Written for Valentine's Day 2007
"Now, what's next," says Orlando, bending forward to put the glass down on the floor next to them. "What d'you want from me now?"
Viggo stretches leisurely on the mattress. Smiling, he settles back against the cushions and looks Orlando up and down. His smile widens. The mascara and eyeliner Orlando had applied so generously before are smeared by now. There are streaks of black under his eyes and down his left cheek. Sam's kimono, all bright pink and green and ornamental flowers, is hanging loosely from his shoulders.
"Come here, my sexy little concubine." He pulls Orlando closer so that he's straddling Viggo and begins to loosen the broad obi belt around Orlando's waist. "What about feeding me another plum to begin with …"
"They're delicious, aren't they? Imported directly from New Zealand."
Orlando reaches for the plate and breaks open one of the fruits. Soft, amber-coloured, sweet-smelling, almost over-ripe flesh spills into his hand. After taking a bite Orlando spits the stone in the direction of one of the flower pots. There is a little plonking sound on the floorboards in front of the window.
Viggo rolls his eyes.
"Spitting stones around isn't very geisha-like, I have to tell you, my friend."
Orlando shrugs his shoulders (the kimono slides down even further) and throws back his head (ah, the exquisite curve of his neck and chin) dramatically. He licks the inside of his palm that's still sticky from the juicy fruit and gives Viggo such a look from under lowered eyelids.
"As if I were your everyday geisha."
"Indeed, you aren't, my lovely geisha boy."
With a quick movement Viggo casts the obi belt aside. The kimono falls open, revealing more naked skin, dark brown nipples and … Viggo takes a deep breath when Orlando cups himself and begins to stroke himself lazily.
"You are a naughty geisha, too."
Orlando chuckles. "Only to please you."
Viggo's hands come down on Orlando's bare thighs.
"You know that if you eat all the fruit on your own you'll have to feed me something else."
"I'm not as sweet as the plums."
Orlando lets out a low growl when Viggo spreads his hands over the small of Orlando's back, pulling him up and closer until the other man's hardness touches his lips. Viggo's tongue darts forward and gives him a long, lavish lick from root to tip. And then there are kisses, slow, reverent kisses, and soon after, open-mouthed, greedy kisses. Saltiness mixes with a faint, fruity sweetness from Orlando's sticky fingers.
"You taste perfect," Viggo murmurs against Orlando's length.
Orlando's head falls back, his eyes are closed now. Within no time, all sensations have narrowed down to Viggo's mouth on his cock, enveloping him like warm, liquid silver. Viggo's tongue teases him, laps at him gently, slides over his skin so smoothly before Viggo takes him deep and starts sucking him in earnest.
Suddenly, there's this tingling feeling that spreads from Orlando’s fingertips through his whole body. For a while it settles in his navel before travelling further down. Orlando's breath comes and goes in synch with Viggo's movements. Faster. Faster. He’s almost there …
At the last moment Orlando pulls back, gasping for air.
"Sweet as it is, coming down your throat is not what I want now."
Viggo raises a hand to Orlando's mouth and traces the curve of his lips. "What d'you want then?"
Involuntarily, Orlando shivers. It's Viggo's voice that makes the hair stand up on his arms, the long drawn-out syllables in a low, melodious purr. Even after all these years, this sexy voice makes Orlando weak. He’d do blindly everything the voice would order him to do.
But not today.
He leans forward to kiss Viggo on the mouth wetly, tasting himself in Viggo's kisses, and says, "Turn around."
Instantaneously, Viggo rolls over. He makes a bit of a show of it, wiggling his arse, but that's just to cover the trace of insecurity he feels. Normally, their roles are reversed. Now it is Viggo who feels vulnerable. Exposed. Open. And it turns him on immensely.
Viggo groans loudly when a slick finger invades him. Orlando’s breath is hot on his neck.
"We've messed around enough now. I can't wait any more."
“Yes.”
Bright red lights flash up behind Viggo's closed eyelids, it's like a jolt of electricity coursing through his body. Each time, the pain's intense at first, and it's been a while since Orlando last did him, but soon the pain’s gone.
He’s the fire, Viggo thinks incoherently. He’s the fire and I’m the book, an ancient book, fine parchment pages covered with intricate majuscules and elaborate illuminations, thrown onto a pyre. There are people dancing round the fire, there are drums. I can hear people shouting, but I can’t see them. I can only see the fire. At first the flames only lick at the pages, making them smoulder and roll up from the edges, but soon they consume everything …
Orlando stills his movements for a moment. They're both panting heavily now, their hearts racing. Blindly, Viggo reaches for the headboard to steel himself against another assault. But it's all in vain, he can’t hold out any more. A hand cups his balls and then closes around his cock firmly and when Orlando starts pounding into him again, it’s the end for Viggo. He comes all over Orlando’s hand, over the sheets, and over the flowery kimono that lies beneath them, now crinkly and crumpled.
Orlando rides him all through his orgasm. The shivers running through Viggo’s body somehow transfer themselves to him, making him spill himself into Viggo, moaning loudly, clinging to Viggo as if that could keep him from falling.
“Your sister will kill us,” Viggo says when they’re lying together afterwards, legs entwined, embracing each other. “We’ve ruined her kimono.” He holds up the garment, frowning. “Look at all these traitorous spots. There’s a even huge rent over there.”
“No, she won’t,” Orlando smiles, a sleepy, satisfied smile on his lips. “She said it was a present for us. Happy Valentine’s Day, Viggo.”
