Viggo took another healthy swallow of his drink, not because he was thirsty or needed the rush of alcohol, but because he hoped the concoction could somehow blunt the bone-rattling beat of the club's sound system. He felt the heavy bass vibrating through to his very bones. He thought, perhaps, he was going deaf. How did anyone manage to hold a conversation in here, anyhow? As if to illustrate the point, Elijah tugged on his sleeve and yelled something at him.
"What did you say?" Viggo shouted back, holding a cupped hand to his ear.
Elijah smiled and leaned forward. Though he shouted mere inches from Viggo's ear, the older man barely heard him. "I said, isn't this great?"
Viggo just nodded and smiled. He hated to think maybe he was getting too old for this scene, but maybe he was. Dom and Billy were sitting on the other side of Elijah in the booth they all shared and both men seemed to be having a good time. Elijah was flush with alcohol, so of course he was having fun. And as for Orlando --
Viggo tried to identify his castmate amidst the dozens of bodies gyrating in the darkness periodically pierced by blue lasers. Orli was somewhere on the dance floor, no doubt having the time of his life. Viggo had never met anyone who could so consistently find a way to enjoy himself no matter where he was. Orli did whatever he wanted and didn't give a fig what others thought of him. Viggo wondered what it was like.
He dumped what was left of his drink down his throat and tugged at the collar that was beginning to feel a bit restraining. He should have relented and worn the silk shirt Orli had tried to press on him earlier. But black silk with ruffles and mother-of-pearl buttons? That was more Orli's style, not his. Let Orli call him an old man all he wanted. There were limits.
The wall of dancers parted and Orli burst through, his white shirt glowing fluorescent under the black lighting. He fell upon the edge of their table, laughing breathlessly. Viggo picked up his glass, though it now held only ice, and looked over its rim as he studied his friend. Orli's dark hair, somehow always a tousled mess, clung to his forehead and the sides of his cheeks in wet curls. The young man's wide brown eyes were crinkled with laughter as he impatiently shoved his sleeves up his forearms and fished in his front shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes.
"This is fucking great, yeah?" Orli shouted, managing to insert a cigarette in his mouth at the same time. Viggo knew he was staring as the younger man flicked his lighter, golden light dramatically highlighting the angled cheekbones. A second before the flame went out, Orli glanced at him, catching the perusal. The corner of his mouth twitched. Viggo looked away, pushing his glass across the table.
"Having a good time, old man?" Orli yelled at him. He took a deep drag and blew the smoke straight up. "You look about as excited as me Mum on wash day!"
"I think I've permanently lost my hearing," Viggo shouted back, feeling his vocal chords strain with the effort to be heard.
"What'd you say?"
Orli laughed at the other man's scowl. "Well it's no wonder you're such a sour puss -- you're all out of drink. Can't expect to have any fun when you're sober. Hang on, I'll be right back."
Before Viggo could protest he'd had enough, Orli darted between the bodies and was lost from sight. Viggo sighed. He should have known this wasn't for him. He'd take a pub over this place anytime. If it weren't for the fact that it was Orlando who'd prodded and cajoled him to come along...
Viggo ran a hand through his hair, irritated. He was acting stupid. Orli wanted *everyone* to come along on his and the Hobbits' escapades. Just because Viggo had thought he'd detected an extra note of interest in Orli's voice when he'd been invited didn't mean that there'd been one.
He had it in his mind to get up and leave, drink or no drink, when Orli stumbled back to their table, a cocktail in each hand, cigarette dangling precariously from the corner of his mouth. Just as he reached the table, someone bumped into him from behind, causing him to spill half the contents of Viggo's drink down the front of his white shirt.
"Bloody hell!" Orli cried out, ashes flying as his cigarette bobbed in his mouth. He looked down at his sodden shirt in disgust. "Well, Viggo, looks like if you want the rest of your drink you'll have to lick it off me!"
Viggo glared at him as Elijah and the others laughed, but he really wasn't upset. Well, maybe he *was* upset, but in a different way entirely. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off the way Orli's shirt, sheer with moisture now, clung to the younger man's chest. He'd seen Orli shirtless before, of course. But there was something utterly erotic in the way the fabric concealed and revealed. Viggo could even see the dusky circle of a nipple through the cloth.
"Naughty, naughty, Viggo!"
Orli had caught him staring again and was laughing at him. Viggo felt his face heat. Damn the brat for making him blush after all these years. He grabbed the half-empty glass from Orli and dashed its contents down his throat. Orli smiled but said nothing. Grinding out his cigarette on the tabletop, he took a quick sip of his own drink before setting it down and sliding backwards into the crowd.
Viggo expected him to disappear again, but Orli stayed on the fringes of the dance floor. You sneaky little git, Viggo thought to himself. Then he asked himself why this should bother him. There was no way Orli was flirting with him. No way. Just because Orli was swiveling his hips in an undeniably provocative manner, all the while keeping his eyes locked with Viggo's...didn't mean anything at all.
The alcohol was getting to Viggo. Had they turned the music down? The beat didn't seem quite so barbaric anymore. It had taken on a sultry throb that Viggo felt deep in his lower body. He allowed himself to relax, leaning back into the overly-cushioned booth. Beside him, Elijah was deep in conversation with Billy and Dom. They seemed to have forgotten Viggo was with them. He didn't mind. It took too much effort to be heard. He would rather sit back and watch. Watch Orlando.
The abandon Orli exhibited in life translated well on the dance floor. He moved without conscious effort, his body twisting and gyrating as though the music pulled him by invisible strings. Long, lean limbs swayed with fluid grace. The wet fabric of his shirt clung and lifted teasingly from his skin with every motion. Orli moved almost seductively, if Viggo dared allow himself the thought. He was the embodiment of temptation.
Dancers moved around Orli, some pausing to try to entice him into matching their movements. All eventually peeled away when it became apparent that Orli's attention lay elsewhere. His eyes never left Viggo's. The older man was surprised at how badly he wanted to believe what he thought he saw in the brown eyes.
There had been nothing between them before this. Viggo had convinced himself that the hurdle of their age difference insured nothing would ever happen. And though Orli teased him constantly, Viggo had always told himself it was a mild form of hero-worship, certainly not flirtation. But maybe he'd read the signals wrong. Maybe what he'd wanted to see but could not bring himself to believe, had been there all along.
Orli smiled slightly, as if he sensed the other man's uncertainty. His slim hands drew up the length of his body, hovering over the wet shirt. Viggo held his breath as the pale hands brushed deliberately across the hint of peaked nipples. Viggo imagined his own hands upon the slender body, pinching the brown nubs until Orli cried out --
"Looks like you're getting the best show in the house!" Elijah yelled suddenly in his ear.
Viggo tore his gaze away with pained reluctance. "What's that?"
Elijah smiled knowingly. "Orli likes you," he teased. Behind him in the booth, Dom and Billy were watching Orli with matching smirks on their faces.
Viggo scowled. "He's a pervy bastard, is what he is," he grumbled. But Elijah didn't hear him and wouldn't have believed him, anyway.
"Orli was really excited that you'd finally agreed to come with us," Elijah continued. "Now I know why." Or at least, that's what Viggo thought he said. As loud as it was, he couldn't be sure of anything. Elijah turned back to the other two and began a drinking game. Viggo shook his head. Nothing like a good game of quarters to remind him how very long ago he had played it.
He looked back to the dance floor. Orli was still there. And this time, the invitation in his eyes was unmistakable. Viggo forgot all about the boys beside him. He swallowed around a throat gone suddenly dry.
Orli laughed at the expression on his face. He extended his hands, coaxing. Some of Viggo's excitement withered. Damn, but he could never go out there. He was an actor, sure. But perversely, to be free, he needed a script to guide him. He didn't possess the cocksureness of Orli. He couldn't make a fool out of himself and laugh it off. Not in front of *him*.
Orli tilted his head, unwilling to be denied. *Come on*, he mouthed. Viggo shook his head, dreading the next few moments. Now was when Orli would discover how impossibly different they really were. Quiet and contemplative -- the monikers Viggo was usually saddled with -- didn't play very well at a dance club.
Orli took a step towards him, refusing to be put off, when masculine hands slid suddenly around his waist from behind. Bemused, Orli turned his head as he was pulled back into a loose embrace. Viggo sat straighter in the booth as a blond-haired man about Orli's age slid up alongside his friend. Orli's face was turned toward him when the stranger began speaking into his ear. Viggo tried to remain disinterested as he watched Orli's eyes lower in response to what the blond stranger said to him.
Don't be jealous, Viggo told himself sternly, you have no right to be. But he couldn't help the pang of bitterness as the hands upon Orli's waist tightened ever so slightly. The stranger was still speaking. Orli's mouth had parted, his expression hidden beneath lowered lashes.
Tell him to fuck off, Viggo thought. But Orli did no such thing. Viggo watched, silently fuming, as the blond-haired man began to move against Orli, urging him to dance. Orli resisted, his eyes flicking to the booth. Viggo knew he should stand and go to him. He knew in his heart that this was an important moment, that now was an opportunity he'd be a fool to pass up. But as it had always been in his life, fear of letting go and simply *being* cemented his shoes to the floor. He wasn't like Orli, free in his physicality. Spontaneity on canvas counted for nothing here. He was a coward.
What might have been disappointment shadowed Orli's face. After a moment's hesitation, he laid his hands atop the ones that encircled his waist. Slanting his eyes away from Viggo, he leaned back into the stranger, and allowed his body to sway in synchrony.
Viggo felt sick. He reached for his cocktail and cursed when he remembered he'd already drained it. He really should be leaving. Instead, he hooked Orli's discarded glass and drank what it contained in one swallow. He gasped, eyes watering. He felt the alcohol go straight to his head.
What kind of game was Orli playing anyhow? First he convinces Viggo to go to a club he had no desire to attend. Then he flirts shamelessly, forcing Viggo to shift around an increasingly uncomfortable arousal. And now this. A bald play to make him jealous.
"Whoa, Viggo." Elijah whistled beside him. "What's with the look?" His bright blue gaze followed Viggo's to the dance floor. "Oh, I see."
"Forget it, Lij."
"Hey, come on. That's just Orli. He doesn't mean anything by it."
Yes, that *was* just Orli. Lost in the moment, outrageously alive, refusing to be held back by anyone else's handicaps. Just as he was always Viggo, he thought in disgust -- sensitive poet and painter, master of restraint. Something in him snapped. He slid out from the booth, aware that Elijah and the others stared after him in shock. "Viggo, wait!"
But once committed, he would not turn back. The music seemed much louder on the dance floor. Energy radiated in waves from the large crowd of dancers. Viggo fed off it. This felt right. He was tired of sitting on the sidelines. It was time he became a player.
The blond stranger was all over Orli. He may as well have just pulled Orli's jeans down and fucked him right there. Viggo tapped the guy on the shoulder a bit harder than he needed to. Orli and the stranger both froze in surprise.
Viggo leaned close to the man's ear. "You've had your fun, now get lost. It's my turn."
The surprise turned to contempt as the blond man gave him the once-over and sneered. "You didn't tell me your father was here."
A wide grin spread across Orli's face. "It must have slipped my mind." He unwrapped the arms that encircled him. "Sod off, love. Dad and I need to share some quality time."
Banished from the sphere of Orli's attention, the blond stranger melted away into the crowd. Viggo stepped boldly into the space vacated against Orli's back. Orlando's body was hot against his chest. When he grabbed the younger man about the waist and pulled him back, Orli stiffened in surprise.
"Say, old man, you're not drunk, are you?" Orli asked with a nervous laugh. "I don't want you hating me in the morning, and all that."
Viggo pressed his face to the damp hair, his mouth grazing Orli's ear. "I won't hate you if you let me do what I want to you." He felt the shudder that passed through Orli. He smiled, thrilled that he had been able to affect the other man. Feeling bolder, his tilted his hips forward, letting Orli feel the unmistakable bulge of his erection.
"Viggo," Orli sighed, rubbing his buttocks against the straining fly of the other man's jeans, "you surprise me."
Viggo was surprising himself, but he couldn't afford to think about it. Orli was practically purring in his arms. And the way he was rubbing himself up against Viggo was slowly driving the older man insane.
"Kiss me," Orli demanded. Viggo did not like public displays of affection, but he was eager to make an exception. He bent his head over Orli's shoulder and covered the soft mouth with his own. Kissing Orli was heaven. Maybe because it was something he'd secretly dreamt of but never imagined actually happening. Or maybe simply because it was Orli. Orli, who was always laughing, always passionate about something. Orli, who was wickedly sexy yet somehow sweetly boyish at the same time.
The mouth beneath his tasted of smoke and sweet rum. Viggo plunged his tongue deep, wanting to taste as much of Orli as he could in case this was as much as he would get. Orli did not shy from his aggressiveness, whipping his tongue around the other man's with equal vigor. Viggo pumped his cock against the curve of tight buttocks, feeling the vibration against his lips as Orli moaned.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Viggo reminded himself that he was in a dance club and that Elijah, Dom and Billy were no doubt watching their wanton display and drawing their own unflattering conclusions. But then Orli reached behind him to grab his buttocks and pull him closer and Viggo no longer cared about propriety. He wanted to be like Orlando -- he didn't want to think, he wanted to feel.
He slid his hands down the front of Orli's jeans until his thumbs caught in the worn pockets. He let his fingers splay wide, framing the fly and the hard lump straining against it. He pressed his fingers into Orli's hips, outlining his cock through the fabric. With his forefingers, he teasingly rubbed the sides of the stiff ridge.
"Ah, Viggo!" Orli gasped, tearing his mouth away. "You bloody tease!" He swiveled his hips, trying to force Viggo's hands into greater contact.
Viggo just laughed, intoxicated by power. "You forget, Orlando. An old man like me needs lots of foreplay."
"But I fucking don't!" Orli burst out, his protest dissolving into a groan as Viggo's mouth fastened onto the back of his neck and began sucking. "You'll have me on my knees in another second, here."
"Mmmm. Maybe that's where I want you."
Orli caught one of Viggo's hands and dragged it over the bulge in his jeans. He pushed his hips back as the other man squeezed him through the fabric. "Sorry to disappoint," Orli panted, holding Viggo tight over him, "but if you're going to be inside me, I'd prefer a different entrance."
Despite his new-found daring, Viggo was momentarily shocked by Orli's bluntness. Sensing the change, Orli looked back over his shoulder, worry making him look far too young. "I'm sorry. That was brash. I've got a big mouth. I'm going to scare you off, aren't I?"
Even if Orli's comment had turned him off -- which it hadn't -- the unexpected vulnerability on the younger man's face made Viggo a willing prisoner. He was in love with Orlando's passion for experience, true. But he was hooked by the boy Orli hadn't quite yet shed.
He pulled his hand free and turned Orli around. Wordless, he cupped the other man's face and pressed their lips together. He kissed Orli deeply, proving with his lips and his tongue and the breath that passed between them that Viggo wanted him more than anything else in the world. When he finally pulled away, Orli's face was rosy, his brown eyes dark and glazed. His pink tongue darted out to lick the lingering traces of Viggo from his swollen lips.
Viggo slid his hand behind Orli's neck in a purely possessive grip. Anticipation was an aphrodisiac. "Let's get out of here, shall we?"
Orlando nodded.
