Title: Points of Contact
Author: Crimsonsenya
Pairing: V/O
Rating: PG
Genre: seven related drabbles,
Summary: Their story from 2001 to 2005.
A/N: These drabbles wouldn’t exist without Romika’s wit.
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i.
After the kiss Orli bestows on him, Viggo licks the rim of Orli’s ear that tastes as flowery and fruity as the rest of him. When Viggo kisses his earlobe, Orli squeals, but the cameras are already elsewhere. Early next morning, they take a walk on the beach together. Orli bounces back and forth over the sand, but he always returns to put his soft, tenuous hand on Viggo’s rough one. Under the bright warm Mediterranean sun, between the azure sky and emerald sea, listening to Orli’s excited prattle about the boot camp, Viggo wishes he could freeze the moment.
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ii.
By the time, Viggo finishes Apart and Communion, he realizes he only has one regret in his life. Pickups summer. Orli flies over from Australia to New Zealand for the weekend. First night, they hit the bars together. Whisky, beer, drunken madness. Viggo was a dying man, drinking in his fill of lingering looks and touches. The second night, a dinner on the countryside:
“You got to see this.” Orli rushes in with Henry. The moon. Can’t remember having seen it so bright, beautiful, full of promise.
“Come on.”
“Fuck off”
“I love you.” Viggo finally confesses, and Orli stumbles.
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iii.
At the lobby of the Regency there were lush plants that shadowed the clearly more than casual salutation. A current darted between them, pins and needles tingling on their skin. Unexpectedly, Viggo remembered the re-encounter of Ennis and Jack after four years in Brokeback Mountain. The slight surprise and apprehension in Orli’s eyes instantly melted into joy. Orli’s hips were reluctant to leave Viggo’s thighs; Viggo’s hands didn’t want to disentangle from silken hair and skin. Their lips screamed for more friction, but they bought a six-pack of beer, walked down to Central Park and compared tales from their travels.
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iv.
It had been only a month, but it could have been an eternity. Orli refused to acknowledge the coiling longing and blunt pain deep inside his guts. When he found himself jetlagged in the auditorium where Viggo performed, he admitted he was drawn to him with fatal necessity. The Wellington premiere was spent safely under Viggo’s arm, the flight to LA, as close to him as he could. When Viggo cradled his face before a dozen flashlights, there was no doubt whatsoever. He loved Viggo like a man. “I love Kate” would never even come close to “I love Viggo”.
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v.
“We could meet in Toronto.” The anticipation crackled loud and hard in the air the radio waves crossed to reach Viggo’s phone. When Viggo had complied and booked the room, Orli bought lube. After all, there was only so much temptation, desire and lust a man could resist. He sneaked out of the party and knocked the door. There were no words, only desperate movement and perfect synchronicity. Next day at the press conference, the jizz on his shirt for everyone to see, tucking greasy locks behind his ear and smiling like an idiot, Orli was the happiest bastard ever.
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vi.
The food was delicious and the music suave. They were almost the last patrons left. Life was a highway, and Orli believed in signs. It was an overwhelming moment when nothing but love stood between them.
“Would you hold my hand?” he asked. Viggo gazed at him, and Orli loved to be lost.
“You realize the guy over there is Ted Casablanca?”
“Do we have to care?”
Viggo didn’t reply. He extended his hands over the smooth marble and entwined their fingers. They matched as they had been cast in the same mould. What else could they do but smile?
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vii.
He stroked reverently the moustache and goatee.
“These look bloody stupid. You’re like some cheesy porn star…” Orli said as a grin split his face, “I love it.”
“It’s not any stupider than you seducing poor queens on silver screen…”
“Jealous?”
“You wish.”
“Wanker.”
“Until quite recently, yes,” Viggo grinned back.
Orli jumped off the bed. He stood gazing at the window, a dark, gloriously naked figure against the light. Viggo gasped. Orli’s shoulder blades protruded from his back.
“Do not move. I want to photograph the stumps of your wings.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Yeah, but you love it.”
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