Viggo was dreaming.
Of feather-light kisses placed from his collarbone up the side of his neck.
Of deft hands that found their way under his t-shirt, slowly trailing up to his nipples.
And a body that was spooned against his back. Firm. Warm. And naked.
His eyes were closed. He wanted to see nothing, do nothing, but give himself over to the touch of these fingers upon him.
"Yeah, that's it," he purred when the hands travelled down the flat plane of his stomach, drawing a lazy circle around his navel, before resuming their languid path downwards again.
A silky, cheeky laugh in his hair.
"Don't stop," he moaned, when the hands hovered just above his thighs.
Another laugh against his neck, then a tongue licking at the vein pulsing there faster and faster.
"I've been dreaming of this … all the time," Viggo said in his dream." But first you were angry with me and then you were so drunk. You couldn't even get up on your own. Why did you drink so much? Why did you pick up that guy in the bar?"
"Shhhhhhh. It doesn't matter …" More kisses on his neck. "… any longer."
The hands found their way into Viggo's boxers' and closed on him. Began to trace the length of him …
"You'd better sleep naked."
Viggo smirked. "Guess I should. But normally there's no one there to warm me."
To Viggo's disappointment the hand stopped caressing him as he began to wriggle out of his boxers. Instead the fingers wandered upwards again, over his chest, his neck, his face, his mouth. Long fingers. Soft. Inventive. Intoxicating.
When a thumb parted his lips, Viggo began to lick at it, slowly at first, just to taste it, but soon more and more greedily. That this finger smelt faintly of himself aroused him even further as he was triggered by the idea that this was only a prelude of things to come.
And if all this wasn't enough there was … this body pressed against his back. Hot as if in a fever. Nipples brushing against his skin. Ribs. Hipbones. Each touch was electrifying.
A hand tangled in Viggo's hair and jerked his head backwards to gain better access to his throat. So that a tongue could resume its slow wet trail along the side of his neck. Viggo felt as if he was gradually gliding down into a sea of caresses. Sinking deeper and deeper. The fingers in his mouth. The other man's erection against his back, brushing against the crease of his ass, teasing him. He was drowning in black heat.
His breathing became harsh when those fingers, soaked with saliva, left his mouth, closed around him and began to set a steady rhythm upon him.
But all this was not enough.
By no means enough to satisfy that aching need that was building up inside him, consuming him like liquid red-hot fire. There was only way to extinguish that fire …
From one second to the next it became unbearable to remain passive any longer. Leaving that sea of warm sweet drowsiness behind, he rose to the surface again, gasping for breath like a diver emerging from the deep. Leaving the dream behind, waking up. Or so it seemed.
Viggo closed his fist over the hand on his cock and turned around quickly, reaching for Orlando. To claim the younger man's mouth and feed on the soft moans that trickled onto his tongue like honey.
With difficulty Viggo managed to open his eyes. No, this was no dream, this was real! Suddenly, Viggo felt wide awake. He cupped Orlando's face with his hands as if he couldn't believe what he saw there.
"What do you want from me?"
Orlando's eyes opened, narrow slits only, revealing nothing but blackness.
"The same you want from me," he answered, a small wicked smile on his lips.
"How can you know what I want from you, elfboy?"
"Your body tells me all I need to know," Orlando breathed, and closed his hand firmly around their erections, making Viggo moan with desire.
"So tell me, Orlando," he began, licking a narrow circle around one of the erect nipples. He bit down on it, not really hard, but enough to make the younger man shiver under him. "What is it I want from you?"
Orlando held his gaze. "Hmmmm, could be …" ?"
"Could be what?"
"Letting me taste you … before you fuck me."
Viggo groaned. Hearing Orlando making suggestions like this only increased that burning need inside him.
"You wanna taste me?"
Instead of answering, Orlando grabbed him for another devastating kiss.
Slowly, Viggo moved upwards on all fours, never losing contact with the body under him, until his cock brushed against Orlando's face, tracing the contours of Orlando's lips. A hot-cold shudder ran down his spine when Orlando's tongue began to circle around the sensitive head and along the shaft. Deliciously wet and soft like a luscious fruit. And Orlando's hands were on his buttocks, the fingers spread wide.
And then that indescribable feeling when Orlando took him deep. That sent him almost over the edge. But no. Not yet. He wanted this to last as long as possible.
It was hard to speak, however. Somehow, Viggo couldn't get enough oxygen; his breathing had become erratic. "Stop, Orlando. Stop it!"
With considerable effort Viggo pulled away, only to cover Orlando's body with his own, claim his mouth again. Violent kisses. Bodies clinging to each desperately, struggling to be released and find that peace of mind that exists only at the other side of the mirror.
Orlando was restless under him. "Viggo, please …"
"What do you want?"
"You!"
But Viggo couldn't wait any longer either. He was not gentle when he began to widen Orlando with lube-slickened fingers, but Orlando was already far enough gone that pain was not an issue any longer. Especially not after Viggo's expert fingers had begun stroking him in a way that made him almost scream for release.
"Fuck. Me."
But although he was ready, more than ready, Orlando inhaled sharply when Viggo began doing exactly that. Viggo kissed his lover's tight-shut eyelids. This was so what he had been anticipating all along. The sensation of being buried deep within Orlando, of being enclosed that tightly, was overpowering. Still, Viggo forced himself to give Orlando time to adjust before he started to move again. Slowly, carefully at the beginning, but soon faster and harder. And harder.
"Is this what you want?" Viggo panted.
But Orlando wasn't able to answer him any more, he was beyond coherent speech. No words came from his lips, only low guttural moans alternating with harsh gasps.
More.
More.
And never enough.
Orlando came with a silent cry, a sweat-soaked body shuddering in Viggo's arms.
That was the last image Viggo saw. White heat was searing his eyes behind closed lids.
The mirror was exploding and with it his existence was pulverized into a thousand tiny fragments.
After that there was only blackness.
And at the moment Viggo actually woke up with a start.
