Title: Facial Author: Maiwen Genre: RPS Pairing: Viggo/Orlando Rating: NC-17 Warnings: A bit of smut here, a little kink there. Disclaimer: Ah...if only 'twere true, and there were cameras around. Summary: A little episode involving one of Orlando's favorite kinks. Archive: No problem, just let me know. Feedback: Yes, please (maiwen05@yahoo.com) A/N: This little bastard ran around my head for about three weeks, driving me insane, slowly taking over every waking moment of my life, before I finally gave up and wrote the damn thing. It was originally inspired by a comment that Rachael Ray always makes whenever she's straining pasta. "Be sure to lean back a little when you pour the spaghetti in the strainer. You'll get a pasta facial," Viggo warned from where he sat at the table sipping wine. Orlando paused at the sink and threw a wry smirk towards Viggo. "I can think of one facial I'd love to get right now." He sat the pot on the counter and sauntered over to Viggo. Viggo turned his chair with a wide grin and raised his eyebrows, challenging the young man. Cocking his head to one side as if to say 'You know better', Orlando accepted the challenge. When he got close, he bent down, pressing his lips to Viggo's as he straddled his lap. Immediately, Viggo parted his lips and sucked in his lover's tongue. As the wet muscles clashed, both men moaned their desire. The kiss deepened until they were panting into each other's mouths, lips a hair's-breath from touching. Eyes locked with Viggo's, fingers twisted in his shirt and golden locks, Orlando ground against him - hard. At the touch of their erections, even through the layers of clothes, Viggo threw his head back and growled. Orlando didn't miss his chance; he dove at Viggo's neck. Kissing and licking over the rapid pulse, he pistoned his hips, trying for as much contact as could be gained. Just when he was drawing the most lascivious sounds from Viggo and was sure he was about to rip his clothes off, the noises stopped. Orlando drew his mouth from Viggo's neck. "What's the matter?" he said, looking down on him. "Why'd you stop?" Viggo, head still thrown back and mouth slightly agape, tried to catch a decent breath to answer. "Vig?" Orlando just managed, the lone syllable dripping with need. "Di-" Viggo exhaled, "dinner," he swallowed hard. "Let's eat dinner first." He lifted his head, asking with his eyes for Orlando to agree. "Oh," Orlando whined, throwing his arms around Viggo's neck and returning to abuse said flesh, "but I want you now." On the last word he pushed down on his partner's arousal. Viggo quickly grabbed the slim hips, stilling their assault on his sensitive groin. He rubbed his stubbled cheek against Orlando's smooth one as he spoke, "Mmm, I want you, too, baby, but after the night we had..." "And the morning, and afternoon," Orlando reminded him with a small giggle. "Right," Viggo smiled. "After all of that, we need to rebuild our strength," he leaned forward, placing a small kiss on Orlando's lips before pushing him to his feet and standing himself. Orlando just stood where Viggo had pushed him to watching as he took over the pasta. After he strained it, Viggo topped it with his homemade sauce and sprinkled on some parmesan cheese. He tossed everything together before pouring it into a decorative serving bowl and garnishing with parsley. Still standing near the table, Orlando was nigh in a trance. He loved watching Viggo in the kitchen; mostly because he knew that whatever he was cooking would turn out fabulous. Even if it was some odd-sounding Danish dish Orlando had never heard of, he knew he was bound to love it. And even though he had been the one making dinner tonight, it was Viggo's recipes and his final touches that would truly make the meal. It seemed all he had to do was stir something once or adjust the heat and it would make the food taste ten times better. "Hey, Orli?" Viggo called from the stove. "Orlando!" he said a little louder with a few snaps of his fingers when there was no response. Orlando registered he was being spoken to on the third snap. "Yeah, Vig?" Pulling the garlic bread from the oven and beginning to slice it, Viggo said, "Why don't you quit staring at me and get the table ready?" "Sure-" Orlando started to move into the kitchen. "Wait. How did you know I was staring at you?" Viggo flashed him a quick smirk over the shoulder before turning back to the bread. "Gee, I don't know. Maybe because the room has been near silent, and you're only quiet when you're staring at me. Or, maybe because you always do when I'm cooking," he replied with a shrug. Orlando moved up behind him, wrapping his arms around Viggo's waist. He nuzzled into Viggo's neck, "I just can't help myself, Vig, you're so sexy. Especially when you're in front of a hot stove preparing some mouth-watering meal that I know is going to be absolutely delicious." He moved to the other side of Viggo's neck. "Or, maybe it's because I know what's going to be for dessert and I can't help imagining your sweaty body on top of mine. Your breath hot against my sensitized flesh as your hard, thick cock pounds into me." Orlando's words were a wet purr against Viggo's heated skin and stilled his actions with the knife and bread. He lifted his head, looking forward as Orlando continued to lavish his neck, and saw the exact image Orlando has just described. He could see them, naked and glistening, a tangle of limps rolling on sweat-soaked sheets. Oh, it was a lovely sight. His view switched and he was looking down on Orlando who writhed beneath him. Viggo could see the need and hunger in his eyes. He saw his cock disappearing into Orlando as clearly as if it were happening. The image was so vivid, he could almost feel the tight heat of Orlando's body gripping his every inch. Viggo let out a sudden breath, trying to calm himself. It was amazing how quickly Orlando could undo him. With a mere suggestion and a few flicks of his tongue, Viggo became putty in Orlando's hand. "Really, Orlando," he picked up the knife again, "we have to eat." With a final peck on the cheek, Orlando gave up, "Fine." He reached into the cabinet for plates and got silverware and napkins from the drawers. He set their places beside each other as usual and filled their glasses with wine. Viggo followed with pasta in one hand and bread in the other. When he saw their places, he made a disagreeing noise in his throat. "What?" Orlando quickly asked. Viggo put the food on the table. "I'm not sure you can stand to sit by me while we eat in your current state," he said, moving Orlando's things to the other end of the table. "What?!" Orlando was astounded. "I think it'd be best if you sat down here during dinner," replied Viggo. "Why? What difference does it make where I sit?" Orlando was starting to get frustrated. Not only was he starving and horny as hell, but now Viggo didn't think he could control himself. "Less temptation," Viggo answered while plating their food. Orlando conceded again. "Fine," he said, sitting down. He supposed Viggo did have a good point. A few good points, really: each fingertip, his tongue, and, of course, that cock of his. Oh hell, he could be sitting on a different continent and Viggo would still be a distracting temptation to him; a few feet weren't going to soften his raging hard-on for anything. He picked up his fork and focused on filling on of his hungers when Viggo stopped him just before the food- wrapped utensil reached his mouth. "Wait," Viggo held up his glass of wine, "how about a quick toast?" Orlando put his fork down, replacing it with his glass. "A toast," Viggo began, "to us." "To us," Orlando repeated, bringing the glass to his lips. "And the night of mind-blowing fucks we're about to have," Orlando choked on his wine as Viggo added that last bit. He shot Viggo a threatening look. "Cheers," Viggo smiled wickedly, ignoring Orlando's scorn and digging right into his food. After a moment of seething, Orlando followed suit. The two men ate practically in silence, both too hungry for conversation. Viggo did manage to tear his mouth away to compliment Orlando on his wonderful execution of the recipes he had been given. Everything turned out perfectly. It wasn't long after, though, that dinner was coming to an end and their other needs would be rising to the forefront. Orlando finished eating first, while Viggo seemed to be taking his time twisting and untwisting his fork in the pasta until it was perfect. This, of course, drove Orlando insane; he no longer had anything to focus on so all his attention was drawn to Viggo. Correction - Viggo eating...licking stray drops of sauce and butter from his lips...sucking in feisty noodles that didn't seem to want to be eaten. Orlando figured he was doing it on purpose. As much as Viggo stopped Orlando when he tried to initiate some spontaneous sex, he sure liked to get the boy riled up. It had to be a control issue, Orlando decided. Well, this time he was going to be in charge. When he saw that Viggo had finally finished eating, Orlando started to clear the table. He put their plates in the sink, quickly rinsing them with hot water, and the leftover food in the oven. Refilling his glass, he took up his place at the end of the table. Viggo was leaned back in his chair, swirling the pale spirit around in his glass. A small smiled tugged the corners of his lips. Breaking the silence, Orlando asked, "What are you thinking about?" "Hmm?" Viggo raised his eyes to meet Orlando's, having barely heard his question. "Oh, nothing really," he shook his head, lowering it a little. "Yeah, I really believe that," Orlando laughed. "The day Viggo Mortensen isn't thinking about something is the day the world stops spinning. Come on, tell me. What are you thinking about?" Viggo drank the last sip of wine from his glass and sat it on the table. He leaned forward, arms crossed on the table, "Guess." Orlando leaned back in his chair, giving Viggo a once-over. "Hmm..." he stroked his chin in thought, "what is Viggo thinking about? The trouble in the Middle East?" he guessed. Viggo shook his head. "The price of oil?" Nope. "Global warming?" Wrong again. "No, you wouldn't be smiling if you were thinking of those things. A new poem, is it?" No. "A new painting, then?" Try again. Orlando then took up Viggo's same position: leaning forward, arms crossed on the table. He looked deep into Viggo's eyes, squinting as if trying to see something in the distance. Orlando stared for a minute before opening his eyes wide and sitting up a little. "Viggo, Viggo, Viggo. I know what you're thinking about," he smiled smugly. "What?" Viggo asked skeptically. "I should have known," Orlando sat back in his chair. "What?" Viggo asked again. "Of course that's what would be on your mind." Orlando shook his head, "Oh, Viggo." "What?" he asked yet again defensively. "Tell me already, Orlando. That is, if you really know," he, too, sat back in his chair, mimicking Orlando's posture. Orlando smiled, "Oh, I do know." Viggo eyed him a moment. "Then tell me what I’m thinking about." Orlando shot out of his chair. "This!" he ripped his shirt open, kicked his chair back and with a swipe of his arm knocked the few items left on the table to the floor. Viggo was taken aback. He sat, arms loosely folded, mouth slightly ajar, with eyes locked on Orlando. Suddenly, the young man did something even more unexpected than his previous actions. With such grace, he climbed onto the table and started crawling towards Viggo. Viggo's arms dropped and his eyes widened. Smiling and licking his lips hungrily, Orlando slowly crept across the table to where Viggo sat, managing to swing his hips the entire way. When he got to the edge, he swung his legs around, dangling them over the side. Then, he grabbed the sides of Viggo's chair and pulled him closer to the table. As soon as he was close enough, Orlando sealed their mouths and shoved his tongue between Viggo's still parted lips. His hands worked on Viggo's shirt, popping each button out of its hole and shoving the garment from his shoulders and down perfectly toned arms. Immediately, Orlando's hands were running back up Viggo's arms and over his shoulders to find peaking nipples. He circled the tightening buds, teasing at first before rolling them between his fingers. Without much thought, seemingly only able to react, Viggo grabbed Orlando's hips, instinctively trying to get them as close as possible. But Orlando shoved his hands away and planted his feet on the edge of Viggo's chair. Still able to think clearly, he reminded himself he was to be in charge, even if only for a little while longer. Sliding his mouth from Viggo's, Orlando trailed kisses over his jaw down to his neck. Sucking and biting the warm flesh, he let escape a tiny moan. He couldn't help it, though; he loved the way Viggo's skin tasted. Plus, he knew the louder he was the harder Viggo would get. "Oh," Viggo cried, letting his breath slide warmly over Orlando's ear. "Can I hear more, baby?" he said while running his hands over Orlando's back. His request was granted by a long, deep sigh breathed over his moist neck. A tremor shot through him when Orlando's hot breath passed over the cooling skin. It was followed closely by a quick hiss as, in record speed, Orlando unfastened and unzipped Viggo's jeans to immediately palm the stiffening cock that sprung forward. Orlando couldn't help but smile to himself when he felt Viggo twisting his hands in his shirt as he pumped him to a full erection. He knew Viggo was loosing control, and he fought to keep hold of the situation despite how much he had turned himself on. His jeans felt constricting and he could feel wetness on his leg. Just a little longer, Orlando told himself. He knew Viggo was going to come soon, and at the frenzied pace Orlando was stroking him, there was no way he'd be able to stop it. And that was Orlando's plan: move so fast Viggo couldn't even think to stop him, and to make sure Viggo didn't touch him because he'd bend to his will the instant he felt Viggo's hands. Raising his head, Orlando watched Viggo's face for his cue. Viggo looked into Orlando's eyes seeing the desire and need he knew were reflected in his own. He reached for Orlando's fly wanting to impart a little relief to the very obvious arousal hidden beneath but his hand was smacked away. He tried again and was again denied. "Orli?" he just got out as he felt his climax coming. As he looked up at Orlando, pleading to be allowed to return the favor, the want and lust he'd seen a moment ago was overshadowed by a sudden wickedness. As he felt Viggo's body tense, his hands painfully gripping Orlando's thighs, Orlando stopped his hand and clamped it around the base of Viggo's penis. He smiled cruelly down at Viggo, watching as a would-be moan of completion was stifled and a small sigh of disbelief took its place. "Orlando?" Viggo's plea was heard clearly in that one word and his eyes begged for release. Orlando smiled down at him, "What, Viggo?" Viggo closed his eyes against the evil he saw in Orlando's. He realized, somehow through the fog that claimed his mind, what Orlando was up to: the boy wanted to be in control. Viggo could see it in the look Orlando gave him and could feel it in Orlando's tense muscles. So, he'd let him have his fun. Usually the dominant one, Viggo was surprised at how much more of a turn on this was for him. Now, he understood why Orlando never put up a fuss, but he also understood how much of an aphrodisiac control could be, especially the first time. He was impressed by how well Orlando was handling himself. Just as all those thoughts were culminating inside Viggo's head and he was resigning himself to the fact that his release would be sometime in the distant future, Orlando started moving his hand again. A few slides over the aching shaft and Viggo was shamelessly pumping his hips; his grip tightened again on Orlando's legs. A light sheen of sweat was breaking on his brow as he tried to remember this was going nowhere. As if reading his mind, Orlando squeezed his hand shut as Viggo was about to ejaculate. Viggo dropped his head to Orlando's lap in frustration. He felt like beating his fists on the table. His fingers flexed from their white grip on Orlando's pants. Both men were panting heavily and breathing hard, Viggo from his twice denied fulfillment and Orlando from his all together ignored erection. Though he was enjoying being in charge, it was impossible for Orlando to deny how badly he wanted Viggo to just rip off his clothes and fuck him on the spot. He made a quick decision. "Stand up," he ordered, his voice low and raspy with lust. Viggo looked at him questioningly. "I said 'stand up'," Orlando ordered again, his voice more even this time. Viggo obeyed, holding onto the table for stability. His legs trembled beneath him but dignity shone through his eyes. Orlando's gaze never wavered as he delivered his next command. "Now, kiss me." Viggo had no problem following that order; he'd been dying to make some kind of contact with Orlando. But as he leaned in, Orlando stopped him. "And you better make it a good one. With this kiss, you better tell me how badly you want to cum, how much you need it. You better beg for it." That wouldn't be a problem for Viggo, either. All he knew at the moment was how much he wanted - needed - to come, and if he had to beg, so be it. He'd beg and plead with all he had if it meant Orlando would stop his torture. Viggo grabbed Orlando by the neck and smashed their mouths together. He didn't ask, rather demanded Orlando open his mouth. When he did, Viggo quickly shoved his tongue in. After battling for only a few seconds in Orlando's mouth, Viggo drew both slick muscles into his own. He sucked hungrily on Orlando's tongue as if he could draw his climax out of the other man. In a way, it worked; Orlando hung on by a thread. The last bit of control he had flew out the window when he jerked and twisted his hand around Viggo. Orlando's other hand held Viggo's head in place when he tried to break the kiss. Viggo waited as long as possible but his lungs burned for air. He tore his mouth away, slightly afraid it would make Orlando stop but more afraid of passing out. His senses were driven to their farthest peaks from Orlando's teasing and the incoherent murmurs coming from him. Viggo held on to Orlando's neck, pressing their foreheads together while thrusting his hips in time to Orlando's strokes. Their heavy breaths clashed and mingled between their open mouths. Viggo squeezed his eyes shut, wanting only to concentrate on his fast-approaching orgasm; Orlando kept his open. He loved the way Viggo's face sparred between relief and agony as he varied the speed of his hand, and the way he hissed each time Orlando touched the hyper-sensitive head. Orlando was near dying from how aroused he'd made himself; power did corrupt. He was amazed at how Viggo was able to keep clam and stop himself from just pounding into his ass all those times he'd been in his place. But everything was shoved out of his mind when he felt Viggo arch back suddenly. Orlando considered stopping his release again but decided that if he kept this up much longer his own swollen member would explode, and so he relieved Viggo. Viggo's hands fisted on Orlando's shoulders. He sucked air between his clenched teeth when he felt himself rising higher and higher. A growl rumbled in Viggo's throat when he came. And come he did - hard - shooting out streams of thick, sticky juice. Orlando aimed so it would all land on Viggo's chest and stomach, never slowing his pace until he was sure he'd drained Viggo completely. When he was satisfied Viggo had no more to give, Orlando pushed him back onto his chair. Slipping off the table, Orlando dropped to his knees. Stilling his hand on Viggo, he set to lapping up the hot seed coating his body. Each time Orlando moved, he was sure to rub against the softening organ in his hand. Orlando pressed his tongue flat to Viggo's stomach licking from his belly button to his collar bone collecting the white liquid as he went. Moving back down, Orlando licked diagonally to each nipple. From there, having cleaned up the majority, he slurped up each and every droplet he could find until Viggo was glistening with his saliva. As he felt himself finally starting to come back down, Viggo slumped against Orlando, who continued to ghost his hand over the limp shaft causing Viggo's entire body to jerk every time he neared the ruddy head. Even when he was completely sated, but still sensitive, Orlando was relentless. The light teases were maddening. Viggo bit down on Orlando's shoulder, both out of instinct and in hopes it would make him stop. When he didn't, Viggo grabbed his hand. "Please," he mumbled weakly, "I can't take anymore." Orlando looked at Viggo with a pout tugging his lips. “What about me, Vig?” he said. “Oh, angel,” Viggo pulled Orlando into his arms. “You’ve nearly exhausted me, I don’t know if I have strength enough for this,” his fingers danced over the denim hiding Orlando. Orlando moaned in Viggo’s ear, “Please, Vig? I’m so hard.” “And why is that?” Viggo asked. “What’s got my baby so turned on?” “You.” “Me? What have I done?” “You’re so sexy, I can’t keep my hands off of you,” Orlando said, running his fingers through Viggo’s hair. “Really?” Viggo asked as he worked the fastenings of Orlando’s jeans. “Oh, yeah…” “So, what do you want, Orli?” Viggo traced the purple vein on Orlando’s thick rod. Orlando fisted his hands in Viggo’s hair and crushed their mouths together. He sucked in Viggo’s tongue, letting his actions speak for him. He pulled away suddenly, “Now!” Getting to his feet, Orlando torn the shirt from his shoulders and shoved his pants to his ankles. He stepped out of them as he eyed Viggo’s less-than-interested organ. Viggo caught the grimace. “Sorry,” he shrugged. Sighing heavily, Orlando sat on the edge of the table. He placed one foot on Viggo’s chair and propped the other on his shoulder. He raised two fingers to Viggo’s mouth. Opening up, Viggo engulfed the digits, slicking them with his saliva. Orlando removed his fingers after just a few swipes of Viggo’s tongue, and immediately inserted both into himself. He hissed at the familiar sting but ignored it and continued pushing inside until he could go no further. Viggo watched, all the while knowing this show was for his benefit only. Orlando was pretending to really finger-fuck himself; he resisted touching his prostate because the minute he did it would be all over. All he wanted was for Viggo to get aroused again, though it mattered little, really. He could’ve been fucked by a hard or limp dick, he was way beyond caring at this point. Looking on as Orlando’s fingers vanished time and time again between bronzed globes, Viggo felt his flaccid penis stirring and soon it was jumping towards his stomach. Rising to his feet and holding Orlando’s ankle to his shoulder, Viggo gently laid him back on the table. He pulled Orlando’s fingers from his body, nudging at the puckered hole with his shiny head. Orlando grabbed his hips, trying to pull him in. Viggo stood firm. He pulled Orlando’s hands away and held them above his head. Leaning over Orlando’s body moved him into the tight heat, but not enough for Orlando. He pushed his hips down and clamped the muscles of his hot channel around Viggo. Viggo moaned at the pressure and pushed forward, sheathing himself fully. Orlando arched off the table, reeling at the intensity of their intimate connection. “Move…please,” Orlando squirmed beneath him. Smiling, Viggo pressed his lips to Orlando’s. He pulled out completely, to Orlando’s dismay, but shoved back in the next instant. He repeated the movement several times, allowing himself to be carried as near the edge of bliss as Orlando had been the entire time. When he felt he was close enough, Viggo let go of Orlando’s wrists and grabbed his hips, fiercely pounding into the taut body. Orlando clawed at Viggo’s chest, arms, back, any bit of skin he could reach, streaking it red. A pool of pearly fluid formed near his navel and grew with each twitch of his cock and pass over his sweet spot. “Oh, Vig…I-I’m going t-" Orlando’s words were cut off as a loud roar ripped from his throat. Jets of hot cum painted his chest and torso. His internal walls clenched around the thick muscle still inside him. Viggo continued thrusting, sure to press against the hidden buddle of nerves. Orlando’s body shuddered with post-orgasmic shocks. After another three - four - thrusts, Viggo felt fire spreading from his heavy balls all through his body. His fingers dug into Orlando’s hips; he’d see bruises there tomorrow. His body tensed, preparing for the rush of his climax. “Vig, stop,” Orlando panted. “Stop?” Viggo’s voice was strained with his on-coming release. “I can’t stop, Orli.” Orlando pushed against Viggo’s chest, “Vig, I want my facial.” Viggo slowed his hips and looked at Orlando. “What?” “My facial! I want it now,” Orlando pleaded. “Please, Vig, come on my face.” Viggo pulled out of Orlando and helped him to sit up. “Hurry, Orli, I can’t hold back much longer.” Orlando slide off the table and dropped to his knees in front of Viggo. He licked at the salty pre-cum dripping from the slit in Viggo’s penis while Viggo worked on bringing himself to completion manually. “How does it taste, baby?” Viggo groaned out. Orlando made pleasing noises in his throat as he swallowed the tangy liquid. “Oh, you taste so good. Please, I want more.” Viggo arched back, a small growl sent into the air. “You’re about to get all you want and then some.” He held Orlando’s head still with a hand tangled in his damp curls, and continued pumping his hand. “Get ready, baby, here it comes.” Orlando waited eagerly for Viggo to cover his face in ivory strands. He kept moaning and whimpering to urge Viggo along. With a few more jerks, Viggo was shooting his cum all over Orlando’s face and smearing it over his lips. Orlando accepted the marking, flicking his tongue out to catch any bit that he could. “You like that?” Viggo nearly barked out. “You like it when I come all over your face?” “Yes, Viggo,” Orlando moaned. “Ooo, you’re such a dirty whore!” Viggo berated. “Yes, Viggo, I’m your dirty whore!” Viggo pulled Orlando’s head back to look him in the eyes. “That’s right - mine!” He pulled Orlando to his feet, kissing him roughly. He could taste himself in Orlando’s mouth and loved the way it mixed perfectly with the natural taste of Orlando. Viggo looked at Orlando, breaking away for air. Orlando stood proudly in front of him, his own cum drying on his chest and Viggo's smeared all over his face. Viggo watched as a pink tongue slid over sex-swollen lips, hoping to find he'd missed a few drops. He wished he had his camera near by; it was such an erotic image. He reached for an item of clothing on the floor and wiped off Orlando’s chest and, reluctantly, his face. Viggo threw the garment back to the ground and sat back in his chair, pulling Orlando down with him. They cuddled for a moment before Orlando spoke. “So, Viggo, is that what you were thinking about?” he asked, reminding Viggo how this whole thing had started. Viggo smiled, shaking his head. “No, I was only thinking of the first time I ever had wine,” he answered. “I was thirteen and thought I was so cool. It was a family friend’s wedding and I ended up drunk off my ass after one glass.” He laughed at the memory. “Oh, it was awful.” Orlando frowned at him. “So, you weren’t thinking about fucking me?” “No,” Viggo was honest. “But I’m glad you thought I was,” he added, seeing the hurt that threatened to creep into Orlando’s eyes. He pulled him close and kissed him softly. A romantic kiss, it was. Orlando smiled down at him, “I didn’t have a clue what was on your mind, I just knew what was on mine.”