TITLE: Rewarded (6/?)
AUTHOR: Elizabeth (sef7881@aol.com)
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: There's no boy like a rentboy
FEEDBACK: It's the sauce on my steak, it's the cheese in my cake
WARNINGS: Roleplaying, post-coital rimming, coarse language
DISCLAIMER: This story is solely a product of my *twisted* imagination
ARCHIVE: Help yourself, just drop me a line so I can brag to my friends
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This chapter is not intended as a glorification of
prostitution. It is just a little smut story
DATE WRITTEN: August 15th, 2003
"Do you know what movie I watched last night?"
My head jerks up as Viggo walks over to stand next to me. We're between takes on some random mountain, and I'm standing by myself so I can figure out how best to show Legolas' grief about Gandalf's fall. But now that Viggo's here, my concentration has been broken.
"Um, I have no idea," I tell him.
"Come on, give it a shot." He's wearing a grin that could make a eunuch get an erection.
I sigh. "I don't know . . . 'Jurassic Park'? 'Titanic'? 'Superman'?"
"No, those are a little too mainstream for my tastes," he chuckles. "I actually picked a relatively obscure British movie."
"Is that so? Which one?"
"'Wilde'."
"'Wilde'? I was in that!"
Viggo laughs and adjusts his leather gloves. "I know that. You're the reason I rented the movie, and it turned out to be quite a good film. Your performance was very inspiring."
"Inspiring?" I scoff. "I had one bloody line."
"It certainly inspired me," he purrs. "I've been thinking about it all morning."
"Is that so?" I ask, feeling a shiver go through me. The look in his eyes tells me that I should get myself ready for an exciting night.
"Yes. I think alittle roleplaying is in order."
"R-roleplaying?" I stammer. "What do you mean?"
"I was hoping I could hire the rentboy for an evening," he says in a low voice.
"Okay, everybody!" Pete calls, breaking up our chat. "Let's give this another shot!" Damn. Ruin my moment with Viggo, why don't you?"
"So?" Viggo murmurs as we walk back to where the others are gathered. "Will you come to my room around nine tonight?"
"You even have to ask? Of course I will."
He grins wolfishly. "Good. See you then."
Perfect. Now all I have to do is will myself not to get an erection at the thought of Viggo fucking me tonight, because while Legolas may not be used to death, I doubt that arousal would be the proper response. Time for the horny little git to become the stoic Prince of Mirkwood.
*****
Okay, I have to admit that I'm a bit confused by this whole rentboy idea. I mean, I've been Viggo's personal whore for the last month, and I'm not planning on quitting that position anytime soon; what more could he want from me? I already do anything and everything he asks me to, and he gets it for free. Still, if he really wants to do this roleplaying thing, then I'll go along with it. Am I a slut for him? Undoubtedly. But I get just as much out of it as he does.
We're all at this very nice hotel for the evening, and I stroll down the hall with a spring in my step. I've got so much adrenaline coursing through my veins that I feel like running five kilometers without stopping for a breath. Why? Because I'm getting laid tonight. I am *so* the man.
Stopping outside Viggo's room, I knock twice and hum the 'Star Wars' theme under my breath as I wait for him to let me in. "Hey," I say with a grin when he opens the door. He's fresh from a shower, his hair still damp and a towel wrapped around his waist. "I know I'm a few minutes early."
"That's alright. Why don't you come in?" He gestures for me to enter, and I walk past him, going to stand in the middle of the room. "Well, the agency wasn't lying when they said that you were good-looking. I wasn't quite expecting the mohawk, though."
"The agency?" I ask in confusion.
"Yes, the agency. The escort service," he says impatiently. "The people I called to get you to come up to the room." Oh. I get it. The roleplaying has already begun. Quick on the uptake, aren't I?
"Got it. I just blanked for a moment," I explain. "Sorry."
Viggo just nods, looking me up and down, then snaking a tongue out to briefly lick his lips. "So what's your name, boy?"
"What do you want it to be?" Okay, I stole that line from 'Pretty Woman', but I'm kind of in new territory here. It's not exactly as if I practiced being a rentboy to prepare for that one scene in 'Wilde'.
He chuckles and walks slowly in a cicle around me. "What's your name?" he asks again.
"Uh, John."
"No, it's not." Damnit, Viggo. Stop playing games and shag me already!
"It's Arthur. My name is Arthur."
"Arthur?" Viggo raises his eyebrows. "I don't like that name."
I grit my teeth to keep myself from sighing with impatience. "Then what name *would* you like to call me?"
"How about Orlando? That's the name of the best fuck I ever had," he tells me, stopping his circling and standing behind me. "You look like him." The man is completely nutters, making me go through all the crap about names only to pick . . . wait a second. Did he really just call me the best fuck he ever had? I suppose he could be talking about some other bloke named Orlando, but I doubt it. Wow, this is a very proud moment for me.
"Orlando it is, then."
"Good." His hands slide around to my chest and he quickly unbuttons my shirt. I shrug it off and turn around to face him, grinning when I see the lump in his towel.
"Now, what is it that you want me to do for you, sir?"
"I want you to take off the rest of your clothes, Orlando." The way he says my name is colder, more detached than usual -- not to mention than most of the time, he just calls me Orli.
"Alright," I tell him with a nod. I kick off my scuffed-up trainers and socks, then pull off my baggy jeans. As per usual when I'm with Viggo, I'm not wearing any skivvies.
"Turn around and bend over so I can see your ass," he instructs. I obey, my breath catching when he reaches forward and gives each cheek a firm squeeze. "Perfect. Just right for fucking," he murmurs. Yes! He's going to fuck me tonight! "Stand up."
I resume my previous stance and look at him expectantly. "What now?"
"Well, now . . ." Viggo loosens his towel and lets it fall to the floor. "I want to see how good your mouth is.
"You want me to suck your cock?" I ask, trying to keep the hopefulness out of my voice. I have to remember that I'm Orlando the fictional and strictly professional rentboy, not Orli the eager slut.
"No." Viggo gets on the bed and lies down on his back, spreading his legs and pulling his knees up to his chest. "I want you to suck my balls, and then you're going to give me the best fucking rim job I've ever had."
I swallow hard. His balls? A rim job? I've never done that before. Shit, I don't know where to start! Okay, there's no need to be nervous. After all, I've let Viggo tie me up, spank me, rim me, snowball me, fuck my mouth *and* my arse; what harm will giving him a rim job do?
"Okay, I can do that," I finally say.
"Then get over here."
I join Viggo on the bed and position myself between his legs. Leaning forward, I place one hand on each of his thighs and lick a broad swipe across one of his balls. A shudder goes through him, and I smile smugly before repeating the action and then taking the heavy sac into my mouth, sucking gently.
"That's it, Orlando," he hisses. "Now the other one. Suck it, you little whore."
My confidence builds as I lick and suck the other one, inhaling the warmth and musky scent. Viggo is moaning loudly now, and I'm feeling rather proud of myself. After all, I'm apparently the best fuck that the great Viggo Mortensen has ever had, and now I've proved my expertise in the area of ball-sucking. Like I said earlier, I am *so* the man.
"Stop," he groans. "I want you to rim me now. Lick my fucking ass, got it?"
Yeah, I got it. My hands are shaking slightly as I pull apart the cheeks of Viggo's arse, and I hope he doesn't notice that. His hole is pink and clean, and I have to admit that it's tempting as all fuck to see what it tastes like. It can't taste bad, right? I mean, Viggo *loves* to eat out my arse!
"Come on, you whore," Viggo says bitingly. "Are you going to do anything other than stare at my ass?"
"Of course," I stammer. "Sorry about that."
"Don't be sorry, just do what I'm paying you for."
I tentatively stick my tongue out and lick around Viggo's hole. It tastes like the rest of his skin, smells a bit muskier than his cock, but it's not gross at all. Taking a deep breath, I circle the hole with my tongue over and over until he's moaning and squirming on the mattress.
"Orlando?" Viggo's voice is low and raspy. "Be a good whore and fuck me with your tongue."
"Alright." I've gone down on girls before and this seems kind of similar, so I try to remember what I learned from that: just relax and breathe through your nose.
My tongue pushes into him, feeling the tight muscle relax to allow penetration. God, this is *so* bizarre! But Viggo seems to be enjoying it. He's writhing above me, pushing his hips down so I can go deeper into him. I spread his cheeks wider and start licking around inside, tasting him in a way I never thought that I would. The writhing continues, and he's moaning like crazy.
"God, that's so good," he grunts, rotating his hips. "You know you love it, Orlando. You love to lick my ass, don't you? Go deeper . . . come on, slut . . . fuck me with it."
That's what I'm trying to do, you bastard! That's what I'd say if I could talk, but my mouth is otherwise occupied with licking the hell out of his delicious arse. My jaw muscles are beginning to ache a bit, but I keep going, pushing my tongue even deeper, deeper, *deeper*. It's really hot and tight inside of him, and I find that *I'm* letting out a little moan. Holy fuck, I'm loving this!
Okay, now I know why Viggo's always so eager to do this. It tastes really good, and there's something weirdly erotic about burying your mouth in another man's arse. I know that sounds strange, but here I am, eating his arse like it's some gourmet delicacy that I'm starving for. I could do this all night long.
"That's enough," Viggo rasps, his hand reaching down to push my head away. What? No! "I want to fuck your pretty ass." Oh. Well, I guess I can live with that.
I get into our normal position -- me on my back with my legs spread *wide*. Viggo gets onto his knees and frowns, shaking his head at me. "What?" I ask.
"No, I want you so that I can see your ass while I fuck it," he orders, his strong arms literally flipping me onto my stomach. Pushy motherfucker. "I want to watch my cock as it goes in and out of that little hole of yours." I swallow hard. Twice.
"O-okay."
"That's okay with you, right Orlando?" I hear the lube being opened. "I mean, that's what I'm paying you for."
Is that okay with me? It's bloody great! "Yeah, go ahead," I say, praying that I didn't sound too enthusiastic.
Two slick fingers enter me, and Viggo uses his other hand to pull me up to my hands and knees. I moan softly when he expertly curls his fingers to hit my prostate, and I can hear him chuckling behind me. "You like that, whore?"
"Yes," I gasp, pushing my hips back.
"Do you want more? Do you want me to replace my fingers with my hard cock? Do you want to feel it screwing your ass until you're screaming?" I can feel his lubed cock press up against my arse, and I bite my lip to keep myself from whimpering. Rentboys are not supposed to be this eager. "Tell me you want it, Orlando."
"I want it," I tell him. "Please, fuck me with your big cock." Yeah, that sounds rentboy-ish enough. Flatter the john so he'll just do the job.
Viggo rams his erection into me with one thrust, tearing a cry from my throat and making me close my eyes tightly. I *love* it when he does this to me. There's no warning and no mercy; it's hard, fast, and utterly devastating. His cock is stretching my arse as it pounds into me relentlessly. It's wonderful, except for one small detail: he's barely hitting my prostate.
"Tell me, whore. Tell me how good it feels as I fuck you," he grunts.
"Feels wonderful," I moan.
"Tell me how much you love my cock." His voice is low and steely as he continues pounding into me.
"I love it! God, it feels so good . . . it's so hard, so bloody big . . ."
Viggo lets out a groan as his pace speeds up, and I know he's close to coming. "You're such a hot little slut, so pretty as I fuck you . . . I want to hear you moan, whore." He angles his hips just right, and I yelp as he hits my prostate. "Yeah, that's it. You love it, slut; I know you do."
No shit. Of course I love it when he fucks me; I'd be insane not to. But the fact that he's really not hitting the spot I need him to -- and I *know* he's doing it on purpose -- is incredibly frustrating.
A few thrusts later, Viggo's grip on my hips turns painful as he lets out an actual roar and comes inside of me. Okay, what happens now? Do I get to come? See, this was wonderful, but I'm high and dry and really narked at my very inconsiderate partner.
"Stay there," he orders, and I stay up on my shaky knees, waiting for whatever his kinky brain thinks of next. A spanking? A blow job? "I want to see how I taste," he husks.
Shit! His tongue is . . . oh my God, he's eating his own come out of my arse! It's nasty, it's sick, it's undeniably great. I dare to wrap a hand around my cock, and he doesn't stop me. The feeling of being simultaneously stroked and tongue-fucked, combined with the knowledge that Viggo is tasting himself inside of me is too much.
"Fuck!" I cry, throwing my head back as I come all over my hand and stomach. He keeps eating out my arse until I've come back down to earth, then rolls me over onto my back and looks me up and down.
"You made a mess," he says coldly, scooping the come off of my palm and stomach with his fingers, then holding the stickiness to my mouth. "Clean it up."
I eagerly suck his fingers into my mouth, swallowing the salty taste of my own come and then giving him a grin. "Satisfied?"
"Almost." He covers my mouth with his for a long snog, and I can taste remnants of his come on his tongue. We're both breathing hard when the kiss ends, and he runs a gentle hand over my cheek. "Did you enjoy that, Orli?" Orli. The roleplaying must be over.
"Very much."
"Good." His lips brush my forehead like always, and I grin. What a weird guy.
"But you know, you forgot a major detail, mate."
"Oh? What's that?" Viggo pulls the blankets up and yawns.
"Any john with half a brain would have used a rubber with a rentboy."
"Ah, but this was only a game. Although I could pay you if you really want me to."
I snort. "Thanks, but that's not necessary."
We both laugh, and I stretch my limbs before climbing out of bed. "Are you going back to your room?" he asks. "You're welcome to stay here tonight if you want."
"I'm just going to the loo. I'll stay with you tonight."
"Good."
I do what I need to in the bathroom and then turn off the lights before rejoining him in bed, shifting around until I find a comfortable position. "See you in the morning, Viggo."
"Goodnight, Orli."
I close my eyes and try to fall asleep, realizing that this has become
our bizarre little ritual: work together, kinky sex together, spending
the night together. Pete would flip if he knew the extent to which
his request that the cast 'bond together' is being carried out, because
I have indeed become Viggo's slut. And I couldn't be happier.
