Stepping from the dance club was like stepping into a dream. It had been so long since Viggo had last visited a club that he'd forgotten what it was like when the heavy door shut behind you and the noise that had become part of your body was suddenly amputated from your senses. He stood for a moment in the chill of night, street lights blazing in his face, and tried to adjust to his rude return to the outside world. His ears were ringing and his throat was scratchy from shouting. Great, he thought dryly. Now I'm deaf *and* mute.
But he might as well have been struck dumb, too, for all the difficulty he had in accepting the warm body pressed intimately against his side. Viggo glanced beside him at Orlando and still couldn't believe what was happening. Is this when the dream began? Or was this when he awoken? The seduction upon the dance floor seemed as if it had happened a thousand years ago. And yet, against all odds, it continued. Out here. Into the cold.
He shivered, looking about him. Just as there had been a line to enter the club, there was an equally long line to leave it via taxi. He and Orli could have taken the car had they really wanted to. All five had driven there in Dom's beat-up Peugeot rental. But facing the three Hobbits after what had occurred in the club was not something Viggo wanted to do anytime soon. An escape without goodbyes, while rude, was infinitely more appealing.
Viggo placed a hand on the small of Orli's back and guided him to the end of the taxi line, smiling inwardly that the show of possessiveness had not been disputed. For a moment, he and Orli stood awkwardly side by side, listening to the sound of drunken conversation all about them. Horns honked from the street. Cars whizzed by, windows rolled down to allow their occupants to hang out haphazardly and shout at the people on the sidewalk. Viggo felt suddenly that he was an old man chaperoning his son to his first nightclub. He didn't belong here...
But Orli, being Orli, didn't allow Viggo to feel uncomfortable for long. After shifting from foot to foot restlessly, the younger man finally gave a muttered, "Fuck it", and stepped in front of Viggo, wrapping the man's arms around the front of his chest. Holding Viggo, Orli leaned back into the solid chest and sighed.
Viggo stood completely still. He vaguely registered that Orlando's hair smelled of smoke and some flowery shampoo. He tried very hard not to feel the curious stares that pressed into his back. Such contact in the murky ambiguity of a club was one thing. It was still somewhat anonymous. Such openness in the harsh light of reality...well, that was something else.
"Relax, old man," Orlando said quietly, spreading Viggo's hand upon his chest. "No one cares about either one of us."
Viggo didn't believe him, casting a wary eye about him. Strangely, he discovered that Orli was right. Though initial glances fell upon Orli's indulgent sprawl against Viggo, interest seemed to lay more in the young man's attractiveness than in what he and Viggo were actually doing. They're jealous, Viggo realized with surprise. The thought was somewhat pleasing.
Relaxing, Viggo allowed himself to appreciate the position he and Orli shared. Orli in his arms was alternately hellish and wonderful. It was impossible not to enjoy the lithe body that pressed into every curve and hollow of Viggo's body as though it was a puzzle piece that demanded to be mated. But such contact, particulary in public, was also torture. Viggo felt his cock grow heavier with need. He knew Orli could feel it pressed into the curve of his buttocks. Viggo wanted badly to strip off Orli's jeans and slide himself along the crease there.
He bent his head and whispered, "I want you, Orlando."
The body within his arms shivered, the sweat dampened head falling back against Viggo's shoulder. "I'll let you have me," Orli replied softly. His submissiveness nearly brought Viggo's mouth down upon him.
As the taxi line moved forward, Viggo settled with stroking the muscles of Orli's chest. Through the shirt he found Orli's nipples, tightened into pebbles against the cold. He rolled the tight peaks between his fingers, making Orli shift restlessly against him. Viggo experienced a strange thrill. So many people were watching them, and yet no one knew what he was doing to Orli...
Wickedness streaked through him. He sharply pinched the hard nipples. Orli squirmed against him, a muffled gasp squeezing past his lips. Viggo tightened his arms against escape. He pressed his hips forward just so, dragging his erection meaningfully up the back of Orli's jeans. He told himself he must be insane to be doing this in front of all these people. And yet the need to feel and hear Orli respond to his touch drove all caution from Viggo's mind. He dipped his head and ran his tongue up the side of the other man's neck. Orli finally lost it and moaned aloud.
A week ago, hell--an hour ago--Viggo would have been mortified by the snickers he heard behind him. Now, however, with Orli a bright, burning promise in his arms, Viggo felt only triumph. He--the old stick in the mud, the old man, the quiet loner--had the power to undo a sexy young thing like Orlando Bloom. The idea was electrifying.
"Next up!"
Viggo raised his head at the shout. It was their turn for a taxi. Damn, but letting go of Orli was like setting down his spoon after the first bite of a sundae. He didn't want to do it.
"Come on, then! Do you want a ride or not?"
When Viggo still did not release him, Orli turned his head, regarding him with eyes that were black with desire. "Viggo, let's go. The sooner we leave here, the sooner we can be in your room."
Viggo couldn't move. It was up to Orli to lead them into the taxi and give directions to the driver. *The sooner we can be in your room.* Viggo stared at the headrest of the seat in front of him, Orli's words ringing in his head. Of course he had known this whole thing would culminate in he and Orli together. But to actually hear it--and from Orlando's lips, at that--was another thing altogether. He and Orli together. In his room. Doing everything.
Viggo turned slightly on the seat, studying the man beside him. Passing street lamps flashed through the taxi's windows like a strobe light, illuminating the curves and angles of Orli's face. The radio was tuned to some country music station, the volume low enough that the steady hum of the car's engine filled the small interior. The vinyl seat was old and patched with duct tape. It squeaked as Orli shifted his back against the door, his body facing Viggo.
*The sooner we can be in your room*
Viggo didn't think it was possible. Orli flirted with everyone. This was a game somehow. Orli would change his mind. Or worse, he would burst out laughing when he discovered Viggo's intentions. *Just having a bit of a lark on the dance floor, old man. Didn't think you'd take it seriously* No. Before he would let that happen, Viggo had to know for sure...
In the darkness, he bridged the short space between them, taking Orli's hand in his own. As the taxi turned onto a street where the lamps were less frequent, he waited, considering.
"Viggo?"
The question spurred him to move. Not bothering to answer, Viggo placed Orli's hand over the fly of the younger man's jeans. Deliberately, he covered Orli's hand with his own. When he pressed down slightly, Viggo could feel the curve of the erection that rose beneath. Lifting his eyes to Orli's, Viggo began to move their hands.
The lights came once every few blocks now. Orlando's face was hidden in shadow. But Viggo didn't need to see the younger man's face to know how he was affected. As Viggo guided Orli's hand back and forth over the bulging fabric of his jeans, Viggo just listened. Over the music on the radio and the mesmerizing hum of the car's engine, Viggo could hear the gradual changes in Orlando's breathing. The older man listened, rapt, as the cadence of breath accelerated.
He applied more pressure and felt the fine tremor that passed through the slender fingers. Back and forth, he guided Orli in stroking himself, feeling the younger man's flesh harden and lengthen while his thighs fell apart on the seat.
The quickened breath hitched. A tongue came out to lick dry lips. Orli's eyes glimmered through the darkness as he tried to remain silent in the presence of the taxi driver. Viggo just watched him. Watched, fascinated, as the color broke out across those high cheekbones. Listened, hungry, as the moist lips parted and Orli's voice called softly to him across the darkness, "Viggo. Ah, God, Viggo..."
When the hand beneath his tried to pull away, Viggo tightened his grip and pushed down harder. He squeezed until Orli could no longer stifle the short whimpers that broke from his mouth. He stroked until the eyes of the taxi driver flicked to the rearview mirror, watching them in the darkness.
"Yes," Orli whispered. "God, yes..."
And then Viggo did something he had never thought he would do. He brought Orli to the brink of climax, the hard young body quivering on the edge of release -- and then backed off. Orli's cry of dismay echoed forlornly within the interior of the taxi. Viggo was too violently aroused to care that the driver snorted disapprovingly from the front seat. The vision of Orlando, trembling in his passion, clawing at the vinyl seat, seared itself onto Viggo's brain. And when he pulled Orli's hand away, denying the younger man the option of completing the deed alone, well...that was a stranger doing that. For Viggo had never considered himself to be that cruel.
Ignoring his own raging arousal, Viggo studied the way Orli tried to relax into the seat and calm his breathing. Tried, even as his hips lifted after a contact he would not receive. The wide brown eyes pleaded with Viggo for...what? For Viggo to release his hand, to finish the job? In the end, it didn't matter; Viggo wasn't about to do either one.
Instead, he gathered Orli in his arms, holding him close as tremor after tremor passed through the slender body. He tenderly kissed the damp hair, murmuring words of comfort. Orlando was wound tightly. Viggo was surprised at how quickly and how deeply Orli had experienced his arousal. It took several minutes before the younger man was able to relax fully into Viggo's embrace. Even then, Viggo could sense the vehement energy that pulsed beneath the surface.
"I was right," Orlando muttered shakily, staring out the window. "You *are* a bloody tease."
No, not a tease, Viggo wanted to tell him. I'm simply an old man who's scared that it's *you* who are leading me on. Though his method had been merciless, Viggo had learned what he wanted to know. Orlando wasn't faking his interest. Unimaginably, and against all reason, the young man wanted him.
The time for games was over.
**************************
He felt a bit debauched as he turned the knob to his room and let Orli pass before him. This was like coaxing a young innocent into his lair. Yet the moment he thought it, Viggo took it back. Orli may be young, but he was no innocent. And Viggo's room was in no way sexy enough to be called a lair.
It was clean. Meticulously so. It was also as close to home as Viggo had been able to make it. Mostly, this had consisted of replacing the stock artwork on the wall with some of his own paintings. They were some of his favorites, ranging from his earliest works to the very latest. The sight of those familiar pieces, carted from shoot to shoot, never failed to put him at ease.
That is, until now. Viggo thought himself inured to criticism. He thought wrong. When Orli strode to the first painting and quietly regarded it, Viggo's insides cringed with that familiar dread.
"This is lovely," Orlando murmured, his fingertips grazing the swirls of dried paint. "I'm impressed, old man."
Viggo released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Somehow, Orli's approval meant more than any art critic's had. Something must be wrong with me, Viggo thought somewhat disgustedly, for a snot-nosed kid's opinion to mean so much.
Orlando moved through the room as if it were his own, unashamedly rifling through the items of Viggo's personal life. Viggo kicked off his shoes, watching Orli as he picked up a paperback Viggo had just started reading. He fanned through the pages idly before dropping it. Orli then moved to the dresser and boldly opened the drawers. He reached inside and fingered the fabric of a shirt. With a mischievous grin, he lifted a pair of boxers. He held one of Viggo's sweaters to his nose and inhaled.
Intrigued by this strange creature, Viggo dropped onto the edge of his bed to watch. He had never encountered someone like Orli. Someone so eager to experience sensation. Orli wandered to the nightstand. There, he picked up Viggo's hairbrush and ran his thumb absently across the bristles. His eyes fell upon the small table by the room's sole window. Viggo's spine stiffened as Orli walked to it and picked up the opened sketchbook lying there. Curious, he began peeling back the pages. From his position on the bed, Viggo could only see the younger man's profile. He wished he could see more.
Orli paused at a sketch, his head bowed. "Is this how you see me?"
Viggo didn't know which sketch he was looking at, but it really didn't matter. They were all versions of the same: Orlando as Viggo saw him--beautiful, young, alive. Whether drawn from a memory of Orli laughing or sketched in situ as Orli practiced his lines between takes, every page was damning. On every page lay Viggo's heart for all to see.
"You make me out to be someone I'm not," Orlando said quietly. One finger traced the lines on the paper. He raised his head, looking at Viggo with banked panic in his eyes. "I'm not this fucking perfect, Viggo. I'm a bloody punk, who just got lucky and doesn't even realize how fucking lucky I am." He waved the sketchbook. "I don't deserve this from you. Hell, I don't deserve you. You're so much more --"
"Shut up, Orlando." Viggo sighed, leaning back on his hands. "You're the most amazing creature I've ever laid eyes upon. What I've drawn there is what I see. That's all that should matter."
"But this--" Orli shook the pad again "--this is someone beautiful. I'm just some idiot wanker who drinks too much and smokes too much and doesn't know shit about acting and tries to pretend I can handle you when I'm scared shitless I'll make a fool out of myself --"
Viggo wanted to smile. He supressed the urge, knowing Orli would misundertand. "The only thing I see wrong with you is that you talk too much." The younger man's mouth shut with an audible click. "Other than that, if you're worried about not being able to handle me, consider the fear to be a mutual one." Viggo's voice thickened. "I want you, too, Orlando. But I admit that you frighten me, just a little."
"Do I?" Like a light switch, Orli's tone became instantly seductive. It left Viggo blinking somewhat dazedly. Yes, he was definitely a little frightened of this one.
"Why do I scare you?" Orli asked with an interest Viggo found more than a little unnerving.
He decided to be honest. "Because you're unpredictable. You're rash. You're so damned alive that I can practically feel your heart beating from all the way over here." Viggo swallowed. "I fear you because I don't think you fully realize the power that you have over me."
Orli smiled, like a deliciously feral cat. "Oh, but I *do* realize, old man." He took a step towards the bed. Viggo's body tightened in anticipation. But true to form, Orli twisted on his heel and moved instead to the dresser. He stopped in front of the large mirror that sat atop the surface. He met Viggo's eyes in the reflection. "Would you like me to show you how very much I realize?"
Viggo struggled for nonchalance. "Go right ahead."
An alarming confidence in his eyes, Orlando lifted his hands to the front of his shirt. He began pushing the buttons through their holes, one by one. "You watched me in the club," Orli began, his eyes searing Viggo's in the mirror. "I'm not a fool. I saw how you looked at me. I remember the expression on your face when I touched myself." He released the last button and the white shirt fluttered open, revealing the smooth sculpture of his chest. "Do you remember how you felt when I did this?"
Heat pooled low in Viggo's body as Orli brushed his fingers lightly across the dusky points of his nipples. Yes, Viggo thought, he remembered very well. He'd been hard just as he was now, envious of fingers that were not his own. He watched Orli stroke and tease himself and felt his mouth go dry. He found himself having to spread his legs to accommodate the growing weight between his thighs.
With a graceful shrug of his shoulders, Orli let the shirt slide down his arms and fall to the floor at his feet. Orli's chest was smooth, lightly muscled and supple. His flesh was sleek, the twin discs of his nipples standing out against the olive skin. Without his shirt, Orlando looked both sexy and vulnerable. The vast difference in their ages never seemed more apparent than it did now. But Viggo no longer cared. He longed to run his tongue along the length of Orli's bared collarbones.
"You've seen me shirtless before," Orli commented, idly stroking the sides of his ribs. "But it's not the same this time, is it, Viggo?"
Damn you, the older man thought, glaring at him in the mirror. Damn you for being right. Orli knew his sex appeal, whatever he might say to the contrary. He used it well. Viggo watched, transfixed, as Orli shut his eyes and trailed his hands slowly up his chest. His fingers met at the base of his throat, then fanned out across the collarbones that Viggo wanted so badly to taste.
Orlando opened his eyes. "Do you have a fantasy about me?"
Viggo flushed. Of course he did. Several, in fact. All of which involved Orli in various stages of illegal activities. But, "Yes", was all he said.
A spark of naughtiness glinted in Orli's eyes. "I'll wager it went a bit farther than this, yes? Maybe, something like this?" One hand fumbled with the button on his jeans. It released with a soft pop. Viggo's harsh breathing competed with the rasp of the zipper as it lowered.
Orli sighed a little, as though relieved to ease himself of the confines of his jeans. Holding Viggo's gaze, Orlando slid his palm down the plane of his stomch until his fingers disappeared into the opened V of his jeans. His hand dipped just a little lower. The wide eyes closed. "This is what you want, isn't it?" he breathed, his hand moving rhythmically beneath the denim. "To feel this. To feel me."
Barely a beat passed before Viggo was standing behind Orlando, his hand moving to grab the other man's wrist. Orli stiffened in surprise, his eyes shooting open when he discovered Viggo so near. But when Viggo removed Orli's hand from his jeans and replaced it with his own, the thick lashes lowered once more.
Orli was heat and hardness beneath the denim. Watching over Orli's shoulder, Viggo ran his fingers down the curve of the younger man's erection. He skimmed the light bed of curls before delving beneath to the soft sacs below. Orli shuddered, his hips jerking forward.
"This is how my fantasy begins," Viggo whispered against the shell of Orlando's ear, "but it's not how it ends." He drew his hand from between the firm thighs and tugged meaningfully at the jeans. "First, we need to get rid of these."
Wordlessly, Orlando hooked his fingers in the waistband of the jeans and pulled them down.
Instead of bending at the knees, he simply bent at the waist, providing Viggo with a tantalizing view of his firm, pale buttocks. Tempted with such an opportunity, Viggo could not resist. He grasped the narrow hips and pulled them back so that his cloth covered erection pressed intimately between the curve of muscled flesh. Orli let his head and arms hang down loosely as Viggo rubbed against him.
It was good, but it wasn't enough. Cursing his button fly, Viggo struggled to undo his jeans with one hand while the other held the curve of Orli's waist. It seemed an eternity before he released the last button and impatiently shoved the material down his hips.
But it was worth it, oh, yes. The first brush of his cock against the soft skin of Orlando's buttocks was pure bliss. Letting his eyes fall to half-mast, Viggo savored the sensation of his rock-hard erection sliding up and down the smooth crease of Orli's buttocks. He pumped slowly, the friction driving him mad.
For Orlando, it must have been pure torture. He had raised up a little, so that his hands rested on the top of the dresser, his hips pressed out. But however much he pushed back, he couldn't coax the steely flesh to pierce him. His back arched in supplication as Viggo rubbed against him. "Give me something, please..." he rasped.
Viggo opened his eyes to find Orlando staring plaintively at him in the mirror. Pain and desire made his features rosy and endearingly young. You're so beautiful, Viggo thought to himself. You think it's about all about sex appeal, but it's so much more than that.
He stretched a hand along Orli's back and traced the ridge of his spine. The skin was moist and taut. Viggo imagined he could feel vibration through it. His hand slid around the front of Orlando's hips. He found the hot erection pressed tightly to Orli's stomach. The younger man shivered and gasped as Viggo took him into his hand. His eyes glued to the mirror, Viggo set a lazy pace upon the flesh.
Orli straightened and reached above to lock his hands behind Viggo's neck. The position was breathtaking. It opened Orli up entirely to Viggo's greedy gaze. Orli's body was a young man's, so different in texture and build from Viggo's own. His eyes hungrily followed the lines and hollows of the slender body, settling upon Orli's face. The fine features were desperate, tortured.
Orlando grew restless in his grip. As Viggo continued to stroke him, the first beads of moisture leaked from the tip of Orli's erection. The hands around Viggo's neck tightened, drawing his head down. Against his lips, Orli whispered, "Come on, Viggo. Put it in me. You know you want to." To emphasize the point, Orli pushed back with his hips. The tip of Viggo's cock prodded the tight opening there of its own accord.
"You're a manipulative little bastard," Viggo murmured back, then wondered why he was protesting. Hell, this was what he'd wanted since they were back in the club. To be encased in Orlando. To feel the young body pulse around him. To be a part of the vibrant whirlwind that was Orlando, and in doing so, to somehow become alive himself. Ah, yes. He *did* want it.
Viggo pumped his fist up the length of Orli's straining flesh, encouraging more silvery liquid to seep from its tip. Orli was breathing rapidly now, a thin film of sweat glistening on his skin. Viggo bent his head and licked a path along the younger man's temple as his fingers gathered up the slippery fluid of Orli's desire. He leaned away from Orli, adding saliva to the moisture in his hand and liberally slicked the head of his own erection.
Orli was tight when Viggo pushed against him. Bracing the slim hips with his hands, Viggo tried to move as slowly as possible as the swollen head of his cock pierced the ring of puckered flesh. Viggo watched Orlando's face in the mirror as he gradually pushed himself inside.
"Bloody hell," Orli gasped, pain lacing his words. "You're fucking big, Viggo."
Viggo continued his relentless slide, sweat breaking upon his brow at the effort to move slowly. "You can take it, Orlando," he muttered roughly. "Just relax."
Orli groaned, shutting his eyes. He bit his lip and pushed back, fully sheathing the cock that impaled him. For a long moment, they both stood there, unmoving. Viggo could feel every beat of Orli's pulse around his cock. The young man's heart was racing.
Viggo didn't want to move. He didn't want to hurt Orli. But Orli had other plans. Taking a deep breath as if to steel himself, Orli pulled away slightly, letting Viggo's cock slide from his body. Then, quite suddenly, he thrust backwards, driving Viggo deep.
Light exploded behind Viggo's eyes. The move unleashed his control. Digging his fingers into the jutting hipbones, he thrust hard into the waiting heat. The pursuit of pleasure consumed him. Feeling like the worst sort of animal, Viggo pounded into the slender body as wave after wave of ecstasy washed through him. Sweat rolled off his forehead, stung his eyes as he looked into the mirror.
Orli held onto him as if for dear life. The wide eyes were shut, the lashes a dark smudge against his cheeks. A predatory smile curved Viggo's lips. Orli wouldn't be a victim for long--With a tilt of his hips, Viggo's cock stroked over the source of Orli's pleasure. The brown eyes shot open, meeting Viggo's in the mirror. Grinning openly, Viggo began to stroke the younger man's cock to hardness once again. Orlando's broken cry was the beginning of the end.
Orlando was a screamer. Viggo should have guessed that. Listening to Orli's keening cries was unbearably exciting. It goaded Viggo to thrust harder, faster, until Orli released his hold and fell forward, arms braced atop the dresser. Viggo's driving thrusts banged the dark head against the mirror, the dull thuds a counterpoint to the cries issuing from Orli's throat.
The blood hummed in Viggo's veins. He had never felt so acutely alive. If he could have extended his release to make this moment last forever, he would have. But when Orli's breath fogged the mirror on a rising moan, Viggo knew he was done for. He clenched his jaw against the violent ripples that milked the length of his erection. Within his hand, Orli's cock stiffened and bucked.
"Viggo!" Orli cried out. The slim body arched. His voice crumbled as his release rocketed through him.
Viggo gritted his teeth as the hot flesh tightened around him. But it was no use. Orlando's complete surrender to his climax was too erotic to deny. Viggo shuddered, a groan rumbling up from his throat. His entire life force seemed to rise and gather in his loins before exploding from him in a rush that left him boneless and trembling. The echo of his shout lingered in the room as he dropped against Orli's sweaty back.
They lay quietly, collecting their breaths as the sweat cooled on their skin. Giving in to the urge, Viggo tenderly brushed the moist hair away from Orlando's eyes.
"I always knew it would be like this," Orli panted, resting his forehead against the mirror. "I knew you would be good."
Viggo laughed incredulously. "You did? I never thought you'd even consider the idea of the two of us together."
Orli turned his head until their eyes could meet. The brown held an unexpected sobriety. "I thought about it. Dreamed about it, even. But I never dared to hope. I know you think I'm just a dumb kid."
Viggo pressed a finger to the soft lips, instantly grave. "I never thought that, ever. If anything, I considered myself to be too old and boring for you. Look at you. You're sexy as hell and nearly young enough to be my son. What we've just done is like a dream I'm afaid to wake up from."
Orlando smiled then, a sweet smile that made Viggo's heart trip. "Then let's never wake up, Viggo. No one's waiting for us. We have all night."
A slender hand found Viggo and brought him to aching awareness.
"Don't forget, Orlando, I'm not a young man," Viggo reminded him as the fist began to stroke him in ernest.
Orli's grin was sly. "Funny, that's not what your body is telling me."
Incredibly, he was right. As Viggo's body quickly proved to him, Orlando's youth was more than just enticing. Fortunately for them both, it was also infectious.
The End
