stopwatch, allowing them exactly ten more seconds to find the sheet before demanding that the bedding be sacrificed to the gods of Love.
"Found it!" Viggo turned triumphantly from the closet, blessed sheet in hand.
In a bespectacled blur, they were both on the bed, now safely if hastily sheet-draped. With 2.761 seconds to spare, even, Orlando's cock snarkily informed him.
Orlando managed a quick but yet I-mean-it-and-by-the-way,-hi kiss to Viggo's mouth. He broke away, panting, and turned. His heart slammed around in his chest as he crawled down Viggo's long legs, past the ratted ends of his jeans...
Orlando flung himself belly-down at Viggo's feet, cradled one in trembling hands, and licked a loooong flat wet stripe over the smooth top, from toe to shin.
“Orlando, what - - ha ha - - wait!" Viggo squealed. "What’s - - hee hee - - what’s gotten into you?”
Oh god, he should've known: Viggo tasted just as buttery-good here. He gave another lick, parallel to the first, the silky skin slipping smooth and warm under his tongue, a few friendly hairs caressing Orlando's top lip along the journey.
“Baby, stop - - ah! - - hee hee - - wait - - ... why - -... ?"
He wanted to tell Viggo about the repair call he'd just come from. About the super nice couple he'd helped. About the man's huge, funky desk with lots of layers and cubbies - - and even four fish tanks! - - that he'd built on his own, over time. About the woman who played with their two Corgis, and laughed a lot, and who told him right away to call them by their first names for crying out loud, and brought him a big glass of iced tea with a big chunk of lemon in it.
And especially about how... well, how happy, how really happy they seemed together.
"Geez, Orlando - - that's - - what're you doing? - - heh heh! - - ah, oh! ohhh...."
And he wanted to tell Viggo how he'd been down on his knees looking at the hard drive wiring, and when she stepped near him he saw that she had this really pretty tattoo on her foot. It was like waves, and the sun, and he sort of couldn't take his eyes off it. And how she'd seen him notice, and she'd wiggled her toes and said, "You like?" with a wicked little grin. And how the man had growled, "Don't get any ideas, buddy. She's mine, feet and all," and when Orlando had looked up with big, nervous eyes, the man had winked kindly at him.
He wanted to tell Viggo how good that home felt, and how warm and good being around those people felt, and how - - well, happy, and geez - - in the mood, that made him feel, and how he'd just ached to get home to Viggo rightnowrightnow, and pretend that that tattoo was on his Viggo's foot, and just....
"Oh... oh, god, that feels incred - - hee hee oh- -... ohhhh... oh that’s - - that’s... ah, that’s....”
But the telling would have to wait for later, because right now he wanted, no, needed his tongue and his lips on Viggo's beautiful feet, and his palms sliding up inside Viggo's pant legs to caress his calves, and Viggo's mumbling in his ears, and the heated scent of the two of them in the air.
Orlando looked up to see Viggo watching him, beautiful blue eyes darkening to the really pretty shades of just before nightfall, when you could still see the deep blue, still feel the echoes of the day before it slipped into sleep.
"Baby," Viggo groaned, and he cupped a hand against himself, kneading, while the other hand swirled in hypnotic circles in the sheet beneath them.
Orlando's lips popped free of Viggo's second toe with a wet slurp. "Yes, Viggo... please?" he whispered encouragingly. He rolled to his side and reached for his own zipper, freeing his still-grumpy-but-rapidly-getting-less-so cock. His stomach stuttered as he watched Viggo do the same, his blue-stained hand stroking himself slowly, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling quickly.
He couldn't get enough of Viggo's foot, of his skin. His tongue roamed between each toe, over the top again, his teeth scraping ever so slightly along the pointy little bone thingy on the inside of his ankle, then back to hold each toe in his mouth and swirl his tongue around it, and he could feel Viggo's ticklishness drain away and his body tense up for another, better reason.
Viggo was murmuring a lot now, and his head was flung back on the bed and his neck was all stretched so those tendon parts on the side stood out, and gosh, Orlando loved that. Viggo's hand was moving faster now, and his hips were pushing up into it, and Orlando thought he might burst from how good it was.
Oh... geez - - he could - - maybe he could paint on a tattoo, paint it on Viggo's foot. Only with maybe peanut butter waves, and a strawberry jelly sun. Paint in on, and watch Viggo squirm and listen to him make his little Viggo noises, and smell peanut butter and jelly and Viggo toast. Oh god - -
-- - and then - - and then, liiiiick it off. Oh god.
Oh - - oh GOD!!
...
...
Wow. It was a really good thing they'd found the sheet, because there was no way a hundred Friday Night Laundry Nights would've gotten the bedding clean from all this.
Orlando crawled back up Viggo's body, carefully avoiding what NotButter he could, and snuggled in for a big snuggle. Viggo's arms tightened around him.
"Viggo?"
"Mm hmm?"
"Can we... can we go to the beach sometime? I'd ... I'd really like to see that. The beach, I mean."
"Will you do that to my feet again?" Viggo grinned, pressing a lazy-tickling finger into Orlando's side.
"Viiii-iiiiig." Orlando squirmed and felt his cheeks fire up. He guessed they were probably glowing like a jellyfish, like the ones on that Discovery Channel special that one time. Maybe sometime Viggo could get some sort of paint that would glow in the dark like that, but still be safe for skin, and they could play that Orlando was a jellyfish and Viggo was a... well, whatever would eat a jellyfish.
That'd be fun.
Oh wait; the beach.
Viggo chuckled, low and lazy. "Yes, Princess. We can absolutely go to the beach."
"That's good." Orlando nestled in and wriggled his nose as a Viggo chest hair tried to sneak up his right nostril. He melted a little more as his head rode the gentle swell and ebb of Viggo's big, relaxed, life-is-good-and-I'm-happy sigh.
Orlando smiled into Viggo's neck. "Um, Viggo?"
"Mmm?"
"Yes."
interlude 2
stormatduskpairing: Viggo/Orlando
rating: adult
warnings: m/m sex; otherwise, none
disclaimer: this is only fiction.
a/n: the story a/n: starts here. this bit fits in some time after the 'i love you's' and before the wedding. :)
a/n 2: written for
shegollum, my cherished sister in stormhood, a few days late for her birthday. ♥wonderful manip made by the talented
desire_billyicon by the lovely
paulabm“Where’s the sheet?!??”
Oh god... Orlando couldn’t find the sheet.
He’d raced home from his repair call (thank goodness it was the last one of the day) without getting a speeding ticket. He'd even managed to drive safely and not cause himself or anyone else physical harm (if he didn't count his cock’s grumpy assertion that the amount of discomfort it was in might very well qualify as ‘harm’).
He’d top-speedy shuffle-hobbled into the house, inhaled deeply, locked onto his favorite toast-smelling homing signal, and hobble-bolted straight to the studio.
He’d grabbed his very surprised, gorgeous, paint-covered boyfriend from where he stood at a wet canvas and nearly dragged him into their bedroom.
And now, oh god oh god oh god, he couldn't find the sheet.
The sheet. The sheet they spread on the bed (or the couch, or the floor, or that one really memorable time, sort of halfway up onto the hood of Orlando's green 2001 Plymouth Voyager minivan parked out in the driveway at 3am on a starry July night. For three weeks afterward, Orlando couldn't even look at his van without wanting to molest Viggo all over again; actually driving it was out of the question) to protect the bed (or the couch, or the floor, or wherever) from paint stains when Viggo was a mess from painting but they just could not wait.
Okay, fine: usually, when Orlando couldn't wait.
“Where’s the sheet where’s the sheet!?!??” Yeah, definitely starting to freak out, now.
He'd thrown open the closet doors and reached up, top shelf on the left - - but no, it wasn't there. Now he was rifling through the dirty laundry basket, Viggo's paint-mucked flannel shirts and his own Best Buys 'R Us work shirts and both their underwear - - geez, they went through a lot of underwear - - sailing through the air in frantic arcs.
But no, not here either. He was sure he'd washed it last Friday Night Laundry Night... or had he...?
Viggo cautiously cleared his throat. "I could just grab a quick shower, hon - - "
"SHEEEEEET!!!!"
Huh. Orlando didn’t recall ever having been able to hit high C before.
Viggo blinked. Then he exploded into action, frantically groping the shelves of the closet.
Orlando's cock clicked on its stopwatch, allowing them exactly ten more seconds to find the sheet before demanding that the bedding be sacrificed to the gods of Love.
"Found it!" Viggo turned triumphantly from the closet, blessed sheet in hand.
In a bespectacled blur, they were both on the bed, now safely if hastily sheet-draped. With 2.761 seconds to spare, even, Orlando's cock snarkily informed him.
Orlando managed a quick but yet I-mean-it-and-by-the-way,-hi kiss to Viggo's mouth. He broke away, panting, and turned. His heart slammed around in his chest as he crawled down Viggo's long legs, past the ratted ends of his jeans...
Orlando flung himself belly-down at Viggo's feet, cradled one in trembling hands, and licked a loooong flat wet stripe over the smooth top, from toe to shin.
“Orlando, what - - ha ha - - wait!" Viggo squealed. "What’s - - hee hee - - what’s gotten into you?”
Oh god, he should've known: Viggo tasted just as buttery-good here. He gave another lick, parallel to the first, the silky skin slipping smooth and warm under his tongue, a few friendly hairs caressing Orlando's top lip along the journey.
“Baby, stop - - ah! - - hee hee - - wait - - ... why - -... ?"
He wanted to tell Viggo about the repair call he'd just come from. About the super nice couple he'd helped. About the man's huge, funky desk with lots of layers and cubbies - - and even four fish tanks! - - that he'd built on his own, over time. About the woman who played with their two Corgis, and laughed a lot, and who told him right away to call them by their first names for crying out loud, and brought him a big glass of iced tea with a big chunk of lemon in it.
And especially about how... well, how happy, how really happy they seemed together.
"Geez, Orlando - - that's - - what're you doing? - - heh heh! - - ah, oh! ohhh...."
And he wanted to tell Viggo how he'd been down on his knees looking at the hard drive wiring, and when she stepped near him he saw that she had this really pretty tattoo on her foot. It was like waves, and the sun, and he sort of couldn't take his eyes off it. And how she'd seen him notice, and she'd wiggled her toes and said, "You like?" with a wicked little grin. And how the man had growled, "Don't get any ideas, buddy. She's mine, feet and all," and when Orlando had looked up with big, nervous eyes, the man had winked kindly at him.
He wanted to tell Viggo how good that home felt, and how warm and good being around those people felt, and how - - well, happy, and geez - - in the mood, that made him feel, and how he'd just ached to get home to Viggo rightnowrightnow, and pretend that that tattoo was on his Viggo's foot, and just....
"Oh... oh, god, that feels incred - - hee hee oh- -... ohhhh... oh that’s - - that’s... ah, that’s....”
But the telling would have to wait for later, because right now he wanted, no, needed his tongue and his lips on Viggo's beautiful feet, and his palms sliding up inside Viggo's pant legs to caress his calves, and Viggo's mumbling in his ears, and the heated scent of the two of them in the air.
Orlando looked up to see Viggo watching him, beautiful blue eyes darkening to the really pretty shades of just before nightfall, when you could still see the deep blue, still feel the echoes of the day before it slipped into sleep.
"Baby," Viggo groaned, and he cupped a hand against himself, kneading, while the other hand swirled in hypnotic circles in the sheet beneath them.
Orlando's lips popped free of Viggo's second toe with a wet slurp. "Yes, Viggo... please?" he whispered encouragingly. He rolled to his side and reached for his own zipper, freeing his still-grumpy-but-rapidly-getting-less-so cock. His stomach stuttered as he watched Viggo do the same, his blue-stained hand stroking himself slowly, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling quickly.
He couldn't get enough of Viggo's foot, of his skin. His tongue roamed between each toe, over the top again, his teeth scraping ever so slightly along the pointy little bone thingy on the inside of his ankle, then back to hold each toe in his mouth and swirl his tongue around it, and he could feel Viggo's ticklishness drain away and his body tense up for another, better reason.
Viggo was murmuring a lot now, and his head was flung back on the bed and his neck was all stretched so those tendon parts on the side stood out, and gosh, Orlando loved that. Viggo's hand was moving faster now, and his hips were pushing up into it, and Orlando thought he might burst from how good it was.
Oh... geez - - he could - - maybe he could paint on a tattoo, paint it on Viggo's foot. Only with maybe peanut butter waves, and a strawberry jelly sun. Paint in on, and watch Viggo squirm and listen to him make his little Viggo noises, and smell peanut butter and jelly and Viggo toast. Oh god - -
-- - and then - - and then, liiiiick it off. Oh god.
Oh - - oh GOD!!
...
...
Wow. It was a really good thing they'd found the sheet, because there was no way a hundred Friday Night Laundry Nights would've gotten the bedding clean from all this.
Orlando crawled back up Viggo's body, carefully avoiding what NotButter he could, and snuggled in for a big snuggle. Viggo's arms tightened around him.
"Viggo?"
"Mm hmm?"
"Can we... can we go to the beach sometime? I'd ... I'd really like to see that. The beach, I mean."
"Will you do that to my feet again?" Viggo grinned, pressing a lazy-tickling finger into Orlando's side.
"Viiii-iiiiig." Orlando squirmed and felt his cheeks fire up. He guessed they were probably glowing like a jellyfish, like the ones on that Discovery Channel special that one time. Maybe sometime Viggo could get some sort of paint that would glow in the dark like that, but still be safe for skin, and they could play that Orlando was a jellyfish and Viggo was a... well, whatever would eat a jellyfish.
That'd be fun.
Oh wait; the beach.
Viggo chuckled, low and lazy. "Yes, Princess. We can absolutely go to the beach."
"That's good." Orlando nestled in and wriggled his nose as a Viggo chest hair tried to sneak up his right nostril. He melted a little more as his head rode the gentle swell and ebb of Viggo's big, relaxed, life-is-good-and-I'm-happy sigh.
Orlando smiled into Viggo's neck. "Um, Viggo?"
"Mmm?"
"Yes."
interlude 2
no subject
Yay! I needed something fun like this right now.
By the way, I hope you join in this year's
no subject
meep, have never done a remix. will peek tonight. :)
no subject
*tries deskboard*
*schreech*
This has been an afternoon residing (in absolute disguise of pyjama-outfit) in Grandmother´s lonely house with much unpackingissues should-have-been going on and instead; getting hooked here, with much needed cooling beer and so many uncountable times of serious_hysterical_giggling / totally mixed-up with mad_beast_laughter_where-lucky-to-live-alone is the first on list / and then tuning into generally helpless geek-swooning every fifth line or so; I just want to defend myself with: it is only NATURAL that I sat here reading all afternoon from beginning to end. (End? *praying hands*)
and WTF? I swear, after a much needed break for smoking - somewhere along chapter 29; I saw a homo-erotic-clad cloud sailing by on an otherwise spotless october-sky (it was a beautiful day: and I haven´t been outside except for the backyard!) and even if I´m starting to fear for my health and my suddenly_reading_slash_with_orli-geek_obsession-devotion; I would also never make an attempt of answering the phone while Vigorli-issues is at hand being devotedly geeky and making my day a bit shinier. Just so you know.. *hands up on guiltiness*
Because obviously i could never in a million years write a thing like this which is making me all admiring_bordering_to_fangirlism in the first place.. (just______________wow..)
I need to come back for individual commenting on each chapter. I just have to, because there´re so many wonderful things in here - obviously *duh!*, and I was stupid enough to not do it immediately, but I swear; my hand was scrollingscrolling*eyesbleeding*nextchapterstalking all of it´s own, so this means that I have to re-rerad everything again, which of course makes me happy-squeeing at just the thought because I could read it a hundered times and be surprised each one of them how you have captured Geek!Orli to the point of where I want to paint this story on my walls and then having to stop myself from doing so because that´s pretty freaky but... whatevah.. When I started out today, on this mission-thingie; I had no idea how good this was, how addictive it would feel, and exacly how_many_beers woud be consumated in the session. And I feel not likely in the best condition to leave a good feedback. Or at least an understandable one. For now; this was just Amazing. And I just won the Geek-Award this year.
*waves flag with homo-erotic cloud on it and is helpless against internet-pressies and crutch!porn and all other delicious treats and zzzzz.. *
so yeah.. I have to come back
*hitting my cat with ponytail-madness in the intense-laughing-process exactly_that_many_times that I`m almost considering renting a cat-sitter while doing re-reading-session part 1*
Mercy.
no subject
seriously, i'm really thrilled that you liked it, and wowed and grateful that you took the time and made the effort to tell me like this. a very big geeky hug to you! ♥
no subject
And yay! wouldn´t that have been The Awesomeness - we could have been pyjama-hanging-out in over-stuffed grandma-crib with one shoulder-hugging-cat each and just... Geeked!
*does Orli-geeky_personification - (Pocket protector and all)*
*clasps hands and waves ponytail*
no subject
btw im glad they found the sheet haha and a footjob never looked soooo good ;)