|Half Open Door
The lamp next to the bed was on, warm golden light in the quiet gloom. The covers had been pulled back, folded over the end of the bed. Most of the pillows had fallen off the bed. One was under Elijah's hips, a bedsheet tangled up over Orlando's ankles.
Soft sounds. Elijah's breath in short hurried gasps, a long sweet sigh as Orlando shifted above him. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was dreaming, staring at something far away, reaching for something that was already lost. The wet quiet smack of each thrust, the rasp as Elijah's legs moved restlessly, ankles locking around Orlando's thighs, uncrossing so his feet pushed into he bed, hips rising and then another sharp gasp.
Orlando was silent. Balanced on his elbows, legs stretched out and his back arched, a long smooth line of muscles, olive skin warmed by the lamp light, the sheen of sweat. He raised his head, closed his eyes when he moved in, lashes fluttering down for a moment, then they would snap open and he would bend again. He dipped once to kiss Elijah, tongue flicking out along Elijah's opening mouth, a hot hungry kiss.
Elijah's hands let go of fisting in the bedsheet, curved round Orlando's head, slid down his back to rest a moment in the hollows at his hips before Orlando twisted his hips, a sudden hard push that made Elijah clench his teeth, lips bared as he scrabbled to hold Orlando closer, to push him away.
Orlando looked up and saw him, and Viggo's hands curled into fists, the hotel key pressing sharply into his palm.
"Who do you want me to be, Lij?" Orlando's voice was gentle. He smoothed the hair back from Elijah's forehead, running his thumb across his eyebrows, his hand - Viggo remembered what that hand felt like, the calluses from the bow, the ails cut short all the time, long light fingers that had run across his arm, left a ghost touch that he could feel now - cupping Elijah's face, drawing him up so they were almost kissing, mouths almost touching. "Who do you want me to be? Sean?"
Elijah shuddered and Viggo almost stepped forward, almost spoke, anger a hot sudden spike when Orlando whispered, "Not him, not him, huh. How about Liv, Liv with some huge strap-on, lubed up silicon? You think she'd look good with a dick?" Elijah was laughing, breathless giggles as Orlando's voice rose to a squeak, "Oh Frodo, know what they say about elf-maidens? Want to see why Aragon's still hanging about after thirty years?" His voice dropped down again and Orlando murmured "Maybe it's Aragon, is that it? You thinking about Viggo, Lij?"
"No, no, you," Elijah said, "so beautiful, god. Fuck, fuck. Harder, Orli, please. Please. Don't talk, just -"
"Keep your eyes closed," Orlando said and lifted himself off Elijah. He stood up on the bed. Viggo stayed where he was standing, fists by his sides. Elijah's legs slid apart, gleaming smears on his thighs, a half-empty tube of lube thrown among the bedsheets. On the bed, Elijah looked small, young. Vulnerable. He crossed his arms, drew his legs together, but he kept his eyes closed obediently.
Orlando stood over him for a moment, hands on his hips. he was tall, tall and slender and his face was still, unreadable as he stared at Viggo.
He looked, and he'd looked before, he knew it even when he told himself he hadn't. Accidental glances, and close quarters and not in a bedroom with sex in the air, with Orlando's chest rising and falling, with Orlando's skin, endless, endless perfect skin and then - he looked, and he knew Orlando saw his gaze drop, thought that Orlando knew the tightness in his throat, that he couldn't breathe because he was beautiful. Hard and wet, and Viggo's mouth felt empty, his hands ached. He wanted to taste, to bury his face against the curls there, slide his tongue down the curve where Orlando's thighs ended, to taste and feel the heat, the silk of Orlando's skin - he closed his eyes and breathed harshly.
"Orli?" Elijah said uncertainly, and Orlando looked away from Viggo and his face gentled.
"It's alright," he said and knelt and turned Elijah over, smoothing the pillow under him. He rolled up the tube, clear and glistening over his hands and parted Elijah's legs. He leant down and kissed the back of Elijah's neck. "It's alright," he said. Then he straightened up and looked at Viggo again. "You ever think about him, Lij? Viggo?" He leaned back onto his heels, one hand wrapped around his cock, a restless flick of his wrist and mouth opening in a soundless gasp. Viggo could not look there, could not look away.
"He's not," Elijah said breathlessly as Orlando ran his hand down the cleft of his ass, throwing his head back when his hand closed around Elijah's cock. His eyes were still closed. "He's not interested in guys," Elijah said. "Not even you."
Orlando smiled, a fleeting bitter twist and Viggo flinched. "I bet if he saw you like this," Orlando said. "Naked and wet and so fucking gorgeous, you are, Lij, he'd keep looking."
Viggo knew it would happen, knew that this is what happened, had seen these things in grainy videos people played for laughs. He'd walked in on people by accident, movie-sets and drunken parties. He knew this is what happened, knew that it would be different, that it would be strange.
He had not expected the sudden beauty to hold him frozen, to send tremors through him, desire, desire, desire for the sight of Orlando's cock against Elijah's ass, the parting, the smooth slide. They fit, and they didn't fit, and then there was such desire, a fierce need that made his body ache, empty and hungry for the way Elijah moved under him, the flex of Orli's muscles and he wanted.
"If he was here," Orlando said. "Watching me fuck you, Lij. Seeing the way you move under me, you think he'd watch? Think he'd want to join in? Think I should turn you over on your side, keep fucking you while Viggo went down on you? His mouth and my cock and you'd be caught in between us, we'd be fucking you, licking you, sucking you."
"Jesus," Elijah whispered. He was moving harder, Orlando's hands on his hips and there was a soft slam as their bodies met.
"Maybe he'd just watch," Orlando said. His eyes were dark, huge and he did not look away from Viggo, standing caught in the room. "Stand there and watch me fuck you, listen to the sounds we make. You think he'd do that," Orlando said. He was breathing raggedly now, moving faster and harder. "Watch us and say nothing? Just stand there while we fuck?"
Elijah didn't answer, couldn't as he came, twisting and buckling, his knees pressing down into the bed, his back arching against Orlando's chest, and it wasn't a name he said as he came, almost a sound, but Viggo heard it, and Orlando knew because his hands left Elijah's hips, went to his shoulders to hold him, to trail kisses down Elijah's tear-stained face. "Hush," Orlando whispered. "It's alright," he said and he looked back at Viggo when he came, his face closing as if he were in great pain, and only the shudders that ran through his body betrayed that.
"Oh Lij," Orlando said afterwards. He cradled him in his arms, turning him so his face was pressed against Orlando's chest. "Don't cry, don't cry. It'll be alright."
"Sean," Elijah said brokenly. "I wanted it to be Sean first."
Viggo bent and put the room key on the carpet. He looked at Orlando over Elijah's shoulders. Orlando stared back and Viggo didn't understand. Didn't know what to do except walk away, shutting the door as quietly as he had opened it.