(no subject)

[collie.livejournal.com]

First post. Hope you enjoy :)


Title: In the Closet?
Series: The Subtle Art of Manipulation. (New)
Author: Collie & Jai.
Email: collie_@msn.com & y2jai@msn.com
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Viggo/Orli & Dom/Elijah (Implied)
Summary: Viggo shoves Elijah into a closet. Viggo sketches the closet. Quips are made. Boys touching.
Warnings: Bit of power play. Nothing too terrible.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but if they were, this is what they'd be doing all day.
Archive: Heh. If you really want it. Just email me and let me know.



"Viggo? You around?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," Viggo muttered, not missing a beat, startled out of his reverie by the sharp sound of the front door slamming shut.

He glanced up from the sketchbook balanced on his knees. Orlando. Viggo allowed a small smile to cross his features, eyes flickering towards Elijah and Dominic (Who'd been invited in to kick back, but now, how to get rid of them?), the former talking animatedly to the other over by the closet, both almost encompassed in a cloud of smoke.

Viggo frowned. Dominic didn't smoke. It must be bothering him. Wait - Viggo didn't smoke, either. It *was* bothering him. It was his house.

Viggo frowned and stood, pressing his lips together in a thin line. He stalked over towards the two and took a hold of Elijah by the jacket collar. Before the younger boy had time to protest, Viggo had flung open the closet door and shoved Elijah in, slamming the door shut and propping a chair up against the doorknob.

Viggo, ignoring Elijah's kicking and muffled protests, glanced over at Dom, who had nearly collapsed in peals of laughter, "Mind watching the door?"

Dom shook his head, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Viggo grinned, nodding, then returned to his chair, sitting back down. Leaning back, he turned to a fresh page in his sketchbook. He began to sketch the closet door. At that moment, Viggo's senses were assaulted with the scent of Orlando, as said boy entered the room, laughter in his voice.

"Now, what fun is it to be *in* the closet?" he quipped, flashing a smile to Dominic and Viggo.

Viggo didn't glance up, "What would *you* know about being in the closet?" he deadpanned, pencil lead curling around the doorknob on the sketchpad.

Orlando pursed his lips, kneeling down by the arm of Viggo's chair, "Oh, Viggo, always there with the punch line when I need it. It must be love," he said, batting his eyelashes.

Viggo looked up from the closet door, his eyes running over his lover's fine features. Kneeling by his chair. He smirked lightly, "I'll give you a punch line, boy…" he said softly.

Orlando bounced on the balls of his feet, laying his head in Viggo's lap, covering Viggo's view of the closet door sketched in charcoal, "You promise?"

Viggo 'hrmphed', absently playing with one of Orlando's dark curls, grumbling affectionately, "Why don't you go do your hair, or paint your nails, or something equally elf-y?"

Orlando lifted his head, pouting. He slid himself off of Viggo's lap and stood next to the seated man, feigning hurt, "Oh, ha ha ha. Why don't you go brood, or something equally - oh, wait - you are!"

Viggo reached over, giving Orlando's hipbone a pinch, eliciting a squeak from the former elf, "Begone, little man, or I'll brood all over you."

"Kinky," Dom quipped, making his way towards the closet, where sounds of shifting and protest could be heard.

"Oh, you wound me, Ranger," Orlando drawled, eyes glinting.

Viggo turned his gaze to Orlando, who appeared to be rocking on his heels, "That's King Ranger, to you," he smirked, feeling that all-too-familiar tug, "You, Monaghan. Out. And take the boy in the closet with you."

In the stead of Dom's reply, they were assaulted by a sharp staccato knocking. Both Viggo and Orlando looked up to see Dom kneeling in front of the closet door, a devious grin on his face, fist on the wooden door, "Oi, Lij - you in there?"

As if to answer, a steady stream of smoke began to filter out from beneath the closet door, indicating that Elijah had not allowed a closet to deter him from enjoying his vice. Elijah's voice sounded like it was coming through water - or Viggo's coats and closet door, "No. The smoke wafting out is my gaseous form. You'd better watch out, Sblomie - I'll getcha."

He did not sound amused.

"How about letting him out of the Royal Garrison, your High-ney-ass, and we'll be off to Hobbiton together," Dom said, pulling pouty face at Viggo.

"Yeah," Elijah called out, "It's so smoky in here, I think I'm getting cured."

Dom gasped, hands flying to his mouth, "That's no good! He has tender milky skin we must see to! No damage to the goods!"

Viggo rolled his eyes and stood, then walked over to the closet and moved the chair, then turned the knob, jerking the door open. A surprised yelp filled the room as Elijah - and what appeared to be all of the smog in the greater Los Angeles area - tumbled out of the closet.

Elijah coughed, exaggerating it to the point of comical, "I may need extensive mouth to mouth after that experience," he gasped, grinning up at Dom.

Dom whimpered, kneeling dramatically next to Elijah, taking the boy's face in his hands, "Oh dear, mustn't allow him to die... Breathe! Live, damn you!" He bent down, sealing his mouth over Elijah's and blowing hard into the boy's lungs.

Elijah squeaked, his eyes going wide. He pulled his mouth from Dom's, gasping, "Ah! Jesus!"

Dom smirked, mock-glaring at Elijah, "Don't tell me I need to give electric tongue treatment..."

Orlando cleared his throat, impatience showing on his face, "Yes, well, I'm going to bed, then," he proclaimed, looking at Viggo, expectantly.

Viggo inclined his head in acknowledgment, glancing back towards Dom and Elijah, "Get lost, hobbits. I have an elf to defile," he sneered, shutting the closet door behind a sprawled Elijah.

"Oh no! The King is going raping and pillaging! Run!" Orlando cried, all but running into the bedroom and flopping down on the bed, peering out the open door at Viggo.

Viggo paused, tilting his head, thoughtfully, "Pillaging? Raping? I was just going to plant my flag…"

"Right. You might have to do a bit of preparing the grounds before you do any planting, majesty," Orli called out, giggling as he sprawled on the bed.

Elijah pulled a face, covering his ears, "La la lalaaa… I can't hear anything!"

Viggo ignored Elijah and took a few steps towards the bedroom, glaring mockingly at Orlando, "Aren't you supposed to be in bed, all frightened and conquered, awaiting my mighty sword and fist?"

Behind him, Dom made a gagging sound, "I don't want anything to do with your sword!"

Elijah jumped to his feet, dragging Dom with him, smacking Viggo on the arm, "Such language. And in front of my innocent little Dom!" Elijah turned to Dom, ruffling his hair, cooing at him.

Viggo groaned, raising a hand to his head. From the bedroom came Orlando's impatient voice, "He wasn't talking to you, Sblomie! I'm waaaiitiiing!"

Dom whimpered, burying his face in Elijah's shoulder, "I fear I may be permanently scarred."

Viggo grumbled, placing his hands on Dom and Elijah's shoulders, gently pushing them towards the door, "Goodbye, hobbits. You are banished, forthwith. Don't come back until..." he glanced over his shoulder at Orli, who had taken it upon himself to stretch like a cat, throwing Viggo a playful wink. Viggo groaned, "Just, don't come back."

Dom sniffed, wrapping his arm around Elijah's shoulders, "We'll… we'll get over it… somehow…"

Elijah nodded, turning pathetic blue eyes to Dom, "I suppose. Maybe, after many extensive hours of... "therapy"..." he grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

Dom nodded, brightening, "We'll be a support group! Don't worry, Lij, acknowledging you have a problem is the first step..."

Elijah nodded, wearily, leaning his weight on Dom, "I can use all the help I can get, Dommie. Will... will you help me?" he tried not to grin, sneaking a peek at Viggo.

Viggo turned towards the bedroom, not even caring anymore if they were still in his house. He had things to do.

Elijah turned back to Dom, allowing the smile to spill forth, turning Dom abruptly towards one of the other bedrooms in Viggo's house.

"Hey, what are you -" Dom began. All joking aside, this was Viggo's house, not theirs.

"Shh… it'll be fun. Come on," Elijah said, pushing Dom into the room and closing the door behind him.

*

Viggo entered the bedroom, arms crossed, lips curled into a smirk. He glanced down at Orlando, who faked a huge yawn and started to clean under his fingernails, a bored expression on his face.

"Yeah. Do what you do best, elf-boy," Viggo drawled, "Buff those nails."

Orlando quirked an eyebrow up at him, "Mmm, is that what I do best? I'll remind you of that next time my face is buried in your crotch."

"I'd prefer you spoke less when your mouth was otherwise occupied, but I guess if your lips aren't moving one way, they have to be moving another, right?" Viggo teased, settling down on the bed, on his knees, his weight causing Orlando to slid towards him a bit.

Orlando reclined back on his elbow, tongue darting out to moisten his lips, "Awful choosy, aren't we?"

Viggo paused, appraising Orlando. His eyes took in the lean form beside him; seeming frail, but strong. So strong. Chocolate eyes gazed at him, questioningly. Waiting. Viggo dropped to all fours, a predatory smile sliding across his lips as he crawled slowly across the bed, towards Orlando.

"Not at all. I know exactly what I want," he purred, nuzzling into Orlando's neck, breathing in the scent of his lover. His Orlando. His work of art.

Orlando shivered, gooseflesh rising along his arms, "And what is it that you want?" he asked, playing the game.

"What's mine, Orlando," Viggo whispered, flicking his tongue out, tasting salt and sweetness on his lover's neck. He ran a hand possessively down Orlando's ribcage, clamping down on the smaller man's hip, fingers digging in as if to leave imprints of ownership for all the world to see.

Orlando whimpered, threading his fingers through Viggo's hair, tilting his head back and holding the older man's mouth at his throat, "I don't see a sign on me saying 'Property of Viggo Mortensen' anywhere..." he mumbled, slightly breathless.

Viggo growled softly, slipping his other hand around Orlando's waist, sliding the brunette beneath him, "That can be arranged, little one," he breathed, blunt teeth dragging slowly along Orlando's pulse-point. He settled his weight down, sliding one knee up between Orlando's thighs, nudging at them to part.

Orlando smiled slightly, pressing his knees together, playfully, "One of these days you're going to realize that I'm not so little…" he teased, his fingernails scratching down Viggo's arms, tracing the lean musculature there.

Viggo shivered slightly, moving his mouth to Orlando's ear, emitting a soft chuckle that sounded almost ominous, "And on that day I'll do a little tap dance. But for now, you will open these -" he paused, rocking back on his heels and yanking Orlando's knees apart, settling down between his thighs, ignoring the smaller man's whine of protest, "- and be a good boy."

Orlando giggled a bit, but the sound was strained. It choked off as he felt Viggo's hardness sliding along his own; hot and straining for release, just like Orlando himself. He groaned, pressing himself up against Viggo, but the bigger man just shook his head, a smile playing about his lips. He pushed his hips down into Orlando's, pinning him to the bed as he slowly lowered himself to kiss that beautifully panting mouth.

They all but attacked each other, lips, tongues, and teeth gnashing. After a moment of this, Viggo began a slow grind against Orlando, causing the boy to whimper every time Viggo moved. The sound was music to the artist's ears, and every cry sent a shockwave right through his brain, straight to his cock. It was gorgeous.

"Oh, Viggo…" Orlando moaned, his eyelids fluttering. His perfect teeth catching his lower lip.

Viggo inhaled sharply at the sight, then moved off of Orlando, hands flying to the button of the boy's jeans, "Take your shirt off, Orlando," he ordered, quickly unbuttoning Orlando's jeans and yanking them, along with his boxers, down his slender hips, dropping them to the floor at the foot of the bed. Orlando's protest at Viggo's jerky actions was muffled by his shirt, which he pulled over his head and flung across the room. Orlando and Viggo paused momentarily, simply staring at each other. Viggo, in appreciation and greed, and Orlando in playful lust.

"What's the matter, old man," Orlando teased, his smile turning kittenish, "Afraid you'll lose it if we don't hurry?" he edged towards Viggo, his nude body formed of light and shadow in the darkness of the room.

Chiaroscuro.

Viggo gasped softly as he felt feather-soft fingers outline his cock through the dense fabric of his trousers. He cursed Homo Erectus for inventing clothing. He cursed Orlando for knowing his weakness.

Him.

His touch. His scent. His form.

"You are beautiful," Viggo whispered, as Orlando's deft fingers worked at Viggo's belt buckle, yanking it through the belt-loops with a snap. Orlando blushed softly, placing his hands on Viggo's chest, leaning up to kiss the cleft in his chin.

"I'm only as beautiful as you make me, Viggo," he said, running his hands down the older man's chest, and then slowly unbuttoning the white linen from the bottom, up. As he unbuttoned the top button, he slid the shirt down Viggo's arms and lowered his head, placing a soft kiss right above his navel. Viggo smiled, placing a hand on the back of Orlando's head, gently twisting the dark curls around his fingers. Orlando traced Viggo's navel with the tip of his tongue, every so often darting inside.

"Do you know what makes you the most beautiful in my eyes, little one?" Viggo asked, his voice content and lazy.

Orlando smiled against Viggo's stomach, shaking his head and kissing it once more.

Viggo's teeth flashed in the dark, his grip on Orlando's hair tightening by a fraction, just enough to give Orlando a slight start.

Oh. Ohhh.

"When you beg."

Orlando made a small sound in the back of his throat and tried to edge away, but Viggo's grip tightened still more, holding his head still. Orlando took a deep breath, feeling Viggo shift above him; feeling hot breath on the back of his neck.

"You are mine. Mine to mold. Mine to touch. Mind to form and shape. Mine to spread colors and textures upon. Mine to make wail and growl and keen and beg. You are my sculpture. You are my canvas. You are my instrument. You are mine, boy."

Orlando whimpered.

"Yes. Beautiful," Viggo mused.

Orlando gasped softly at the words, and the pressure at the back of his neck as Viggo gently forced his head down onto the bed, Orlando still on his knees.

"Stay."

Orlando complied, feeling the gooseflesh rise on his arms and along his back, where his flesh was suddenly chilled from the outbreak of sweat. He felt extremely vulnerable in this position; open to anything Viggo wanted to do to him.

Or, more appropriately, *would* do to him.

He felt a delicious shiver run down his spine at the thought. Orlando bordered on fascination and fear when it came to this side of Viggo. One the one hand, he absolutely adored the feeling of being owned - of belonging to someone completely. But on the other hand, sometimes it was frightening, especially when the person that owned you was as intense as Viggo Mortensen. You were never quite sure just how far he would go.

Orlando nibbled his lower lip as he felt Viggo's weight leave the bed, his dark eyes darting around the black room for any sign of movement.

None.

There were noises, however, and he strained to make them out. The sound of rustling as Viggo's shirt fell to the floor. The unzipping of his trousers and the sound of discarding them. Soft footfalls and a drawer opening. The pop and crackle of a match sparking, and the soft hiss a candle wick makes when lit.

Suddenly a soft glow filled the room, illuminating Viggo's naked form, which stood a few feet from Orlando.

"I like to look at you," Viggo said, blue eyes darting towards the figure on the bed, who didn't quite know what to do or say. So he just watched… and waited.

Viggo walked around to the back of the bed, letting his eyes travel up Orlando's legs and the backs of his thighs, his sac heavy between his legs, his muscular ass, and his beautiful back that just begged to be licked and caressed all night.

This, however, was not the night for that.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Orlando. Would you like me to touch you while I do?" Viggo asked, his tone bordering on conversational. Orlando knew the tone was simply to get a rise out of him, and a rise it got. He wasn't sure it if was possible at the moment, but merely hearing those words come out of Viggo's mouth had him harder than he was a second before. He grunted, not about to give that smug bastard the satisfaction.

"Is that a no?" Viggo smirked, uncapping the bottle of lube he retrieved from the drawer and smearing a generous amount on his fingertips.

Orlando sighed, shifting on the bed, his cock straining against the sheets. He rubbed a bit more, the barest amount of sensation liken to intense pleasure. He only had a few more seconds of sensation before he felt a strong hand on his hip, squeezing him. Stilling.

"No. If you want that, you ask to be touched. You know how the game is played, Orlando."

Orlando whined, clenching his teeth, "Fine," he spat, "I want it."

Viggo released Orlando's hip, running one of the lubed fingers of his other hand down along Orlando's asshole, teasing his entrance. Orlando all but bucked at the sudden contact with such a sensitive area. He scrunched up the sheets in his fists, willing himself not to push back against that finger.

"You want what, Orlando?" Viggo inquired, his voice soft like velvet cream.

"You," Orlando gasped, "I want you to touch me. Take me. Just… take me. I'm yours."

Viggo nodded, slowly sliding the finger in, smiling as he felt Orlando's inner muscles clench around the digit. Orlando groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, jerking his hips at the sensation. Viggo ran his free hand up the back of Orlando's thigh, cupping his sac gently, grazing his perineum with his thumb, quite aware of how oversensitive the area was when Orlando was aroused.

"Jesus! Viggo… god, please…please, please…" Orlando rambled, his voice thick with desire and longing and quite muffled by the bed sheets.

"Shh…"

Viggo added a second finger, slowly opening this lovely flower to him - playing Orlando like a violin, strings taunt - waiting for just the right note to snap them.

He squeezed Orlando's sac a bit too hard, eliciting a strangled whimper from the boy, followed by a fierce thrust of his hips, "Please, Viggo… now…"

Viggo scissored his fingers, opening up Orlando just a bit more before removing them and settling his weight down on the bed, behind Orlando. He ran his dry hand down Orlando's back, feeling the boy arch like a cat. He combed his fingers through the dark curls at the base of Orlando's head, absently lubing himself with his other hand.

"Is this what you want?" Viggo murmured, placing the head of his cock at Orlando's entrance, slipping inside just a fraction.

Orlando gasped, sending a quick prayer to whatever gods may be watching to prevent him from pushing back, "Oh, fuck, yes… yes, yes, yes…"

Viggo bent over Orlando's back, still teasing his entrance, and wrapped a large, lubed, warm hand around Orlando's cock.

Orlando nearly cried.

Viggo hissed through his teeth, sliding in at an agonizingly slow pace, his hand moving just as slow. Orlando whimpered deliciously beneath him, twitching and clenching and straining at his skin, all to feel more contact without actually moving. Viggo was impressed.

Finally, sunk into this beautiful boy to the hilt, he bent over all the way, his voice raspy in Orlando's ear.

"Now, Orlando?"

Orlando let out a choked sob. A whimper.

That was all the encouragement Viggo needed.

He pulled out slowly and thrust back in with a grunt, Orlando's cock twitching in his hand as he stroked, in time with his thrusts. He built up a steady rhythm, Orlando's constant animal noises, begging and pleading, all lost on deaf ears. Viggo groaned softly, his head falling back as he felt the white hot tingle of climax approaching in the back of his head.

Suddenly he stopped, pulling his hand from around Orlando's cock. Orlando cried out into the bed sheet, whipping his head around, "Christ! Don't fucking stop!"

Viggo grunted and wrapped his arms around Orlando's waist, yanking him up as he sat back, very quickly maneuvering his legs Indian-style and settling Orlando in his lap. Orlando nearly screeched as he was all but impaled on Viggo's cock, which felt so huge and hard it threatened to puncture straight through him.

He felt Viggo's arms wrap around his hardness once more, his other hand winding it's way through Orlando's hair, yanking his head back. Orlando gasped and cried out, feeling his vision blur as his orgasm approached.

Viggo stroked Orlando with a fervor, gripping the boy's hair tightly, teeth at his throat, earlobe, shoulder. Hot, wet breath at his ear. A voice. A command. A whisper.

"Come for me. Come for me, Orlando."

Orlando whimpered, reaching up and behind him to grasp at Viggo, clutching at hair and head and neck. Viggo, squeezed his eyes shut, licking his lips, as he felt Orlando's body begin to tighten around him as he began to come.

Yes. So good. Just right.

Orlando went rigid as he climaxed, hot seed filling Viggo's hand as he continued to stroke his beautiful boy, coaxing and milking every delicious whimper and jerk he could get, reaching his own climax. With a deep growl and a jerk of Orlando's hair, Viggo released himself into his lover. He let Orlando's slick cock slip from his hands and gripped Orlando's side so tightly, he was sure it would bruise.

Good.

His growl turned into a guttural purr as he twitched deep inside of Orlando, the boy whimpering as Viggo's orgasm ebbed and faded. Viggo swiped his tongue along Orlando's neck, earning a shiver from the brunette, before helping the weak boy from his lap, both slumping to the bed in an unceremonious pile.

After a few moments of heavy breathing, whimpering, and the occasional content sigh, Orlando's raspy voice penetrated the still air, "Viggo?"

"Hm?"

"I… Um…"

Viggo tilted his head, glancing at Orlando, who appeared to be very interested in the ceiling, "What is it, Orlando?"

He watched as Orlando blinked a few times and caught his lower lip between his teeth. Finally his lover turned his head, wide brown eyes meeting Viggo's clear blue. Slowly, Orlando shook his head.

"Nothing. It's nothing."