Pretty Bastards

By Vivi

"Hold still, liquid eyeliner is a bitch."

Obediently, Viggo remained as still as he could while the brush tickled over his eyelids. It was not an unfamiliar sensation. As an actor, he wore makeup every day he was on the set. Strange, that it should feel different here, sitting cross-legged on his own bed rather than in a chair, with only Orlando here instead of a roomful of murmuring people.

He felt Orlando lean back, imagined him pursing his lips as he studied his handiwork critically. Instead, he felt warm breath against his eyelids as Orlando blew gently, drying the eyeliner.

"You've really never done this before? Ever?"

"No," Viggo replied, not opening his eyes. "Why would I?"

"I don't know. I thought all you artist guys were in touch with your feminine side or something."

"I think I speak for all artists everywhere when I say fuck you."

The bed shook gently as Orlando laughed, and Viggo dared smearing the makeup and opened his eyes to see Orlando grinning at him, sitting there in only a pair of jeans. "So you've never even wanted to?"

"If you hadn't wheedled and bribed me, I wouldn't be doing it now. I'm fairly sure I'll be a very ugly woman."

"Oh, I doubt you could be an ugly anything," said Orlando easily. "Now, hold still." A few more ticklish swipes of a brush over his eyelids before Orlando announced, "There. Your eyes are done."

"No mascara?" he asked, not quite mockingly. Orlando leaned back, his head tilted as he studied Viggo's face appraisingly before he shook his head.

"I really should, but you've got nice lashes as it is, and besides all mascara smells like shit." He reached out and ran a finger lightly over Viggo's mouth, pulling back quickly when Viggo would have bitten him and slapping him lightly on the arm. "Behave. All right, then, with your complexion you can get away with darker colours." He rummaged through the duffle beside the bed, leaning further over until his backside was rather enticingly displayed. Orlando sat back before Viggo could even contemplate a way to take advantage of the position. "Here, the lady at the store said this is lovely. Rare Ruby Red."

"You just bought this?"

"Well, yeah. Didn't think I nicked it somewhere, did you?"

"No, I just thought..."

"What? That I keep it squirreled away in my sock drawer and dress up every other weekend? Please. I don't wear makeup on my days off, mate, that's for little nancy boys like you."

Viggo would have swatted him for that remark, but the moment he raised a hand Orlando protested. "Careful, you'll make me smear it! I'm almost done." A last swipe of bitter tasting lipstick across Viggo's mouth and Orlando finally sat back, folding his arms as he eyed Viggo critically. "You were right, you know, " and before he could ask, "You are a fucking ugly woman. But you're a sexy fucking drag queen."

"I am not putting on a dress."

"Of course not," Orlando said, absently, and they both knew better, without a word between them. He would do anything Orli asked and it wouldn't be the first time Orlando had persuaded him to do something he'd sworn never to do. But at the very least he could save it for another day. "Here, take a look," Orli said, handing Viggo a small mirror.

Orlando was right; he did make an ugly woman. He pursed his lips into a mock kiss, just to see how it would look and laughed at the image. "Why do I let you do these things?"

"Because you think I'm going to let you fuck me," said Orlando, easily. He was gathering up the various tubes and bright plastic containers that were scattered over the bed, tossing them haphazardly into the bag on the floor, and Viggo watched him silently, wanting to touch his lips, just to feel the lipstick slide under his fingertips. He resisted the urge, waiting to see what Orlando would do, what he wanted. They were playing his game, and they would do it by his rules.

Rules that he apparently hadn't studied well, as the sudden tackle caught him completely unawares, as did the kiss. Orlando pulled back slightly and smiled, his mouth blurred dark with lipstick. "C'mere, then," he whispered, and he caught his tongue lightly between his teeth as he grinned. "I played my trick now you can have your treat."

Slick, messy kisses, bitterly flavored, like all red lipstick. Greasy like kisses with Orlando weren't supposed to be, and Viggo grabbed his shoulders and pushed, rolling Orlando beneath him. Useless force; Orlando went easily, winding his legs through Viggo's just as he bit Viggo's tongue. A little too hard, a little too rough, just a bit too much. Just like everything else with them.

So easy to yank open the fly of Orlando's jeans...Viggo's jeans, really, and he couldn't remember when Orlando had stolen them from him, wandered around with them hanging too low on his hips, and they slid off easily, thrown aside to land heavily somewhere in the room.

Orlando laughed, squirming and naked beneath Viggo, and lipstick was smeared all over his face, making him almost look bruised. He wriggled down on the bed, drawing his legs up and crossing his ankles high up on Viggo's back and squeezing, the sudden pressure against Viggo's crotch making him gasp. "Come on then!" he taunted. "Pretty bastard, fuck me, will you?"

"Hold on," Viggo bit out, trying to concentrate enough to unbutton his own jeans one handed, fumbling with the fastenings as Orlando practically writhed beneath him, mouthing inventive obscenities against Viggo's shoulder about his parentage. He finally managed to fight open the last button and collapsed down on Orlando, pinning him down, cupping his hips and tilting them up, just a little, just enough...

"Ah, fuck!" Hardly more than a whisper, but Viggo heard it, watched Orlando's face tighten as he pushed forward, forcing his way deeper. Not quite slick enough and the friction was enough to make him wince, but he couldn't stop, not now, not with Orlando keening beneath him, and rocking up, and swearing in little breathy bursts.

Viggo slid a hand under one of Orlando's knees, forcing it higher just to hear him swear again before finally pulling out enough to thrust back inside. A little easier now, looser, and Viggo found a rhythm in it, riding Orlando's twisting form and it was so terribly easy to be brutal, to take and take, and feel Orlando yield sweetly beneath him, catching his breath in a gasp.

Orlando had both of his hands between his own legs, stroking himself desperately, and he was close, both of them very close and Viggo managed to reach down and bat his hands away, wrapping his own hand around Orli's cock, wanting to feel it when he came.

The bed was creaking violently, embarrassingly loud and almost completely drowned out by Orlando's wavering cry when he came, and he twisted like he'd been struck with a live wire, shaking and writhing and whimpering and there was a hot rush over Viggo's fingers, bathing his knuckles in liquid warmth, filling him with dim relief because it meant he could finally let go, just push in hard and let the light behind his eyes go red with all the sensation he was trying to take in at once.

Orlando sagged beneath him, limp and gasping, and Viggo followed, heard the soft rush of air escaping Orli as he let his full weight come down on him. His legs slide down Viggo's back in a slithery little movement until they rested again the bed, the muscles in his upper thighs still quivering from the strain. Taking a deep breath, Viggo finally rolled off of him, wincing as chest hairs pulled from where their own sweat and semen had all but glued them together.

"Hmmm," Orlando sighed, taking a deep breath. "Not bad for a nancy boy bastard."

Viggo couldn't work up the energy to hit him. "If I'm a nancy boy for letting you paint me up like a girl," he murmured, "Then what are you for wanting to do it in the first place?"

"The nancy boy Elf who wants to get fucked by the pretty bastard, that's who!" Orlando laughed, and he managed to quickly light a cigarette and take a single drag off it before Viggo snatched it away, crushing it out and giving him a disgusted look.

"Oh, c'mon, I can't smoke outside like this," he groaned, waving a hand at the mess that was his body. Viggo couldn't imagine what his own face must look like, and decided he didn't particularly want to.

"Too bad," he said, unimpressed by Orlando's pout. "Take a shower then."

The pout vanished quickly. "Oh, so now you want me in the shower?" He bounced out of bed and Viggo groaned inwardly. "C'mon, and I'll show you 'nother trick."

"Orlando," he began, weakly, but he'd already vanished around the corner. "He's going to kill me," he said aloud to the empty room. It didn't reply, and with another sigh, Viggo shifted and rolled to his feet. "I'm still not going to wear the dress," he muttered, walking to the bathroom, even as he wondered what kind of dress Orlando was going to pick. A dark color, he hoped. They suited his complexion.

-finis-

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