Three Days
by Jill B. Wilde

Viggo does not take Orlando to Quebec with seduction in mind. "A Walk On The Moon" is a project Viggo's still relatively pleased with. It was a pleasant experience, he liked the location, Orlando had some time off, Viggo would show Orlando the nicest parts of Quebec.

This is the lake where the little kids swam, Viggo says.

I have seen the movie and I remember this part, Orlando says. The naked hippies came around and crashed.

I wasn't in that part, Viggo says.

Orlando knows.

They make their own scenes, they swim in the nude. They splash around, and laugh.

Although they might get caught at any moment -the lake is near a town, the town is full of people- they are not interrupted. They play like brothers.

Orlando doesn't think Viggo knows.


They have set off for the woods. The temperatures are relatively mild, neither too hot or too cold and they sleep out of doors in sleeping bags next to a warm fire with the camper behind them.

The wood sparks and hisses as it burns.

Orlando thinks it a kindness that Indian Summer can be so beautiful, and he is thankful for the company of Viggo, who sees him as a little brother.

He remembers telling Viggo of how he'd met Kate for the first time, remembers the happiness of telling Viggo about finding love while they sat in a small booth of a sparsely crowded restaurant. It was quiet, and there was a willow on the window pane beside them. He tells Viggo of their breakup, how Kate hadn't cried, how they would stay friends.

He says all this, remembers all these things, and he wonders how Viggo could be so clueless.

But Viggo knows.


This is where we jumped, Viggo says.

He jumps off the cliff.

Orlando follows.

The cavern underneath the waterfalls is there, it looks the same.

They walk along it, going deeper.

This, however, is not the same.

It is not as similar as when Viggo had simulated having sex with Diana as they stayed in their roles: he, naked, she, with a bikini bottom the color of flesh.

He had stayed in character, the blouseman with a hard on, screwing the lonely housewife against a rock under a waterfall.

There was no penetration. It was a job.

Orlando is warm and wet and willing and fuck it's hot, against rock, as themselves, and they are not brothers, or if they did this would be incest, and Viggo thrusts faster in that tightwethotspace-


He feels a little like his limbs have been chloroformed. Maybe summerwined. All sweet, loose and rubbery. There are goosebumps prickling on his forearms. Viggo makes his way closer and Orlando thinks he's about to fall.

There is an ocean of thrumming blood pumping ecstatically in his veins. It calls to Viggo's blood, Viggo's senses much like Viggo's calls to him. It winds in a river of excitement between the both, and Orlando looks into Viggo's eyes and sees the sky.

He looks into Viggo's eyes and sees everything. The world.

It kneels.

And then there is the hotwarm pleasure of Viggo's mouth.

Orlando cradles his skull, closer, gently.

He comes.

Grabs Viggo by the shoulders.

Embraces him.


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