"Hell of an ending," Dom remarks as The Usual Suspects finishes.
He's probably right, although I pretty much missed it altogether. Believe me, I was trying to pay attention, but that's kind of difficult when you're leaning back against a very warm and muscular Viggo Mortensen. I don't think anyone would find fault with the fact that I'm still in the dark as to who the hell Keyser Soze is. I'm half-sitting, half-reclining between Vig's slightly open legs (he's sitting propped against the foot of the bed), and I would do just about anything for all these nice people in the room to suddenly vanish, along with all of Viggo's clothes.
"So, what's next?" John asks, his booming voice startling me out of my reverie.
"Well, I vote for Monty Python," Ian says. "You can't beat Holy Grail."
"Clerks," Lij chirps. "I say you can't beat New Jersey humor."
"Braveheart," Billy cries, and we all roll our eyes.
"Billy," Dom says patiently. "Every man dies. No man should ever wear a skirt."
"It's a kilt, you stupid wanker!"
"Scottish git!"
"Before we degenerate into ethnic slurs, can we take a vote or something?" Count on Sean A. to play mediator.
"Just grab one at random," Viggo suggests, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down my spine. I'm hopeless.
"Fine." Billy holds up the plastic bag with the rental videos. "Orli, wanna do the honors?"
Umm, that would require moving. "Could you bring the bag over here? I'm kind of comfy."
Everyone laughs, although Billy rolls his eyes as he walks over. "Okay, lover boy. Pick." Viggo claps his hands over my eyes to ensure randomness, and I grab a movie. "Braveheart!" Billy crows. "I love you, Orlando."
"Get in line," Viggo tells him.
"Just put it on, Bill," Dom requests. Dom hates Braveheart, so he'll be some good entertainment for the next three hours.
As the film begins, Vig's arms settle around me and I lean back further. Okay, this is a good movie and all, but my theory is that you can only watch a violent epic about Scottish independence so many times before it gets a bit old. I quickly find myself getting bored, and decide to have a bit of fun, Orli-style. As subtly as I can, I shift my position so that my ass is firmly pressed against Viggo's crotch. Feeling his arms tighten around me a bit, I lightly graze my fingertips over the denim-covered thigh that sits next to me.
"Are you trying to kill me?" he whispers in my ear.
I just look back at him and grin. Giving the others a quick glance, I'm happy to learn that no one's looking in our direction. That leaves me free to maneuver my ass up and down a bit, feeling him quickly grow hard through the surprisingly soft fabric of his ratty jeans. It's actually somewhat amazing to me how at ease I am with all this. After that first time in the trailer, the only thing we've really had time or energy for has been kissing. And Viggo's the only man I've ever been with sexually. But it's so . . . natural. That's the only word for it. Like being with him is as instinctive to me as breathing. And just about as necessary.
"Well, we're going to call it a night," Viggo says loudly, causing me to jump a bit.
"What? It just started!" Billy yelps indignantly.
"It's been a long day. I just wanna go to bed."
"Yeah," I chime in, grinning madly.
"But it's only nine!" Lij whines. "How tired . . . oh." He abruptly stops, eliciting some chuckles.
"Anyways, see you guys tomorrow," I say jumping to my feet and pulling Viggo up.
"Have fun," Ian says, winking at us. I promptly turn scarlet.
"We will," Viggo promises him. Now I'm crimson.
"Yeah, goodnight," I say hastily, pulling Viggo out the door.
"We're gonna want details!" I hear Lij shout as we walk down the hall.
"Or pictures!" Fucking Sblomie.
Once we get inside Viggo's room, he gently pushes me up against the door. "*That* was not very courteous," he says. Bloody Method Actor. Reciting his own lines when he should be just kissing me.
"Viggo, shut up," I tell him. Amazingly, he listens to me, and thank God that he does, because all of a sudden my tongue finds a playmate, and one of my legs winds its way around his. I need this. Need him. I have to tell him. "Need you," I whimper, not caring how desperate I might sound.
"Need you, too." And then I'm in his arms; the fucker is actually *carrying* me to the bed.
"Is this our wedding night, or something?" I ask with amusement.
He just gives me that grin that turns my knees to water and my cock to granite, then unceremoniously dumps me on the bed. "Silly elf." I stick my tongue out, realizing that I've just proven his point. "I have to get you back for torturing me back there," he says, his voice suddenly husky, and fuck if that doesn't send an electric shock through my body.
"How are you planning . . . to . . . do . . . that?" I gasp, my power of speech dropping off as he crawls on the bed and slides my shirt off, running his fingers under the fabric and over my nipples as he strips me.
"Not telling." The shirt drops to the ground, and he pulls off my shoes and socks, followed by my jeans and boxers. Although he kicks off his trainers and socks, he makes no move to join me in the state of nudity, something I find highly unfair.
"Aren't you going to –" Yes, kissing is definitely my favorite way of being shut up. And Viggo's kisses are addictive. Hot tongue, soft lips, and I've discovered that if you nip at his bottom lip hard enough, he gives out this little growl. Sure enough, I nip, he growls; got him trained I do, just like one of Pavlov's dogs. His hands wander down, skimming oh-too-briefly over nipples, before dropping feathery touches around my belly.
Viggo pulls away from my mouth, and I resist the urge to yank him back by his hair, although once he starts kissing my neck, I sigh in happiness. His lips blaze a trail down my neck, across my collarbone, sucking on my shoulder. Fuck, who knew that my shoulder could be an erogenous zone? Now his tongue is tracing a path down my arm, across my wrist, and he's sucking each of my fingers into his mouth, then repeating the process with my other arm, my other wrist, my other five fingers. He's right. This is torture.
"Viggo *please*," I gasp. My cock could cut glass right now and is desperate for some kind of contact.
"Not yet," he tells me. Although it's killing me, I relent. The heat of his tongue lands on my nipple, causing me to jump a bit; his hand strays to the other nipple, until both are erect. Seemingly satisfied, he moves lower, dipping his tongue into my belly button, then tracing my tattoo. Actually, it half-feels as if Vig is tattooing me with his tongue, marking me as his. The idea is somewhat appealing. I release my breath as he *finally* moves lower and . .
Wait. Motherfucker. He's pressing open-mouthed kisses to my hip and now down my thigh. "Viggo," I groan. He doesn't respond. I squirm from the ticklish sensation of his tongue across the back of my bent knee, and then he switches legs, moving back up my other thigh, reaching my other hip. Now he takes his time, sucking at my skin until I realize he's deliberately leaving a mark. I guess I don't need him to tattoo me after all. I hiss as he bites gently at the now-bruised flesh. "Viggo," I plead again. I can *feel* the wanker smile against my skin.
Before I can complain again, he takes me in his mouth, not minding as my hips immediately buck up at the much-needed relief. He pulls back a bit, licking and kissing the head of my cock, then sucking it in again. I know I'm close to coming, and so does he, so with one fairly swift move, he somehow manages to take me all the way in. I'm lost. Beyond lost. My hands grip the sheets as I come in his mouth, the vortex of heat and suction around me so goddamned sweet.
As I regain my wits, Vig leans down and kisses me slowly. I can taste myself on him, and I suck his tongue into my mouth. He pulls away, but only to take off his clothes. I watch, mesmerized as he bares his body, and I feel all twitchy, anxious to get my hands on so much beauty. "Stop," I say as he reaches for the waistband of his boxers. "Let me." He smiles and stands next to the bed, allowing me to pull off his last article of clothing, and we both groan a bit as his cock springs free.
I wrap my fingers around the pulsing flesh, eliciting another, louder groan, and then experimentally flick my tongue out to taste the drops of fluid that have gathered at the head. Hmm. Not bad. I take just the tip of his cock into my mouth, sucking a bit, and I hear Vig's breath hitch. Pulling back, I look up at him, aroused beyond words at the sight of him gazing down with those blue eyes bright with need. "Let me know what feels good," I say.
"Just trust yourself."
Nodding, I take him in my mouth again. At this point, he's standing in front of the bed, and I'm sitting at the edge, my feet on the floor and my cock stiffening again. I never thought going down on Viggo would be so damned hot, but as I manage to take more of him in, the feeling of giving him pleasure is wonderful. I'm going to be realistic and not try and deep throat him – at least not this first time. Vig's kind of big (hey, that rhymes, my lust-crazed mind giggles), and I'm, um, inexperienced at this.
So instead I settle for licking all around his cock, like it's one of those Tootsie Pops I was addicted to in high school. Of course, I never did this in high school. And I'm glad; glad that Viggo's the first guy I've been with, that he's the first guy I've ever made moan like this. By the way, the moans are driving me fairly mad at this point. I wrap a hand around my own cock, and begin to stroke myself.
"Are you close?" I murmur before starting to suck him in again.
"God, yes," he groans. Apparently Viggo's found religion. Glad to be of assistance.
His body trembles and bucks, but I keep my mouth on him, wanting to repay what he's already given me. So I do, welcoming his come as it fills my mouth, and I manage to swallow, wondering why on earth people would find this unsexy. Tasting Viggo, right from the fucking source, is the most erotic thing I think I've ever done. He tastes wonderful and amazing, like, well, I guess he just tastes like Viggo. There should be a special Viggo-flavored soda; it'd run Coke and Pepsi out of business.
My own orgasm follows seconds later, and I flop back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Wow," I say.
"Yeah," he chuckles, joining me on the bed. I jump as I feel his tongue on my stomach, and look down to see Viggo licking my come off my skin. He cleans my hand in the same manner, and my eyes flutter closed.
"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" Not that I'm upset, mind you.
"Are my motives so transparent?" he jokes, pulling me up to the pillows and just holding me for a few minutes.
"I love you," I say quietly.
"I adore you," he tells me, running a finger through my hair. "Mohawk and all." I stick my tongue out at him, and he laughs loudly.
"Hey, Vig?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you tired?"
"No," he laughs. "Are you?"
"No."
"I think you're my own personal fountain of youth."
"Fuck, Vig, you're *not* old." All I get is a noncommittal grunt. "Listen, I have a question to ask you."
"What is it?"
"Do you remember what I wanted to do last week? In the trailer?"
His eyes widen a bit. "Yeah."
"Well, I was wondering if . . ." What's the polite way to tell your lover you want him to fuck you?
"Yes," he says simply.
I'm sure I must have an idiotic grin on my face. "I really want you to. I need to feel you inside of me."
He groans and kisses me. "Fuck, Orli, you undo me."
"Is that good or bad?" I laugh.
"Very, very good. And this time, I'm prepared." He pulls away and grabs a travel bag sitting next to the bed. "Where the fuck . . ." he grumbles. "Ha!" His hand emerges, victorious, clasped around a small tube.
I smile and pull him down for another kiss. "All set?"
"Yeah."
He takes the top off the lube and spreads some on his fingers. "Orli, are you sure?"
Is he kidding? "Fuck, yeah. And don't ask me again."
"You'd be more comfortable on your stomach."
I shake my head. "No. I need to see you."
Viggo just nods, and I spread my legs, waiting. As a hot finger covered in cool lubricant circles my opening, I let out a shivering sigh. That sigh turns into a gasp as the finger slowly inches into me. Okay. It feels weird, but it doesn't really hurt. "More," I say softly.
A second finger slides in, and I feel more stretched. There are butterflies that have apparently started doing the Macarena in my stomach, but I don't really care. "More?" Vig asks.
"Yes."
Okay, three fingers feels very weird. Not bad weird, but still. After a moment, Viggo starts to move his fingers inside of me, and my eyes close. This is an entirely different kind of weird. Sensational weird. Then his fingers brush something inside me, and I see stars. Yelping a bit (it can't be helped), I buck my hips up. "Fuck, Viggo, what was *that*?" I ask.
"Your prostate," he says with a cheeky grin. And then he brushes over it again.
"Okay," I gasp. "I need you now. Please, I'm ready."
I can't help but whimper as his fingers slide out of me, but I manage to grab the lube. "I want to put it on you," I tell him.
"Sure." He's all husky again, and I shiver. Speaking of 'again', little Orlando has decided that he's ready for round three. The more the merrier, I always say.
My fingers tremble slightly as I spread the gel over Viggo's erection, smiling as he groans a bit. "Orli, I won't last if you keep doing that with your thumb," he warns.
"Sorry," I say unrepentantly and pull my hand away.
Viggo laughs a bit, and then leans down to kiss me. "Just relax."
"I am relaxed." Actually I'm not. I'm horny as all fuck
and I've wanted this for a week.
"Okay. Love you."
"Love you, too." I feel the tip of his cock enter me, and I shut my eyes in pain. Oh, shit. This *does* hurt.
"Orli, Orli, love, relax," he says, soothingly. After a second, he inches in a bit more and I gasp.
"Fuck, does this get better?" I ask. Because right now, I'm wishing that Viggo wasn't quite so well-endowed.
"I promise," he tells me, kissing my cheek. "Open your eyes, Orli."
I look up at him, seeing the love in his eyes, and relax a little. Slowly, very slowly, he pushes his way into my body, and I feel stretched and filled. "Just don't move for a minute," I implore.
Viggo's breathing deeply, obviously trying to exercise control over himself. Finally, I can feel myself adapting to the hot, pulsating flesh inside of me, and I smile at him. "Okay. But slow."
"Slow," he promises.
He pulls back and then slides into me again, easier this time, and it doesn't hurt really. The next time, he thrusts a bit, and I gasp, smiling a bit to show him it's not from pain. Then, he hits that spot inside of me, and I actually thrust back at him. He grins and begins to move a little faster. "Better?"
"Yeah," I say in a shaky whisper as he hits the spot again. I reach down to touch my cock, which is stiffening again now that the pain's gone. But Viggo doesn't let me get that far, clasping both my wrists in one hand and pinning them above my head. Frustrated and excited by having no control, I buck my hips, and he stops holding back, realizing I don't need gentle anymore.
His strokes still aren't desperate, but steady, long, and deep. Now he's managing to brush over my prostate with every push, and I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood. "Let go, Orli," he says, his voice rough from arousal. Fuck, he looks so gorgeous right now, his eyes focused on mine, his tangled hair falling around his face. "Let go," he says again.
So I do. I push my hips up as he continues plunging into me, and I let out a moan that I'm sure the entire Fellowship heard. I don't care. Let them know what they're missing, how goddamned good this feels. How amazing. I realize I'm close to coming without either of us laying a hand on my cock – surely a first for me.
"You're so beautiful," he says, and he releases my wrists. Instead of reaching to touch myself, I realize I need to feel Viggo, and I slide my hands over his shoulders, feeling the warm and glistening skin. If I had the power of speech right now, I'd tell him that he's absolutely the sexiest thing I've ever seen. But I can't speak; in fact, I can't do much of anything. He brushes over my sweet spot once more and I come, coating our stomachs and shouting his name.
After a few more thrusts, he reaches his climax as well, and I shudder as I feel liquid heat pouring into my body. I never knew sex could be like this. Vig practically collapses on top of me, his breath puffing against my neck. I love the feeling of his weight pressed against me, and I stifle a whine when he slips out of me and rolls onto his back.
"You doing okay?" he asks after a few minutes, brushing a finger over my forehead.
"No. I'm doing fucking fantastic. Viggo, that was . . . well, perfect."
He stands up and walks to the bathroom, returning with a washcloth. "Don't want to stay all sticky," he murmurs as he cleans us up.
"Of course not," I yawn, fatigue hitting me suddenly like a sledgehammer.
Viggo just laughs. "I think we've earned a good night's sleep."
"I'm going to be sore tomorrow, aren't I?"
"Probably."
"You'll pay for that," I say.
"Don't pout, cupcake."
"Did you just call me 'cupcake'?"
"Yeah. You were my vanilla cupcake tonight."
"What are you talking about?" I don't know why Vig's trippy mindset still throws me off sometimes.
"Well, I licked creamy icing off golden cake," he says with a wink.
I have to laugh. "You're bloody crazy, Mortensen."
"Yeah, but you wouldn't have me any other way."
"No, I wouldn't." He pulls the sheets up around us, and I snuggle into him. "I love just *being* with you, Vig. Right now, right here, I don't think I've ever been happier in my life."
His arms tighten around me. "Orli –"
"You don't have to say anything," I mumble, my eyelids drooping. "I know you love me. But right now . . . man, I wish you would hold me forever."
"I'm gonna try," he says softly.
And I know he will.
