Good As Gold
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen / Marton Csokas, Billy Boyd- LOTR RPS
Date: December 26, 2003
Feedback: yes please! also constructive criticism of any kind.
Disclaimer: not true, I made it up
Archive: yes, go ahead, please let me know
Notes: For the slashababy Secret Slasha challenge, for yueni who wanted Viggo / Marton and smut. Billy just showed up, and I discovered how hard it is to write smut from the outside.
Notes 2: Thanks to all the people I whinged to about this fic, which started easily and then got stuck. And especially to almostnever for an excellent practical beta and to to jubilancy for the first read and final beta.
Notes 3:Part of my BillyViggoverse, such as it is.
WARNING: this story has explicit depictions of sex between men and women, men and men, and women and women.
If you are offended by erotica, explicit sex, or gay porn, please go elsewhere.
This story is LOTR RPS -- it uses the names of real people involved in making the Lord of the Rings movies.
This story is not true. I made it up.
Good As GoldMarton and Viggo stumble up the stairs, clutching each other and laughing hysterically. Then Marton catches Viggo's shoulder and turns him close, running a finger down his cheek. "Nice," he whispers, and Viggo leans into the hand, eyes half closed. Marton starts the kiss gently, but it turns fierce, He pushes Viggo against the wall and pins him there. Viggo lets him, leans back, kisses back hard, pushes into Marton's body. They struggle for a moment, then Marton steps back and smiles.
"Where's the bedroom?" Marton asks, and Viggo slings an arm over his shoulder and walks him down the hall.
They don't realize that Billy, lying on the the guestroom bed in the dark, can see into Viggo's bedroom. Billy knows he should stop watching, or at least make a noise. But he stays still and remembers.
Billy fucking hated elves. But he'd only admit it to himself when he was drunk.
Hated Liv, who looked great but acted like a block of wood, and didn't appreciate the fucking genius that was Viggo.
Hated Orlando, who was sleeping with Liv though he knew about Elijah's gigantic pash for her. And hated Orlando for having slept with Viggo.
Hated Hugo, who seemed to think that Billy was Pippin and used simple words with him.
Couldn't hate Craig. Craig laughed about his wig -- which was even worse than Hobbit-mullets. Craig made fun of everyone, but didn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it.
But the bloke on the other side of Craig; Billy hated him the most.
"Who is he?" he hissed to Craig, trying not to sound like a third-former.
"Marton, he plays Celeborn, he's a mate!" Craig twisted around, "Oy, have you met Billy? He's a hobbit, you probably figured that out." And turned back, "Marton was in Xena with us; he's done a ton of theatre, Shakespeare even. You have a lot in common."
Billy bared his teeth. "I remember Xena," he offered, carefully not saying what a shite show he thought that was.
Marton seemed friendly enough. But Marton was tall and dark and buff; essentially the anti-Billy. It wasn't entirely his fault that Billy would rather cut Marton's throat than talk to him. And that thought called for more beer, because Billy didn't like that feeling. Just because Marton was pulling Viggo.
If it were anyone else, or he'd had just a little less beer, Billy would not watch.
Viggo's shirt is off and he's moaning under Marton's mouth. Marton growls a little, dragging his tongue along Viggo's collarbone. His big hands roam along Viggo's shoulders. Viggo starts by just leaning back and taking it. But soon, he's giving as good as he gets, finding the places that make Marton grind down further. Marton shrugs off his shirt and his hard body gleams a little in the dim light. He groans and bites Viggo's neck, making him yell.
The perfect reason for Billy to pretend to wake up, but he's not going to. He can't have Viggo, and he can't stop watching.
Marton is clearly surprised by Viggo's response, soothing the mark with his hand and gentling Viggo. "You," he murmurs, "your gayboy, he didn't play rough."
Viggo's husky voice answers, "Nah, you just surprised me. One of my girlfriends liked biting."
Marton sounds amused, "You told me you were pretty new at this..." He lies on his side, still stroking Viggo.
"I'm an adult, you think I've been a monk? Only new with men."
"If you can call that boy a man, though he does kiss like an angel."
"Orlando's over with," Viggo says firmly, as he arches into Marton.
He runs his hand appreciatively down Marton's back and onto his ass. Marton moves into it, growls again and reaches for Viggo's neck, pulling him down again. That kiss leaves both of them breathing hard. Their bodies meet again, skin sliding against slick skin.
Viggo is methodical, touching everywhere, finding the places that make Marton react. Marton is more staccato, pausing and then attacking again. He concentrates on Viggo's neck and chest, with a few detours to his arms and lips. Viggo doesn't stop, but makes low noises when something works. Marton licks partway down Viggo's chest, which makes Viggo arch and mumble, "Oh fuck, yeah."
Billy's chest aches. Why does Marton have to be so good at this?
With a deft hand, Marton undoes Viggo's jeans and slides under. Viggo's breathing gets ragged and he starts to rock back and forth. Looking at Marton, he says, "Well, this is different."
Marton growls, "I should fucking hope so." He pushes and nudges Viggo onto his back. "I'm not a boy." His hand flexes down Viggo's pants, and Viggo inhales sharply, his nostrils flaring like a spooked horse.
"Not in such a damn hurry, OK?" Viggo sounds a little testy.
Marton chuckles, "Spent too long with the ladies," and moves his arm again. The movement makes Viggo groan and curse and clutch at Marton's back. Marton chuckles again, "Hard and fast is the best, mate. I'm going to make you see stars."
Viggo's breath catches, but his voice is calm, interested, "I haven't been fucked before."
Oh Viggo, you blithering idiot.
"S'truth?" Marton is clearly surprised. "Bloody hell... I'm far too pissed to do it right."
Billy lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Maybe he won't eviscerate Marton after all.
Marton leans down and licks across Viggo's neck. "How about giving head, did Orlando teach you anything?"
"We did that, yeah." Viggo sounds a little disappointed, but he starts kissing his way down Marton's chest and undoing his trousers.
Marton ratchets about, and suddenly they're lying on their sides, cock-to-mouth, both of them. Marton pulls down Viggo's jeans and underpants. Viggo lifts his hips a little to let them slip over his arse and down his legs, and pushes at Marton's trousers. Marton shimmies out of them while attacking the inside of Viggo's thighs, making Viggo moan again. Then his mouth moves to Viggo's cock, teasing just for a moment before swallowing it deeply.
Viggo's body goes very very still, and then thrusts his hips a tiny bit, "Fuck, that's good." He opens his own mouth and licks tentatively at Marton's cock. When Marton hums appreciation, Viggo groans. He licks along the sides and tongues the head, exploring. Soon he's taking more and more of it into his mouth: for such a buff guy, it's not all that big. Marton sets the rhythm, guiding Viggo's hips with one hand and Viggo's mouth with the other. Viggo's moaning against the cock in his mouth almost continually now, and Marton growls occasionally, making Viggo strain against the restraining hands.
Billy finds himself sweating. His hand slips down under his pants and strokes in time with Marton.
It doesn't go on long. Viggo's hips are moving as much as Marton will allow, and his mouth slips off Marton's cock as the strokes speed up. His back arches and he throws his head back, showing corded tendons in his neck. He doesn't say much, just, "fucking great" in that mumble of his. Then, "I'm close, I'm really close," and he holds still. Marton brings his hands onto Viggo's cock and his mouth off, saying, "I want to watch". Viggo makes a sound, it could be a whimper. He thrusts a couple more times, breathing harshly and spills cum on his chest and Marton's hands.
Just watching Viggo's orgasm makes Billy come, biting the back of his hand to keep quiet.
Viggo doesn't relax: he's over to Marton's cock and sucking it down: intent and serious. Marton stretches into it, like a cat. He makes encouraging murmurs and plays with Viggo's hair, grown long like Aragorn's. They fall into an easy rhythm, and Marton seems in no hurry to finish.
After a while, Viggo looks up and hums a question. Marton laughs and says, "Good as gold, mate. Guess we'll save the tantric sex for another time." He reaches down and rings his cock with his own hand, flexing and squeezing. They rock together faster and Marton's breath rasps in the quiet room. "You don't have to swallow," he offers. But of course, Viggo makes a sound that could only be insistence. Marton chuckles again and moves so that the muscles on his arm and back bulge a little. His other hand goes tight in Viggo's hair. He comes almost silently, all his muscles jutting out in stark relief.
Just when Billy thinks they're asleep, Marton slides off the bed and gathers his clothes. He looks at Viggo, touches his arm and pulls the duvet up. Then he dresses and walks away, shaking his head.
Billy closes his eyes and sends grateful thanks that he still has half a chance.
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