One Tequila, Two Tequila
Recipient: v_angelique
Author: rian219
Pairing: Marton Csokas/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Marton wants, so he takes what he can get. It's a lot more than he expected.
Author's Notes: Thanks to starkiller for the beta.
---
Seldom do orcs journey in the open, under the sun, yet these have done so.
Marton's saying the words, over and over again, but he doesn't hear them. He doesn't hear anything that they're saying, because every time he takes Viggo's arm all he can feel is the heat of his skin through his costume, and all he can see is the intensity in Viggo's eyes just before he looks down and takes the knife that Marton's holding out to him. Over and over again as they repeat the scene, Viggo takes it out of his hands, fingers brushing across Marton's palms sending a jolt of desire down Marton's spine, heat pooling in his groin, but all he can do is say his lines, in English and Elvish and English again.
You are being tracked.
****
The Lorien scenes are over, and the next day Marton will be going home. He's stayed longer than he could have, longer than he probably should have, since his own scenes have been done for a few days now, but he couldn't help himself. He tells himself that he's lurking around the set so he can catch up with Craig, and Karl when he comes to have a look. He almost convinces himself, until the day that Karl comes on set and Viggo hugs him like a long-lost brother and maybe something more, and Marton has to look away so that he can resist the urge to march right in there and punch Karl right in the face.
But tomorrow he's going home, and he won't have to resist any urges anymore, and that's a good thing. He tells himself that too, and he's almost convincing. Almost.
****
Marton's leaving the set when Elijah comes up to him, runs up to him, grinning and breathless. "Hey, Marton."
Marton smiles, Elijah's grin is infectious. "Hey, Elijah. How's things?"
"Oh, you know." Elijah shrugs, as if Marton doesn't really know. "Hey, listen...I'm having a party tonight to say goodbye to the Lorien people."
"Oh, yeah?" Marton smiles again. It doesn't take a genius to see where this is going.
Elijah smiles back. "Yeah. So since you're a Lorien person, you're invited. I mean, I heard you were going home tomorrow, so if you want and early night or something..."
"Oh, no, it's...it's okay. I'm not going home until the afternoon, so...that works out."
Elijah nods, grinning again. "Great. Right. So...good. We'll see you tonight then." He holds out a piece of paper with something printed on it, and Marton takes it from him. It's an invitation, not just written, but printed. Obviously the party had been planned at least a little bit, which makes Marton wonder why he'd not heard them talk about it before, although as soon as he thinks that he knows the reason why; he wouldn't have heard them even if they'd told him right to his face, so focused was he on Viggo.
As if on cue, from the direction of the knot of people still milling around the cameras there's raucous laughter, and Marton can see Viggo and Orlando mucking around, clearly taking the piss out of each other. Marton watches them for a minute, then turns back to Elijah and smiles again. "Yes. You'll see me tonight."
****
His hands are sweaty when he walks up the path to Elijah's front door, and he wipes first one, then the other on the side of his jeans, swapping his six-pack of beer from one hand to the other as he does so. The front door's open, and music pours out onto the front steps, some dancy, electronic, throbbing song that he doesn't know that makes him feel old and like dancing simultaneously. When he walks in the door a gaggle of hobbits and an elf pass him, and when they seem him they shout their hellos and whack him on the shoulders and back as they shuffle past. Marton laughs and waves them on, his nervousness relieved enough to grin at Craig, who's standing just inside the door of Elijah's living room, beer in hand.
Craig laughs and shakes his head. "Pissed already, they are. I think they started a couple of hours ago."
"Looks like it." Marton holds up his own beer, liberating one from the cardboard carton. "Where should I put these, do you reckon?"
"Oh. Here. I put mine in the fridge, although there's a bath full of beer as well if you run out." Craig pushes himself away from the wall and starts to walk towards a door across the room, which is presumably the kitchen. "I'll show you."
Marton moves to follow, but he's stopped in his tracks by an enthusiastic "Marton!" from across the room.
He knows who it is before he turns, and he hopes the smile on his face isn't too eager, or too strained or too anything that could be construed as out of the ordinary. He's got only a second to hope for anything before he's pressed up against Viggo's body tight from shoulder to hip, enveloped in a type of hug that he's seen Viggo give to other people, but never thought to experience himself. Stunned, it's not until one of Viggo's hands cups the nape of his neck and then moves up into his hair that he comes back to his senses, his breath catching, and he's got just enough brain power to hope that Viggo didn't hear it. But when Viggo steps back he's grinning, as if nothing's wrong. His hand is still in Marton's hair, and for the very briefest of moments, Marton imagines that Viggo's going to kiss him, but then the moment's passed and gone, and Marton's heart slowly returns to its normal rhythm as Viggo speaks.
"It's good to see you, Marton."
Marton nods. "It's good to see you too." His voice sounds foreign to his ears, breathless, too high. He clears his throat. "I was just...putting my beer away." He holds up his six-pack.
"Oh! Well. I can help you with that. Come on."
They go into the kitchen, Viggo's hand on Marton's elbow, greeting people as they go. Beers away, Viggo takes Marton with him into the party, enveloping him in camaraderie and shared experience; but still, surrounded by people, Marton's focus narrows to Viggo alone. His beers are all gone and he's onto someone else's when the shots come out, and Marton's cock twitches and threatens to rise when Viggo holds his gaze as they lick salt off their wrists and throw back tequila, then holds a slice of lemon to Marton's lips. As the juice of the lemon fills his mouth Viggo leans close to whisper in his ear, and once again Marton doesn't hear the words, he just feels the warm weight of Viggo's hand where it rests on his thigh, the brush of stubble against his cheek and soft lips against his ear.
****
He has to excuse himself then, has to escape for a minute into the bathroom so he can breathe, so he can splash cold water on his face and talk his cock into behaving itself. His whole body's buzzing, every nerve ending tingling with alcohol and lust, his heart skipping beats in his chest. He wipes his face on a towel and breathes, waiting to feel a least a little normal before he goes back out again. When he finally does, Orlando rushes past him, slamming the bathroom door behind him. There's other people in the hallway, milling around, and Marton is making his way through them slowly when someone rushes up to him, grabbing his arms and starting to shuffle him backwards. He resists for a moment, annoyed, until he realises it's Viggo, and his heart starts flipping in his chest again.
"Marton, quick, I've been...I've got to show you something. In here." Viggo's stopped pushing and has turned to pulling now, hauling him towards a room up the hallway from the bathroom. "In here, quick."
Marton has just enough time to realise that the room Viggo's brought him into is a bedroom, Elijah's bedroom, before the door is closed behind them and Viggo's shoving him against it and kissing him hard, the action more bite than kiss, Viggo's hands bunched in the material of Marton's shirt. A split second of frozen surprise is all Marton's mind allows him before he's kissing back just as frantically, his hands scrabbling at Viggo's clothes, almost tearing his shirt off him. His own shirt's open by the time he gets Viggo's off, and they groan into each other's mouths when Marton pulls Viggo hard up against him and they're chest to chest, skin to skin. Viggo pushes his hips against Marton's, and Marton can feel how hard he is through his jeans, his cock just as hard as Marton's is. Viggo thrusts his hips again, biting at Marton's lips as Marton pushes back, with hips and hands this time, walking Viggo back towards the bed, Elijah's bed.
They're still kissing and biting at each other as they move, stopping only to struggle out of clothes and shoes, stumbling and finally laughing a little as finally their clothes all lie in a trail for door to bed. Marton's still pushing Viggo back until the very last minute, the back of Viggo's knees against the mattress of the unmade bed before he flips them quickly, making Marton's head spin as he's pushed onto the bed, grunting softly as Viggo falls on top of him.
They tussle a little, fighting for dominance, but then Viggo grabs Marton's wrists, pinning his arms above his head, and Marton discovers that he doesn't really want it. He arches, moaning, and Viggo presses down on him, grinds down with his hips, and Marton moans again, squeezing his eyes shut and panting hard as Viggo thrusts against him, hard, hot cock against hard, hot cock. Then Viggo's kissing him again, and biting along his jaw and down his throat, and Marton's arching again and thrusting up, and trying to get his wrists out of Viggo's grip so he can touch him, so he can hold their cocks within his fist while they thrust against each other, so he can grip Viggo's ass and pull him down hard, harder against him. But Viggo doesn't let go, biting down on Marton's throat roughly, tightening his grip and thrusting faster and harder against him.
But then, just as Marton is gasping and shuddering beneath him, about to start begging to be fucked, he does let go; Marton reaches for him, but he's gone, leaning over the side of the bed and rummaging in Elijah's bedside table, opening and shutting drawers impatiently. He opens the last drawer, the bottom one, and makes a small, triumphant noise; the next minute he's crouched above Marton again, a condom and lube in his hands, grinning.
"Thank God for horny young boys, is all I can say," he says throatily, leering down at Marton. He starts to rip the condom packet open, but Marton stops him, taking hold of his wrists.
"Let me."
Viggo pauses for a minute, then nods, handing the condom and lube over. Marton takes them, but doesn't use them straight away, putting his free hand between Viggo's legs, fondling his balls and palming the shaft of his cock lightly. The head of Viggo's cock is wet and glistening with pre-come, and Marton rubs his thumb over the slit, massaging teasingly. Viggo swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing, his gaze unfocused and his breathing harsh. "Do it," he says, his voice strained. "Do it now."
Marton obliges, rolling the condom over Viggo's cock slowly, then taking his time with the lube as well. By the time he's finished Viggo practically snatches the lube off him, but when Marton starts to turn over Viggo stops him.
"No. I want to see your face when I fuck you."
Marton moans at that, and lies back, spreading his legs, his heart pounding in anticipation. "Fuck me, then. Fuck me good and hard."
Viggo wastes no time after that, pausing only to push a pillow under Marton's hips, a quick swipe of slick fingers across Marton's entrance his only concession to preparation. Marton doesn't care, his only thought of Viggo being inside him, fucking him into the mattress and making him scream.
He groans as Viggo pushes forward slowly, breaching him, the uncomfortable feeling of his muscles stretching around him more than made up for by the fact that he is finally getting what he'd wanted for weeks. "Yeah...fuck yeah..." he whispers, urging Viggo forward with his hands, gripping Viggo's ass, his legs moving up around Viggo's waist as his movement bent him double. "Fuck yeah," he says again as he feels Viggo's balls press against his ass, "Fuck me. Fuck me hard."
Viggo proceeds to do just that, slowly at first, then faster as Marton starts to urge him on again, gripping Viggo's shoulders tightly. Soon there's no sound but their harsh breathing and the slap of skin on skin as they move together. Marton moans as Viggo leans over to kiss him, taking his wrists and pinning them above his head again. The change in angle makes him writhe beneath Viggo and make desperate, needy noises into his mouth. He's going to come, he's desperate to, but he needs more, just a little more.
"Touch me," he gasps between kisses. "Touch my cock."
Viggo still holds his wrists above his head with one hand when he reaches between them, jerking Marton's cock quick and rough. Marton arches again and cries out as Viggo whispers in his ear to come, to come for him; this time he hears it, and he has no choice but to do as he's told, his eyes screwed shut, mouth open and gasping as his whole body spasms around Viggo, his come warm and wet on his belly and Viggo's hand.
"Fuck, that's beautiful," Viggo rasps, thrusting harder, and Marton watches then as Viggo's eyes close and his face grows taut, his thrusts jerky and erratic as he comes with a choked cry, collapsing on Marton's chest. He lets go of Marton's wrist, finally, and Marton sighs as he puts his arms around him.
"You're going home tomorrow, right?"
Marton nods. "Yep. Tomorrow afternoon." He can feel Viggo smiling against his chest.
"Tomorrow afternoon, hmm that gives us plenty of time to fuck ourselves senseless, don't you think?"
Marton chuckles. "That's right. Plenty of time."
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