Bad Poetry
by
Bluespirit

Fandom: Lord of the Rings RPS
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando, Sean/Eric (implied)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Viggo isn't looking for love.
Word count: 4 037

Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. The author is not making any claims as to the real life sexualities or preferences of the people portrayed here. This is purely for entertainment, not profit.

Notes:
1.  My offering for the ViggOrli Ficathon challenge. The prompt was 'AU romance where Viggo meets Orli in a dance club and falls hard'. 
2.  My grateful thanks to Xanthe for the wonderful beta and to Amanda and Jess for checking for any lurking Briticisms.

The noise was oppressive, a cacophony of booming bass overlaid with the constant chatter and hum of voices shouting to be heard above the pulsating music.

Viggo shook his head and wondered, for perhaps the tenth time in as many minutes, why he was here, standing in an overcrowded dance club while the beat of music he didn't recognise vibrated up from the soles of his feet and reverberated itself into an incipient headache. Then he smiled. He was here because of Sean, of course. His best friend was in love and because he cared about Viggo, Sean wanted him to find love too, to find the perfect man to settle down with. However, quite why Sean thought that Viggo, a fortysomething art history professor with a penchant for poetry and abstract painting, would find true love amongst the gyrating bodies in a noisy gay nightclub was another matter entirely. Actually Viggo knew that the club had been Eric's idea. Eric was Sean's boyfriend - younger than them both and still keen to mix with Santa Monica's lively nightlife. To be honest both Viggo and Sean were a little more reserved, enjoying quieter pastimes, but Sean was head over heels in love with Eric and happy to indulge him. Viggo would have been concerned that the relationship was one-sided if Eric didn't also clearly worship the ground that Sean walked on. He was truly happy for them both, they complemented each other perfectly and were blissfully happy. But that, of course, did mean that they wanted him to experience the same joy that they shared and so here he was, waiting for them to arrive, and resigned to spending a long Friday evening making his friends happy by trying to find Mr Right…or at least going through the motions anyway. He was quite content with his life and, if a little empty when it came to someone to share it with, it was still good - he had his work, his art and his friends. Friends who were currently nowhere in sight…

Viggo checked his watch, they were late again - probably getting delayed helping each other 'shower' or something like that. He grinned to himself; he could get a lot of teasing mileage out of this he was sure. It amused Viggo that his very manly friend, a renowned military historian and ex-commando to boot, could still blush delightfully at the merest mention of sex. Resigned to waiting patiently, he leaned against a wall and looked around the neon-lit club. There was a large crowd at the bar and so he decided to wait for Sean and Eric to arrive before braving the masses in search of beer. His eyes swept over the heaving dance floor and he sighed quietly. He felt out of place, his subdued button down shirt and worn denims so at odds with the writhing throng in their leather pants and mesh vests or skimpy hot pants and tight tee shirts…or no shirts at all. He wasn't really sure what he was expecting to find here. Just as he began to feel a little lost, Viggo noticed a gap in the crowd, a space where one man - and one man only - danced. Viggo's gaze was drawn to the solitary figure, a man - well, no more than a boy really - with long dark curls softly framing an elegant, almost angelic face. He was dressed simply, just dark, well cut slacks and a white dress shirt, but he was more arresting than any of the strutting, preening bodies surrounding him. The boy danced, perfectly attuned to the driving beat, his hips gyrating and enflaming in turn. Many eyes were fixed on him but he danced on alone, he wasn't here to impress, he was here to feel alive - somehow Viggo just knew it, just felt it as he looked on entranced.

As Viggo continued to watch he saw other dancers approach, trying to entice the boy into their arms - or beds - but each was rebuffed. There were no harsh words or recriminations as each unlucky suitor was simply turned away with a gentle shake of the head and a smile. It was as if the boy shone with light and others felt drawn to that warmth, needed to be near him...

Viggo snorted at himself. This was why he wrote such bad poetry. Here he was going into raptures over a boy he didn't even know and imbuing him with some ethereal, otherworldly quality when he was probably just some local kid working his way through college by pumping gas at the weekends or working at the Seven-Eleven.

However, as Viggo mocked himself for his fanciful ideas, the boy looked up and dark, smoky eyes locked with Viggo's own, making his breath catch. He stood paralysed, unable and unwilling to look away as the moment seemed to stretch out like a golden strand of light linking them together, everything beyond the sight of that bewitching boy simply fading away. Heat rushed through his body as he felt stripped naked by the intensity of the knowing gaze, certain that his every thought was transparent to those captivating eyes. Was this what love at first sight felt like?

Suddenly Viggo's cell phone rang, the staccato rhythm shattering the moment as he automatically looked away at the insistent ringing. He swore quietly and quickly looked back to the dance floor but it was too late - the boy was gone, their rarefied, shimmering connection broken.

Feeling an inexplicable loss, Viggo snapped open his cell and moved towards a quiet alcove, his eyes still fruitlessly scanning the room.

"Hello? Vig?"

It was Sean and Viggo felt his annoyance ease at the familiar voice.

"Who else would be answering my phone, Sean?" he asked with a grin.

"Yeah, obviously," Sean laughed. "Look, I'm sorry Vig but there's a problem."

"What, you and Eric have become pruned and withered from making out in the shower and can't unwrap yourselves from each other?" Viggo teased, his smile becoming broader as Sean huffed ineffectually down the phone. He could just imagine his friend's cheeks burning.

"No we haven't, you tosser!" Sean laughed ruefully. "In fact, I'll have you know that we were ready to leave on time tonight."

"Wonders will never cease. I'm impressed," Viggo drawled. "So what's the problem?"

Sean became more serious. "I'm really sorry, mate but we can't make it. We're stuck on the side of the road waiting for bloody Triple A. I think the radiator's overheated or something. Eric's under the bonnet now muttering dire things about 'fucking Japanese fucking piece of fucking crap engines' or something - it's difficult to tell through the clenched teeth." Viggo could hear the fond laughter in Sean's voice and could imagine him watching Eric as he cursed colourfully at the unfortunate vehicle.

"That's too bad," Viggo said. "Do you need me to come pick you up?"

"No, s'okay, thanks. Like I say, we're waiting for the breakdown wagon and hopefully they can put us right. It's just by the time it's all sorted it'll be time to go home anyway, plus Eric's got himself covered in oil and god knows what. I am sorry, Vig. Didn't mean to mess up the evening for you like this. But maybe you can stay and try your luck on the dance floor, eh? I know you've got all the moves!"

Viggo snorted and smiled at Sean's answering laugh. "Yeah, right. I don't think this is really my kind of thing but thanks for the thought." He smiled again as Sean's laugh deepened.

"Yeah, maybe not, Vig. But I am sorry. Make it up to you on Sunday? Eric's barbequing."

"Sounds great," Viggo said enthusiastically, already looking forward to Eric's superb grilled ribs with special sauce. "I'll see you both then. But let me know if that tow truck doesn't get there soon and I'll come get you, okay?"

"Thanks, Vig, you're a mate. See you Sunday."

"'Night, Sean," Viggo said, closing his phone and returning it to his pocket.

He moved back towards the dance floor and looked around hopefully but the boy was nowhere to be seen. It was probably for the best anyway. Viggo was too old for love at first sight, no matter what he'd felt when those beautiful, dark eyes had met his, and he was definitely too old for a boy like that. What would a young Adonis want with someone like him? Especially as he seemed to be losing his mind anyway - waxing rhapsodically and spouting trite love poetry at every turn. Yeah, it was better this way. He'd go home, have a drink and settle down with a book before heading to bed. Or perhaps he'd try to write anyway, it might help to exorcise the image of those haunting eyes. Yeah, definitely time to leave. Glancing around one last time, he headed for the doorway.

"Going already?"

A soft, beautifully cultured English accent stopped him in his tracks. Without even looking Viggo knew the owner of that lilting voice. He took a breath and turned around with a hesitant smile.

It was him - the boy - as if it could be anyone else. He looked slightly older now that Viggo could see him closely but he was still no more than twenty-five, his skin smooth and perfect as porcelain. But it was his eyes, those dark eyes that were a deep luminous brown, which ensnared Viggo completely.

"Yeah. I-I'm not much of a dancer, really," Viggo murmured, still staring into the boy's unwavering gaze.

The boy smiled, a slow, warm smile that lit his face and bathed Viggo in light. "Just one dance, please?" There was a hint of flirtation but also a genuine desire to dance with him, Viggo could feel it and was powerless to resist.

Viggo nodded and, a little shy all of a sudden, took the proffered hand. The boy's touch was as warm and electrifying as his smile. Viggo was lost…

"I'm Orlando." The voice was like liquid honey.

"Viggo," Viggo murmured and let Orlando lead him towards the dance floor.

The music had changed, it was slower and more sensuous, and Orlando draped his arms around Viggo's shoulders, his hands resting lightly at the nape of his neck. Viggo smiled and reached for Orlando's narrow waist, pulling him closer until their bodies rested comfortably against each other, though the shock of shared body heat momentarily made his heart race. It was as if they were made for each other, Orlando's slender frame nestling perfectly against him. Viggo had the benefit of a little extra height and Orlando's head seemed to naturally come to rest against his shoulder, a treasured, somehow familiar weight.

They moved slowly in time with the music, more a rhythmic swaying of bodies than an actual dance but Viggo couldn't remember anything ever having felt so right. They didn't speak, there was no need, and a calming sense of familiarity enveloped him as they held each other close. Viggo dared to rub his cheek against the silky curls spilling across his shirt and breathed in their light, heady scent. He smiled, losing himself in a haunting trace of a summer breeze. He could stay like this forever, just holding Orlando close and breathing him in…

The music gradually began to change, the tempo increasing, yet they remained swaying together, almost oblivious to everything but each other. Viggo swallowed and pressed his mouth close to Orlando's ear, the soft skin warm against his lips.

"Um, I was wondering…" he stopped, unsure of how to continue. He wanted to ask Orlando to come home with him but he didn't know what to say exactly. He just didn't do this - didn't do one-night stands. And in his heart he knew that he wanted this to be more than that, more than a casual pick-up and a night of fun. But how could he ask? How could he say all that and not scare Orlando off? Or would he be treated to a kind but pitying look; a young, gorgeous god gently brushing off an old fool teetering on the brink of falling hopelessly in love?

Orlando lifted his head and that alluring gaze ensnared Viggo again. And then it was as if he just knew, knew that he could ask and that Orlando would understand…wouldn't think him a fool at least.

"Would you like to come home with me?" Viggo murmured, his voice barely audible above the inconsequential noise swirling around them.

Orlando's lips quirked up in a gentle, completely heart-stopping smile. "I'd love to."

~

The journey passed by in a blur of shy smiles and shared looks, and before he knew it, Viggo was parking the car in the driveway and ushering Orlando into his home. He flicked the light-switch and winced slightly when he saw the usual clutter of manuscripts, books and canvasses littering the lounge.

"Oh, yeah…sorry," Viggo smiled in embarrassment, sweeping a pile of papers from the couch to the coffee table in order to make some room. "I have a system. It sort of works for me…" He jerked his head around in surprise as warm laughter filled the room.

"I think it's perfect," Orlando was smiling at him. "It looks like creativity and passion - very *you*, I'd say."

Viggo nodded, somehow knowing that Orlando actually meant what he said, that it wasn't some glib line meant to impress. He was right too - all of this *was* him…his art, his writing, his *life*. And there was Orlando, standing in the midst of it all and looking completely and perfectly in place…filling a gap that Viggo had only subconsciously been aware was there. It was a heady thought and one that left him a little unbalanced.

He knew that he should offer Orlando a drink, ask him to sit on the couch and that they should talk and go through the motions of getting to know one another. But he didn't want to, felt like he didn't need to. He couldn't explain it, unless he was suffering some sort of rapid on-set weird mid-life crisis, but he felt like they'd already done that. It was as if they'd known each other for years and knew everything they needed to know. So okay, they might not know the *details* but Viggo felt that their minds had connected somehow. There was no need for formalities or the niceties of small talk.

Viggo took a breath and hoped that Orlando was feeling the same way. He stepped forward and held out his hand.

"Orlando?"

Uncertainty fell away as Orlando took his hand and moved into his arms, their bodies melded from chest to thigh to knee.

"Yes. *Yes*," Orlando whispered fiercely, answering the unasked question, and pressed his mouth to Viggo's.

The kiss was like molten fire - intense, rolling heat scorching Viggo's lips. Sweet breath mingled with his own as he exhaled and then sucked on the luscious tongue pushing into his mouth. Orlando kissed with his whole body, plundering Viggo's lips while wrapping his hands around his head, long fingers stroking through his hair. It was all too much…and not nearly enough. Viggo knew that he had to have more.

He managed to pull away slightly, their lips still touching. "Bedroom?"

Orlando didn't need to say the words. Viggo could feel the anticipation thrumming through the slender body pressed tightly against him as Orlando deepened the kiss. An anticipation that keenly matched his own. Never breaking their kiss, Viggo slowly manoeuvred them down the hallway to his bedroom at the back of the house. They pulled their mouths apart only briefly, just enough to remove suddenly cumbersome clothes, and then surged back together; even a short absence was too much. It was as if they couldn't get enough of each other, as if their kisses were like air and they needed them to survive. Viggo didn't really understand what was happening, *why* it was happening but he knew better than to question. He just decided to go with it, let fate take him wherever it may.

Finally they were both naked and Viggo lowered Orlando to the bed. He took a moment to just stare. Orlando was truly beautiful with soft olive-toned skin over deceptively well- proportioned muscles. His long elegant legs were stretched out, one knee canted casually to the side, drawing Viggo's hungry eyes to his impressive sex, lying hard against his thigh. Viggo groaned at the enticing sight and unconsciously wet his lips, his own shaft hardening further as he gazed on.

"Viggo," Orlando murmured, a warm smile playing across lush, kiss-swollen lips. "Come to bed, babe. I need you." He held open his arms and Viggo was helpless to resist, quickly blanketing the lean body with his own. The touch of naked skin to skin was like a current racing through him, his heart thundering hard in his chest.

Hands stroked and mouths worshipped as they both thoroughly mapped and cherished each other's bodies. Viggo moaned in delight as tender lips teased at his nipples and then he returned the compliment, sucking and nipping Orlando's chest until the rosy discs stood proud. He whimpered blissfully as Orlando found the sensitive spot behind his ear, nearly driving him mad with kitten-soft licks, and then drank his fill of Orlando's breathy cries as he kissed his inner thighs, the skin there as soft as satin. They moved together as one, each somehow knowing what to do to please and enflame the other, a rapturous dance that they knew intimately. Finally, after bringing each other to the brink of completion over and over again, Viggo stilled, looking down at Orlando.

"I want you."

Orlando nodded and entwined his legs more firmly around Viggo, cradling him between his thighs. "Want you too. Need you…" His smile was bright and his eyes danced with arousal. Viggo knew that his own face mirrored the emotion.

Viggo moved to one side and reached for the lube, coating his fingers. He carefully and thoroughly prepared Orlando, stretching open the tight passage and massaging the tender gland within until Orlando was writhing, clearly barely able to contain himself.

"Now, please…please, Viggo."

"Now," Viggo breathed, fighting to keep himself calm, desperate to bury himself in the pliant, luscious body beneath him. He couldn't wait any longer, it was like some kind of imperative driving him on. He rolled on a condom and quickly slicked himself, he didn't want there to be any discomfort in their joining. He wouldn't hurt Orlando, despite his urgency.

Viggo carefully lifted Orlando's legs, placing them on his shoulders and gracing each ankle with a brief kiss. Orlando smiled at that but his eyes still glowed feverishly and he nodded in eager readiness. Viggo took his hard cock in hand and placed it against Orlando's moist entrance. Taking a calming breath, he slowly pushed forward, sinking inexorably into the exquisite, violent heat of Orlando's body.

"Oh, god…" They both moaned in unison, savouring the delirious burn as they moved together in perfect harmony, hips pumping and mouths crashing against each other.

Viggo couldn't even begin to process all the sensations and feelings. Random thoughts and phrases slid across his consciousness like quicksilver. So good…heat…tight…endless ecstasy… waiting over…Orlando…*Orlando*.

"*Orlando*" Viggo groaned out the name as wave after wave of furious, elated bliss crashed through him. His hips quickened and he felt Orlando matching the motion, their mingled moans coming faster as their pleasure peaked. With a final ravenous, lunging thrust, Viggo buried himself, shooting his seed deep within his lover's heaving body as Orlando's own climax spilled between them.

~

They must have dozed for a while after cleaning up because when Viggo struggled to wakefulness they were spooned together under the covers with Orlando pulled tightly to his chest. This felt so right. Having Orlando here like this, in his arms…his bed…his *life*. He buried his nose in the sweet smelling curls under his chin. Was he just an old fool, caught up in some fairy tale romance of his own making? Was this just a one-night stand and Orlando would be gone come morning, leaving Viggo with nothing but a sweet memory and an empty heart? But there *had* been a connection, he was sure of it. It was something more…something…something…

Viggo sighed. He couldn't put it into words, this wasn't a poem, a romantic notion - this was real life and there *was* something more to what he'd experienced with Orlando, he felt it in his bones. And what about if Orlando felt the same way about him? What would the future hold for them? He smiled to himself, imagining them living together, sharing all the daily minutiae of life, sharing *everything*…lazy days at the beach, grousing over who's turn it was to do laundry, long evenings wrapped in each other's arms…a whole lifetime of experiences to share. He could just imagine Sean's stunned look on Sunday when he took Orlando over for the barbeque and proudly announced that they'd met at the club. Eric would be ecstatic, of course, as the club had been his idea but he knew that both his friends would be overjoyed for him. He paused in his daydreaming and took a breath. But how realistic was any of this? Would Orlando even be here on Sunday? Was it all just a bad poet's forlorn hope? Was he jumping the gun and just deluding himself that this was something real and more than a one-night stand? Was he just kidding himself? It wasn't like he'd gone out tonight actually looking for the man of his dreams but somehow he'd found him. Now the real question was, could he keep him?

Orlando stirred in his arms, making tiny snuffling noises as he rolled over. Sleepy brown eyes gazed up at him. "Hello, love."

Viggo felt his throat tighten at the endearment, at the power in that one small word. "Hi, baby," he answered a little unsurely.

Orlando beamed and stretched like a lazy cat rubbing against him. "What are you thinking about? Looking so serious?"

Viggo hesitated. What could he say? 'I've been thinking about the way that I've fallen in love with you and, despite the fact that we hardly know each other and that I'm twenty years older than you, would you like to spend the rest of your life with me please?' No, that probably wouldn't be a good idea. Perhaps he ought to just start with something small? "Um, I was just thinking about…um, whether you'd like to stay over?" he mumbled. "You know, for breakfast?" he added hurriedly.

Orlando smiled and kissed him softly. "I'd love to stay for breakfast, thank you."

Viggo sighed in relief.

"Oh, love?" Orlando said, snuggling in closer and pillowing his head on Viggo's chest. "After breakfast, I was thinking that I could stay a bit longer if you like."

"Of course," Viggo whispered happily, stroking his hands across Orlando's shoulders.

"I was thinking about…forever," Orlando murmured casually, lightly kissing the skin above Viggo's heart and settling down to sleep. "If that's okay with you…"

Viggo felt an all-encompassing warmth blossom inside him and he hugged Orlando closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Sounds perfect, baby. Just perfect." His voice was a little choked but that was okay…maybe there was something to all this love at first sight and bad poetry thing after all.

The end

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