Music pulses.
I am out on the dance floor; the club is a mass of writhing bodies. Everywhere I cast my somewhat hazy glance, there are arms in the air, oceans of naked skin, damp brows. I'm buzzed, no doubt about it, and I'm having a fabulous time. How I love this.
I spin around in circles, throwing myself into the music. I lost my mates long ago: they retreated to the dark comfort of the booths. I alone remain, loosing myself in the music, seeking the catharsis that I so desperately need. My arms in the air, my head loose on my shoulders.
I feel arms come around me from behind. Strong masculine hands draw my hips backwards, and I come in contact with a body that feels long and lean. I spin in those arms and am faced with the most gorgeous angel I have ever seen - he would almost look like my mirror image, if I was still in my Legolas costume. Long, blonde hair, slightly darker and more golden than Legolas', startling blue eyes, tanned skin. I sigh in delight and acquaint myself with my unknown doppelganger.
"And who might you be?" I ask, lowering my eyelids in a provocative manner as I focus on lush lips.
"Trevor. I've been watching you tonight. You are an amazing dancer."
"Why thank you," I purr as my arms snake around his back. "You are gorgeous! You look just like somebody I know."
"And who might that be?"
"Just a friend of mine."
He seems to accept that answer. I push my hips against his and move us in time to the music. He bends his head to mine. His lips have barely touched mine when his tongue snakes inside my mouth. Perfect. Just what I need to make this night complete - a nice anonymous snog. His hand slides down, inside the back of my jeans. Even more perfect, it looks like I'll be getting a nice anonymous shag with a golden pretty boy. A golden pretty boy who looks a lot like Legolas. My cock hardens. The very idea sounds kinky.
He begins kissing my neck, and I sigh, and open my eyes. Around us, bodies still move in time to the beat. Nobody is paying us much mind, aside from a few boys and girls who are looking at us with something akin to desire on their faces. I always get off on putting on a show.
My eyes that were scanning the crowd suddenly become fixed on one face. There, with his eyes focused on mine, is Viggo. He is standing, at the edge of the crowd, beside Beanie, who looks distinctly uncomfortable in this environment. Viggo's expression is unreadable. I wink salaciously at him, still holding his gaze, then run my hands through the golden hair, and bring the boy's head up from my collarbone for another searing kiss.
With a smirk on my face, I look back to the spot where Viggo was, but both he and Sean are gone. Damn! He had to go and spoil my fun. I was having such fun showing off my new boy toy.
Of course, I don't let that bother me for long. Golden boy is practically dragging me off the dance floor, out of the club, and into a cab. His hands and lips find me after he gives the driver an address.
This is shaping up to be a smashing night, indeed.
The alarm goes off. In desperation, I start bashing it, in order to get the bloody thing to shut off. I crack open my eye. 5:30 am, Monday morning. Wish it was Saturday again - I need a weekend to recover from my weekend.
Mmmmmmmm. Saturday night. I replay that night in my head. Meeting the Legolas clone on the dance floor. The teasingly incomplete blowjob he gave me in the back of the cab. Regaining control of the situation by shoving him against the wall once we are inside his apartment, driving the poor boy out of his mind with need with kisses and caresses over his whole body, with the deliberate exception of his crotch. Having him desperately drag him into the bedroom, and me fucking him long and slow until he was a quivering mass of nerves. Loosing myself to the tight sensation when his writhing and moaning became too much for me.
Such a good fucking time. And I mean that literally.
I drag myself out of bed, and have a quick wank while I'm in the shower before heading out the door for another wonderful day in Middle Earth.
"So, you looked like you were having fun on Saturday."
I thought I was in the trailer alone, sitting in my chair reading a book, waiting for the makeup artists to arrive. I looked around, and there was Viggo, leaning nonchalantly against the doorway. He had a smirk on this face. Shit. He saw me at the club dancing with that guy on Saturday, and I completely forgot until just now. I wasn't that wasted, was I?
Not that it is any secret amongst my friends that I like men just as much as I do women, but I don't want them thinking that I am a slut, least of all Viggo. I like the guy. I respect the guy.
I think I might have a wee little crush on him.
Unfortunate, that. Not only is he way out of my league, but he is also a friend and colleague. As dead handsome as I think he is, there is no way I will compromise my working relationship with him by bringing sex into the equation - especially since I think he is probably heterosexual. My libido isn't THAT out of control.
I decide to play it casual. Seems like the best way to go. Casual and bashful.
Then I remember something else from Saturday night. I winked at him. Oh good god, bashful is not going to come off very well, is it? All the same, I decide to give it a go.
I duck my head, and run my hand over the Mohawk, trying my best to look innocent.
"Um, yeah. Since I broke up with my girlfriend a few months ago, I've been letting loose a little bit. And Peter has just been working us so hard lately, I really just feel like blowing off some steam on the weekend, you know?" Did I really just say blowing?
Viggo chuckles, as he walks over and settles in the chair beside me, turning sideways to look at me. "Orlando, you don't have to explain anything to me. I was 23 once, remember? I could probably tell you some stories that could rival your own, and then some."
I bet he could. Suddenly, the thought of Viggo blazing a trail of seduction across a continent springs to mind, and is an intriguing one.
"Speaking of stories," he continues, "how did it go with your friend from the club?"
I grin. "Fabulous. Couldn't have been a better night."
"So are you going to see him again?"
I shrug, trying for nonchalant again. "Probably not."
Viggo just grins back at me, clearly enjoying being my confidant.
"What were you doing at the club that night, anyways? And with Sean?"
"Believe it or not, I used to go out clubbing quite a lot. It's just been a real long time since I've done that. Thought I was done with that whole scene, but I guess hanging out with you and the hobbits has given me the itch to hit the clubs once again"
"It's a blast, isn't it? I just love going out dancing. That's one of the things about London that I thought I would miss, coming here. I didn't think that the club scene in Wellington would be half as good as it is."
"Oh, it is fun, to be sure! Although, Sean was probably not the best choice of companions for the evening. I don't think he enjoyed himself very much."
"Yeah, he looked a little out of his element. He really is more of a pub, cigar and scotch kind of guy."
"He really is. Wonderful guy. Great friend. Not a very good dancer."
The make up artists arrival at the trailer cuts short the conversation. It seems that Viggo, like me, doesn't want to be seen gossiping like a couple of schoolgirls.
A little over an hour later, Viggo and I are both transformed. We emerge from the trailer, as Legolas and Aragorn, and make our way to Middle Earth. Nothing further is said on the subject of Saturday night, and we settle into our normal easy camaraderie.
I am out on the dance floor again. The hobbits are on the dance floor with me, but I am otherwise occupied. Wrapped around me are the arms of an absolutely gorgeous redhead. Her hair flows down her back like fire, her lips lightly brush against my ear as she attempts to make herself heard above the music.
"I want you."
She begins to suck on my earlobe, sending little electric shocks through my body, as her hands move in patterns on my back. I tilt my head back, still moving my hips and hers to the music, lost in the sensation. My eyes are barely open, but one face still manages to catch my attention. Viggo. Starting down at the dance floor from atop the second floor railing.
More precisely, he is staring at me.
What the fuck?
This is becoming something of a habit with him, and it is really starting to annoy me. A few weeks ago, he saw me on the dancefloor with golden boy. Fine, that incident was brushed off with some casual conversation the next Monday. The week after that, I was making out with a cute blonde girl outside the club, when he walked by, whistling. Last weekend, I was making out with a dark angel of a goth boy in a comfortable corner of the club. As he dragged me out onto the dance floor again for a particularly good song, I noticed Viggo, in a booth by himself. I could feel his eyes following me as we made our way into the crowd. I looked back just before the crowd swallowed me up, to see if he was still staring, and he was - his expression still unreadable. His eyes locked with mine.
Every Monday, we talk just as casually as we did the first time I saw him in the club.
As much as I enjoy showing off, his quiet observance from the upper balcony was starting to creep me out just a little bit. Besides which, he must really think that I'm a slut now.
Must put a stop to this. Now.
I detangle the redhead girl's arms and gently push her away from me. A hurt and confused look flits across her face, and I know that she is really a little bit too drunk to offer any real protest as I give her a quick kiss on the cheek and excuse myself.
He is still leaning against he railing that looks out onto the dancefloor when I make it upstairs. Even in my frustration, I can't help but notice that he looks really hot tonight - jeans that cling in all the right places, and a black shirt that looks like it would be soft to the touch. His hair is its usual unkempt mess, making him look like he just got out of bed.
Right. Mustn't think of bed right now. Must focus on being upset at Viggo, not attracted to him.
He is still scanning the crowd below, and doesn't notice me until I lean on the railing next to him. God, but his cologne smells good.
"So what are you, stalking me now?"
He jumps slightly, then appears to collect himself, and turns to face me. "What if I am?"
"I would have to ask why. This is the fourth time that I've noticed you hanging about, staring at me, when I've been out. It is starting to get on my nerves."
"The fourth time? Really. Hmmmm." he muses to himself. The thought occurs to me that there may have simply been times that he has watched me, and I did not notice. "Watching you here in the clubs, and talking to you afterwards about your conquests have just really got me wondering."
My brow crinkles. "About what?"
A slow smile creeps across his face, and his eyes lock on mine.
"Well, lately I've been wondering what you are like in bed."
Holy fuck.
Did Viggo just say what I thought he did? Because it sounded a lot like he was wondering what I am like in bed. I stare at him; with what I am sure is a dumbfounded look on my face. The response that would be on my lips if this was anybody else - "Would you like to find out?" - doesn't make it from my brain to my mouth. Speaking of my mouth, it is currently hanging open in surprise. I must be a sight.
Viggo's lips quirk upwards in amusement at my shock. I decide that this must be some kind of joke. I break out into a smile of my own
"Good one, old man. You really had me going there for a second." I poke him in the ribs, expecting some good natured teasing to commence. Nothing of the sort happens, though, and I am shocked again when he catches the hand that I poking him with, moves in front of me to grab my other hand, and pins them both to the railing behind me. My breath catches, as I look into his eyes, which are dark and hooded. He is studying my face, his eyes flitting between my mouth and my eyes.
The way that he is looking at me leaves no uncertainty. He is serious about this.
Good god. Viggo wants me.
With that realization, the crush I have on him intensifies into full fledged lust and desire. My breathing becomes harsher, as I feel my cock begin to harden in my jeans - a warm tingle begins to spread from my groin to the rest of my body. If he can turn me on like this simply by looking at me, I wonder what will happen when he kisses me?
I realize that I am about to find out when his face comes closer to mine. His eyes are fixed on my lips, which already parted in anticipation. His breath is as rapid as mine. His hands grip mine even tighter. His eyes flutter, and I feel like all of my other senses have become heightened. The pulsing music in my ears; the strong grip of his hands on mine; the light of the strobes and lasers that penetrate through my eyelids; his breath on my cheek - I feel as though I am sinking into a delirium. Then I feel his lips come into contact with mine.
Ooooooooooooooh.
His lips close around my lower lip first, which he then traces with his tongue. It laps gently at the outside of my mouth before delving inside. I feel his warm, wet tongue come into contact with mine. It slides against me, exploring and rubbing, and a jolt runs straight from my tongue to my cock, which pulses greedily. His stubble scrapes against my face. I realize that my skin is going to be red and raw tomorrow, and I don't care. This is so much better than I ever could have imagined.
I whimper. Fuck me, I actually whimpered.
He lets loose one of my hands, and brings his up to hold my head in place as he deepens this kiss. With my now free hand I reach for his hip, and bring him flush against me. I press my erection into him, letting him know that I am ready for wherever this night will lead us. I know that he got the message, because he groans in response, and I can feel him pulse through the fabric of our clothes.
He breaks the kiss, and leans against me, his breath hot and heavy against me ear.
"Do you want to get out of here?" He pulls back just enough to see my face as I nod my agreement. His lips descend on mine again, assaulting me with one of the most intense, ravishing kisses of my life. I feel as though I am being devoured. And perhaps I am. It doesn't matter though -I love it. I love the feeling of his lips open against mine. I love the soft contrast of his tongue against the roughness of his stubble. I love the feeling of his hands moving across my back. It is almost too much, and I am whimpering again.
I can feel that I am going to completely loose control with him tonight. With most of my lovers, I am the one in control. For some reason, with Viggo, I want to be the one who is plundered.
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Plundered by Moggie
Story notes: Notes: This is my first RPS. The "danceClub!Orli" plot bunny was the first one that bit me, and it needs to be exorcised before I can move on to anything else.
Disclaimer: I don't know Viggo or Orlando. Wish I did (wouldn't that be nice!) I don't have a clue about their sexual orientations, and this work of fiction is not meant to be a claim about their preferences or romantic life. 'Trevor' was borrowed briefly from Poppy Z. Brite's "Drawing Blood", and returned in one piece. No copyright infringement intended.
Beta: Eruberueth Sadril, thank you so much for helping out a first time writer! :D
Feedback: Woo hoo! Yes please.
