Tantalize. Viggo/Orlando. TSAOM.
Hey all. This is my first post to this community, so... wooyah :)
This story is part of the Subtle Art of Manipulation, which is a series being written by myself and y2jai, so if anyone would like to see where this spawned from, please check out the web site (Linked above *Pimps*). However, being a flashback fic, you don't need to read the series at all to understand this story. It's just a bit of a naughty stand-alone ficlet ;)
TITLE: Tantalize.
SERIES: The Subtle Art of Manipulation. (WotD Ficlet)
AUTHOR: Collie.
EMAIL: collie_@msn.com
RATING: R. Naughty touching.
PAIRING: Viggo/Orli.
SUMMARY: It is lunchtime. Anyone hungry?
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
ARCHIVE: Only on TSAOM for now. When the series is finished, it will be open for archiving.
IMPROV: contrelamontre challenge. Sense of touch. No PWP.
tantalize (TAN-tuh-lyz) verb tr., also tantalise
1. To tease or torment by showing something desirable but keeping it out of reach.
Sometimes Viggo liked to torture himself. It made the spoils of the game all the sweeter. He enjoyed watching Orlando eat. He enjoyed listening to Orlando speak - the clipped Canterbury accent softened by formal training at Guildhall. However, most of all, he enjoyed touching Orlando; especially when he knew it was inappropriate, both in time, place, and gesture, and he knew nothing could come of it. He was a glutton for lust and longing, and he loved dragging Orlando down with him.
Today, he placed himself next to Orlando while he was eating lunch; straddled the bench-seat, facing the boy's side, dirty leather coat fanning out along the metal seat behind him. Light eyes roamed over Orlando's faux-elf form - Blond tresses tied back, covered by an ostentatiously green bandana, and a hoodie sweatshirt covering his tunic'd torso.
Orlando smiled big at him, and Viggo felt his stomach flip a bit, "Afternoon, Viggo. Dining in civilization today, are we?" Orlando grinned.
Viggo winked, nodding, "There are times when being in the company of the bipedal is preferable," he said, smoothly, reaching up and tucking a stray lock of hair behind Orlando's pointed ear, fingertip lingering on the velvet-soft earlobe.
Orlando chuckled nervously at the contact, blue eyes shifting around, "You sure you wanna be doing that in public?"
Viggo tilted his head, a strange smile playing about his lips, "Yes," he said, but he removed his finger, anyway.
Orlando blushed softly, rubbing the back of his own neck. A nervous gesture. Viggo knew that touch, from both sides. Orlando's hands and fingers were wonderfully textured and scarred from the months of bow training. They felt exquisite sliding along smooth skin.
"You're not eating?" Orlando asked, dragging Viggo kicking and screaming from his reverie.
Viggo shook his head, shifting his belt around so the hilt of his sword lay across his lap, "No."
Orlando glanced down at the sword, watching as Viggo's fingers traced the leather binding as if by memory, "You're not hungry, then?" he asked, more out of habit than as if he were actually paying attention to what Viggo was saying. He was too absorbed with those fingers.
"I didn't say I wasn't hungry, Elfling," Viggo said, his voice dropping in pitch, smooth, yet raspy at the same time.
Orlando suddenly felt the need to clear his throat, so he did.
Viggo smirked.
Orlando nibbled his lower lip, watching Viggo's fingers linger along smooth, cold, hard steel and soft, supple, frayed leather, "I love how that feels," he muttered, completely unaware that he'd said it aloud.
Viggo's eyes gleamed as he leaned in close, his voice like a wet, hot kiss on Orlando's ear, "I know," the older man said, moving his hand and running his fingertips along Orlando's semi-hard cock, "I love the way it feels, too."
Orlando hissed softly at the contact, eyes fluttering shut, "Viggo
This story is part of the Subtle Art of Manipulation, which is a series being written by myself and y2jai, so if anyone would like to see where this spawned from, please check out the web site (Linked above *Pimps*). However, being a flashback fic, you don't need to read the series at all to understand this story. It's just a bit of a naughty stand-alone ficlet ;)
TITLE: Tantalize.
SERIES: The Subtle Art of Manipulation. (WotD Ficlet)
AUTHOR: Collie.
EMAIL: collie_@msn.com
RATING: R. Naughty touching.
PAIRING: Viggo/Orli.
SUMMARY: It is lunchtime. Anyone hungry?
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
ARCHIVE: Only on TSAOM for now. When the series is finished, it will be open for archiving.
IMPROV: contrelamontre challenge. Sense of touch. No PWP.
tantalize (TAN-tuh-lyz) verb tr., also tantalise
1. To tease or torment by showing something desirable but keeping it out of reach.
Sometimes Viggo liked to torture himself. It made the spoils of the game all the sweeter. He enjoyed watching Orlando eat. He enjoyed listening to Orlando speak - the clipped Canterbury accent softened by formal training at Guildhall. However, most of all, he enjoyed touching Orlando; especially when he knew it was inappropriate, both in time, place, and gesture, and he knew nothing could come of it. He was a glutton for lust and longing, and he loved dragging Orlando down with him.
Today, he placed himself next to Orlando while he was eating lunch; straddled the bench-seat, facing the boy's side, dirty leather coat fanning out along the metal seat behind him. Light eyes roamed over Orlando's faux-elf form - Blond tresses tied back, covered by an ostentatiously green bandana, and a hoodie sweatshirt covering his tunic'd torso.
Orlando smiled big at him, and Viggo felt his stomach flip a bit, "Afternoon, Viggo. Dining in civilization today, are we?" Orlando grinned.
Viggo winked, nodding, "There are times when being in the company of the bipedal is preferable," he said, smoothly, reaching up and tucking a stray lock of hair behind Orlando's pointed ear, fingertip lingering on the velvet-soft earlobe.
Orlando chuckled nervously at the contact, blue eyes shifting around, "You sure you wanna be doing that in public?"
Viggo tilted his head, a strange smile playing about his lips, "Yes," he said, but he removed his finger, anyway.
Orlando blushed softly, rubbing the back of his own neck. A nervous gesture. Viggo knew that touch, from both sides. Orlando's hands and fingers were wonderfully textured and scarred from the months of bow training. They felt exquisite sliding along smooth skin.
"You're not eating?" Orlando asked, dragging Viggo kicking and screaming from his reverie.
Viggo shook his head, shifting his belt around so the hilt of his sword lay across his lap, "No."
Orlando glanced down at the sword, watching as Viggo's fingers traced the leather binding as if by memory, "You're not hungry, then?" he asked, more out of habit than as if he were actually paying attention to what Viggo was saying. He was too absorbed with those fingers.
"I didn't say I wasn't hungry, Elfling," Viggo said, his voice dropping in pitch, smooth, yet raspy at the same time.
Orlando suddenly felt the need to clear his throat, so he did.
Viggo smirked.
Orlando nibbled his lower lip, watching Viggo's fingers linger along smooth, cold, hard steel and soft, supple, frayed leather, "I love how that feels," he muttered, completely unaware that he'd said it aloud.
Viggo's eyes gleamed as he leaned in close, his voice like a wet, hot kiss on Orlando's ear, "I know," the older man said, moving his hand and running his fingertips along Orlando's semi-hard cock, "I love the way it feels, too."
Orlando hissed softly at the contact, eyes fluttering shut, "Viggo