Rondo

by Vivianedesblanc and Nienor

The first thing Orli noticed, on the way down out of the sky, was the crowd-- half the cast and crew huddled under umbrellas that were getting beaten to death by the draft from the rotors. The second thing he noticed, after prying Sean's grip off his knee finger by finger and hopping out, was that Lijah had a black eye.

"OOOF!" A hundred and twenty pounds or so of wet hobbit nearly knocked him right on his arse; Lijah flung himself on Orli so enthusiastically none of his four limbs remained on the ground, and Orli sagged, trying to hold him up.

"Missed you too, wanker," he mumbled, crimsoning at their audience.

Elijah finally slid down off him like something out of a cartoon, but didn't let go-- at first. "What the fuck happened to your eye?"

That did it, and Elijah stepped back. Something wasn't right there; his acting face closed over the real delight on his features. "I got beat up by a guy in a bar!"

Like hell. Orli frowned.

"Oh really? And what did you do to piss off this neanderthal?" Sean stepped near, casually slinging an arm over Orli's shoulders and Orli tensed, knowing he couldn't throw it off-- people were watching, for fucksake. His eyes automatically sought Viggo; Viggo was standing back, hands in his pockets, stone-faced.

"I put the moves on his girl," Elijah grinned, the perfect mix of pride and embarrassment. "I didn't know she was with somebody. We danced. He 'cut in.'"

"You ought to be careful with things like that." Sean's voice was too smooth. "Some people have a very short fuse, and they aren't to be trusted."

Viggo, unnoticed at the back of the excited crowd, turned on his heel and vanished into the building, and Orli's stomach tied itself in knots.

"You should've seen him the FIRST day," Billy crowed. "Technicolor sunset on that shiner."

"So glad you're finally back, Orli-- this is all a disaster. The rain's washed away half our sets; we're all glad you and Sean are fine, at any rate," Peter was babbling aimlessly.

"I'm not feeling well," Orli dissembled. "Lots of turbulence. And it's fucking wet out here. Can we go inside?"

Fran clucked and grabbed his arm, towing him inside, out of the chaos and into familiar warm hallways. Elijah was glaring at Sean from the corner of his eye, and Sean still hovered way too close to Orli for comfort. How fucking long before they could ditch all these goddamned people and he could hole up somewhere calm with Lijah and Viggo and just sleep, anyway?

Someone slapped him on the back, hard enough to make him wince, and water splattered. It was Dom, who took the opportunity to crow, "Isn't rain supposed to just slide off your arse? Aren't Elves directly related to Teflon?"

"Distantly, on my mother's side," he snipped, jostling along the hallways with the rest of the herd. Where the hell were they going, anyway?

"Script reading," Elijah said, like he'd plucked the idea from his head. He managed to meet Lij's eyes briefly and they probably looked a lot like his own. A little confused and hurt. Why the hell had Viggo taken off like that?

"Yes, I do believe our recalcitrant children have had enough of a rest while we have attempted to continue without them." Ian added, and Orli bit his lip to keep from smirking. He was never going to be able to look at Ian again without seeing him screwing Sean for half the night. He'd never have guessed Ian had it in him. Or that Sean would have had it in him, either, so to speak.

"Oh, yes, quite the vacation," Sean chimed in, tousling Orli's wet hair. "Orlando and I just lazed about the whole time, had a few interesting chats."

Orlando ducked away and scowled at him, and fuck what anyone else would think. He didn't know what kind of game Sean was trying to play this time, but it wasn't fucking funny. The look Elijah threw in Sean's direction was pure venom, but it slid off him about like HE was the one made of Teflon. It was worse when Elijah looked back at Orli, the softest shade of doubt in his eyes, and oh, it hurt. Didn't he deserve some measure of trust, or at least the benefit of the doubt?

Abruptly, he turned away from both of them. He couldn't deal with this right now, and Sean had been right about at least one thing a few days ago. The important thing was the movie, and he was going to prove to all of them just what kind of actor he was.

He'd talk to Lijah and Viggo later, and hopefully not to Sean for quite a while. It was about time all of them had a long chat, he figured, and it was going to start with that black eye, and why Elijah was being so shifty about it.

Pete was steering his pack of actors into one of the hotel's conference rooms and there were already stacks of edited scripts on the table. A cart piled with donuts and scones, along with a carafe of coffee, was in one corner, and in the other was....

Viggo.

He had a script dangling from one hand and a blank expression on his face. Orli met his eyes evenly, and tried a smile that wasn't returned. Something inside him crumpled. Orli looked away before Viggo saw it, and helped himself to the coffee. Those days with Sean had only seemed long-- he had a feeling today was going to be the longest fucking day of his life.

Pete took his place at the front of the table, tossing scripts about and munching on a donut. "All right, this is for the scenes in Moria. We changed a few of the lines around; let's see what we can make of them."

A few flips through the pages didn't reveal anything new for him, so instead Orli tuned into the others speaking, waiting for his cue and not looking at Viggo or Elijah. Movie, first, then he could let the rest of his world fall apart. There were only so many ways you could say "We must not linger!" or cry "Gandalf!" urgently, after all-- even Sean didn't have that many lines, so having to get him and Sean here before rehearsing was bullshit.

"They have a cave troll." Nice sarcastic turn on that; Sean was a consummate actor, no matter his other flaws.

Peter pulled out a big clay model from WETA, and started thumping it across the table like a little kid with an action figure, describing what was going on around it. "And you, Orlando, you're on the ledge, and it whips its chains over your head while you duck--" Actually, it was about as interesting to get the action this way as it would have been to play with the kid. Which was to say, not very.

"Sam, it swings at you and you scuttle between its legs--" that prompted a snicker from the remaining hobbits, and Orli would once have snickered too, if he weren't so depressed. Pete was so into it that he was forgetting who he was talking to, as usual. "Orlando, you run down the chain onto its head."

Orli blinked, trying to picture that and failing. "Then what? Sing to it?"

The room erupted into laughter, except for Viggo and Elijah, who fixed startled eyes on Orli's face and made him so self-conscious he shut up.

"You shoot your arrows into it at point-blank range," Pete glowered. "Straight down. Then you jump off."

"But that's CGI, isn't it?"

"Some of it. We'll have to rig you with electrodes and do a motion-capture session."

Orli winced; he'd seen Andy Serkis doing some of his scan sessions, and he wasn't looking forward to being rigged out in a black rubber suit and made to jump off things all day.

"OK, so eventually it stabs Frodo, and then you guys finish it off-- Legolas shoots it, Gimli throws an axe, Pippin's on its head with his little sword."

Orli gave Billy a nasty grin; it wouldn't be just him suffering with all those electrodes.

"Little sword," Elijah tittered. "You hear that, Billy? He's been spying on you in the shower."

"Shut up!"

"Have you been spying on him in the shower?" Viggo's voice, dust-dry, shut Elijah up in a hell of a hurry. "Let's get through this, all right? No more bullshit. I'm ready for my line." He morphed faster than Orli could follow. "Frodo!" Genuine concern and despair seemed to come from nowhere.

They fell in line and made it through the mithril coat sequence, and Ian's "To the bridge of Khazad-Dum!" rounded out the packet. Pete took them through it another half-dozen times, scribbling notes and offering voice direction, while Viggo grew increasingly more grim and the hobbits got more and more restless with each run-through.

"Pete, isn't that enough of this scene? I'm going to be dreaming about the cave troll tonight, dressed like my mum and wearing a mithril corset," Dom whined, and the Hobbits all mumbled a chorus of agreement.

"Yeah," Billy chimed in, "I don't think I can take any more abuse from Ian. Breaks my heart every time."

"Mr. Boyd, I do believe you are underestimating my capacity to abuse you," Ian murmured, and the Human/Elf side of the table tittered, even Pete, who was ignoring the various pleas and thumbing through the script again.

"By the end of this shoot, every one of you is going to be declaring that you're Pippin's bitch, you'll see!" Billy declared loftily, slouching back in his chair.

"Or Pippin is the Fellowship's bitch, whichever one works," Dom snickered, ducking the swat Billy aimed at his head.

"Guys, please," Orli groaned. "The scene? Could we please try to get through it, I've got a bloody headache." His head was really the least of his worries, but at least it was true.

"Are you still feeling queasy, Orlando?" Fran's face was filled with sympathy. "Why don't you go lie down for a little while," she said, ignoring Pete's outraged noises. "You only have a few lines, and you'll get most of this later when we choreograph it."

"No one asked if I wanted a lie-down," Sean grumbled to no one in particular.

"Flying doesn't make you sick, it makes you a eunuch," Fran tossed back, sweetly and the entire table howled.

"No one HAS to ask you if you want a lie down. You're already there, flat on your back and ready to shag," Orli muttered under cover of the general laughter, but Dominic heard him and shrieked laughter.

"Didja hear that? Orli said nobody has to ask Sean if he wants to lie down, he's already there on his back getting shagged! What really went on while you two were gone, eh? Eh?" He jabbed an elbow into Orli's ribs. "No lying to us, now!"

Viggo's hands closed on the edge of the table, knuckles white, and Orli felt all the color drain from his face. Elijah just stared at him, his eyes round and wounded.

"Sean got on his knees and begged me to fuck him, but I preferred the knothole at the head of my bed," Orli snapped. "We sat around eating tinned spaghetti, trying not to go insane from listening to the rain drumming on the roof, fighting over the remote control, and doing crosswords. What the fuck do you think?"

"Methinks he doth protest too much." Ian's voice was soft and his eyes were keen, though not without pity.

"I couldn't resist His Royal Elfiness," Sean laughed softly, and Orlando realized with bafflement that for once, he was trying to defuse the situation. "Something about the aetherial beauty of his unshaved face and watching him scratch his stinky armpits at seven in the morning was too much for me. Besides, I did not get on my knees. I sat in the chair."

The hobbits rolled with hysterical laughter, satisfied, except for Elijah-- and Viggo, still gripping the table hard enough to leave fingerprints.

"GENTLEMEN. We're TRYING to do a reading here!" Pete snapped, exasperated.

"Give it up, Peter. Orli and Sean are tired from their ordeal." Fran shook her head decisively. "We've done the reading. Now we need to rewrite. I've already got all the ideas I need."

"It's time for second breakfast!" Billy chimed in. "Eggs, sausages, tomatoes, nice crispy bacon!" Dom cuffed him for the snarky imitation, and then they were all scuffing back chairs and getting on their feet.

The catering crew was ready for them, with fresh fruit added into the bargain, and Orlando wavered, hungry after days of spaghetti and tinned goods. Viggo stalked out and he sighed, giving up-- let him cool down for a while. At least Elijah was still hanging in there, giving Orli hangdog looks and glaring at Sean alternately.

Someone had brought aspirins for Orli; a cup of water and three white powdery tablets were placed in his hand and he downed them eagerly, then followed them up with a bite of toast and a paper-thin slice of cantaloupe. He returned to the table to sit down next to Elijah, slouching, taking a sip of black coffee.

"We didn't," he breathed. "I swear."

Elijah brightened, darting him a look that spoke volumes, and Orli felt something hard and ugly in the pit of his stomach start to relax-- enough to give him an appetite for the sausages and pancakes on his plate.

That made Elijah's lips curve, and he darted a sweetly mischievous look at Orli, nibbling on a strawberry. It made Orli need to kiss him so badly he couldn't sit still; he bounced up to get a glass of orange juice, nearly knocking Peter down in the process, and then stuffed himself with breakfast, putting Viggo on the back burner of his mind.

Might as well face his doom on a full stomach.

Gradually people filtered out, joking and laughing-- and Orli didn't miss that Ian followed Billy rather closely, but he shut his mind, refusing to consider further possibilities there even though he saw Sean notice the same thing and smirk to himself about it. Carving another notch in Ian's bedpost wasn't what Orli wanted to think about right this minute.

"Lij, you got plans today?"

Elijah hesitated, then shook his head. "Not exactly, no."

"You do now."

Lij nodded and swallowed the last of his juice; together they returned their empty plates to the catering table and headed out the door. Sean's eyes on their backs reminded Orli of how much they must look like Billy and Ian, but he didn't give a rat's ass at the moment; all he wanted to do was figure out what the fuck was going on.

Once they were sealed safely into Orli's modest guest room-- a sight that made Orli want to get down on his knees and kiss the nubbly carpet floor-- Orli turned to Elijah and lifted his fingertips, gingerly touching the still-dark shiner. "What really happened, Lij?"

Elijah sighed, deflating visibly. "You know, I don't know if you realize how much Viggo cares about y--"

Orli snorted loudly. "Please. He's so happy to see me he can't contain himself."

"He was so fucking worried about you that he--" Elijah stopped and took a deep breath. "He lost control, Orli. We'd had a little too much whiskey. I pushed him to admit how much he was worried, and he sort of lost it."

"Sonofabitch," Orli breathed, trembling poised on a borderline between rage and something confused and sweet. "No way."

"It was before you called. He didn't know if you were alive or buried twenty feet under a mudslide."

"He wouldn't ever hit you like that."

Elijah just looked at him, the purple and green on his face telling another story.

"But he loves you," Orli mumbled, feeling horribly vulnerable and ashamed.

"He apologized." Elijah shrugged, and smiled, but it look like it hurt.

"You want me to kick his ass?" Orli's fists were tight, and his breath short; he was faintly surprised to hear the words, but the moment they were out, he knew he meant them.

This time the smile seemed more genuine. "Nah, we've got it worked out. I want you to kiss me hello."

Orli took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to release some of the swirling tension inside. He reached for Elijah's face gently, pulling him delicately forward, and touched his lips to Elijah's. He sank deeper without meaning too, moaning softly in his throat, a single sensation vibrating through him at last. Home. He was home.

So sweet. Elijah's neck settled in the crook of his elbow, and his head tipped back under the pressure of Orli's mouth. His fingertips tucked themselves into Orli's jeans; their groins pressed together with a warm, pleasant tingle of arousal. Orli moaned again, wanting Elijah badly, but made himself pull back. They didn't have Viggo's permission; with Viggo already on a hair-trigger of rage, this was the last thing to do.

Soft kisses, clinging and retreating, faded away into the warm blue of Elijah's eyes locked with his; Orli couldn't make himself let Elijah go. "He tried," Orli admitted, his voice husky. "He tried hard. I was tempted, but... he was nothing. This is everything. Everything."

Elijah opened to him again, hot and submissive and eager in a way he'd never been before; Orli devoured him, smoothing his hands down Elijah's back and over the sweet, lean curve of his ass. "Oh, God," he whispered, nibbling his way to Elijah's earlobe, trying to keep himself in check, but Elijah was completely open, giving himself totally with no reserve, and no distraction left over, no showmanship reserved for Viggo's eyes.

Elijah gasped at the sting of Orli's teeth on his lobe, boneless in Orli's arms, making Orli hold him on his feet. "Stop it right now or I'm going to fuck you straight into next week," Orli breathed into his ear, desperate. "Oh, God, I want you like this, want you now."

"Yessss," Elijah whimpered. "Orli, yes...."

The phone exploded into raucous noise like a bomb, startling Orli so badly he nearly dropped Elijah on his ass.

"Who the HELL?" They jerked apart guiltily, and Elijah licked his lips, curling his arms around himself; his jeans betrayed the state he was in, and Orli was no better.

"Bloom." Orli barked into the mouthpiece. "Oh. Yes. He's here." He shrank into himself. "It's for you. It's Viggo."

Elijah snatched the phone, face red. "Hi, Vig--" He fell silent, and Orli fidgeted from one foot to the other, watching his face with great anxiety, resisting the temptation to sidle up and press his ear to the receiver. "Yes, I-- but-- well, he-- No. No, I don't mean to-- but-- oh, come ON, you don't-- yes sir. Yes, sir. No, sir. No sir." Orli started to pace, frantic. He sounded like he was talking to a drill sergeant, except sergeants didn't like being called sir.

"Not without Orli," Elijah finally blurted, and Orli slumped onto the corner of the bed. "With all due respect, Viggo, you're being a fuckhead."

Orli groaned. "Just go, okay? Don't fuck yourself over."

"Well, who the hell says he did, anyway? No, shut up and listen to me! Are you gonna believe Sean before you even listen to Orli?" Elijah was redfaced from anger, now.

Orli buried his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

Lij's voice dropped, low and bitter. "Package deal, Viggo. Both or nothing." After another minute of listening, he finally hung up the phone. "We're to go up."

"I'm not going to him. Not like this." Orli shook his head. "Not if you have to threaten to walk to get me in the same room with him. I'm nobody's fucking charity case!"

Elijah slumped next to him, frustrated. "Orli, we have to come up with some way to get him to listen; what the hell was I supposed to do?!"

"You don't have to do anything. If he wants to act like a dick, he can go right ahead." Orli flopped back on the bed and studied the ceiling. He supposed he was going to be looking at these tiles a lot more often, and the thought made him ache inside and out, from his balls to his temples.

Lijah scrambled after him. "I've had to deal with Viggo sulking for four days, I am SO not dealing with you! Now get off this fucking bed and upstairs or I'm not going to deal with either of you!"

"Fine," he snapped, wearily. He rolled off the bed and shuffled to the door like an old man. "I suppose I should have just fucked Sean. At least then I'd have gotten a shag somewhere."

"You don't mean that. And you're going to get a shag, somewhere," Lij said dryly. He bumped into Orli's back, trying to nudge him out the door, but Orli resisted. He turned around to face Lijah, clinging to the doorjamb.

Lijah looked up at him, all confused blue eyes and pale skin, and Orli couldn't resist. He caught a double-handful of Lij's tee shirt, yanked him forward before he could so much as squeak and kissed him. "Or---mmmmph!"

"Let's stay here," Orli whispered urgently. " Viggo can go to Hell; let's just stay here and fuck. C'mon, Lij, you know you want to," he coaxed, swinging him around and pressing him into the door. He could feel Lijah's cock against his knee, swollen and hot even through both their jeans.

"Jesus, Orli, we... fuck!" Elijah whipped his head back and it thudded loudly against the door. Before he could even squirm, Orli had his shirt pushed up, ducking his head to catch one of Lij's nipples between his teeth. He bit down hard and Lijah yowled and yeah, he knew Elijah, knew just where to touch and push and hurt, and he could get Lij to want him this much, as much as he wanted.

"Stay here," he wheedled, sliding lower and fumbling with the buttons on Lijah's jeans. Fucking button fly, and he gave up, nuzzling Lijah through the coarse denim. "Let's just stay here."

"Is this how Sean tried to get you?" Lijah's voice was as distant as the moon and just as cold, and Orli froze. Slowly, he raised his head from Lijah's crotch and met his eyes; still sweetly blue, but this time Orli couldn't deny the betrayal he saw glimmering in them.

"I...." Orli started, his voice cracking, and Lijah's eyes softened. Orli almost collapsed in relief; he couldn't take both of them being mad at him, not right now.

"Come on, let's go upstairs," Elijah said quietly and he caught Orlando's hand, tugging him to his feet. Orli followed him meekly out the door, silently thankful that Elijah didn't drop his hand, even in the hallway. He led Orli down to the elevator, twining their fingers together so that Orli couldn't have let go if he'd wanted to, and managed to get his key card into the penthouse slot with a minimum of fumbling.

It was a little surreal, riding up the elevator like this to face Viggo. He recalled another time he'd done this, after picking up that tart in the pub. He must've been half out of his mind, that time; shivery warm with beer and sex, bouncing on his toes, and he'd fucking well known Viggo would be pissed off. He wasn't completely sure why he'd done it.

He was lying to himself now. He'd done it so Viggo would look at him, at HIM, and not him'n'Lij, him'n'Lij fucking, him'n'Lij sucking each other off, and ooh, here, take a picture of him'n'Lij, and maybe Viggo might fuck him and not Lij for once, and that would be perfect.

Somewhere during that little bout of insanity, things had shifted off the track and suddenly it wasn't him'n'Lij. It was him and Lijah, or him and Viggo, or watching Lijah with Viggo, both of them so fucking sexy he could have gotten off just watching them.

Lij's face scrunched up the same way when he came as when he was hurt; Lijah squirming and loving either, and he could watch the muscles in Viggo's back shift beneath his skin when he fucked Lijah, pushing into his mouth or his arse, and Viggo looked completely vulnerable in that one instant when he came.

Maybe he was selfish, but he wanted them both. Even if Viggo was a dick.

The ding of the elevator startled him so much he jumped and bit off a yelp. Elijah squeezed his fingers reassuringly. "Come on, Orli." He tugged and Orli let himself be led off the elevator. "At least you know he can't kill you. We're too far into filming."

"Thanks, man. You're so reassuring." Orli swallowed hard; it felt like his heart was thumping in the back of his throat, and he tried to look cool, but the prickle of sweat at his temples told the truth of the matter. Viggo's door was shut, intimidating and solid. "We've come up. Can we go home now?" Orli breathed, and Elijah just laughed softly, but he sounded a little nervous himself.

Elijah knocked, and then turned the knob, his pulse beating hard in the palm of the hand that held Orli's.

Viggo wasn't facing the door; he stood in the window looking out on the patio, his hands in his pockets. Orli thought for a moment that he almost looked lost, as forlorn as Orli himself felt, but when Viggo turned, his face dispelled the momentary illusion.

"About time. I started to think you couldn't keep your hands off each other long enough to make it up here."

Orli shifted from foot to foot and didn't look at Elijah, who was flushing red, his face betraying them both. He couldn't help but wonder, and doubt, if Viggo was going to laugh with them any time this evening, Sean's question taunting him mercilessly before he could shove it into his subconscious and slam the door.

"Get your clothes off."

"We need to talk," Elijah protested.

"Talk naked."

Viggo pulled his hands out of his pockets and folded them over his chest, circling them. "Well?" His voice whiplashed at Orli, who didn't stir.

"Talk first." Orli was proud that his voice didn't falter. "Fuck later." Lij's hands stopped in their transit to the fly of his jeans, and he squared his shoulders, supporting Orli.

Viggo stopped in front of them, eyeing them both. "Sean put you up to this."

"No," Orli returned instantly, though if he'd paused to consider it, he knew he might have had to give a qualified answer. "I want to know what happened to Elijah's eye."

"He told you," Viggo guessed flatly.

"I want to hear it from you. I want to hear you say you'll never do it to him again." Orli lifted his chin, refusing to back down.

"That's none of your fucking business."

"It is."

"Lijah and I already settled it."

"You never settled it with me." He thought of taking Elijah's shoulders in his hands, and thought better of it; Viggo was already furious. No need to get Lijah any deeper in this than he already had to be.

"We did, Orli." Lijah sounded uncertain, a plea in his voice that hurt Orli, but he had to ignore it.

"So, you've got me here. You've told me to get naked. When I do, are you going to haul off and hit me? Will you leave the two of us with a matching set?"

Viggo's fists closed, and opened again. "I know something happened," he hissed, "I know Sean. He tried something, didn't he?" His voice lowered dangerously. "Don't you lie to me. Don't you dare."

It stung like a flesh wound, like flesh scraped away to expose the red beneath. "And if he did?" Orli asked coolly, distantly impressed with his own acting. "Will you hit me too?"

He should have expected it, should have seen it in the nearly visible haze of anger in Viggo's eyes, but it was so unlike him he just couldn't believe it until the ground was beneath him and he was sucking in a startled breath. Viggo was crouched over him, his thumbs digging cruelly into the soft flesh just above Orli's collarbone. In was like being crazy, weird thoughts twittering through his brain, the most prominent being it only took seven kilograms of pressure to break the collarbone, and wouldn't Pete be pissed.

Viggo's face was close enough that Orli could feel his breath, little warm, moist blurts against his cheeks, and he smelled like cigarettes and coffee. His thumbs tightened a fraction more, enough to make Orli's eyes narrow, but he didn't cry out. The faintest smirk curled Viggo's lip and he murmured, thoughtfully, "No. I won't."

The harsh pressure of his mouth was almost more of a shock, his teeth cutting into the soft flesh of Orli's lips. It was almost a relief, strangely, and he realized he'd really thought Viggo would hit him. Almost hoped he would, because then he could just leave and not feel an ounce of guilt over it. Almost.

This was so much better.

He started to struggle, biting down on Viggo's lip as hard as he could, until the taste of warm copper filled his mouth. It didn't help; Viggo was sitting on his thighs, all his weight keeping Orli down, and he slid his hands to Orli's biceps, fingers digging in as he tried to keep him still. So he tried a different tack and went completely limp, slackening his mouth and letting Viggo probe it viciously, his tongue prying into every crevice, lashing him open. Orli could almost taste Viggo's anger, his disdain, and when he raised up, his hands going to the fly of his pants, Orli bucked up hard. He caught Viggo in the upper thigh with his knee, hard enough to make him yelp.

Orlando twisted roughly out of Viggo's grasp, scrambling to his hands and knees. A little Elvish agility wouldn't have been amiss right now. He almost made it to the door, halfway to his feet when he was literally tackled to the ground, sprawling arms-out on the floor. "Fucking hurt, you little bastard," Viggo hissed furiously, but Orli could hear something else, the triumph, the fucking lust, and he squirmed frantically, rubbing his arse against Viggo's crotch and feeling his cock, hard as a fucking stone.

He managed to kick out once, wildly, and completely missed, but it didn't matter. Viggo had him pinned, one wrist in each hand and they were caught in a stalemate. They both knew Viggo wasn't strong enough to hold Orli down with one hand. Orli tensed, muscles bunching as he prepared to fight the moment Viggo tried it, his blood humming loudly in his ears, and he was trying not to fucking laugh, nearly quivering with the urge because this was hilarious, it was just brilliant, and he wanted more. His own cock was crushed against the floor by their combined weight and he squirmed again deliciously.

"Elijah, get over here and hold his wrists," Viggo snapped, arching his hips and jabbing his clothed cock against Orli's arse again. Orli bit his tongue to stifle the giggles; he'd nearly forgotten Elijah and he had to crane his neck to see him. He was standing where they'd left him, his eyes round and obscenely blue, and Orli wondered if he'd even heard Viggo.

"Elijah," Viggo's voice cracked again. "Move your ass. NOW!"

Elijah took a tottery step forward, uncertain, and Viggo growled impatience; Orli took the opportunity to test him, bucking up hard and nearly unseating him. His wrists wrung inside Viggo's hard hands.

"Elijah!"

Lij detoured around them gingerly; Orli continued to struggle, glorying in Viggo's unyielding strength. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," he chanted into the carpet, veins singing with adrenaline.

"You wish." Dry and panting; Viggo was out of breath.

"You can't handle me by yourself, old man?"

"Call me that again," Viggo grunted, "And I'll give your ass to Ian."

"Just try it," Orli scratched at the carpet, feeling friction burn his fingertips; Elijah's hands were hovering, tentative, reaching for him; Elijah was nervous, not sure if they were angry, and Orli would get away from him damned easily, thank you very much.

Sure enough, Elijah didn't have Viggo's strength; Orli lay still under him, deceptive, cursing Viggo by rote, just waiting for the second when Elijah's attention-- yes! He jerked both hands back towards himself, breaking Elijah's hold, and got them under his body, corkscrewing in a way his back wouldn't soon forgive him for, toppling Viggo right off him onto the rug.

"Bastard!" Orli scrambled up, only to dive onto Viggo; Viggo's head thumped the floor and he lost some energy, dazed just long enough for Orli to catch his arms and shove them over his head.

"Guys!" Elijah bleated, voice worried. "Guys, stop, okay?"

Orli ignored him; Viggo's thighs were crushing around him; their cocks were hard, slamming together painfully, and Viggo's face was beautiful, flushed dark with anger and blood. Orli barely had time to grin his triumph before Viggo arched beneath him-- strong as a fucking bear, lifting his knees right off the floor and he was rolling; they were rolling, spitting and cursing, back and forth, neither able to seize the upper hand.

There was blood on Viggo's face and blood in Orli's mouth; he didn't know whose belonged to whom and he didn't care; the metallic taste tingled, maddening.

"Viggo!" Elijah's voice, shrill, accompanied a loud bang that startled them both enough to look at him; he'd toppled a chair and slammed its back against the tile floor.

"Shut up," Viggo growled, his knee half in Orli's groin. Orli hissed agreement and pain; Viggo might be a little older than he was, but he made up for it in density and sheer bloody-minded refusal to give up.

"DAMN IT!" A book's pages suddenly fluttered around Orli's face; Orli realized Elijah had thrown it at them. "STOP!"

Viggo laughed, low and guttural; the distraction had caught Orli off-guard, and Viggo moved as slippery as an eel-- this time catching Orli's arm and rolling to lie half across his back; kick as he might, Orli was fairly caught.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't remember what Sean Bean looks like," Viggo leaned so close to Orli's ear that Orli could hear him licking blood off his lip. "But first, I'll show you what happens when you try to fight me." He cranked up the pressure on Orli's arm till Orli saw speckles at the corners of his vision. "Get up."

He levered Orli to his knees, then held him there, stripping his clothes away roughly and then pushing him till he lay on his back with his legs half-folded underneath him. Trembling with lust, Orli let Viggo move him, wondering what was next-- a flogger, a whip? A plug the size of Viggo's arm? All of the above? His mouth felt cotton-dry with wanting, and his chest heaved, drawing sizzling gulps of oxygen through his open mouth.

"Now stay still." Viggo's voice could have frozen Mount Doom, and Orli obeyed, except for trembling and gasping, his bare thighs slid sweaty under his palms, his knees wide open on the tile. The room's gas fire burned delicious heat against the left side of his body and his face.

Viggo unzipped his pants with quick, deliberate movements; he couldn't just mean to for Orli to suck him off, no way. That was way too easy, and anyway, after that battle Orli would have been tempted to give a hell of a nasty bite. He couldn't mean to fuck him, not in this position, but....

The first warm splash struck him in the middle of the chest, spattering tiny drops as far as his arms. Orlando could hardly breathe; Viggo was pissing on him, marking him like a fucking dog marked territory. Warm streams of piss saturated him as Viggo guided the flow carefully over his body. It was nothing he would have expected from Viggo, so fucking dirty.

God, he'd wanted this for so fucking long, just like he'd told Sean.

And it wasn't dirty, a mental voice whispered to him; piss was sterile when it left the body. Just so much warm water, but it was Viggo's piss splashing him, warming through the chill of the tile. He lifted his hands into the stream and they were instantly soaked. Droplets of gold hung suspended from his fingers and giving into a deeply buried urge Orli licked them away. Faintly salty and bitter, not even so much as come. He sucked each of his fingers languidly, curling his tongue over calluses and the slits beneath his nails.

When the flow finally slowed, a few last spurts jetting over his belly and thighs, Orlando sighed and opened his eyes, sliding his hands contentedly through the wetness on his stomach. Viggo was staring at him, eyes wide and deeply gray. Orlando thought maybe he'd shocked him, actually shocked Viggo. He ran his slick hands up his chest, massaging the cooling piss into his skin with sweeping strokes and under his lashes he saw Viggo sway towards him visibly.

He'd been painfully hard since the first stream wetted him, and Orli lazily took his dick in hand, jacking it. Using his other hand as a cup he scraped a little puddle of piss off his belly, let it drizzle through his fist and over his cock in a miniature flow. Droplets caught in his pubic hair and clung there, glistening.

"Fuck." Viggo's voice was weak and in an instant he was on his knees in front of Orlando. His own hands caught Orli's forearms and slid down, pulling Orlando's away so he could sprawl over him and soon they were both soaked, drenched with piss. Viggo swept a hand over Orli's body and lifted it sopping wet to Orli's mouth so he could lick at it greedily, his teeth scraping Viggo's knuckles.

"You guys are fucking sick." Lijah's voice came from the bed, shock and disgust clinging to every syllable. "You are never getting me to do that."

"Shut up or you -will- be next," Viggo said automatically, but his eyes were on Orlando, on his tongue darting out and lapping at Viggo's damp palm.

"You sick little bastard," Viggo murmured, admiring.

"You certainly punished me, SIR," Orlando simpered, laughing under his breath. He squirmed, sliding wetly and dragged his bare legs over Viggo's clothed ones, dampening his jeans. Anger fell over Viggo's eyes like a shutter, sweet in its familiarity. "Come on, old man, fuck me already," Orli gasped out, still laughing. Sluttish words, and they came to him easily. If Viggo wanted him to play a slut, then he would PLAY one.

He could almost feel the burning heat of Viggo's rage, his hands sliding to lock with Orlando's and forcing them down through Orli's resistance, tendons flexing with some reserve of strength he hadn't tapped before. It was absolutely brilliant, Viggo's thighs driving between his own, spreading his knees and forcing Orli's legs apart.

Struggling and laughing, Orlando fought him, too fucking hard to make it as much of a battle as he wanted, and it was too fucking funny, because Viggo was pissed and he was pissed ON. Not even that great a joke, but he laughed with it anyway, shaking with humor and lust.

Viggo's fury was like something tangible, something that you could scoop into your pocket and keep for a snack later. He pushed up on his knees, shifting his hips and trying to line up without using his hands. Wriggling frantically, Orlando didn't make it easy for him. It didn't matter, he was pinned, trapped, utterly Viggo's, but that was all right with him. This was where he'd wanted to be all along.

"Hold still, you little fucking..." Viggo growled low in his throat, and Orli squirmed the wrong way, the angle just perfect, and with a brutal lunge, Viggo shoved into him.

"Ah, FUCK!" Orlando wailed, the friction burning so deeply he wavered for a second, clenching hard, his eyes watering. Viggo's eyes were shut tightly and there was a trickle of blood on his chin; Orli wondered distantly if he'd bitten through his lip. Lifting his head, Orli managed to lick the droplet away. Less salty, more metallic than the piss.

Viggo's eyes snapped open. "You little fucking SLUT," he snarled, snapping his hips forward once, brutally, and Orli yowled and fought. Viggo's knuckles clenched whitely around his own but didn't slip a fraction. "You want this, don't you? Tell me you want it."

Mutely, Orli shook his head, biting his lip to keep from begging Viggo to fucking move. The cock in his arse was practically throbbing, thrumming along with his pulse, and he'd dreamed of this for a fucking week.

"You don't want it? Tell me no, then," Viggo's grin was shark-like with triumph. "Tell me no, and I'll stop. Tell me now or I'll fuck you black and blue." His hips shifted in threat, starting to withdraw, and Orli bleated a sound of protest before he could stop himself.

"My slut...." Viggo's voice fell suddenly, hushed, almost tender. "You're mine."

Orli felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes, and he whimpered, clenching his body tight around Viggo's cock, the only answer he could offer given the choked emotion closing his throat.

Viggo slid deep again, gentle but inexorable. "Why didn't you ask me to piss on you? Before?" He licked Orli's ear, tongue rough and wet, and Orli knew he tasted his own piss there; a shudder of delight wracked him.

"Viggo," he moaned. "Viggo, oh, please."

The slow temptation of Viggo's rhythm burned him like a brand; he felt himself slide ever-so-slightly on the wet floor as Viggo braced himself to press deeper. "Didn't think... you wanted to," he gasped. "Please, Viggo. Harder."

Viggo ignored him, gliding as smooth and gentle as silk. "Not want to watch you lick my piss off your fingers?" His voice was thick and hot. "How could I not want that?"

"Don't know," Orli whimpered. "Fuck me, do it!"

"You'd drink it right out of my cock, wouldn't you, slut?"

"Yes! Oh, God!" Orli sobbed, struggling to impale himself on Viggo's teasing erection. Viggo slowed, barely moving, and Orli struggled, scrabbling at him with wet fingers that slid uselessly off Viggo's slick skin.

"Tell me what you want."

"Fuck me!"

"What else?" Rough harsh crushed velvet in his ear, that voice, merciless.

"Piss in my mouth, God, Viggo, please!" Orli squirmed uselessly, voice cracking.

"Later." Viggo licked his cheek. "Even piss tastes good on your skin, Orli." His voice darkened, smoky-rough. "On your lips." He crushed his mouth against Orlando's savagely, blood and salt shared between them, and jerked his hips roughly. Orli keened, lifting his knees and hooking his ankles behind Viggo's waist; Viggo scrabbled for purchase on the wet tile, hips lunging fiercely forward.

Orli clung to him, gasping; they skidded on the floor, then steadied, and he lifted his body to meet the ragged thrusts. Viggo growled frustration, pulling out.

"Hey!"

"On your knees, damn it." Viggo stabbed his fingers towards the floor, and Orli obeyed in an agony of frustrated speed. "Head on your arms." Viggo pushed his shoulders down, and Orli sank down, arse in the air. Viggo dragged him backwards, hard hands on his waist-- dragged him right onto his cock, and settled it deep in him.

Orli sighed, breathing deep-- mouth and nose inhaling the earthy scent of Viggo, face so close to the wet floor-- his tongue darted out, lapping over the slick surface of a tile, salt and grit taste exploding in his mouth. Viggo grunted, hips snapping piston-fast now, and Orli whimpered with delight, taking it even as he licked and suckled at the wet floor, wanting more of Viggo any way he could get it.

"That's it. Lick it up." Almost agonized, Viggo's voice, and his hand came down hard on Orli's neck, pressing him down so that he had to turn, cheek on the wet tile, tongue snaking out sideways, in profile where Viggo could see.

Far too soon Viggo tensed and shuddered, hips jerking out of control; his cock pulsing inside Orli. He slumped to one side, half on the rug, shaking, eyes still riveted on Orli's face. Orli quivered, still hard, still wanting-- needing, so desperate he could have wept. His hand crept downward, seeking his cock, and Viggo snatched it away.

"Lick the floor dry," Viggo whispered. "Every drop. Then maybe I'll let you come."

Orli nodded eagerly; he would have done more for less. He fixed Viggo's eyes with his own, holding them hotly as his tongue snaked out, caressing the floor with a lover's touch. Cold now and nasty, but still Viggo, every drop and smear and puddle, as he worked his way back and forth across the floor where they'd fucked, his cock still hard, swinging between his thighs.

When he finished, Viggo moved forward, still on his knees; he lifted Orli's chin gently in the cup of his hand. "Close your eyes." He was already reaching for his cock, and Orli did as he was told, shuddering with anticipation; he closed his eyes and opened his mouth even as the warm splash struck his face, moving over his cheeks and nose, dripping off his chin-- then in his mouth, and he almost sobbed, pushing forward until Viggo slid between his lips, the flow already failing, but so hot on his tongue, in his throat, glowing in his belly like lust... like love.

He moaned softly around Viggo's spent cock, feeling Viggo's hand slide down his belly and close on him. Callused fingers gripped him hard, bordering on painful but Viggo knew him too well, had memorized him like a script.

Just the right twist his hand, his thumbnail digging in the vein just under the head, and Orli was coming, hard enough to splatter a cream line across Viggo's jeans. His muscles turned to water, spilling him down on the freshly licked floor. It was nearly impossible to slither back onto his knees, so Orlando didn't bother, scooting across the floor until he was in Viggo's lap. Tenderly, he lapped at the semen on his jeans without being told, sucking it from the cloth and tasting salt and dirt and fabric softener. Gentle fingers settled on the back of his neck, soothing him.

"Orlando," Viggo sighed softly, nothing more than his name, but it sounded rather like when his mum said it, and unspoken 'what am I to do with you.' He raised his eyes to Viggo's, yearning for -something- and Viggo gave it, kissing him with stunning sweetness.

"That was the grossest thing I have ever seen!" Elijah's indignant voice broke over them. Orli could have strangled him with a shoelace when Viggo pulled away to glare at him.

"Orlando," Viggo said calmly, his eyes on Elijah. "Why don't you go over to the little cunt and see if he'd like a kiss."

Elijah's eyes went round and he scrambled back on the bed. "Ah, fuck," he moaned, "Why can't I ever learn to shut up!"

"All right then," Viggo reversed himself smoothly. "I'll never do that with you, Elijah, and neither will Orlando."

"Thank God for that!" Elijah burst out.

Viggo laughed softly, genuine amusement in his tone, and Orli watched a ghost of doubt flutter over Elijah's face; Lij's gaze flickered to him uncertainly, and Orli licked his lips, nestling close to Viggo. Viggo's arm went around him, and he leaned in to take a melting kiss.

Orli closed his eyes and let himself exult in the soft heat of Viggo's mouth. Finally, they had something Elijah wouldn't share. He sighed as the kiss ended.

"Of course, you know that now I have to give your ass to Ian," Viggo murmured to Orli, and Orli's eyes flew open.

"Shut up, old man!"

Viggo just threw his head back and laughed.

-finis-

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