Rating: Strong R
Disclaimer: I know nothing about these actors, and make no claims that anything I write is even remotely true.
Notes: For Trianne, who wanted smutty Viggo/Elijah. Sorry it's late, and I hope this is what you had in mind. 'Twas the best I could do. Eternal thanks to Kia for the beta. Merry Christmas!
Elijah pulled off the headphones and tossed them carelessly onto the soundboard. It had been a good day. Not only did he get the chance to listen to brand new music, but it was music he had helped to create. And it was with Viggo, of all people. Elijah was thrilled to be in a recording studio, thrilled to be a part of interesting, experimental music, but mostly he was just pleased to be spending the day with Viggo. Flopping back into his chair, Elijah lit a cigarette and turned to grin at him where he sat slumped a few feet away in the other chair feet propped up on the soundboard, reading a magazine.
"That's some weird music you have there."
"Yeah well, it's a good thing you and Dom have the perfect voices to fit my weird music, isn't it?" Viggo replied without looking up.
"Funny. We can't all sing like angels, like Billy. We go for our strengths."
Viggo’s chuckle wasn’t much of an answer. Elijah didn't really know why he was still there at all. The recording had been finished for days, and Viggo hadn't invited Billy or Dom back to listen to the finished product. He glanced at Viggo again, who was still hidden behind his magazine. Elijah squinted, but couldn't make out the title from so far away. He put down his cigarette and fumbled in his pockets for his glasses, but came up empty. "What are you reading anyway?"
Viggo closed the magazine and held it out so that Elijah could see the cover -- a large image of a fifteen year old Elijah frolicking in the water with a dolphin.
"Oh, my god. Where in the hell did you find that?"
With a wicked smile Viggo flipped the magazine open and began reading. "'After filming Flipper, Elijah was very enthusiastic about it. 'It's the climax of my career,' he says.'"
"What? I never said that!" Elijah jumped up and tried to grab the magazine, but Viggo was too quick for him, twisting away and evading Elijah's grasp. He continued reading from the article, a particularly dreadful creation typical of those years, one that waxed poetic about Elijah’s 'alabaster' skin and 'angelic, cerulean' eyes.
He'd almost forgotten how much he hated the word 'angelic.'
Mortified was an understatement. Bad enough to know those stupid articles existed, but for Viggo to be reading them -- aloud or not -- was more than Elijah could stand. "Come on, man. Leave me a little dignity."
"Oh, here's my favorite part," Viggo said. "'Elijah says he likes almost everything about acting, except kissing.'"
Elijah didn’t hesitate to make one more lunge for the magazine, managing to catch hold of Viggo's waist this time, holding him against the soundboard, though still failing to get the wretched thing out of his hands.
Viggolaughed. "You don't like kissing, Elijah?"
It was only when Elijah stopped struggling for a moment that he became aware of more than the magazine just out of his reach. Viggo was nearly bent over backwards, prone against the array of buttons and knobs, and pressed hard against him. He looked up at the mischievous glint in Viggo's eyes and realized he would never be able to end his humiliation this way, with the scrabbling and constantly bouncing on his toes. He decided to try a different approach.
"Actually, I do," he said, and let his reaching hands slide down Viggo's arm and across his chest. "The problem was, they wanted me to kiss a girl, and well..." Elijah slid his hands back up and laced his fingers behind Viggo's neck. "That's not really my thing." He had only a moment to register the utter surprise on Viggo's face before he pulled his head down for a slow, deep kiss.
Dimly, Elijah heard the magazine hit the floor. A small part of his brain celebrated; no one had ever managed to part Viggo from a joke so quickly before. But he was no longer concerned with that. Not with Viggo's arm slipping around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. And not with Viggo's tongue slipping slowly across his own. Viggo's other hand was combing through his hair, and Elijah was briefly sorry for the restlessness of that touch, that he'd cut it so short; it would have felt nice, he thought, for Viggo to tug at a fistful of his hair so urgently.
He broke the kiss, and leaned his forehead against Viggo's chest, trying to catch his breath.
Viggo didn't pull away, instead inclining his head, as much as he could, it seemed, to place little kisses on Elijah's temple. "Well," he said quietly, no longer teasing.
Elijah looked up. "Well," he agreed. "At least now I know what to do to stop you in your tracks."
Viggo grinned. "Don't spread it around. People might think I'm easy."
The moment stretched between them, and Elijah considered his options. He could step away, make a joke, and everything would be back to normal. Or he could lean in, steal another kiss, and see where this road would lead them. Viggo was quiet, waiting, and Elijah realized that he did not want to step away. He wondered how long Viggo had seen this day coming.
Elijah let his hands drop to Viggo's waist, slipping under the hem of his dark blue sweater, tracing his fingers lightly over the warm skin he found there.
"Wanna know what else I like to do?"
Viggo nodded, and Elijah was almost surprised how easy it was to ease down the zipper of Viggo's jeans and reach in. He wasn't quite hard, not yet, but Elijah knew well enough how to remedy that ‘problem’. And the way Viggo's eyes slid shut told him he hadn't lost his touch at all.
Elijah hadn't done such a thing in a long while, at least not with someone he really liked and admired. He'd almost forgotten how much he loved watching the changes in the face he knew so well; subtle at first, a furrowed brow or clenched jaw, growing more pronounced and animated with every passing moment. Dom had once called it 'working magic,' but Elijah never thought of it that way. There was nothing magical about the way he could feel Viggo growing hotter and harder and heavy in his hand, or the way he knew without looking that Viggo was clutching the edge of the soundboard so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. But. There might, Elijah conceded, have been just the tiniest amount of magic in the sound that finally, finally,escaped Viggo's mouth; a sound that from anyone else might have been a whimper, but from him was a low, breathy moan.
Elijah watched Viggo's tongue wet his lips and decided that this wasn't enough anymore. He leaned in for one more kiss and in one fluid motion sank to his knees and swallowed him down.
That was a whimper, thought Elijah with satisfaction, and he'd have smiled if his mouth hadn't already been occupied. He was never quite prepared for the taste, the almost overwhelming maleness of it, and he set about reacquainting himself.
Viggo's body shuddered under his touch, and Elijah could feel his hands once again in his hair, searching for a hold. This time he was glad for the fleeting grasps -- he wouldn’t have been pleased to have been interrupted, pulled away. Definitely not now. Reaching up, Elijah caught the hands that were struggling to fist his hair, grappled with them and stilled them, just in time to hear Viggo lose whatever words he had been trying to form as he came.
With one last lingering lick, Elijah released Viggo's cock and shuffled back a bit on aching knees. He watched Viggo’s legs give out on him, watched him crumple to the floor in front of him, eyes closed. Only then in that moment of silence, after pushing the wrinkled magazine aside, did Elijah begin to wonder what the hell he'd just done, and only then did he really become aware of his own almost painful erection. Then he watched Viggo's eyes slowly open.
"Well," Viggo said.
"You said that already."
"This kind of retaliation isn't going to stop me from teasing you. You do know that, right?"
And Elijah laughed, too breathless to give an answer, and thought, I certainly hope not.