Oral Fixation (VM/OB) (PG-13)

[k-leale.livejournal.com]

Title: Oral Fixation
Author: Leale
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: LOTR RPS, VM/OB
Summary: Viggo can't stop staring at Orlando's mouth.
Feedback: Gobbled up with a spoon. :)
Archive: Sure, just let me know.
Author's Note: Great big hugs to valour for the beta and the cheering squad. (Also for ratings, summaries, etc.) Part of the "Stupid Bar Tricks" series--in fact, the first story, chronologically, sort of a prologue/teaser. If you want to read more, the other three are Rust, No Hands, and Cherry Bomb.

Disclaimer: I have never met the men mentioned in this story and I have no knowledge of their sexuality. Everything in this story has come completely from my imagination.



Oral Fixation

Viggo can't stop staring at Orlando's mouth.

That Christmas, Elijah's mother mails bags and bags of red and green M&Ms for everyone. They're greatly appreciated by all but the wardrobe people. M&Ms might not melt in your hands, but they most definitely leave sticky drippings inside costuming pockets during the sweltering January heat. The British contingent looks on their gift of portable sugar oddly but with a certain delight.

"Why do they have W's on them?" Orlando wants to know, turning one between his thumb and index finger.

Elijah and Liv laugh, but they're the only ones. Bean smiles because he knows better, but understands. Viggo smiles a little too, but not as much because he's always kind of wondered that himself. It's like that old joke, he muses, about the blonde working at the candy factory, asserting quality control by discarding all the W's.

"They're M's," Liv explains, a little more kindly than Elijah would have. Liv still feels a little bad about the Mohawk. "The candy's called M&M's. It's on the bag."

"Hm. Maybe the bag's just upside-down," Orlando suggests with a grin. "Back home we call 'em Smarties." He pops the candy into his mouth and licks the melted green shell off his thumb.

He watches Orlando, probably more closely than he should. It makes Viggo wonder when it was that he got old. Before he was married--well, that was probably it--he might have taken up with Orlando. He hasn't missed the signs. Orlando's not the most subtle person in the world and somewhere between his breakup with the girl whose name Viggo can never seem to remember and the present, Viggo has been on the receiving end of big, bright smiles, boisterous hugs, and high-speed nattering on about...just about everything.

"Smarties are nothing like M&M's," Elijah counters, his own mouth full.

"They're exactly like these," Orlando says, tossing a red one up in the air and catching it in his mouth. "Chocolate on the inside, candy on the outside."

"Smarties are pretty much just pressed sugar," Elijah explains. "They're little concave disks and come in a roll."

"Maybe on your side of the ocean," Orlando allows. "Do you have Jelly Babies? Used to have a real thing for Jelly Babies myself."

"Jelly Babies are scary," Liz tells Elijah. She's still wearing her Elf ears and make-up and her eyebrows rise with her announcement. "They're like gummy bears only covered in sugar and they actually look...like... babies."

"Real babies?" Elijah looks disgusted.

"Not real babies," Orlando says, his mouth tightening and his eyes rolling toward the sky.

Viggo wonders if Orlando's homesick for England or if having Bean and Ian around has been enough.

"They're kid-shaped," Liv insists, her eyes animated and her hands waving. She's definitely her father's daughter and she bounces from foot to foot, afraid to sit down in her wispy dress. "Some of them have little hats."

"Little hats?" Viggo joins the conversation for the first time, but he looks to Orlando instead of Liv. Orlando's restless and Viggo doesn't think it's just because of his looming birthday.

"Molded in with the little kid shape," Orlando clarifies. He still doesn't seem happy, but he's mollified by Viggo joining the discussion.

Viggo nods and grins at him.

"Sounds disturbing."

Orlando tilts his head and the corners of his mouth twist just slightly into a half-smile. Viggo likes the way it looks, dimples without an entire smile. A secret smile.

"Guess if you spend your time looking at them instead of eating them," he admitted. "Always just chucked 'em in my mouth, truth."

He misses the look Liv and Elijah exchange, but Viggo doesn't.

Orlando has a crush.

A crush on Viggo.

It's flattering, of course, but Viggo's not entirely comfortable with it.

Because he wants Orlando.

"My favorite candy," Liv is saying, "used to be Pixie Sticks."

"Appropriate," Bean jokes, tapping on the point of one of Liv's ears. "Pixie sticks for pixie ears."

"Pixie sticks," Elijah says, even though Orlando hasn't asked, "are paper tubes full of colored sugar. You just pour it in your mouth and bang, instant sugar high."

"Sounds like something I need to get my hands on," Orlando murmurs, concentrating on the M&M in his hand. He tosses it in the air and leans back to let it fall into his mouth.

Viggo watches his jaw move as he catches it and follows the press of lips and the quiver of Orlando's throat.

It would, he thinks, be easier if Orlando didn't like him quite so much. Or perhaps, if Orlando had more experience. But he's a young kid, first real role in a movie, and he's yet to taste fame.

Viggo's not a snob but he is realistic. He doesn't care that Orlando's not a star. He cares that Orlando doesn't know that set affairs are impermanent. He cares that Orlando looks at him with stars in his eyes and he cares that reality is a swift and heavy hammer that will knock them both for a loop if he doesn't keep things in check.

Orlando tosses up another candy and catches it easily in his mouth.

They start talking about something called Turkish Delight.

***

Turkish Delight reminds him of a C.S. Lewis book he read as a child. Lewis and Tolkien were friends, Viggo recalls as he dumps a pile of glasses into the soapy dishwater. He picks up a rag and scrubs at one of the glasses, turning on the water to heat while he soaps.

He doesn't mind cleaning up, because it was Orlando's birthday and Orlando had a great time. He volunteered his house for the surprise party because he knew it would be easy to lure Orlando there.

And it was.

"This place is trashed," Orlando announces, entering the kitchen. He sounds excited, still a little high on alcohol and birthday and life.

"It's not so bad," Viggo tells him. "Everyone get off ok?"

Orlando chuckles and Viggo shakes his head. Everything takes on a dose of innuendo when Orlando's around.

"The hobbits dragged Bean and Liv out to that club we were at last week," Orlando says, dumping a pile of dishes on the counter. "Everyone else took off for home. I think I'm insulted. It's barely dark and everyone's off."

"Why didn't you go with them?" Viggo asks, honestly curious. "You can still meet them at the club."

"And leave you here with a mess made on my account? My mum raised me better than that," Orlando scoffs back, picking up a dishtowel and wiping dry a dish already waiting in the drainer.

"It's your birthday," Viggo scolds, lifting his hands and shaking the water from them. "You should be out, having fun. Don't worry about the dishes. It's my birthday present to you."

Orlando smiles and sets the plate he's dried carefully on the counter.

"Are you going?" he asks, stepping forward and using his dishtowel to dry Viggo's hands.

Viggo watches Orlando rub the towel over his fingers and down his palms, to his wrists and back up, the soft terry sliding over scrapes and calluses. It feels...nice. It feels...better than nice. Viggo can't take his eyes off Orlando's hands to tell him no, to move away, to have any kind of reasonable reaction whatsoever.

"If you're looking for another birthday present," Orlando says softly, concentrating on Viggo's hands, which have been dry for a bit now, "I've got a better idea than cleaning."

One hand moves from Viggo's hands to his face, the fingers stroking the hair back and the thumb tilting Viggo's chin up.

Viggo should put his hands between them, but all ten fingers are tangled in the dish towel.

Dark brown eyes meet his own blue ones, all sparkling with anticipation and joy and giddiness.

Viggo should say something to discourage Orlando, but he can't seem to make his mouth work.

Orlando kisses him.

And Viggo knows that this is going to mean trouble.