(no subject)
Title: Orlando and the Gyppos.
Author: Razzle
Pairing: Viggorli.
Disclaimer: He probably is that gullible.
Rating: R
Summary: Orlando has needs.
A/n: Dear lord, is it crack? It must be crack, it smells like crack. moblo413 doesn't deal crack, but she betas it.
New Zealand had the same presence of freaks, tramps and lunatics roaming around as any other country. One of these bands of crazies was making a movie when they came across a group of nice, law-abiding gypsies.
"Okay, yeah," Orlando said, smoothing his trouser legs as he sat, bouncing up and down and trying to relax. "Okay, yeah, so, you're like, the future telling gypsy dude, yeah?"
The traveller stared at the bouncing mentalist with an expression that implied Orlando might not have a future.
"I have a certain affinity with the spirits of the earth," she answered ambiguously.
"Okay, cool," Orlando said, twitchily. "I don't want to know the future. I'm after something a little more… influential."
The gypsy pursed her lips.
"Oh, indeed," she asked, leaning in closer. "How can I help you, young man?"
Orlando shifted uncomfortably.
"There's this guy," he said quietly. "I really, really like him. I mean, yeah, I love him. Really, I do."
"And you want a potion to cure you of your gay?"
"No, god, no," Orlando said suddenly. The gypsy breathed a sigh of relief. No potion on Earth had that kind of power. "I want him to love me," Orlando admitted. "I want him to love me so hard that it hurts not to be with me. Although, you know, I don't want him to be in pain. I mean I just want… you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean," she reassured him. "And I think I have just the thing for you." She lifted the edge of the tablecloth and retrieved a vial from underneath the table. "Get him to drink this, any amount, a drop or a bucketful, it won't matter. You must drink, too, and as soon as your lips touch him, he will be completely and eternally in love with you."
"Oh, wicked," he said, making a grab for the small bottle. She pulled her hand back, keeping the little vial just out of his reach.
"Think carefully before you accept," she said warningly. "If you do this, you'll never know if he could love you without the magic. Will you ever really be able to relax, be happy with him, knowing you've stolen it?"
"Yes, yes, yes," Orlando said shortly. "Just pass it over."
She deflated.
"Give me fifty bucks," she said, abandoning pretence at mystique and returning to the mercenary. He handed over the money and swept the bottle out of her hands, clutching it possessively to his chest.
"Watch yourself," she called after him, as he scrambled out of the little tent and away over the car park beyond.
#
Orlando stood opposite the most beautiful man in the world and briefly questioned his motives.
"We've tried everything, haven't we? I mean, we've been making eyes at him forever and he hasn't even tried to shag us. But if we use the potion, we'll promise ourselves to him forever. If we get bored and run away, we might break his poor heart. He might never recover and we don't want that. Or he'll go mad and tie us up in a locked room, constantly visiting us to sate his lusts in a progression of relentless sexual experimentation."
Orlando blinked at himself. He shrugged. "I'm not seeing a downside," he told himself. He adjusted his incredibly gay deep black V-neck, palmed the bottle from the bathroom shelf and nodded to himself.
#
Viggo was more than a little disconcerted. Orlando was behaving very oddly.
He had pulled them both out of the pack and practically pleaded with Viggo to take him home. He clearly had something pressing to share with Viggo, but he seemed to be having some trouble getting it out even now, with the two of them alone in Orlando's house, drinking wine in a sinfully mood-lit room. Orlando was still too uncomfortable to sit still for five minutes and had buggered off to the bathroom.
Don't think that word, Viggo chided himself. If you think that word you'll forget where the line is and before you know it you're pinning him to the carpet and riding him like the slutty, unbroken bitch…
Oh, that helped.
Viggo moaned unhappily and dropped his head into his hands. He looked up again as Orlando returned, brandishing two cups of coffee and looking triumphant. He pressed Viggo's directly into his hands.
"I already blew on it, so you can just drink it," he said eagerly, leaning on the back of the sofa, and staring at Viggo adoringly.
Viggo gave him a humouring smile and saluted Orlando with his cup before bringing it to his lips. Orlando mirrored him, sipping his coffee noisily and downing half the cup in one go. He swallowed hard, eyes still on Viggo, and took another sip, deliberately leaving his lips wet. He twitched, the way homemade coffee always made him twitch. He reached out and put his cup down.
"My coffee tastes funny. Does your coffee taste funny?" Orlando asked eagerly.
"No, no, it's delicious," Viggo said, saluting with the cup again. "Really good." He considered Orlando thoughtfully and reached out, placing his cup down and then sitting back. He had certain things he needed to say. It started with, "Orlando…" and ended there, as Orlando launched himself into Viggo's arms and Viggo found his lips being assaulted by an overexcited little twink.
Viggo's eyelashes fluttered and he almost pulled away in surprise, but he felt the fluttering bomb into his stomach and couldn't let go. His arms swung around Orlando's sides and he clutched at the younger man's shirt. Orlando's mouth was pushed open and Viggo allowed what was clearly a moment of Orlando completely losing his mind as a good opportunity to properly snog the hell out of him.
Orlando clung to Viggo's hair, moaning ecstatically as Viggo pushed him down onto his back. He pulled at Orlando's clothes, his hands scooping away handfuls of inexplicably baggy shirt and making their way underneath. With the touch of rough fingers on smooth skin, Viggo reluctantly pulled his mouth away.
"I thought you saw me as a father figure," Viggo said, looking down at the elated creature beneath him with an expression of shock and wonderment.
"You can be my daddy," Orlando said, wriggling happily.
"No, baby, that's gross, because someone actually calls me daddy."
"Okay, sorry, but let's get back to kissing," Orlando conceded, anxious to return to the unprecedented enthusiasm of Viggo's oral skills.
Viggo wasn't averse to the idea either, and returned to mauling Orlando like he was keeping him from turning straight. He managed to keep him bent all the way to the bedroom, carrying the sweet, excitable angel through two rooms and down three small steps that almost resulted in Orlando's legs becoming dislodged from Viggo's hips and falling to the floor, where he would, nevertheless, find himself being flipped over and buggered senseless wherever he landed.
But Viggo's step was sure and it wasn't until they hit the bed that Orlando felt the world rush back up to meet him.
And it wasn't until they'd scrambled past enough fabric to have Orlando panting, nearly naked, with his legs spread wide, that his brain was able to catch up.
It frustrated Viggo to no end that Orlando had ignored the arguments and the numerous repetitions of 'are you sure?' and waited until Viggo's fingers were inside him and Viggo's mouth was on his cock to tell Viggo to stop.
"What? What?" Viggo asked, looking up at Orlando in fear and near madness.
"You're about to do me, aren't you?" Orlando asked, his eyes opened wide and each word softened with drool.
"Well, yeah," Viggo answered breathlessly. "That was the plan."
"But you don't actually love me, do you?"
Viggo smiled, softening in the face of Orlando's apparent romanticism.
"Of course I do, my simmering spike of sunlight on an abandoned hubcap on the side of a spring highway."
"Oh, you big… poet, that's so sweet. But, I mean, you didn't love me half an hour ago, did you? No, don't take them out," he added as Viggo started to remove his fingers.
"I've loved you for months, Angel hair pasta," Viggo said. "I've loved you since the day I… the day I walked into the trailer and saw you on all fours trying to find a lost ear." Viggo twisted his fingers and Orlando shivered. "You turned to look over your shoulder at me and you looked like the porn star of my dreams. I was in love with you from that very moment."
"No, but, did you love me for months half an hour ago?"
"Orlando, what in the name of shit are you on about?"
"It was in the coffee, my big, brave, dangerous, slightly mental horse-loving Stallion. I put love potion number 9 in your coffee and now you only think you love me. But I want you to love me. Really, really love me. I don't want to steal your cock, I want you to give me cock because you love me and you want to give me my favourite thing in the world. Which is cock, by the way."
"Really?" Viggo asked incredulously, removing his fingers slowly, his expression turning sympathetic as Orlando looked heartbroken. "But, Darling," he said, softly. "I didn't drink any of your coffee."
Orlando blinked rapidly.
"What?"
"Your coffee sucks, baby. It tastes like gravel. I just pretend to like it because I can't bear it when you look at me like, god, like you're looking at me now. I'm in love with your smile, not your nasty gravel coffee."
"Really? You didn't drink any coffee?"
Viggo shook his head. "Oh, man, yes!" Orlando said, spreading his legs and pulling at Viggo's arse. "If you really love me then you can bugger me senseless without the slightest hint of guilt."
"Thank God for that," Viggo said, swiftly impaling Orlando on his enormous cock and riding him like a man possessed. And, soon after, with Orlando clinging to him like a drowning man clinging to a rubber ring, Viggo filled the beautiful, shiny mentalist with his very own elixir of love.
As it happened, the love potion had only been made out of corn syrup and cochineal anyway.
Which didn't stop the magic.
Endybendy.
Author: Razzle
Pairing: Viggorli.
Disclaimer: He probably is that gullible.
Rating: R
Summary: Orlando has needs.
A/n: Dear lord, is it crack? It must be crack, it smells like crack. moblo413 doesn't deal crack, but she betas it.
New Zealand had the same presence of freaks, tramps and lunatics roaming around as any other country. One of these bands of crazies was making a movie when they came across a group of nice, law-abiding gypsies.
"Okay, yeah," Orlando said, smoothing his trouser legs as he sat, bouncing up and down and trying to relax. "Okay, yeah, so, you're like, the future telling gypsy dude, yeah?"
The traveller stared at the bouncing mentalist with an expression that implied Orlando might not have a future.
"I have a certain affinity with the spirits of the earth," she answered ambiguously.
"Okay, cool," Orlando said, twitchily. "I don't want to know the future. I'm after something a little more… influential."
The gypsy pursed her lips.
"Oh, indeed," she asked, leaning in closer. "How can I help you, young man?"
Orlando shifted uncomfortably.
"There's this guy," he said quietly. "I really, really like him. I mean, yeah, I love him. Really, I do."
"And you want a potion to cure you of your gay?"
"No, god, no," Orlando said suddenly. The gypsy breathed a sigh of relief. No potion on Earth had that kind of power. "I want him to love me," Orlando admitted. "I want him to love me so hard that it hurts not to be with me. Although, you know, I don't want him to be in pain. I mean I just want… you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean," she reassured him. "And I think I have just the thing for you." She lifted the edge of the tablecloth and retrieved a vial from underneath the table. "Get him to drink this, any amount, a drop or a bucketful, it won't matter. You must drink, too, and as soon as your lips touch him, he will be completely and eternally in love with you."
"Oh, wicked," he said, making a grab for the small bottle. She pulled her hand back, keeping the little vial just out of his reach.
"Think carefully before you accept," she said warningly. "If you do this, you'll never know if he could love you without the magic. Will you ever really be able to relax, be happy with him, knowing you've stolen it?"
"Yes, yes, yes," Orlando said shortly. "Just pass it over."
She deflated.
"Give me fifty bucks," she said, abandoning pretence at mystique and returning to the mercenary. He handed over the money and swept the bottle out of her hands, clutching it possessively to his chest.
"Watch yourself," she called after him, as he scrambled out of the little tent and away over the car park beyond.
#
Orlando stood opposite the most beautiful man in the world and briefly questioned his motives.
"We've tried everything, haven't we? I mean, we've been making eyes at him forever and he hasn't even tried to shag us. But if we use the potion, we'll promise ourselves to him forever. If we get bored and run away, we might break his poor heart. He might never recover and we don't want that. Or he'll go mad and tie us up in a locked room, constantly visiting us to sate his lusts in a progression of relentless sexual experimentation."
Orlando blinked at himself. He shrugged. "I'm not seeing a downside," he told himself. He adjusted his incredibly gay deep black V-neck, palmed the bottle from the bathroom shelf and nodded to himself.
#
Viggo was more than a little disconcerted. Orlando was behaving very oddly.
He had pulled them both out of the pack and practically pleaded with Viggo to take him home. He clearly had something pressing to share with Viggo, but he seemed to be having some trouble getting it out even now, with the two of them alone in Orlando's house, drinking wine in a sinfully mood-lit room. Orlando was still too uncomfortable to sit still for five minutes and had buggered off to the bathroom.
Don't think that word, Viggo chided himself. If you think that word you'll forget where the line is and before you know it you're pinning him to the carpet and riding him like the slutty, unbroken bitch…
Oh, that helped.
Viggo moaned unhappily and dropped his head into his hands. He looked up again as Orlando returned, brandishing two cups of coffee and looking triumphant. He pressed Viggo's directly into his hands.
"I already blew on it, so you can just drink it," he said eagerly, leaning on the back of the sofa, and staring at Viggo adoringly.
Viggo gave him a humouring smile and saluted Orlando with his cup before bringing it to his lips. Orlando mirrored him, sipping his coffee noisily and downing half the cup in one go. He swallowed hard, eyes still on Viggo, and took another sip, deliberately leaving his lips wet. He twitched, the way homemade coffee always made him twitch. He reached out and put his cup down.
"My coffee tastes funny. Does your coffee taste funny?" Orlando asked eagerly.
"No, no, it's delicious," Viggo said, saluting with the cup again. "Really good." He considered Orlando thoughtfully and reached out, placing his cup down and then sitting back. He had certain things he needed to say. It started with, "Orlando…" and ended there, as Orlando launched himself into Viggo's arms and Viggo found his lips being assaulted by an overexcited little twink.
Viggo's eyelashes fluttered and he almost pulled away in surprise, but he felt the fluttering bomb into his stomach and couldn't let go. His arms swung around Orlando's sides and he clutched at the younger man's shirt. Orlando's mouth was pushed open and Viggo allowed what was clearly a moment of Orlando completely losing his mind as a good opportunity to properly snog the hell out of him.
Orlando clung to Viggo's hair, moaning ecstatically as Viggo pushed him down onto his back. He pulled at Orlando's clothes, his hands scooping away handfuls of inexplicably baggy shirt and making their way underneath. With the touch of rough fingers on smooth skin, Viggo reluctantly pulled his mouth away.
"I thought you saw me as a father figure," Viggo said, looking down at the elated creature beneath him with an expression of shock and wonderment.
"You can be my daddy," Orlando said, wriggling happily.
"No, baby, that's gross, because someone actually calls me daddy."
"Okay, sorry, but let's get back to kissing," Orlando conceded, anxious to return to the unprecedented enthusiasm of Viggo's oral skills.
Viggo wasn't averse to the idea either, and returned to mauling Orlando like he was keeping him from turning straight. He managed to keep him bent all the way to the bedroom, carrying the sweet, excitable angel through two rooms and down three small steps that almost resulted in Orlando's legs becoming dislodged from Viggo's hips and falling to the floor, where he would, nevertheless, find himself being flipped over and buggered senseless wherever he landed.
But Viggo's step was sure and it wasn't until they hit the bed that Orlando felt the world rush back up to meet him.
And it wasn't until they'd scrambled past enough fabric to have Orlando panting, nearly naked, with his legs spread wide, that his brain was able to catch up.
It frustrated Viggo to no end that Orlando had ignored the arguments and the numerous repetitions of 'are you sure?' and waited until Viggo's fingers were inside him and Viggo's mouth was on his cock to tell Viggo to stop.
"What? What?" Viggo asked, looking up at Orlando in fear and near madness.
"You're about to do me, aren't you?" Orlando asked, his eyes opened wide and each word softened with drool.
"Well, yeah," Viggo answered breathlessly. "That was the plan."
"But you don't actually love me, do you?"
Viggo smiled, softening in the face of Orlando's apparent romanticism.
"Of course I do, my simmering spike of sunlight on an abandoned hubcap on the side of a spring highway."
"Oh, you big… poet, that's so sweet. But, I mean, you didn't love me half an hour ago, did you? No, don't take them out," he added as Viggo started to remove his fingers.
"I've loved you for months, Angel hair pasta," Viggo said. "I've loved you since the day I… the day I walked into the trailer and saw you on all fours trying to find a lost ear." Viggo twisted his fingers and Orlando shivered. "You turned to look over your shoulder at me and you looked like the porn star of my dreams. I was in love with you from that very moment."
"No, but, did you love me for months half an hour ago?"
"Orlando, what in the name of shit are you on about?"
"It was in the coffee, my big, brave, dangerous, slightly mental horse-loving Stallion. I put love potion number 9 in your coffee and now you only think you love me. But I want you to love me. Really, really love me. I don't want to steal your cock, I want you to give me cock because you love me and you want to give me my favourite thing in the world. Which is cock, by the way."
"Really?" Viggo asked incredulously, removing his fingers slowly, his expression turning sympathetic as Orlando looked heartbroken. "But, Darling," he said, softly. "I didn't drink any of your coffee."
Orlando blinked rapidly.
"What?"
"Your coffee sucks, baby. It tastes like gravel. I just pretend to like it because I can't bear it when you look at me like, god, like you're looking at me now. I'm in love with your smile, not your nasty gravel coffee."
"Really? You didn't drink any coffee?"
Viggo shook his head. "Oh, man, yes!" Orlando said, spreading his legs and pulling at Viggo's arse. "If you really love me then you can bugger me senseless without the slightest hint of guilt."
"Thank God for that," Viggo said, swiftly impaling Orlando on his enormous cock and riding him like a man possessed. And, soon after, with Orlando clinging to him like a drowning man clinging to a rubber ring, Viggo filled the beautiful, shiny mentalist with his very own elixir of love.
As it happened, the love potion had only been made out of corn syrup and cochineal anyway.
Which didn't stop the magic.
Endybendy.