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"Utter Submission" by idri_fic for moit - Lotrips Slasha Baby fic

Author: idri_fic
Title: Utter Submission
Recipient: moit
Pairing: Ultimately Orlando/Viggo with Sean/Viggo, Orlando/Elijah, Orlando/Sean along the way. Also mention of Troy hookups - Bloom/Bana, Bloom/Garrett Hedlund, Bloom/Tyler Mane. Erm yes. I may have been carried away.
Word Count: 7,458
Rating: NC-17 - BDSM & kink
Summary: The path of true love never does run smooth. Or quickly. From Rings to Troy to beyond- how Viggo and Orlando figured it out. With pron.
Notes: Lovely prompt, thank you! I really hope you enjoy where it took me. Thanks also go to the fantastic msilverstar, feelforfaith and elmathelas who by running the Slashababy show do so much to ensure that the road does indeed go ever on.
Post-reveal Notes: A huge thank you to helena_s_renn and legolas_is_mine for their beta work on this - to rather a tight deadline too! All remaining mistakes are, of course, my own. Thank you again to moit for such a wide-ranging and free prompt!

Warnings: Various kinks including breath play, fisting and bondage are mentioned. This is all done fully consensually and within positive BDSM experiences. AU in that none of the men mentioned have any of their real life relationships in this fic.

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.


The first time Viggo saw it, Orlando's utter submission (well, as he perceived it at the time...), it took him by surprise.

Boredom on location was a dreadful thing: set-ups took forever, lighting even longer. The empty time practically invited people to, well, entertain themselves

Sean and Viggo had been entertaining each other quite nicely so far. Viggo had become accustomed to the comradeship in more ways than one. Having someone his own age around the place had been a Godsend. Being surrounded by children had its benefits of course: energy for one. The entertainment value was, no doubt, high. However when it came time to find someone to share a quiet drink, a quiet chat, and a quiet fuck – Sean was much more Viggo's speed.

Still, fair to say that even adults can fall victim to the endless tedium on set and today Viggo knew he and Sean were both in need of some distraction. It didn't much surprise Viggo when Sean slouched over, raised an eyebrow and nodded a question and a direction all at once. Viggo followed Sean's line of sight towards the most distant trailer, the one parked at a slight angle to a sheet of moss-covered granite that stretched its jagged edges up into the brilliant blue overhead.

Viggo stretched, shrugged, slid off his canvas chair and sent Sean a look designed to say, "You're incorrigible but why-the-fuck-not". Sean laughed and slung an arm around Viggo's shoulders, his fingers gripping tight even through the layers of costume. Sean leant in close as the pair strode toward the trailer, Sean's breath grazing Viggo's ear when he spoke.

"Care to be sucked dry?"

Viggo let his lips quirk into a sly smile. "Could bear it."

"I bet you could, you bugger. And the drivers have given us the perfect opportunity. Good blokes."

They ducked sideways and approached through the narrow passageway left by two rows of trailers parked tight together, forcing the men so close together a script page wouldn't fit between them. The pair jostled and shoved, each trying to force the other to trip, fall, spin. They slid around the final corner together, breathing heavily and laughing.

Sean realised it first. Viggo was too busy looking at his friend and, truth be told, admiring both the broadness of Sean's smile and the depth of the creases at the corner of his eyes. Sean's face showed the signs of experience, of wear, and Viggo loved that beauty.

Only when Sean's momentum slowed, stopped, anchoring Viggo with him, did Viggo once more follow Sean's gaze.

He saw Elijah first. He saw Elijah, Frodo, leaning against the green velvet moss, hips thrust away from the rock, breeches sliding down below his pale, naked arse and beginning to pool around his absurd hobbit feet. Viggo could only see one foot. The other was obscured by the figure kneeling before Elijah – Orlando, if the shining locks were anything to go by. The blond hair had fallen forward, obscuring the specifics of what they were getting up to, but Elijah's firm grip on the back of Orlando's head left little to the imagination.

Elijah's gaze had snapped to them as they rounded the corner and Viggo expected some kind of blush, a bumble, or bashful reaction. He saw Orlando had stiffened from head to bent knee down to his toes and a thick hush filled the moment. Solemn yet thoughtful blue eyes regarded them in the quiet and Viggo watched Elijah blink a blink that lasted as long as a plummet in a dream. Elijah looked down at Orlando, who had not so much as moved, and then released one of his hands to sweep the tresses away, back over Orlando's shoulder.

Viggo heard Sean's almost silent, "Holy fuck", and echoed it. Orlando's eyes were closed, his mouth stretched wide around Elijah's hard length. Elijah must have been nudging at the back of Orlando's throat, perhaps poised to go deeper. Viggo saw a blush then, as Orlando flushed pink even under his pale make-up, but there was still no insistence on coy modesty.

Elijah looked back to them, challenge and confidence stamped on his delicate features as he murmured, "Don't let Viggo and Sean stop you, Orli." There was a flashed glance from Orlando then, a blink-and-you-would-have-missed-it look to check the truth of Elijah's words. Truth confirmed, Orlando's eyelashes fluttered to rest on porcelain skin.

Then… Then Viggo tried to swallow his surprise as Orlando did what Elijah suggested and carried on.

Viggo wasn't entirely sure how hard he'd been before he had laid eyes on the halfling and his elf. He knew he'd been working towards it for sure, but now he was aching. He and Sean were still tangled in a half-wrestle of an embrace as Orlando slid his lips down to the very root of Elijah, tipping his head back slightly as he went, nestling his face against Elijah's body.

Elijah pulled the handful of hair right around so it was tucked under his palm as he cupped the back of Orlando's head. His other hand found purchase on a jagged outcrop at hip height. He shifted a little, stood straighter and began a gentle thrusting motion in time with Orlando's slick slides up and down.

Sean let an echo of a whistle free. "I know what I promised, but I've got to watch this."

Viggo could barely nod. He quite understood. He was entranced, enraptured and entrapped by the sight himself.

Elijah looked back down at Orlando and his fingers flexed in an affectionate petting motion on Orlando's head. "He's good, isn't he? We've talked about something like this… about what it would be like to get caught. What it would be like to be watched. Orlando likes the idea of being watched while he… ‘services', I think he called it. And Orlando is. Really. Good. At. Servicing." Elijah punctuated his words with sharper thrusts into Orlando's throat. He held himself deep on the last word, forcing Orlando's head to stay where it was. Elijah looked up at Sean and Viggo.

"Watch this." Whilst Orlando's face stayed still, his hands raised to rest on Elijah's thighs. "Put your hands back down, Orlando." Orlando obeyed and a dribble of saliva began to escape from the corner of his mouth. Viggo felt his cock throb and his stomach twist. Orlando's fingers clenched in his leggings and his chest rose, once, twice, three times as the natural instinct to retch overcame him.

Sean stirred next to him, "Lij, perhaps…."

"No, Sean. Watch."

Orlando's face crumpled as his chest convulsed once more and then his eyes opened, he looked up at Elijah and he… surrendered. His body relaxed, his face became peaceful, his weight seemed to slip back onto Elijah's supporting hand and Elijah smiled down at him. Viggo would ever after believe he saw Orlando smile back with only his eyes.

Elijah laughed with delight and freed Orlando from his restraining grip. Viggo expected Orlando to pull back, cough, and perhaps spit but not so. Orlando simply resumed the task of getting Elijah off, face as peaceful as ever.

Peaceful submission was something rare, beautiful, exotic… and seeing it running through daredevil, cocksure Orlando was surprising. Viggo found himself wishing life held more such surprises, and on a regular basis.

Elijah looked back to them. "I'd offer to share, except I don't want to. Finders keepers guys. And also? Show's over." Even as he spoke his free hand returned to caress Orlando's face, stroking down his jawline. A slight tremor was working itself into Elijah's voice. "Got to keep some things private, right?"

Viggo caught a slight nod from Orlando as he suckled on Elijah's cock, wet mouth slurping over the hard flesh.

Sean caught his arm, tugged, and they stumbled back the way they came. Once around the corner, they looked at each other. Viggo took in Sean's flush, his lips all moist from licking and plump from biting.

"Can I just say again, holy fuck, Vig?" Sean's voice was rough, well on its way to being fucked out without any actual fucking having taken place.

"You may. And I will raise you a holy flying fuck. Trailer?" Viggo felt mildly hysterical, mildly hyper, and mildly hypnotised.

"Trailer. Defintely. Now."

And that, of course, was the moment they were called to set. Viggo really shouldn't have been surprised – timing seemed to be both utterly with him and utterly against him at the same time on that particular day.

Later, when Viggo considered it, it made him feel conflicted.

It was an exceedingly uncomfortable afternoon made bearable only by a rushed visit to the portaloo to relieve himself in a way that portaloos were not strictly designed for.

He had no doubt he and Sean would be reuniting after the day was done to review the day's events. When Orlando and Elijah made an appearance for their call, Viggo was further fascinated. Orlando took up his mark, by Viggo, and met his gaze steadily... seriously. Viggo considered his expression, his eyes, his attitude and was hard pressed to find any word for it other than… pride. Orlando was not embarrassed, or ashamed. He carried himself with strength and with, yes, pride. Viggo sent a nod of acknowledgement that he hoped was tinged with respect and resisted the urge to tousle Orlando's now perfect again wig.

Try as he might, Viggo could not help but suffer from post-surprising-encounter-flashbacks and by the end of the afternoon he was man enough to admit the flickering curls lapping at his insides were curls of want. Which was wrong. Absolutely wrong. The kid was what? Half his age?

And really, how the hell had Elijah ended up like... that? Viggo knew the boy had been around the Hollywood block since he was knee high to a hobbit, but that was no excuse, no justification at all for having acquired the habits of ownership so damn young. And ownership of infuriating, madcap, beautiful, clumsy Orlando?

Ah yes. There went those twisted, gnarly curls of conflict again. Viggo wanted. And wondered. And worried.

Wanted Orlando.

Wondered how Elijah had spotted what Viggo simply had not.

Worried about what both those things said about him.

So yeah. Conflicted.

That night, it made him feel sick.

He and Sean drank too much that night. They went to a quiet pub the two of them had located early on as a haven from too much damn youth. That night they drank, and talked of nothing. After just an hour Sean looked at him and said, low and clear, "Fuck this, Vig. Fuck me instead."

Viggo swallowed the last of his beer as Sean walked to the door. Watched Sean go, admired his easy swagger, his confidence borne of age and knowing he had a good chance of winning any fight that might break out and God knew fights had a nasty habit of breaking out around Sean. Reminded himself that that was where respectable lust lay. Age. Experience. Knowledge.

Back at Sean's place they groped, stripped, kissed, licked themselves into bed. Sean straddled Viggo, settling his weight down firmly but gently on Viggo's thighs so he could hold their lengths together. Viggo reached for the lube and drizzled it over Sean's hands and their cocks, relishing the slip-slide-push-pull as Sean got to work.

And if images of Orlando's stretched mouth, heaving chest, clenching fingers happened to plague his thoughts that was hardly his fault.

Sean, of course, brought it up first. He waited until Viggo reached the point at which he couldn't hold back his quiet grunts and moans of pleasure.

"Not yet, mate. Not yet."

Sean slipped forward, taking one of Viggo's wrists in each of his hands and pushing them up over Viggo's head as he settled full length on top, his hips pumping gently against Viggo's, their cocks a slippery mess of lube and pre-come. Sean settled on his elbows. Looked down at Viggo.

"What d'ya think? Think Elijah fucks as hard as you fuck me?"

Viggo stared right back and shook his head. "No, you don't Sean, it's not...”

"Aw, come on mate. Think you're fooling me? I saw your face. You wanted to eat them right up. The way that boy knelt, took it. He wouldn't give you the trouble I do, now would he?"

Sean ground down and Viggo moaned and bit his lip. "He's a kid. They're both kids. Don't know what they were thinking."

"I do, Vig. I do. They were thinking they'd show off, flaunting themselves in front of the Men. Show how grown up and clever they are. And just because they're kids, it doesn't mean they don't know a thing or two. Think about yourself at 19. Tell me, were you fucking around on the edge then, Vig? Teetering on the edge of fucking oblivion every now and then? Well?" Sean tightened his grip on Viggo's wrists and punctuated his question with a nibbling bite on Viggo's neck.

Viggo shivered beneath him and thought about it. Thought about the clubs and the anonymous fucks in toilets and alleys. Fucking on beds at parties where people were coming and going for coats or, yes, to watch. Another bite, lick, kiss and Viggo breathed assent into Sean's mouth.

"Oh yeah, I knew you would have been a randy fucker. Kids don't change, Vig. They just get cockier. But damned if they don't get prettier. That mouth. Did you see his fucking mouth? I swear to God I could see Elijah in his throat. I swear to God I could see the head of 'Lijah's cock forcing its way down." And that was enough. Viggo broke Sean's grip, flipped him onto his back leaving Viggo lying along Sean's side. He enjoyed the "Oomph" and the grin on Sean's face as he did so. "There you go, you toppy fuck. Get it out of your system. Get it out of mine, for Christ's sake."

Giving him a kiss that was more of a bite, Viggo patted the mattress, looking for the lube. Found it. Flipped it open. Squeezed it liberally over Sean's cock and balls; slicked his fingers; tossed the bottle away and plunged. Right. In.

"That's it, you bugger. Force your way in just like 'Lijah forced his way down. Make me open up like Orlando did. What d'ya think those two are doing tonight? Orlando repeating his party trick? Think they're replaying it out the back of some bar like some kind of carnival side show? Roll up, roll up and see the amazing cock guzzler! Face of an angel yet able to swallow a man down in a single gulp?"

Twisting fingers viciously forced Sean to stutter, lose his breath, lose his words. "Shut up, Sean... just..."

Sean laughed in his face. "I know you well enough. I know you don't really want me to shut up at all. Fuck's sake, man. Might as well enjoy it. There's just me and you here. No one else. No one else, Vig..." Sean flexed his ass, opening then clenching on Viggo's fingers. "Think you're about done there. Fuck me like you want to fuck the elf. Or is it the halfling? Which is more to your taste?"

Viggo pressed his face into the curve of Sean's neck as he slid on top of the sweat-sheened, tightly muscled body. Felt the damp touch of Sean's hair, licked the salty moisture from the curve of neck to shoulder. Sean's legs spread wide, bent, hips tilted up as Viggo reached down to steady himself as he nudged inside. He rested there, for just a moment.

Silence but for the panting and the quiet tick of a clock somewhere out in the hallway.

"Come on. What're you waiting for?"

A good question. Viggo closed his eyes and gave himself permission.

"Keep talking Sean. Keep talking about... them."

"I never really stopped mate. And you never answered. So, which is it? Which do you want? Want to tame the top or besmirch the bottom? Oh, yeah, there you go. Nicely done, all the way in – fucking burns, you know that? Not as much as it must have burned Orlando's throat to hold Elijah down there so long but hell, I bet you'll get me there."

It was easy to relish the feel of Sean's nails digging into his back as Viggo repeatedly bottomed out in a steady rhythm. Easier still to relish the words, the thoughts, the desires that Sean conjured as Viggo kissed over his neck, sucked his nipples and listened and listened and listened.

"Think they share? Think Billy's had a taste, or Dominic? Once you start thinking about it, the possibilities are endless. Maybe if we asked, Orlando would let Elijah lend him to us for a night. Or would you prefer to borrow Elijah? Maybe he'd fuck me while you watched. Would you like that? Like to see me fucked by a boy twenty years younger than me? I'd do it for you – your face would be priceless. Love to see that. Think Orlando would mind?"

The heat around his cock was burning, the grip utterly perfect as Sean began to thrust back to meet him, their movements becoming brisker, harder... altogether more determined. His partner's face was full of the enjoyment of the challenge of wearing Viggo down with images and ideas. And it was working. Sean's words wrapped around him like his best memories of coke: warm and inviting with a touch of dizziness and sickly disorientation.

"Wonder if Elijah usually fucks him like this, or generally from behind with his face pressed into a pillow? He seemed to get off on the breath stuff, kinky fucker. Wonder if he has to say please, or beg on his knees. He did suit being on his knees, don't you think? Or maybe they don't fuck at all, seeing as they're such children and all. Maybe they're saving themselves for true love. You think? Nah. Me neither. Probably at it like rabbits. So which one is it you'd want? Think I've got a preference but wouldn't kick either of them out of bed. But what about you?

"You'd like the challenge of Elijah. I think you'd like to make those eyes of his water til the tears spilled over. Which makes me wonder some more: did Elijah come down Orlando's throat or on his face when we left? Big fat tears of come all over that pretty face, those breakable cheekbones? Nah, probably not. Make up would kill him. So he probably came right down the lad's throat, just pumped him full of the stuff. And all the time young Orli was filming with us this afternoon his breath probably stank of it."

"Tell you what else I wonder? I wonder whether Elijah lets Orlando wank himself off so they get there together, give or take. Elijah down his throat and Orlando over himself. Or d'ya think he enjoys waiting it out? Waiting til Elijah is done and then I wonder if Elijah gets on his knees in turn. Lij doesn't strike me as a selfish sort, nor Orlando as someone who'd want that. I'd lay a good bet that Elijah makes sure Orlando gets what his Southern softie heart desires. Y'think?"

Viggo couldn't stop the shudder-jitter of his hips at the images these words brought to mind. "You're a filthy fuck, Sean. Fuck's sake." Viggo could barely string words together. His rhythm was lost and he knew it was perhaps seconds before he'd be gone.

"It's Orlando, isn't it? You might like the challenge of 'Lijah but it's the submission in Orlando you'd really want. Want to see him bend for you. Tie those delicate wrists in knots of rope and stretch him tight while you fuck him til he shoots himself dry? And maybe, if you were really fucking lucky, he'd smile at you while you did it, like he smiled at Elijah today."

That was it. That was all. "Oh fuck, Sean. Want him. Want him just like that." And Viggo smashed his mouth against Sean's to make it stop, make the ideas stop. Make the wrong, wrong thoughts stop. Orlando was maybe 23 at most. But oh God, the smile in his eyes as he had looked up at Elijah. As he kissed Sean, as he came inside him, he realised Sean was looking at him. He pulled back as he continued to fuck deep and hard through his orgasm. Sean looked at him and there was a smile in his eyes, too.

At the end, as Viggo rested panting above him, Sean raised a hand and ran his fingers up along Viggo's jaw and tangled in his hair.

"It's ok, Vig. If you want him, try for him. Just make sure you really do want him because I bet that when that lad falls, he's going to fall hard. Maybe Elijah will turn out to be the love of his life but I doubt it. They're just playing at the moment. You remember about that at that age too, right?"

Viggo nodded and slumped down into Sean's embrace. "I remember. Maybe one day." It was all getting too deep with too much newly discovered truth. Enough for that moment at least. "But that day is not this day."

He could feel the grin as Sean replied, "Don't bring Aragorn into this. Elf-fucker that he is."

"Aragorn would not fuck the elf."

"..."

"Maybe once."

"Maybe more than that."

"Maybe so."

So it made him feel sick, to think of the kid like that. But it also made him feel a strangely warm throb of something that felt like hope. Or expectation.

Viggo put the idea of it away somewhere deep and hidden. Knowing about it made him feel responsible.

Responsible like the time right at the end of the main shoot when he and Orlando found themselves the sole survivors of a night on the town. Not once had they ever spoken about the Trailer Incident, as Viggo termed it to himself. Not once had it been openly acknowledged between them.

Sean had left and Viggo had passed the time with one or two locals, one or two of the crew. Sometimes he caught Orlando watching him in a way that he could only describe as speculative. Sometimes he felt that Orlando perhaps touched him slightly more than was strictly needed. Sometimes he knew that he touched Orlando in the same way. Distance, though. There was always distance.

Orlando and Elijah drifted together and apart like tides tugged by the moon or, in this case, the shooting schedule. Ian seemed to take an interest in Orlando and to begin with this irked Viggo, however it appeared to be more of a mentoring relationship. Long, private chats. Orlando playing attendance on his own Gandalf figure.

So there they were, the sole survivors nursing their last drinks of the night, reviewing the comedic moments of the last weeks of filming. There was a lull and Orlando seemed to take a deeper breath than might be actually needed.

"We're nearly done here, Vig." Viggo looked up, looked straight into Orlando's wide, brown eyes. Nodded. "I wondered if you might... want to... you know?" Viggo contemplated making it difficult. Wilfully not understanding. Knew Orlando deserved more. "I mean, I thought you maybe wanted..." He trailed off.

"Wanted you?"

A short, tight laugh. "Or maybe wanted what you saw. That day. You know?" Orlando's eyes dropped and Viggo wanted to capture the dusky shadows on his face, wanted to capture Orlando the demure. Orlando the unsure.

"Anyone would, Lan." He reached out and crooked a finger under Orlando's chin, tipped his face up. "Anyone would. Me, though? I'd want it to mean something. And right now, at the end of all things, is not a good time to start looking into that."

Orlando's forehead creased. "But..."

"No buts. It is what it is. Maybe one day. Maybe one day it can happen in it's own way. But not tonight. You're worth something. You're worth it meaning something."

See? It's already made Viggo feel surprised, conflicted, sick, and now? Responsible. And Viggo knew, already, that a part of him was lost to the too-willing man-child.

Before long, though, hearing about it also led to the worst of all monsters: the green-eyed one. Jealousy.

The phone rang at stupid o'clock in the morning. Actually, it was just after 8am but it was still too god-damn early to be listening to bright and sparkly Yorkshire brogue come pouring out of the speaker phone from wherever the fuck.

"You alright, Vig? Cos let me tell you, I'm fucking fantastic. Bloody ace day here in Troy-land."

"Not that it isn't always a joy to hear from you, but is there any particular reason you're calling me?" Viggo was not at his chatty best in the morning.

"Wanted to share my day with you. Wanted to bring you up to date on your old cast mates. And how we're getting on. You know. In hot, sweaty locations all prettified in our barely-there hero togs." Suddenly Viggo's consciousness snapped into place. And his stomach clenched unpleasantly. "Me? I'm all grizzled good looks and great legs. Not bad if I do say so myself. Still, have to be honest... As Rings alumns go, the elf probably has it. I should really take a picture for you. Or perhaps... I should tell you all about it...?"

Sean's voice trailed off into a question. There was a choice. Hear in gritty detail about what Viggo, even in his morning state, realised must have happened. Or. Or tell Sean to fuck off and try not to spend the foreseeable future speculating about what must have happened.

The silent line stretched between them.

"Tell me."

"Thought you'd want to know. There were a programme on the radio when I were young. It were stories for kids and it always began... 'Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin'. Are you sitting comfortably, Vig? Feel free to do what you need to do, and I will, too."

Viggo was already reaching for the lube.

"Then I'll begin. And I'll begin by saying that I respect the lad, Vig, don't think I don't. He's growing up nicely – you'll see at the pick-ups for yourself. Sensible. Getting a sound head about him. Still a randy bastard, though. Suffice to say that a man can only hold out against him for so long when he sets his mind to something. He's working his way through the cast from what I can tell, he's already had Bana, Hedlund and Mane as I understand it."

Mane?"

"Tyler Mane. Wrestler? Huge bloke. Taller than Bana."

"Jesus. What the fuck is he playing at?"

"Sowing his seeds, Vig. I thought we agreed that we remembered what it was like to be his age. If it makes you feel any better, I've already had him aside once for a talk about the responsible use of prophylactics."

The snort was involuntary. "You're kidding."

"No, I am not. I might not be immune from his charms but I'm not without affection for the beggar. After I heard about Bana and Hedlund, I felt it was my duty to step in and ensure he was looking after himself."

"Bet he loved that."

"He took it like a man. Which brings me back to last night."

"Really?"

"Too. Bloody. Right. Bana called me. Said Mane had showed up looking like a cat who drank an entire churn of cream and being more than open that the source of his delight was having had the company of one Trojan prince. Implied he'd had quite the rough night with 'little' Paris. Surprised me a bit as I rather thought Orlando had been throwing himself in my direction, but there we are. Bana wanted to check on Orlando but thought it might be better from someone who knew him a bit more than a couple of nights of how's your father."

A sudden weight of stone pressed down on Viggo. "Is he ok? Jesus, Sean, is he ok?"

"You don't think I'd lead off with that a bit quicker if he wasn't? Calm down, you arse, he's fine. Resilient chap if he can deal with someone that size. And believe me, he can."

The weight eased off.

"Right, so I went round to his place and knocked. Orlando answers in a towelling robe and not a lot else, all wet and just out of the shower. You'll not have seen it, but his hair's grown back in. All dark curls and glossiness now. Boy looks like he's just stepped out of a fucking salon most of the time. And he's bulked up a bit. You'll see for yourself when you watch the movie... and I know you will.

"Anyway, he just steps back and tips his head to one side, inviting me in like. Who am I to refuse? So in I go and Orlando shuts the door and says, I kid you not, 'How can I help you, Sean?'

"In for a penny, I think. And I tell him that Bana was worried whether he'd made it out from under the jolly Greek giant in one piece so I've come to check him over. And what do you think he did Viggo? I'll tell you what the cheeky beggar did. He just undoes the robe, shrugs it off and lets it drop to the floor, that's what."

The image was intoxicating. Viggo pictured muscled, tanned Orlando... so different from pale, Elven Orlando… standing there naked and defiant in front of Sean.

"He just turns around in front of me, so I can check him over from all sides. And he's bruised, Vig. I can see where fingers have gripped his hips, his shoulders. I think they must have fucked once with Mane taking him from behind and once up against a wall maybe from the looks of them? And you know what he says? He asks me to help him put arnica on the bruises. Arnica, for fecks sake!"

"And did you?"

"Of course I fucking did. 'They don't hurt', he says. 'They just throb', and he kind of likes it, he says. He likes having the marks the next day apparently. He was in quite the sharing mood. So I help him with the bruises on his back, and then he says perhaps it'll help me get the bruises round his arse if he gets on the bed. So he does. On all fours. With his knees apart. Can you credit it?"

"I really can." Warmth towards Orlando flowed through Viggo. If Orlando was playing safe, and enjoying himself, then that was fair enough. For Orlando to be so sure of himself, so confident in what he wanted, so damn seductive, was interesting. And intriguing. "Did you fuck him, Sean?"

"First things first. First of all I took good care of those bruises. Of course I couldn't help but inspect for other potential damage. Orlando helped. Reached back and pulled his cheeks apart for me. Christ, Viggo, his poor hole. All puffy and red and sore-looking. I asked him if that throbbed too and he chuckled. I swear to God, he chuckled and said it could certainly do with some soothing. So I soothed it. With my tongue. Got right in there and licked at it gently, or at least until he demanded more and faster. He was still loose, it was just too easy to slip inside and fuck him just a little. He was an absolute slut for it. Fucked himself back on my tongue – I just had to stay still in the end."

At this point, with his fist gripping his cock and sliding up and down his length Viggo could not help but question his refusal that night back in New Zealand. What had he been thinking again?

"And then?"

"Well, then Orlando informed me there were condoms in the drawer, and lube, too. So I availed myself of the facilities and then I fucked him, of course. Slid right in where that bloody giant had been just hours earlier. Orlando down on his forearms, arse up in the air. Hardly had to do a thing – lad likes fucking himself on a bloke's cock. Nice mover, too. Knows what to do with himself. I remember running my fingers along that scar of his and he didn't like that, twisted away a bit so I let it be and distracted him with a reach-around. Must say, he didn't produce much when he came; must have been running on empty after the night before."

Viggo's eyes were closed as he pictured it, so very, very clearly. He thanked the technology deities as he kept wanking himself with one hand and began to squeeze-tug-pull at his sac with the other.

"By this time I felt like my balls were about to burst and wanted to pick things up a little. I twisted my fingers into his hair, sliding his own come into his curls, guiding him into a faster pace. He makes gorgeous lines, Vig. Dipped back, bent neck... and all the time working his hips... fucking back and, Viggo, the sounds. Beautiful, bitten off moans and sighs. Doesn't seem to be a screamer, but perhaps he is if he ever loses control. I'm not sure he knows how to, though. That's the thing. During the whole business, he seemed so self-contained. So controlled. Older than his years."

It sent a frisson through Viggo to hear that. He wanted to break that control. He wondered what that would be like, to see Orlando wanton and free. A bit like he had been when he had given in to Elijah in that moment behind the trailer. Viggo wondered if Orlando had begun to lock that away somewhere safe.

The slap-slap sound of Sean bringing himself off spurred Viggo on and the pair seemed to fall into sync as Sean reached the end of the story.

"He pushed himself up so he was kneeling before me, his back pressed into my chest and he twisted his head around to kiss me. Then his body went pliant and he whispered that I should use him, fuck him how I wanted til I came and it was the words more than anything that finished me off. I gripped his shoulders and shoved as deep and hard as I could. He talked the whole way through telling me how good it was, and how I should grip hard and leave my own bruises. And Christ, Viggo, I did. I left my own bruises. And my own bite marks. He fucking well let me own him."

And that was that. Viggo sprayed hot over himself. He let Sean hear him, and was satisfied to hear Sean reach his own climax within moments.

They lay there, together but miles apart and listened to each other pant. And Viggo remembered to feel jealous that Sean had had it, when he had not.

"I'm gonna go, Sean. Glad you had a good time. Thanks for sharing."

"Hold on a sec. I didn't tell you the most important thing."

"And what would that be?"

"Get the green tone out of your voice. It doesn't need to be there."

"Really?"

"Really. As I was leaving... I thought he was asleep. I was opening the door and he called my name. I turned back and he looked so young, covered in a cotton sheet and his hair all in clumps and spikes."

"He looked young because he is young, you cradle-snatching bastard." Viggo was only half in jest.

"Now, now, Vig. Not sure you have a leg to stand on there. D'you want to know what he asked? He asked if I knew how you were. Had I spoken to you? Just fucked him and the lad's head was with you. Did you ever decide if you wanted him? Because fair to say, he wants you."

So whilst hearing about it did make Viggo feel jealousy, it also kept the hope and the expectancy alive and kicking. It made him smile and wish Sean a good night's sleep, whenever he got there.

Then came the time where it gave Viggo peace. He and Orlando saw each other here and there. They began to speak on the phone frequently. When Orlando moved to LA, they began to see one another more often, platonically. Typically, there came a point where Viggo was ready only to find that Orlando was not. Viggo understood. It felt like a long-held promise, a fate that would come to pass at the appropriate time. They were both comfortable with the idea of it, even talked about it.

They talked about Elijah and how Orlando had loved the deliciousness of meeting someone like Elijah. Someone young, decent, moral who had also started to explore that certain side of things and who was willing to explore a bit more with Orlando and without obligation or judgement.

They discussed Garrett, Orlando's one and only foray into seeing whether being on top was for him. It wasn't.

One particularly memorable night, both of them drunk and tucked into the same side of a booth in a historic little bar in Venice, Orlando whispered confessions about Bana and Mane. How he wanted to see what it was like with huge men with their huge cocks. How he wanted to be handled, and thrown, and manipulated. Lifted and forced onto members that made him scream with shocky pleasure. He whispered that it had scared him a touch, being so defenceless and small. And that being scared had only turned him on more.

He told Viggo how Mane had been able to lift him so that Orlando could wrap his legs around his taut body, and had been able to hold him up and push him down onto Mane's dick like he was a girl.

He told Viggo how Bana had taken him out on a motorbike to a secluded beach and ordered him to bend over it so he could fuck him. Orlando remembered feeling massive hands gripping him tight, holding him down, ordering him to keep his hands locked together behind his back. He remembered the smell of leather, hot metal and oil as Eric fingered him until he sobbed and begged for more, and that Eric had given him more. Given him his whole hand as he lay spread over the bike crying tears of surrender into the sand beneath him. He told Viggo that he couldn't go near a bike any more without thinking about it. In a good way.

Orlando never spoke about Sean, so Viggo told him about Sean instead for he did not want it between them. Recalled how Sean had tormented him with so many images of Orlando and Elijah back in New Zealand. Admitted that Sean had called him after being with Orlando and admitted his jealousy. Explained that Sean meant so much to him as friend and lover, but not as beloved. Revealed that Sean was an utter brat and that it was a constant struggle to keep on top of him. Reassured that there had been nothing between them except friendship for years by that point.

And through it all, Orlando had come away undamaged. He relished his memories and Viggo was grateful to all the men who Orlando had explored, practised and learnt with for being kind enough not to hurt him. Or at least clever enough to know they had something so perfect that it should not be broken.

Hearing about it all gave Viggo calm and relief.

Orlando's age didn't seem to matter any more. His face developed the first lines of age, of experience, of wisdom. His choices began to reflect the same.

Viggo stopped worrying about him.

And started enjoying their friendship.

And the peace it brought him.

When it finally happens between them, it seems the most natural thing in the world. Now, when Viggo sees it, Orlando's utter submission, it brings him happiness. It brings him contentment.

Orlando loves to let Viggo tie him in knots. He lets Viggo wrap him in hemp, fold him into intricate patterns that restrain, bind and hold him. He lets Viggo spend hours turning him into "Art", as he puts it. Viggo isn't sure if Orlando understands that he is the art and that Viggo is merely framing him. He's tried explaining but his words aren't good enough.

One of their favourites is to have Orlando kneel, naked, on the floor. Viggo wraps a firm set of loops around his ankles, knotting each one tight and snug. The other end of the rope he binds around Orlando's neck, pulling his head back over his feet, arching his back and forcing his knees apart. He leaves Orlando's arms and hands free so that Orlando can support his still and forever slightly weak back by reaching backwards and propping himself up.

It means Viggo can leave him like that for quite long spells.

There are so many things Viggo can do when Orlando is in that position. Sometimes he settles full length on the floor between Orlando's knees and suckles at his cock, nestles his face against the soft sacs that hang low and plump.

Sometimes he lies on his back and slides right underneath Orlando so he can lick at Orlando's hole. Orlando's hole is only rarely not puffy and well-used – and always beautiful. Even tied Orlando can grind down on him as he slips his tongue deep inside, sometimes stroking Orlando's cock hard and fast at the same time. The noises Orlando makes are strained and delicious.

Then there are the times when he stands over Orlando and looks down at his stretched-out neck and oh how he loves to fuck far into Orlando's mouth. Viggo knows for a fact that he can see the head of his cock pressing against the flesh of Orlando's throat from the inside out. He knows very well what it is to thrust himself as deep as he can go and feel Orlando convulse around him before finally, inevitably, surrendering and resting loose and happy in his bonds. He knows what it is to have Orlando trust him enough to believe that Viggo will let him breathe in time.

He never blindfolds him, whether tied or not. Viggo likes to look at his eyes because now Orlando's eyes smile at him, even if he's gagged on leather or Viggo's cock. Just like they did for Elijah all those years ago. Now? Now it's only for Viggo and all for Viggo, just as Viggo is only and always for Orlando.

When Orlando's eyes display his happiness, it washes over Viggo in waves of ease and contentment.

Most of all though, witnessing Orlando's strength in his submission is just part of who they are together. They are their conversations and their silences. Their joys and their griefs. Their history both shared and apart. The way they make love has all of these threads running through it and so, overall, it fills him with love.

Now Viggo knows that everything he saw, or heard, or felt before wasn't really Orlando's utter submission at all. It seemed like it, looked like it... but always without the fiery note of love.

Orlando allows Viggo to twist him and shape him how he pleases, but also knows he can take whatever he wants or needs from Viggo. He allows Viggo to tongue, stroke, kiss and press along his scars. He hides nothing, and neither does Viggo. It moves Viggo to his core to press on the place where the surgeons saved his very own precious. It moves him deeply to leave his own marks alongside that sacred place.

Orlando gives Viggo rights over his entire body. He welcomes the bruises, the bites and the leftover indents from tightly wrapped rope. He welcomes everything Viggo wants to give him. In turn, Viggo allows Orlando the same and relishes the days when Orlando asks if he can, or just pushes him forward, over, under and takes him.

Orlando's submission is everything to Viggo and the most joyous, perfect thing about it is that Orlando knows that he owns Viggo's submission, too. And that, Viggo supposes, is what love ultimately is: the acceptance that someone else is the very centre of your being. It is knowing that they hold your body and soul and heart and will never, ever, let go.

So now, at last, when he sees it, Orlando's utter submission, Viggo simply feels love, and all that goes with it.
Tags: stories 2011
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