Slashababy 2004 Stories

  FANFICTION: This story depicts real-life public figures engaged in completely fictional, false and untrue activities. It never happened, it never will happen. This story is a work of fantasy and satire which in no way professes to express the truth about the life, thoughts, feelings, desires, opinions, beliefs, activities or sexual orientation of any person mentioned herein.

Moth to a Flame

for lovewithapathy
by katiekat_2505

Rating: R (ish)
Summary: Orlando is the moth
Disclaimer: Don't know them, never met them, the only thing I own is the order that I put the words in.
Authors note: Written for the Slashababy Secret Santa for Lovewithapathy. Her request: V/O, hot no fluff. I don't know what this is but it sure ain't fluff.

Moth to a Flame

In public Viggo was so cool. No one would ever guess that he and Orlando were anything more than what they had always been. No one would ever guess that for the last three weeks Viggo had been fucking Orlando's brains out on a semi-regular basis.

In public Viggo was so cool. In private he was hot. His hands, rough and calloused from hours of sword work, scorched Orlando's flesh as they mapped his body. Strong hands that would strip and restrain him efficiently then bring him to shuddering, screaming climaxes. Hands that fought the forces of evil, that chastely romanced Elven princesses, that could make him hard with a single touch. A simple tap on the shoulder... an unspoken signal, a silent ´follow me'. And Orlando followed, moth to a flame, after that first time he had no choice... his body followed Viggo without consulting his brain. That first time it had been his eyes, those brooding eyes that met his in the mirror.˛

In public Viggo was so cool. He was so... Viggo. He talked to everyone and no one about everything and nothing. Art and politics, the shooting schedule or the ever escalating prank war with the Hobbits. He played the attentive boyfriend to Sean. He was as he always was, slightly crazy, eccentrically playful, deep and meaningful, often all at he same time. Orlando asked him once, just once, how he could act like nothing was going on, like everything was normal. Viggo had looked at him, obviously confused "What's going on Orlando?" The younger man hadn't asked again.

He did wonder about Sean, but he didn't ask, he didn't really want to think about his other friend, the friend that was being cheated on. Instead he thought about Viggo... pretty much all the time, and that was the problem. Well actually the problem was that everyone noticed.

In public Viggo was so cool. Orlando was not. He stared and he blushed and he was teased mercilessly by his friends. And he waited... he waited for Viggo to notice him, to speak to him, to tap him on the shoulder in a silent ´follow me'. The first time had been three weeks ago more or less, the Hobbits had thrown a party and Orlando had had too much to drink. He was in the upstairs bathroom trying to convince himself not to throw up, it was always so embarrassing to be the first to get sick. It was there that Viggo found him, hands flat on the counter top staring down the plug hole. Sensing rather than hearing him, Orlando looked up and in the mirror their eyes had met. Those brooding eyes that could spark with awareness or amusement, those eyes were dark now. In the mirror Orlando could see the door was closed behind them and he idly wondered if Viggo had just materialized on this side of it. It wouldn't surprise him if he had.

"I'm okay." He'd said even though Viggo hadn't asked. The older man took a step forward, the bathroom was small and there wasn't much forward left. Orlando felt himself blushing under the intensity of Viggo's gaze; the smirk that faced him in the mirror didn't help at all so he looked back into the basin. A small blob of what looked like toothpaste clung to the side just under the cold tap. Viggo seemed to read his mind and before he could lift his hand to turn on the tap his hand was covered by Viggo's larger one pressing it gently, insistently to the counter top. Orlando's brain seemed to be a few steps behind the action and by the time he registered this rather strange action Viggo was already sucking on the skin at the back of his neck.

Their encounter was brief, setting the trend for all their future trysts, Viggo's free hand made quick work of Orlando's belt and zipper and then Orlando stopped thinking. He watched Viggo in the mirror. Watched him, watching Orlando. His eyes were dark, burning like a cold gray flame, drawing the younger man into their depths.

In the mirror it was almost like a movie; a lean young man, dark hair dark eyes, head tilted back, chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. The man behind; older, confident, obviously in control.

A gentle smack alerted Orlando to the fact that his jeans were around his knees, the same knees that Viggo's thigh were coaxing apart and he shuffled his feet apart in silent acquiescence. His brain was still in neutral, watching Viggo's mirror hand reach towards him. Liquid soap, an obvious choice in their limited surroundings, slick and cool, easing the passage of Viggo's fingers. A subtle shift and sparks of colour danced behind his eyes. Orlando couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips and the hand covering his was pushed over his mouth.

"Shhhh... " Shivering down his spine like ice water. Viggo's eyes held him in the mirror, as physical a restraint as his hand.

The fingers were withdrawn and Orlando watched in the mirror as Viggo shifted, aligning himself and then there was pressure and heat and pain and Viggo's eyes. And then slowly the pain changed and the heat grew and they were joined in the physical and the mirror world. Orlando bit into Viggo's palm to keep from crying out.

Viggo lasted longer, pressing Orlando against the edge of the counter. When he was done he wiped himself off with the washcloth and dropped it next to Orlando's hand pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

"Wait five minutes."

And that was it, Viggo was gone, the mirror was empty and it had begun.

In public Viggo was so cool. Orlando was not. He had been attracted to the older man right from the beginning but this, this was now bordering on obsession. Every thought was Viggo, every moment was waiting for him, waiting for that signal that silent ´follow me'.

He didn't love Viggo, he didn't even like him some of the time and he certainly didn't like himself very much these days, but still he followed. Moth to a flame.

He became a shadow of his former self, living in limbo, waiting for Viggo, always waiting for Viggo. Waiting for Viggo to see him, to see what this was doing to him, to end it because Orlando couldn't. Every time it was Heaven and Hell and he couldn't say no, he'd never said ´yes' but he couldn't say no.

In public Viggo was so cool. He thought he could have Orlando any time he wanted, a word, a look, a touch and Orlando had been weak he had waited for a word, a look, a touch but no more. He was strong, he could be strong, he could resist.

He didn't love Viggo, he didn't even like him some of the time and he certainly didn't like himself very much for his part in this game. But the game was over now; he had played by Viggo's rules without knowing or understanding them and it couldn't go on, it wouldn't go on. No more moths no more flames. And then... a familiar voice behind him, not speaking to him, just near him, establishing a presence. A familiar hand on his shoulder, a silent ´follow me'. He watched as Viggo left the room, not questioning that Orlando would follow. And Orlando resisted, strong, determined.

No more moths no more flames.

In public Viggo was so cool.



Slashababy 2004 Stories