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Title: Mi Casa (1/2)
Author: Lara Lee ([ profile] take_this_waltz)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Orlando asks Viggo for help re: the love scene in "Troy". Viggo is glad to be of assistance. Written for Viggorously’s May Challenge 2004
Warning: none
Disclaimer: I don’t know those people in real life – thus, I can’t be making any statement about their sexuality/personal lives whatsoever. This story is complete fiction.
Archive: Viggorously, of course. LBES would be great, all others please ask.
A/N: [ profile] melacita and [ profile] legomyarrow were my wonderful betas. Thank you so much!

Mi Casa – part 1

“Beer? Wine? Malt?“ Viggo let his keys fall to the floorboards next to the door and walked down the hallway towards what had to be the kitchen. “Living room is down the hall to the left – make yourself comfortable, I’ll be with you in a minute.” The door closed behind him, and Orlando was alone.

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the front door of Viggo’s home.


He’d flown in from Malta only three days ago for the opening of Viggo’s new exhibition at one of the small galleries downtown, yesterday evening. Elijah had been there as well, and Liv and John and Ian. Even Bean had come. The next evening they had met for a Rings dinner and caught up on what they’d been doing for the last months. Orlando could still taste the red wine they had shared over pasta.
At some time during desert he had asked Viggo if he could discuss something concerning a scene in his new project, Troy, with him, and Viggo had invited him to come to his house – “somewhere quiet” – after everyone had said their goodbyes.

“Orlando? Where are you? Are you still-” The kitchen door opened again. Viggo frowned and switched on the lights in the hallway. Letting the door fall shut a second time, he yelled: “Come on in – mi casa e su casa!”

Slowly, Orlando let his chin sink to his chest and opened his eyes. Gazing at the bunch of keys on the floor, he shook his head at how much he wished what Viggo had just said was true. They had become friends during their time in New Zealand and they had stayed in touch ever since the filming ended – and Orlando had stayed as madly in love with Viggo as he had been for… ages, it seemed. He had never found the courage to let the other man know, though, had never been able to gather the courage to approach Viggo the way he longed to, and Viggo had never shown anything but friendship and respect towards him, hugs and kisses and touches and casual caresses and Cannes not withstanding.

“Friends, right,” Orlando reminded himself in a whisper and detached himself from the wooden door. “Colleagues. Mates.” Walking towards the living room, he took off his jacket and loosened the top button of his shirt. “Not such a good idea, coming here, Bloom…”

“What?” Viggo peeked around the corner and looked at Orlando. “You didn’t answer the drink-question, by the way. Beer, wine or malt? Or I could make some coffee or tea, if you like or-“

“Wine. Wine’s just fine, Vig, thank you.” Viggo must have taken his shoes off at some point of time since they arrived, Orlando noticed, entering the spacious room and watching Viggo disappear behind a door that must have lead to the kitchen. He hung his jacket over the back of one of the chairs at the dining table and walked towards the sofa.

“Have a seat.” Viggo’s voice seeping through the slit of the partly open door, and then the sound of a cork being drawn from a bottle and the jingling of glass against glass. Orlando sat down on the sofa and sank into the cushions. He rested his arms on the back of the sofa and took a quick glance around the room – books, wood, stereo, table, shelves, paper, paintings, pencils, rugs, windows, colors, shoes – before he let his head fall back, closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of Viggo’s home. He could smell the books and the wood as well as a faint hint of oil paint, and when he moved his feet a little he could feel the wiry material of a rug underneath his soles. His fingertips brushed against the upholstery while he listened to Viggo’s footsteps slowly approaching.

“Hey, elf-boy!” Orlando’s eyes sprang open when he felt a hand ruffle through his hair. Viggo was holding two glasses upside down in his other hand and the bottle was resting between his upper arm and chest.

“You can’t be still jet-lagged, you got here days ago…” He let go of Orlando’s hair, poured two glasses of wine and, leaning over the back of the sofa, set one down on the low table in front of Orlando. “What’s the matter?” He made his way around the piece of furniture and sat down next to the younger man, taking a sip of wine.

Orlando let his hands drop into his lap. After a pause he reached for his glass and moved it in tiny circles, swirling the red liquid around. He brought the glass to his lips with a sigh and let some of the wine pour into his mouth where it stayed for a little while, bathing his tongue, before he swallowed.

“Malta is great,” he began. “The cast is great and everything, filming is going fine and smoothly, basically.”

“Basically.” Viggo smiled at him.

“Yeah…” Orlando took another sip of wine. “Diane is actually quite good and Peter is amazing and it’s fun to work with Sean again, and Brad, his Achilles… Well… It’s hot in Malta and, well, there’s this scene we’re going to shoot next week and…”

“Which scene?” Viggo inquired, still smiling.

Pause. Sip. Swallow.

“The Paris-and-Helen-love-scene.” Orlando winced slightly and kept staring at his glass, kept playing with it, watching the wine move around in the transparent orb. “I have no idea how to do it.”

Viggo raised his eyebrows. Which Orlando of course couldn’t see because he was still staring at the glass in his hands. He also couldn’t see how Viggo pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. He cleared his throat. “Why not?”

Tearing his eyes away from the swirling wine, Orlando turned his head and looked at the man sitting next to him. He shrugged.

“Orlando, first of all – you’re a good actor. Second, you must have seen thousands of scenes like that. You know how they work.” Viggo watched his friend squirming. He carefully reached out to touch Orlando’s arm. “You know it’s not that difficult, and you just told me that your partner is good, too.”

Their eyes locked. Viggo couldn’t be entirely sure but from where he was sitting it seemed as if Orlando’s eyes were filling with water. His fingers gave Orlando’s arm a squeeze. “Orlando? What’s wrong? I mean, with that scene, why…?“

“It’s just that I’ve never done that before, I-“

“But that’s not true,” Viggo interrupted before he knew what he was saying. “You must have done love scenes while you were in Guildhall. And you did ‘Midsomer Murders’ and-.”

Orlando’s eyes went wide and he snatched his arm away from Viggo’s grasp. Viggo could watch the other man first pale and then blush fiercely. When Orlando rose he reached for him, but Orlando was around the sofa and at the dining table in a matter of seconds.

Orlando set his glass on the table next to some notebooks and pencils. He balled his hands to fists and rested them on the table’s surface. His back to Viggo, who was still sitting on the sofa, watching his friend worriedly, he murmured: “That was different.”

“How?” Viggo took another sip from his glass and leaned towards where Orlando was standing.

“Everything was different. Back then, I mean. Just about everything. You know, everything has changed since then.” Orlando sighed and pulled a chair from the table. He lowered himself onto that chair, wincing slightly, straightening his back and then covering his face with his hands. He let his upper body fall forward until his elbows touched the table and rested his head in his hands. “Everything was different. Nothing really mattered, not like this. I was working almost anonymously, nobody knew me.” He paused for a long time. “I didn’t know you knew about ‘Midsomer Murders’. I never told you about it, did I? Well, whatever… Everyone makes this to be my first big love scene, the first time I take my clothes off in front of the camera and all…”

“But it isn’t.” Viggo rose and slowly walked towards the dining table.

“No, it isn’t. And that’s why I have no idea how to do this. Everything’s different. Everything has changed.”

Viggo stopped just behind the chair in which Orlando was sitting and set his glass down next to Orlando’s. Then he raised his hands to Orlando’s shoulders and rested them there. He felt how the body underneath his hands tensed and he began to massage Orlando’s shoulders soothingly.

“Why don’t you start like this?” he suggested.

“Like what? Start what?” Orlando was confused. Why was Viggo touching him like that? Why did it feel so good and yet so threatening?

“The scene. Why don’t you start the scene like this? Your hands on her shoulders, then you move them upwards a little, just like this, and let your knuckles brush against her neck, just the slightest contact of skin against skin… Why don’t you start like this?” Viggo’s hands mirrored his words. “If the camera is right in front of her on her dressing table it should give the audience a lovely view and it would provide time to relax for both of you – being half covered and all… And,” he turned his hands until his fingertips were touching Orlando’s neck, “and you could touch her hair like this, play with it a bit, like on a lazy afternoon at home, just the two of you…”

Orlando felt himself relax under Viggo’s caresses. Viggo’s fingers were barely touching him, his hair, and he could feel the warmth radiating from Viggo’s body behind him. He leaned back and closed his eyes. A sigh escaped his lips when Viggo’s fingers traced his neck and moved around to his throat, his jawbones. The fingers were gentle, though the texture of the skin covering them was rough. Orlando felt himself harden in his jeans and his breath hitched.

“Hmmmmm…” Viggo hummed. “Feels good?” His fingers continued to caress Orlando’s skin. “I’m sure you’ll be amazing in that scene,” he whispered.

Orlando’s eyes snapped open and he withdrew from the caressing hands. “Christ, Viggo, how can you be so sure of that?” Turning around on his chair to face the other man, he almost knocked over his glass with his elbow but caught it just in time.

Viggo bit his lip and reached for Orlando’s chin. His thumb brushed over Orlando’s mouth. “You are going to be wonderful, like you were in ‘Midsomer Murders’. You’ll get me so worked up watching you…”

Orlando blinked and caught Viggo’s hand with his, stilling its movements. “Viggo…?”

“You’ll get me all aroused and hard seing you naked, watching you doing all those… things.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment. He felt Orlando rise from his chair and pulled his hand away, then he took a deep breath and looked at the man standing in front of him. Orlando looked confused. And terrified. “I’m sorry, Orlando. I shouldn’t have said this. I… I’m sorry.” He turned and walked towards the sofa again. “Here you are, asking for my advice and help, and I… sorry, I shouldn’t have said what I just said but I… you, you’re here and you were so…”

Orlando walked up to him and reached for his wrist. “Vig. Viggo – I had no idea. I didn’t know you’d… Why? Since when? I mean, why have you never…”

Viggo slowly turned around. He didn’t intend for Orlando to draw him close but it happened nevertheless. He gasped as his cloth-clad erection met with Orlando’s thigh. Pressure. Too much pressure. Orlando would notice and he would-

“You’re-” Orlando cleared his throat, “you’re hard now.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Let’s just let it be, okay? Please, I’m sorry, Orlando, I’ll just…” Viggo tried to pull away but Orlando’s hand wouldn’t let go of his wrist. On the contrary.

Orlando didn’t know what to do with an embarrassed, squirming Viggo. The Viggo he knew usually was anything but. Yes, Viggo could be shy and insecure, pensive and cautious, but Orlando had never seen him like that. He wanted to wipe the embarrassment away and erase the look of defeat in Viggo’s eyes. He pulled Viggo even closer and moved the other man’s hand towards his crotch. “Me too...” He blushed when Viggo’s fingers touched him there. “Show me. Show me how I should do that scene.”

Their eyes locked. Still that look in Viggo’s eyes. But receding, vanishing, gradually dissolving into a questioning glitter. A slight frown. Orlando’s hand reaching for Viggo’s cheek, Orlando’s hips increasing the contact with Viggo’s. Orlando nodded.

“Show me.”

**tbc in part 2**
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February 2012


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