When Stealth Fails

Recipient: Telesilla
Author: AngiePen
Pairing: Viggo/Bean/Orlando
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Viggo has a secret interest in what Sean and Orlando are up to. When he gets caught following them, he gets a very thorough explanation of just what's going on.
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Viggo crept along through the unfamiliar New Zealand forest, his focus on keeping his quarry in sight without giving them any sign that they were being followed. He'd always been comfortable in the outdoors and he'd spent plenty of time alone in the woods here since coming down for the shoot, so even though the trees weren't quite what he was used to seeing and the underbrush didn't clump quite "right" he managed to pad along through the bushes quietly enough, sneaking up on Bean and Orlando's camp site.

They'd all flown back from Christmas break a couple of days early so they'd be recovered from jet lag and the usual exhaustion of eighteen hours crammed into a plane and be ready to go when filming picked up again. Most of the cast and crew were resting up after the holidays and re-connecting at clubs and bars or just in backyards, especially all the American and British imports who were enjoying the novelty of summer weather in early January. But Sean and Orlando had packed up for a camping trip, intending to spend the free weekend out in the dirt and leaves instead of lounging around civilization.

It was seriously weird, especially for Sean. He was good guy and Viggo'd come to think of him as a friend over beer and barbecued steaks, but he'd never struck Viggo as the woodsy sort. Sean could play scruff with the best of them -- and Viggo was kind of an expert at that, especially after the last few months, but Sean was more an Armani and cashmere sort of guy away from the set. Even his T-shirts were expensive looking.

Not that he was full of himself or anything like that. Sean was a normal guy, into beer and sports and some raunch in private. Despite qualifying as one of the big-name actors on the shoot, he didn't try to make anyone feel they should bow down or suck up, which made him okay in Viggo's book. But at the same time there was this... this feeling about him, this aura of strength and confidence. He could turn it off or turn it down as necessary when the cameras were rolling, but when he was relaxing it was always there, like there was a solidity to him, a weight that created a gravity field tugging subtly on everyone around him.

And Orlando seemed to have slid right into his orbit. Everyone who'd been here from the beginning said that they hadn't met before and there were some funny stories going around about Orlando's bouncy fanboy reaction when they'd first been introduced. And they didn't spend a really huge amount of time together -- Orlando went out with the Hobbits more often than not, drinking and dancing and whatever all trouble the youngsters managed to get up to when they weren't filming or sitting in makeup.

But when they were together there was something between them, like a gravitic attraction. It wasn't just Orlando in a lunar orbit either, which was what you might expect given the differences in their age and experience and fame and all that. Rather, it was a double-planet system, both of them orbiting a common point outside of either's sphere. They weren't sharing orbits -- Sean was the larger mass, definitely -- but still, it was a lot more equal than you'd expect.

Moreso than Viggo'd expected, anyway. Which was why, when he finally figured out that they were spending the night together more often than could be explained by "Drunk and can't drive" kinds of situations, he made certain assumptions about what all went on when they were alone. Assumptions which were completely blown away when he jogged up the steps of the makeup trailer the three of them shared a good two and a half hours later than anyone would've expected, after having spent the time talking to PJ and Philippa about doing more dialogue in Elvish and how it'd deepen Aragorn's character and benefit everyone playing an Elf as well, to find a naked Sean bent over the back of his makeup chair, his wrists lashed together and tied down to the crossbar under the seat with a couple of the scarves Orlando'd been wearing to keep his braids neat, and Orlando himself fucking him silly from behind.

Sheer startlement had completely blanked Viggo's brain and he heard himself saying, "Oh, man--!" in a low, blown-away voice. Sean glanced up at him, squinted green eyes meeting huge, round blue-grey for a moment, before dropping his head back down and ignoring him.

Viggo'd stammered, "Umm, hey, sorry!" and backed out, tripping over the threshold and hop-leap-flailing his way down the three steps. He hadn't quite fallen on his ass in the dirt but it'd been a close thing.

The next morning in makeup had been a little awkward -- quieter than usual without the usual joking around -- but Viggo didn't say anything about what he'd seen and Sean and Orlando didn't say anything about having been seen and eventually everything sort of smoothed back out to normal. Ignoring uncomfortable stuff usually did make it go away if you were patient and good at pretending and all three of them had that in spades.

Of course, nothing lasts forever, right...?

They'd parked a good two hours down a dirt track that wound through forested hills and valleys. Viggo'd driven on up around the next bend before parking off to the side under a tree and walking back, keeping to cover and shadow. He didn't want to be seen -- he was there to watch.

He knew there had to be something special going on when Orlando had turned down an offer to go clubbing with the Hobbits that weekend with the excuse that he and Beanie were going camping. Camping wasn't really a favorite activity for either of them, so there had to be some other attraction. The only other benefit he could think of was the solitude, and that opened up all sorts of other possibilities, every one of which had started swirling through his increasingly heated mind.

Which was how he'd ended up here, crouching behind a fallen tree and a clump of bushes, watching them from hiding. They'd unloaded their car, pulling out a pretty standard set of non-minimalist camping gear -- a good-sized tent, an ice chest, a folding table, a stove, a couple of sleeping bags, and other assorted baggage. Not exactly the way Viggo went camping but then he'd be the first to admit he wasn't exactly on the norm, there.

Setting up camp took them all over the little clearing they'd chosen, pitching the tent and setting up equipment in and around it, laying things out, occasionally pausing to talk quietly together and sometimes just hollering across whatever distance. Orlando tramped off to hunt for firewood, coming back several times with armloads of sticks and small branches, and once dragging what looked like a larger branch from one hand and a fallen sapling from the other. A hand axe let him roughly trim side branches and turn everything into a more or less decent size for a campfire.

Just as he was finishing that up, which was about the time Viggo's joints were starting to get really annoyed with him, Sean dipped a hand into the ice chest and snuck up behind Orlando with an evil grin on his face.

Orlando yelled and Sean took off laughing and they chased each other around grabbing and shoving and threatening dire retaliation, some of it sexual but most of it having to do with general mayhem. And that was fun to watch and Viggo was grinning from behind his screen of leaves and twigs until the chase brought them to within a few paces of where he was hiding at which point they both turned and lunged through the bushes and pounced on him.

They dragged him, startled and struggling, into the center of the clearing, then pinned him down with shameful ease. He found himself looking up at Orlando, who was sitting on Viggo's hips, sort of kneeling with his ankles tucked over Viggo's legs in a way that kept him from kicking, and at a weirdly upside-down face that was Sean, crouching just past his head and pinning his wrists.

"You know," Sean said casually, "you have a really miserable stealth for a ranger. You need to work on that."

"Sure," said Viggo. "I'll get right on that." He gave an experimental tug or two but he wasn't going anywhere soon so he just relaxed into it.

"So, fancy meeting you here and all that." Orlando cocked his head at Viggo and gave him a sideways smirk. "Didn't realize this was such a popular spot."

"Well, you know how it is," Viggo said, just as casual despite his undignified position. "New Zealand's not really that big, and when you subtract the inhabited areas, and all the agricultural land, there's really not all that much forested wilderness left."

Orlando rolled his eyes and exchanged glances with Sean. "Nice try. I think I'm going to go with my gut on this one and chance accusations of ego with a guess that you followed us."

"Maybe." Viggo managed a grin but he could feel his face heating with embarassment.

"Sneaking around and spying on your friends is really a nasty way to behave," Sean commented, his voice low and with just a bare note of threat in it. "Not good manners at all. A lot of folks'd be really annoyed, they found a friend peering at 'em through the bushes."

"Nasty habit," Orlando agreed with a thoughtful nod. "Think we could maybe break him of it?"

"Oh, I imagine we could," Sean said, nodding back. "It'd interfere with what we had planned for the weekend, mind, but I'd be willing. For the benefit of a friend and all."

Viggo's eyes moved back and forth from one to the other while they talked about him over his head.

"Right, then," Orlando said. He hopped up and went to rummage in a duffle bag while Sean hauled Viggo to his feet.

The two men were the same size but somehow Sean managed to keep him off balance and staggering with just a grip on his upper arms. He was hauled all the way across the clearing to a mostly level spot behind the tent, then pushed down to his knees between a couple of trees. A quick yank and his T-shirt was a wrinkled rag on the ground a few feet away.

Before he could even yelp, Orlando was back and had snapped a pair of cuffs around his wrists. He tried to jerk his arms away, but the two men had strong holds on him and he didn't have the leverage to do much more than wriggle and cuss.

The cuffs had come with ropes pre-threaded through the rings on them and the ropes got lashed to the trees, tight enough to hold his arms outstretched about waist-high without quite straining.

As soon as they let go he jumped up onto his feet, but there were just enough branches on the two trees to prevent him from jerking the knots up any higher than they were and he ended up in a crouch. Orlando knocked his knees out from under him from behind then sat on his lower legs and reached around to undo his jeans.

"All right, wait, just hang on! Okay, I shouldn't have followed you and I'm sorry. I just... I mean I... wanted...." He trailed off, both because the other two hadn't even slowed down and because he didn't really know what to say.

"Hmm? Wanted what, Vig?" Sean asked. He walked around in front of him and looked down at him. He ran a hand through Viggo's hair, then got a tight grip and yanked his head back, forcing eye contact. "Wanted what?"

Viggo sucked in a hissing breath at the pain in his scalp but still couldn't think of what to say. He just glared up at Sean, his anger more from embarassment than anything else. Just what the hell had he been thinking of?

"Well, maybe we can help you figure out just what it was you wanted." Sean tightened his grip for just a moment, making Viggo wince at another shooting pain, then let go. And Viggo noticed that while Sean had distracted him, Orlando'd gotten his jeans and underwear off and... a look over his shoulder showed him the kid was in the middle of lashing his ankles to one of the branches he'd brought in for firewood.

"Hey! Come on, cut it out! I already said I was sorry so--"

Sean shut him up with a casual smack across the face that left him shocked and gaping.

"How about if you just quiet down, then? It's your own doing that you are where you are and whining about it now isn't going to get you out of it." Sean just stood there looking down at him, arms folded across his chest (which looked a lot bigger and brawnier from down at Viggo's current level) and one sardonic eyebrow raised.

Viggo opened his mouth to retort, then closed it again and stayed silent. Sean's murmured, "Good boy," sent a flash of mixed relaxation and shame through him, like he was finally getting something right after having made a really stupid mistake but part of his brain said that wasn't the sort of thing he should feel good about.

He heard Orlando's crunching footsteps retreat, then a rustling noise, then the footsteps returning. Something light and cool and irregularly shaped brushed across his naked butt, then up his back and over his shoulder. A bunch of heavy strips of... something, sort of like the heavy webbing used on duffle bags but not as wide, dangled next to his face. Orlando's smooth voice from behind him said, "Bad boys who lurk in bushes spying get punished."

Viggo realized what the bundle of straps was and a shiver ran through him, bringing up goosebumps all over his body. He tugged unconsciously at his wrists and looked over his shoulder but Sean reached down and gently guided his head back facing front.

"You keep your eyes on me," he said. "And remember to breathe." He looked over Viggo's shoulder and nodded.

Viggo tensed up and expected to hear the straps moving through the air. What, whistling? Swishing? Something. However Orlando swung them, though, he didn't hear anything until they smacked against his ass and when he yelled it was more in startlement than actual pain. It hadn't actually hurt that much and he sucked in a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Except that the next one was a little harder, and the one after that even moreso. Never by much, the increases came in tiny increments and he thought about how much practice Orlando must've had to have that kind of control. Of course, his ass was starting to hurt and it didn't stop in between blows so that'd make each one feel worse too, so there was another variable to consider but didn't that just make it that much more--?

"Viggo!" Sean tapped him on the forehead with two fingers, startling him out of his brain-babble. "Don't think, just feel. Relax into it."

Thwack.

Another flash of hot pain smacked through his butt and he tried to do what Sean had said, to just relax and feel it.

Smooth fingers rubbed across his skin, wiping away the sting and leaving only the heat -- a warm, throbbing glow that lit up his nerves and focused his awareness down to just his throbbing ass and the ache that pulsed with his heartbeat.

Thwack.

Another lash and another rub.

Thwack.

That one really hurt and he couldn't help the grunt of pain that escaped through his clenched teeth.

"Easy," Sean said. He went down on one knee and looked into Viggo's eyes, his fingers sifting through Viggo's suddenly sweaty hair. "Breathe. Ride it."

Thwack.

Viggo took in a long, slow breath and rode the pain all the way up his spine to his stiff shoulders and aching wrists. The next sound he made was a gasp, then a long, low moan.

"There you go. Good boy."

Sean's warm, rough voice caressing him was just as comforting as the hand in his hair. Viggo leaned into the rub and pressed his head into Sean's palm.

Thwack.

Stinging heat shot through his ass in hot needles along every nerve and he felt it pulsing through his balls. He moaned again but this one was different.

Thwack.

Hot, stinging pleasure burst through him and all of a sudden it was like his brain had turned inside out, that weird inner-focus-on-the-whole-universe-but-inside state he fell into when he was creating, that "artistic daze" he got teased about by people who insisted that they'd been talking to him and he'd just ignored them and maybe he had because he really was somewhere else for a while and that's how this was but different. Usually the outside stimulus that turned his focus inward was something visual or sometimes aural and the type of stimulation was familiar and he knew what to do with it, how to process it and get it back out with his camera or his brushes or how to get it down into words, but this was pure feeling, nothing but nerves and he was flying through it on a wave of sensation.

Thwack.

He felt dizzy and light-headed and his cock was stiff and hard and he didn't remember how it'd gotten that way but it was all connected and the noise he made this time was a drawn-out expression of mixed contentment and need.

And then it stopped. He felt hands on him, rubbing and caressing all over and slipping inside and a cock was brushing against his slack lips and the smell of it slammed through his brain and he shifted forward, eager to taste and suck, while another cock pushed slowly, so slowly, too slowly inside and he shifted backward, wanting more of that too because it'd been a while but not that long, but then the one in his mouth slipped out until he almost lost it and he leaned forward, craning his neck after it, back and forth wanting both at once and sliding into a needy rhythm of lean and shift and strain and slip.

Two other voices had joined his in a choir of words and gasps and he had a sudden vocal image in his mind of a hymn to sexual ecstasy, a capella with male voices -- bass grunts and baritone moaning with a tenor keen threaded throughout. Then the sensations overloaded and his mind convulsed in a spasm of pleasure. He felt his body jerking and squeezing and then a limp, dangling fatigue and the only things holding him up were the push-pull hands on his hips and his shoulders and the cuffs on his wrists.

"So how was it, then?" Orlando asked, his voice low and sleepy but still managing to sound cocky.

Viggo gave a shallow snort then shrugged, not easy with a body curled up behind his and another one nestled in against his chest. Even zipped together, the two sleeping bags were pretty tight for three grown men and there wasn't much padding underneath. He was relaxed to a point only slightly above that of strawberry jam, though, so he was comfortable enough. "I dunno," he said. "Wasn't really paying attention. Got a new idea for a song, though."

Another snort came from behind him and a fist play-punched his shoulder. "I think he's angling for another go-round," said Sean.

"Well, he does still owe us our Christmas presents. And we have another day and a half. I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Likely so," Sean agreed. But his hand came round and two fingers on Viggo's chin coaxed his head to twist just enough that they could look at each other. "You're sure, then? You seemed to take to it as well as any baby sub I've ever seen but it's not my opinion that matters, nor his." He tilted his head toward Orlando for a moment, still keeping his eyes on Viggo's face. "Now that it's over and done, was it something you'd want to repeat? It's all right if not -- you can think of something else for our presents and that'd be just fine."

Viggo shook his head, then saw the disappointment flash in Sean's eyes before he masked it. He realized he'd been misunderstood and changed it into a nod. Words -- he needed words for this and sleep had to come later. Not much later, but still. "Yes," he said, his voice firming, "it's something I want to do again. It was... kinda weird at first. It felt funny and it was embarassing, like I was playing a game I was ashamed to enjoy or something, like I'd been caught playing hopscotch and someone was going to think I was some kind of an idiot. But that was just, I dunno, a reflex? It wasn't real. And when I finally ditched all that shit and got into it, it was...." He shook his head and shrugged again. "I'll have to think of the right words. Transcendent? Something. Ask me again later."

He felt Orlando pressing in closer from the front and Sean's hand slid down to give his ass an affectionate squeeze. It hurt like hell but it wasn't a bad hurt and he managed to just wince and then grin back. It wasn't a really wonderful hurt like it'd been earlier but it wasn't really bad either and that was weird. One more thing to think about.

Later. They had the rest of the weekend and he still owed them both Christmas presents -- and after the absolutely fantastic present they'd given him, he was determined to do just as well in return. By the time he'd finished giving them both their gifts he'd probably have figured at least some of this stuff out. And if not, he'd just have to keep working on it.

 

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