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[personal profile] sal_si_puedes
Title: A Matter of Time
Summary: How Viggo and Orlando got together - finally! Set in NZ during filming.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None. It's light, fluffy and happy. :-)
Disclaimer: They're not mine, and I don't know anything about them. I'm not making any statement about their personal lives, sexual preferences etc. It's all just for fun.
Beta: Thank you, [livejournal.com profile] elanna9 and [livejournal.com profile] salixbabylon for your kind offer and for your fantastic help! I owe you one! And thanks to [livejournal.com profile] charly2004 for the input! *smooches*
A/N: Written for [livejournal.com profile] vo_xmas (2006) as a gift for [livejournal.com profile] metamaura - Happy Christmas!




A Matter of Time

Part one

Viggo is many things.

He is a father, an artist, an actor. He is a writer, a photographer, a friend. He is politically minded, a good cook and he is multilingual. He is a traveller, he is generous and sometimes he is laid back and sure of himself.

Viggo is many things. And above all he is patient.

Viggo knows many things.

He knows that some things are easier said than done. He knows that principle holds true to politics as well as to raising his son, Henry.

He knows that it pertains to entering contracts, as well. He is aware of the fact that being an artist is a life-long struggle with ideas and ideals, with abilities and perfection.
Viggo knows that sometimes you have to cast aside all ideas, all ideals, and, above all, all abilities to reach perfection. That's easier said than done, of course, and Viggo knows that, too.

Viggo knows that the state of the world sometimes troubles him so much that he can't sleep through the night. He knows that drinking sometimes helps and sometimes only makes matters worse. Knowing that doesn't mean that he's always able to distinguish the times when it helps from those when it doesn't, but he's learning to do that bit by bit, night by night.

Viggo knows how to apologise elaborately in at least five different languages and he knows that sometimes you don't need words to apologise properly.

Viggo knows that oil paint takes a long time to dry.

He also knows that the oil in the pan has to reach an extremely high temperature if you want to fry a decent steak. He knows that you have to wait for the oil to reach that temperature and that it takes some time to reach it and that only then, only when you're almost sure that it's too hot, can you lay the meat into the oil so that the pores close immediately and keep all the juice, the blood, the moisture inside. He knows that if you do it earlier the steak will be spoiled. He has learned that the hard way and he still thinks it's easier said than done.

Viggo is a patient man because he knows that some things take their time, whether you like it or not. He is a patient man because he knows that sometimes it's not a matter of "if" but only a matter of "when". And he knows that if that is the case, there is nothing you can do but wait for them to happen.

He knows that that is the case with Orlando. He knew that it would happen eventually, he has known that since the beginning, since the afternoon they first met, here in New Zealand, a couple of weeks ago. He knew it even though Orlando was so reserved towards him during the first few days. He knew it through the following few days when their forming friendship was still so very delicate.

He knows that it will happen at some point of time, he has always known it and he knows it now. He also knows that he will have to be patient while waiting for it. He knows that he can be patient since he has never doubted the "if"; he has always known that it was only a question of "when", a matter of time.

Viggo knows that some animals wait for days and weeks and months and years for their prey to come along and find its way into their claws or jaws or nets or traps or arms. They do that because they know it will come eventually, once the time is right. They don't despair, they don't curse time, they don't lose focus. They wait patiently.

That's what Viggo does. He waits. He waits for Orlando. As patiently as possible. Which is, of course, sometimes easier said than done but Viggo has learned that some things are worth waiting for and that you spoil them when you don't.

Knowing that makes Viggo calm and sure and focused. It makes him attentive, too, even more attentive than usual, because it is of the utmost importance not to miss the right time, the right moment.

Viggo thinks that Orlando knows, too.

He thinks that Orlando's knowledge has grown since those first few days, he thinks he can tell it from the way Orlando moves and talks, from the way he raises his hand to his mouth and from the way he sometimes stops breathing for a second or two.

He has studied Orlando carefully, patiently, and he thinks he now knows the meaning of a raised brow, of fingertips rubbed against each other, of a slight pause in the stream of words that pours from Orlando's lips.

Viggo knows from the way their eyes lock from time to time, from the faint smile that makes Orlando's face light up when he catches Viggo looking at him from the side. He knows from the way everything is so easy between the two of them even when things get complicated. Which they do from time to time, because some things are always easier said than done. He knows from the gentleness in Orlando's answering touches, casual contacts of arms, hands, fingers, eyes and words. It's always easy for Viggo to be around Orlando, to be himself around Orlando. It's the easiest thing he has ever done, ever. Viggo feels comfortable around him. Viggo suspects Orlando feels the same because he can sense Orlando becoming calm and confident whenever they are together. It's easy, really; they just talk to each other and look at each other and touch each other casually, carefully, tenderly every day now. The smiles grow fonder, and Viggo can read Orlando better and better every day.

Viggo thinks that Orlando knows about the animals as well and the nets and the canvass and the frying-pan.

He can't help but admire Orlando's patience and sometimes he can't help but wonder who is the prey, who is waiting for whom.

Nevertheless, Viggo feels confident as he waits because he knows it's only a matter of time, and then the waiting will come to an end and his patience will be rewarded.


Part two

"Hey, old man," Orlando walks up to Viggo from behind on the way to their trailer and slips his arm around Viggo's waist. "Say - got any plans for tonight?"

"No plans yet," Viggo mutters, untying the leather straps that hold together his costume. His sword dangles by his side, and Viggo feels the heavy metal swing with every step he takes. Just like Anduril is part of Aragorn, this prop has become part of him. It moves whenever he moves, and it doesn't cause his palms to blister anymore. His hands got used to the contact just like Viggo got used to the sword's weight.

"The Hobbits are coming over tonight", Orlando goes on. "To my place, I mean. And Bean. And Liv. And Ian said perhaps he'd drop by as well." He stops in his tracks and tilts his head towards Viggo. "You wanna come over, too?" Even flutters his eyelashes at him, the little fluttery flirt.

Viggo takes a step away from Orlando, and Orlando's arm slips from his waist. He reaches for the back of Orlando's head and brings their foreheads together. Carefully this time. Not like the other time that had made Orlando almost black out and cry in secret.

"Close your eyes, and I'll be there, Elf Boy," Viggo whispers. Orlando closes his eyes.

Viggo does, too, and feels Orlando's breath on his face.

"Good."

Viggo now senses that Orlando is smiling.

"Good." He squeezes his eyes shut and lets go of Orlando's neck.

Orlando starts to bounce immediately. No, really, he starts to jump up and down and to run towards the trailer and back to where Viggo is still standing, and he is beaming and laughing, and his blond hair is doing crazy things in the breeze, very un-elflike, but Viggo can't help but smile along.

"Great, Vig!" Orlando's voice is buzzing with energy, and nobody but Viggo would notice the slight stutter in Orlando's movements, the faint knitting of his brows, expressions of a distant pain, probably in his back, somewhere in the lower third of his back, close to the long white scar that runs along his spine like a dead albino snake, Viggo thinks and wipes away the thought with a brush of his hand across his face.

"Can I bring anything?" Viggo scratches his beard and unties Anduril from his side. It's true that he carries the sword around a lot but it's a only rumour that he never takes it off. He certainly doesn't take it to bed with him but there's no-one to know that, at least not yet, Viggo thinks and smiles. It's just a matter of time, though, he thinks, and his smile broadens. It's a weird smile, and his teeth are showing, he knows that but as Orlando's smile broadens too, he thinks for a moment that everything is well in the world.

"Nope," Orlando shouts back at him and dances towards the trailer. "Just yourself and maybe a bottle of wine." He climbs up the three steps leading to the door and looks back at Viggo over his shoulder, blond hair flying and all. "Only got beer and some hard stuff. No wine for you and the wizard." He shrugs and opens the door.

Viggo blinks a couple of times and follows Orlando into the trailer. He drops down in the make-up chair next to Orlando's, leans back and closes his eyes. "Okay," he says while Shelly starts to work on his face.

"Great," Orlando says again, and Viggo feels a hand on his shoulder that doesn't belong to Shelly. "Can't wait."

The hand lingers on Viggo's shoulder for a moment or two and then slides down his arm until it rests on Viggo's hand. A light squeeze and a brief caress of thumb and fingertips, and Viggo thinks maybe it's time tonight, and he is fairly sure that he can wait that long.


Part three

Viggo's car stops on the gravel in front of Orlando's house at the beach. Viggo is not wearing Anduril tonight, which makes it easier for him to reach over to the passenger's seat where the bottle of wine lies that he brought along according to Orlando's wishes.

The wine weighs heavy in his hand and Viggo watches how the tiny bubbles that have been created by the agitation during the drive slowly vanish. He'll have to wait at least half an hour for it to settle before he can open it, Viggo knows that, and he also knows that a full hour would be even better.

He hears voices and music once he opens the driver's door. The gravel crunches and moves beneath his feet, little landslides, and the sound makes Viggo think of mazes and cemeteries. Nobody answers when he knocks on Orlando's front door, not the first time, not the second. Third time is the charm, Viggo thinks and tries again. He can hear footsteps approaching the door inside the hallway and he quickly makes three guesses about who will be the one to open the door. Billy, Dom or Bean.

"Hey, old man, glad you're here," Orlando welcomes him, and the hug he bestows on Viggo shows that the guest on the other side of his threshold is no mere Ranger.

Both Viggo and Orlando take a deep breath while holding each other and slowly release it again. Viggo's hands reach for Orlando's head and he brings their foreheads together once more.

"Me too," Viggo says, his thumbs stroking along Orlando's cheekbones.

They hug again and after that Orlando ushers Viggo inside. "We're out on the patio, and Dom's got the barbecue going and there's beer and Beans, okay, one Bean, and the Knight is here, too. Liv is still missing in action but she said she'd come too, so maybe later."

Orlando places his hands on Viggo's shoulders and steers him through the living room and through the door out onto the patio.

"Look, everybody, who I've got here!"

The chatter stops, heads turn and Bean slaps Viggo on his arm. "My captain."

"Strider!" That's the Hobbits, almost in unison, and Viggo thinks that one really can take that living in Middle Earth thing a bit too far. But then he smiles because he knows that the Hobbits rely on him to guide them through the wild, and he knows the wild well. He grins at Bean and waves in general Hobbit direction.

Viggo sits down next to Ian, and they hug briefly.

"I brought wine but we'll have to wait a bit before we open it. It has to settle down after the drive."

Ian leans back in his chair, raises an eyebrow and smiles at Viggo. "We old men can wait, can't we?"

Viggo cringes slightly. It's different when an old man like Ian calls you an old man, he thinks. Ian knows that and his smile widens. "Good to see you, Viggo. So, tell me – how's Middle Earth been treating you? Everything all right?"

Conversation starts and develops, the Hobbits bring Viggo beer and food, and he decides that he finds that funny, being fed and served by the Hobbits, but he likes it very much. He senses that they appreciate him and that's a good sensation for sure.

They eat and drink and talk, and Orlando is a good host to all his guests, albeit a bit chaotic. He changes the music every so often and brings more beer and bread, and sits on Ian's lap and on Viggo's, too, once, and the next minute he jumps up again and runs into the kitchen to fetch a corkscrew and some glasses.

Ian opens the wine, and Viggo watches Orlando's eyes resting on Ian's hands. He watches Orlando bite his lips when Ian pulls the cork from the bottle's neck. He notices how Orlando exhales once the bottle is uncorked and wonders how many times Orlando has managed to tear the cork apart.

That's exactly the question he asks Orlando during the game of Truth or Dare Dom initiates an hour later: "When opening a bottle of wine, how many times have you managed to tear the cork apart?"

Orlando opens his mouth, closes it again and looks at Viggo, who first discovers Orlando is breaking into a wide grin by the way his cheeks raise towards his eyes.

"Very often," Orlando replies. "But you know that."

The Hobbits look at each other and shake their heads, and Ian chuckles.

The game continues with Billy and Dom asking everyone how many women they've fucked so far whenever it's their turn to ask a question. Then they ask the same question about the number of men.

The only time Viggo chooses ‘dare', Elijah dares him to "compose an impromptu love poem" on his "current crush".

Viggo thinks for a moment, then he asks for pencil and paper, excuses himself and retreats to the living room for a short while. When he comes back, he carries a piece of paper in his hands from which he reads

Each returned smile
makes harder to avoid
dreams that see us
lying in early morning
curtain shadow


Could as well have chosen ‘truth', he thinks, and decides that he'll keep those lines to work on them later. He folds the slip of paper and tucks it into his back pocket.

For a couple of minutes the game continues but then it dissolves into laughter and talk. After a while, the guests leave the patio and settle down in the living room because Elijah says it's too cold outside, which Viggo doesn't agree with, so he stays outside, sipping his wine.

He gets up from his chair and walks towards the railing. He carefully places his glass on top of the wooden rail and spreads his arms a little until he can rest his hands on it as well. He closes his eyes and he knows that it won't take long until Orlando comes looking for him. He closes his eyes and hums and nods his head in time with the syllables he is counting. A poem in the making, he thinks and smiles. He knows it won't take now. It's time, he thinks.

And of course he is right.

The first sign is Elijah shouting, "Hey, Orli!?" and he hears Orlando answer, "Just going outside for a minute, Lij."

The second sign is footsteps on the wooden floor. Confident at first, then hesitant, then confident again.

The third sign – and it's the sign that lets Viggo know that the waiting is over for good – is Orlando's arms wrapping around his waist from behind and Orlando's chin resting on his shoulder.

"Vig." Orlando nuzzles his cheek and his neck, smiling against his skin, breathing deeply. "We're waiting for you inside."

Viggo turns his head to the right and presses his lips against Orlando's forehead. "And I've been..."

"And you've been waiting for me outside," Orlando takes over Viggo's words and finishes his thought.

"Yeah," Viggo murmurs. "I have." And he lifts his hand to Orlando's chin and they look into each others' eyes briefly and then their lips meet.

"I know," Orlando whispers against Viggo's lips.

Orlando's lips taste even better than Viggo had thought they would. Viggo is glad that he waited because now the time is right and nothing will be spoiled - he knows that with such a certainty that he can feel his patience begin to crumble. It falls away layer by layer, continuously at first, then quicker with each shard. There's only half of his patience left now when their tongues touch for the first time, and Viggo turns around in Orlando's arms, trying not to break but to deepen the kiss.

Viggo groans and his right hand finds its way into Orlando's hair, or what's left of it anyway. He crushes their mouths together, trying to get Orlando deeper, closer. Orlando's breath spreads over his face like a blanket, and Viggo knows that the waiting is over, finally over and done with.

"Spicy," Viggo hears inside of his mouth, the word reverberating against his lips. He doesn't bother to answer but when Orlando starts to speak again, he withdraws a little.

"Good wine," Orlando licks his lips. "More."

The second kiss is somewhere between as good as or even better than the first and slightly less poignant.

Loud cheering from the other side of the glass patio windows makes them smile and frown and it makes Viggo stiffen a bit. Clapping follows and a whistle (Ian? Bean? Elijah?), and this is when Viggo makes a request since his patience is wearing thin.

"Send the Hobbits home. Bean and the wizard, too."

Orlando moans and delays his answer until the next kiss has subsided. "Can't."

"Can." Viggo claims Orlando's mouth again. "It's time. You know it. And I reckon they do, too..."

Suddenly – Viggo has no idea how much time has passed – Orlando is pulled backwards by a hand on his shoulder. It's Bean, and he's wearing a huge grin on his face.

"Hey, lads, we're off, ‘kay? Don't bother showing us out. We'll find the door. Yep. And, ahem, have a ... nice night. Tomorrow, yeah?"

"Bye, Beanie," Orlando mutters before he dives in for another kiss.

Yeah, sod off, mate, Viggo thinks. Time, time, time, he thinks, and there goes what had been left of his patience.

Viggo's tongue delves into Orlando's mouth, exploring, caressing, staking his claim. He's waited for so long, and now it's his, his, his. His tongue brushes over Orlando's teeth, feels the rough texture of Orlando's tongue, the softness of his lips, tastes breath and fluid, wants more and now is the time for the taking.

"God," Orlando breathes. "Vig..."

Viggo pushes Orlando towards the door and lands him against the wall next to the window, back against the wall, and Viggo against Orlando.

"Hard," escapes Viggo's mouth, and he presses against Orlando and pushes Orlando further against the wall. He captures Orlando's wrists and raises them until they're touching the wall. "No more waiting," he moans, and Orlando struggles against Viggo's grip. And Orlando's hips buck against Viggo's, and Viggo can feel that Orlando knows and that he's done with waiting, too.

"You like that," Viggo states and tightens his grip on Orlando's wrists. He feels the energy surging through Orlando's body, from his wrists straight to his groin. Or not quite so straight, Viggo thinks, but there has never been any doubt about that. And he tightens his grip a little more.

"Fuck, Viggo," Orlando pants. "Fuck, yes..."

And everything is well in the world.

"Please," Viggo hears but isn't all too sure whose lips were the origin of those words. "Now," he forces out. "Now, Orlando. Now."

Orlando breaks the contact of lips and pushes Viggo away with a swift movement of his body. Viggo isn't quite sure with which part but he guesses shoulders or legs, chest perhaps, that's another possibility.

"'Nother glass of wine?" Orlando offers.

"No," Viggo answers after taking a deep breath. "No more wine." His shoulders drop and he releases Orlando from the grip of his hands. "You." He observes his hand caressing Orlando's face, his lips, his brows, his cheeks and his eyelids. "You. Now. Nothing else."

Orlando nods. "We've waited long enough, haven't we?"

"We deserve this," Viggo answers. "For all the patience."

And Orlando reaches for Viggo's hand and walks through the door inside the house, taking Viggo with him. "I want to see you naked."

Viggo gasps, "Yes."

They walk over to the sofa and slowly undress in front of each other. But the moment the last piece of clothing falls from their bodies, they're done with slow and with hesitant and with that part of careful that isn't necessary any longer.

"So beautiful," they both say at the same time. Which, of course, sends them into a brief fit of laughter.

It is Orlando who moves first. He takes the three steps that separate him from Viggo in a rush. He grabs Viggo's shoulders, lets go of them again, then reaches for Viggo's head, his face. "I want you. So much."

"Then have me, Elf Boy," Viggo replies and flinches at his words.

"I like it when you call me that," Orlando soothes. "Don't worry. We'll be fine. You, we have known that for a long time. We'll be so much more than that."

They kiss again and Viggo feels as if they are rekindling warmth of the familiar. But at the same time it feels as if they are igniting more, things that go way beyond familiar.

"Here?" Viggo demands.

"You think we'll make it upstairs?" Orlando's thumb is on his lips.

"Let's give it a try." Viggo sinks down onto the sofa and pulls Orlando down with him. And skin feels so good against skin. Safe, Viggo thinks, and that's what he says. "Safe."

Orlando nods. "I've got what we need upstairs, and if we-“

"That's not what I meant," Viggo interrupts, and Orlando stills his hands.

"I know. But still we have to-“

"I know," Viggo's voice is hoarse as he tries to disentangle his legs from Orlando's. "Where?"

"Bathroom upstairs," Orlando's voice sounds a little smaller now. "Second drawer. I could-“

"Don't move," Viggo is quick enough to reply. "Don't you dare move. I'll be back in no time. I'm sorry I didn't-“

"Don't worry, please," Orlando's hand trails along Viggo's sternum. "Hurry. Please."

"That rhymes," Viggo grins and rises.

"Nah, it doesn't," Orlando says. "I'm British."

Viggo is up the stairs in no time. It takes him far too long to find the tube and the small foil package, at least far too long for his own taste. He stops a moment to look at his face in the bathroom mirror, running his fingers through his hair. Before and after echoes through his mind, and he knows this is a moment that holds the potential to change his life.

"I'm back," he yells when he's only halfway down the stairs. He stops dead in his tracks at the sight displayed in front of him. Orlando, spread out naked on the couch and oh-so-beautiful, his hard cock in his right hand, stroking slowly up and down.

"So soon," Orlando reaches out for him –

"The sight of you!"

– and draws him closer with his eyes. "Come. Have me now."

"I want to." Slowly walking to where Orlando is lying. The curtains flutter in the soft breeze from the sea, and the moon is bright outside, casting shadows onto Orlando's waiting body.

"I'm yours," and with that Orlando reaches for Viggo and pulls him downwards.

Viggo kneels in front of the couch, in front of Orlando, and drops the supplies on the floor. His hands caress Orlando's skin, his legs, his inner thighs, his pubic hair, his cock, his belly, his chest, his arms, his neck, his cheeks, his smile.

"Breathtaking," Viggo murmurs as his eyes follow the movements of his hands. "The most beautiful ... ever ..."

He looks up and finds Orlando staring at his face, lips slightly opened, eyes glittering, an almost predatory look, Viggo thinks and bends down to kiss those lips again.

Orlando's hands reach for his face and cup his cheeks. He can feel Orlando's thumbs stroking his cheeks and temples while their kiss deepens and gains more urgency. He feels how Orlando now reaches for his shoulders, his arms, and how he tries to draw Viggo closer, how he tries to shift on the couch, how his feet try to reach the floor, how his legs try to reach Viggo, how they try to wrap around him.

"Bed?" Viggo asks. He is out of breath and very hard.

"Floor?" Orlando replies and slides from the couch onto the carpet next to Viggo. He reaches for one of the cushions and places it underneath his head. "Floor's good. Excellent, actually." And he stretches a bit and reaches for Viggo again.

As Viggo sinks down next to Orlando he knows he wants to prolong the waiting a little longer. His right hand begins to roam Orlando's body again, travelling across his chest and further downwards, savouring the texture of Orlando's skin. Finally, he thinks. His fingers make contact with Orlando's cock, and Orlando moans into his mouth, his hips bucking against Viggo's hand.

Orlando breaks the kiss and he is as breathless as Viggo. "Prepare me."

Viggo smiles as his fingers curl around Orlando's erection and set a slow rhythm. "I want to explore you a little longer..."

"Okay," Orlando nods. "But ..."

"I know. Just let me. Just a little longer, a little more." Viggo moves downwards and opens Orlando's legs before he kneels between them. "This is the first time, the first touches, and all other times will be different." And he leans forward and lowers his head until it rests on Orlando's chest. He exhales and blows a stream of air over Orlando's nipple. That makes Orlando shiver and Viggo smile. He lifts his head and licks over the small bud, making it glisten with his saliva. Then he blows over it again. "Dark," he breathes before he lowers his head again and closes his lips around it.

"Ah!" Orlando's hands grab Viggo's head as teeth carefully tug at Orlando's nipple, and Viggo decides that maybe it's time to be a little less careful now and he adds some pressure. He likes the result - Orlando's hands grabbing handfuls of his hair - so he does it again.

"Fuck!" Orlando tilts his head backwards and closes his eyes. His hips buck up again and inhales sharply when his cock meets Viggo's. "God, you're so..."

Viggo immediately releases Orlando's nipple and thrusts against Orlando's groin. They kiss again and again and again and they lick and they move together and rub against each other, hands gliding over skin, their mutual moans and ragged breathing filling their ears, until Orlando suddenly grabs hold of Viggo's arms and stops moving.

"Vig." Viggo raises his head, and Orlando closes his eyes. "I'm going to... if we...“

Viggo stops moving, too. "I wanted to taste you." And he presses his erection into Orlando's groin.

"You-“ Orlando claims Viggo's mouth again. "Can do that-“ His hands slide down Viggo's spine and come to rest on the small of Viggo's back. "Later." He kisses Viggo tenderly. "Next time."

Viggo nods and tries to catch his breath. He raises to his knees, his hand trailing down Orlando's sternum, along his cock and then tracing the crease between Orlando's buttocks. Viggo stills his hand as his fingers touch Orlando's opening. They rest there for a little while before Viggo reaches for the lube. Orlando's eyes follow his movements as he opens it and squeezes some of the gel onto his fingers. He rubs his fingertips against each other, testing the texture. Then he looks up again at Orlando's face and their eyes meet once more.

Viggo knows that he doesn't have to ask Orlando if he's ready. He knows that Orlando is as ready as he is. So he lowers his hand and touches Orlando's entrance again, covering it with a layer of gel. He starts to massage slowly, and after a while he breaches Orlando's body with one of his fingers.

Orlando gasps as Viggo's finger enters him and he pushes back against it. "Yes," he hisses. "Yes, please."

Viggo obeys. He feels the tightness of Orlando's opening and he can't help but imagine how it's going to feel like to be surrounded by that tightness. He needs to stop composing poetry in his head now, he thinks, there are other matters at hand. At hand, he thinks, and a faint grin takes hold of his face.

The noises coming from Orlando's mouth tell him that Orlando is ready for more. Viggo withdraws a little and adds a second finger. He thrusts them deeper inside of Orlando's body and curls them a little. He thinks that concentration must show on his face and he tries to make it look softer. He can feel a bead of sweat running down his neck, and his left hand finds its way to his own cock. It closes around the erect flesh and moves up and down – once. Then he places his hand on Orlando's abdomen, underneath Orlando's cock. He tries scissoring his fingers inside of Orlando, stretching him, making him even readier for more.

After a minute, Orlando reaches for Viggo's left hand and brings it to his lips. "Enough. Please. Have me now." He brings his own hand to Viggo's forehead and wipes some droplets from Viggo's brow. "I know you want to fuck me now."

Viggo bites his lips and nods. He pulls his fingers out, wipes them against his thigh and grabs the condom. His hands are shaking slightly as he tears the wrapping and rolls the thin latex over his erection. Then he reaches for the lube again but Orlando takes the tube from his hands.

"Let me." He carefully coats Viggo's cock with gel and lies back, opening his legs further.

Viggo doesn't want to wait anymore. He takes hold of his erection and guides it against Orlando's opening. Orlando's eyes never leave his as he thrusts forward, sinking into his lover's body. Yes, he thinks. So good. He is amazed that they're both able to stop moving for a few seconds. He feels the tension in both their bodies and knows that it won't be more than that, just a moment, a matter of time, before they have to move again.

Orlando knows it too. He raises his hand to Viggo's cheek and takes some deep breaths. "Worth waiting for, hm?" His fingers move to Viggo's lips and receive the most tender kiss, a mere flutter of lips against his skin. Then Viggo opens his mouth and takes two of Orlando's fingers inside. "Let go now, Vig. Let go for me."

A tremble runs through Viggo's body and he begins to move. He knows he can now and he knows nothing will be spoiled. His thrusts are measured at first, deep and slow and even, and all thoughts of poetry, all words leave his mind but one.

"Orlando."

Counter-thrusts against his body, breath and kisses, mingled moans, and that's all he is. He is inside of Orlando, and Orlando surrounds him, envelops him, covers him, defines him. Then their movements align and urge them towards climax. He reaches for Orlando's cock and feels it twitch in his grip.

"Ah... Vig!" Orlando says his name, his voice challenges Viggo to quicken his pace, draws him deeper and closer to completion. "Viiiiiggo!" Orlando's voice breaks like waves against the shore.

Viggo is lost. "Love," he whispers in between breaths and thrusts, and he thinks he can hear an echo of that word but he isn't sure. It doesn't matter, though, because he knows.

"Come for me."

Orlando's moan turns into a scream and Viggo can feel how Orlando's cock begins to pulse and spasm and how hot, sticky liquid spills over his hand. A few quick, shallow thrusts and Viggo is there, too. He loses himself in his lover, lets the power of his orgasm wash him away with the tide.

He finds himself stranded in Orlando's arms and he knows nothing will ever be the same.

Later he will try to remember but he won't be able to recall how he withdrew from Orlando's body and disposed of the condom, but he knows he will always remember Orlando's face in the moonlight and curtain shadow. He knows he will always remember missing and longing for that body and he knows that he will always find fulfilment and completion and so much more within his lover and in his arms.

They look at each other and smile, the sweat covering their bodies slowly drying.

"This is so much," Orlando mutters against Viggo's neck. "I always, ever since we met-“

"Yeah," Viggo answers. "I know."


***End***
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February 2012

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