viggorli_xmas | Gift fic for vampirebitch

Title: At the Altar of Anamnesis
Recipient:

vampirebitch
Author: To be revealed on 2015-01-01
Rating: explicit
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Summary: Time passed has changed nothing.
Notes: This fic is a companion piece to "Communion" by Viggo Mortensen.

"The paddle makes quiet splashes, the blade in the water," Viggo said. "It should be the only sound as we drift across the lake, but the night is bursting with life, frogs calling in the darkness, birds shrieking in flight overhead. I can't resent the world for choosing to celebrate life, because I make the same choice."

The fridge hummed, and Orlando's mug chinged as he set it down on the counter.

"We'd fall in," Orlando said. "Realistically. The canoe would tip over, and we'd fall in."

"We both swim," Viggo said. "And I wasn't trying to be realistic."

Orlando grinned. "Right."

"Stop interrupting. I'm trying to tell you something."

"So, we're on a lake?" Orlando asked, and Viggo nodded.

"A lake of distance and loss," Viggo said, and Orlando looked at Viggo dubiously. "And water," Viggo added.

"Better. I like allegorical lakes that will at least keep a boat afloat."

"I think drowning in allegory is a chance we all take," Viggo said, and they both laughed.

The comfort of this, of sharing coffee and mate and rambling conversation, was warming Orlando. He'd been away too long.

The last of the late afternoon sun slanted through Viggo's kitchen window, sending dust tumbling through the air, and Orlando drank another mouthful of his coffee. "And?"

It was easy to remember how things had once been between them, the unutterable comfort of long shadowed evenings deepening into lost nights.

Viggo met Orlando's gaze for an unguarded moment, and they were adrift.

"There's a doorway," Viggo said.

"Not on the allegorical lake?" Orlando asked, and Viggo swatted at him with an envelope covered in scribble, picked out of the clutter on the kitchen counter.

"We're back on dry land," Viggo said. "Keep up! You hold me, and it's a benediction, your body heat blesses me. The chill air surrounds us, but cannot reach through the circle of your arms."

Orlando slid his coffee cup away from him. He remembered the darkened doorway in Cuba Mall, and Viggo's mouth on his neck. Time was slipping away, a decade unravelling.

"Did we break each other?" Orlando asked. "Back then?"

Viggo ruffled his own hair, making it stand on end. "Neither of us are broken now, or were then. Any fractures that happened during the period inbetween are not the fault of our friendship."

"We didn't stay in touch," Orlando said.

"Friendship, true friendship, forgives the passage of time and the life that happens," Viggo said. "It forgets the gaps, the silences that were not intended."

The kitchen clock ticked above Orlando's head.

"I've missed your absurd face, and the way you talk and talk," Orlando said, and Viggo stuck his tongue out in response.

"But you remembered?"

"Just like you were that night in Cuba Mall," Orlando said.

"Allegorically?" Viggo asked.

The dregs of Orlando's coffee had cooled when he swirled his mug, so he pushed it amongst the clutter.

"Actually," Orlando said.

"I knelt then," Viggo said, pushing his gourd of mate aside.

The last sun's rays of the day were gone, and a settled dusk was upon Viggo's house, the bustle of life from outside coming through the open kitchen window.

A wildness rose within Orlando, made of words and memory, squeezing his chest and stealing his breath.

That night in Cuba Mall, the wind had picked up the splash and spray of the Bucket Fountain, carrying droplets to the shop doorway where they'd stood, Viggo pushing Orlando against the cool glass as they kissed. This time, in the evening kitchen, Viggo stood over Orlando and held Orlando's face in gentle hands, their mouths touching for long moments before either of them moved their lips.

Viggo's hands were warm, the palms and fingertips roughened and workworn against Orlando's cheeks and neck. Orlando smoothed Viggo's hair, traced the remnants of time clinging to his skin, found his pulse running free in his neck. No photos matched this; no memory burned the same.

"I kneel," Viggo said, crouching down in front of Orlando.

"Surely not in a canoe?" Orlando said, because they were both laughing. Falling in looked more and more likely.

Viggo made a dismissive noise as he settled his weight on his knees.

"I will drown for you," Viggo said, pushing his hands up Orlando's thighs, smoothing denim over skin.

Viggo eased the fly of Orlando's jeans undone, and Orlando hitched his hips up and pushed his jeans down.

Viggo's head tipped forward, his cheek against Orlando's bare thigh, and Orlando touched the tight cords of his neck.

Orlando thought of the things he ought to say—this isn't why I called—I missed you for more than just this—will we capsize?—but all he said was a long exhale of "yes" when Viggo freed his cock.

The pull of Viggo's mouth, flat of his tongue against Orlando's cock, was matched by the push and twist of his fingers, moving skin across flesh. The scrape and rub of stubble on Orlando's thighs was intoxicating, like every dream of the past. His belly tightened and he wound his fingers into Viggo's hair.

"Wanna," Orlando said, using his grip on Viggo's scalp to ease Viggo's head up so he could see.

"Don't make me stop," Viggo said, and spit stretched from his lip to the head of Orlando's cock.

Orlando relaxed his grip, and Viggo's mouth slid down his cock all the way, making them both groan.

When Orlando closed his eyes, the ticking of the kitchen clock was the drumming of his heart against his ribs. His moans were louder than the hum of the traffic outside, and he came with a sharp gasp, fingernails digging into the rattan of the kitchen chair.

Viggo lifted himself up with an elbow on the kitchen counter, wiping his wet and dangerous mouth on his other forearm, then leaned forward and kissed Orlando.

"Oh, get up," Orlando said.

"I needed to check how you looked," Viggo said, grinning at Orlando.

Orlando grinned back. "From that angle?"

Viggo nodded, standing up and stretching his back, then hitching himself on the counter. "It's like not a day has passed."

Orlando stood and pulled his jeans up, then slung an arm around Viggo's neck, bringing their heads together.

They kissed, the years slipping away.

"Can we talk?" Orlando asked. "Not allegorically?"

Viggo nodded. "Tomorrow? I have things to say tonight that will need a lake and a canoe."

"We can both swim," Orlando said, and they could.

END