Tokowhà
by Nyssa
“Could we maybe squeeze in a little break soon?” Viggo asked as they left the shop again, of course not without saddling themselves with a few more bags filled with Orlando’s prizes.
“What, are you already knackered?“ Orlando replied with a wide grin. “Very well then, let’s look out for someting cosy where a dodderer like you can regain his strength.”
Smiling too, Viggo gave him a playful dig in the ribs and wanted to add a “How about demonstrating some respect for the old age?!“, when Orlando suddenly turned towards him and jumped at him without warning. To not let the bags fall down, Viggo just stood still and submitted to the cuddle-attack of his friend, although they were in the middle of a pretty crowded pedestrian zone.
“Thank you for everything, Viggo”, Orlando said in a low voice and very seriously, and suddenly Viggo wished he had let go of the bags so he could take the younger one, who nestled to him so eagerly, into his arms, too. Instinctively he indicated am embracing movement with his left arm, but the weight of the bags that hung at his wrist didn’t allow him to lift his arm much. Without really aiming at it, Viggo’s hand came to rest on Orlando’s bottom, but neither of the men winced at the intimate touch.
“You’re welcome”, Viggo replied with a somewhat hoarse voice, while he shifted his hand to the safer area of Orlando’s hip. He felt a soft bulge approximately the size of a fist under his palm, where the side pocket of the dark trousers which Orlando loved to wear had to be. Without attracting attention he let one finger slip into exactly this pocket as a heartmelting suspicion unfolded inside of him. And indeed, he felt the fluffy fur, the round button eyes and the small felt beak of the plush owlet he had given to the young man. Somehow this touched him so strongly that his stomach tightened, but not in an uncomfortable way. But finally Orlando parted from him exactly as abruptly as he had hugged him, and the confusingly tingling feeling was gone again.
“Over there’s a little cafe“, Orlando said and turned into another direction. “And to tell the truth, my feet are hurting, too, and I’m really thirsty...”
In the afternoon, after they had gotten hold of a new, pretty huge easel together with all sorts of brushes, paints, paint thinner, fixatives, and so on, they drove back to the base camp. It wasn’t very late yet, but Viggo felt as exhausted as after a sixteen hour day of work. Together with a chattering Orlando whose energy obviously was never used up at all, he unloaded the car.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to run three times to get all the stuff”, Viggo said distraught, but even that didn’t put an end to Orlando’s relatively good mood. First, they carried the bulky, heavy easel together and headed for Viggo’s trailer.
“And where do you want to put this damn thing?” Orlando asked. “It will never ever fit in there!”
“It will, somehow“, Viggo replied. “And if it won’t, we’ll have to –”
His words got stuck in his throat as all of a sudden a person appeared directly in front of them, turning around the small van they just passed. By a fraction of an inch he would have bumped into the guy who he now, with a few seconds delay, recognized as Karl. Before he found his voice again, Orlando rose to speak from behind him.
“What the hell happened to you?” the young man asked with a very undercooled voice. Only now Viggo noticed that the Kiwi, or rather his costume, looked quite battered and overly filthy, and in his totally tousled blond wig stuck dirt and a few leaves. “Did someone finally rough you up the way you deserve it?” Orlando added, acid-tongued, and Viggo already worried that the situation would escalate now and he would have to step in to part the two brawlers and bang their heads together. Usually, Urban didn’t put up with comments like these, but much to Viggo’s surprise a meaningful, smug smile appeared on the Kiwi’s face.
“Yeah, with a little imagination you could say that”, Karl said with a calmness that, he knew, always drove Orlando crazy, and then turned to Viggo. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.“
“No harm was done”, Viggo replied and quickly started to walk again while Urban took off towards the makeup-trailer. Orlando didn’t say a word, but Viggo could sense the concentrated tension behind him that came from his young friend.
Orlando would have liked to give free rein to his not really evaporating fury towards Karl Urban, to make a fuss about the fact that this guy was a real scrubber. After all everybody knew that he jumped at each and every one who had a willing cock and couldn’t run away fast enough. This guy was just pathetic, and Orlando probably would look down on him with simple disdain or maybe even with pity, if he hadn’t decided to focus on Sean’s cock, of all people, and with that had attracted Orlando’s eternal hate. But this time he wanted to pull himself together, for Viggo’s sake. His friend had tried so hard to cheer him up. He didn’t want to ruin Viggo’s efforts by throwing an inconsiderate tantrum. So he held his tongue grimly, and as they at last reached Viggo’s trailer, he had his bitter feelings under control again.
“Man, I feel totally tired out”, Orlando groaned as he let himself fall into the comfortable armchair in the living area of the trailer.
“Somehow it soothes me to know that even your batteries need to be charged again after some time”, Viggo said slightly grinning while he struggled with the easel, trying to securely place it somewhere.
“My feet are hurting like hell”, Orlando whined and threw his friend a look that was begging for compassion. “Does an old Ranger not know some remedy for hat?”
“Now that’s typical. The spoiled Elf-Princeling wants to get pampered while the poor Ranger has to be at his beck and call.” Viggo slowly turned to the younger man and with a smile folded his arms in front of his chest. “I suggest a deal. If you go and dig up an adequate box, you may use some of my magical, exclusive footbath. Afterwards your feet will be in mint condition. You have my word.”
Orlando sighed exaggeratedly. “Fair enough”, he said and toiled himself out of the armchair. “If the King says so, it’ll be right.“
A little later, the two friends sat opposite from each other inside of the trailer, Viggo in the armchair and Orlando on a not much less comfortable chair cushion, and chatted about this and that. Their four bare feet rested in a small but for their purposes very suitable bowl which Orlando had found somewhere, and which was filled with hot, herbs-scented water.
“This stuff is really good”, Orlando said after a while and stretched with pleasure.
“Didn’t I tell you?“ Viggo replied and wiggled his toes in the pleasant water.
“Yes, you did. And I’m overly grateful that you’re willing to share this supernatural resource with me so selflessly.” On Orlando’s face appeared a grin. “If the King permits it, I will reciprocate.“
Viggo cocked an eyebrow questioningly. “And how, dear Princeling?“
Silently smiling, Orlando reached for one of the towels which providently were placed next to them, and unfolded it on his lap.
“Your foot, Viggo”, he commanded then, and the older man obeyed curiously. He lifted his right foot onto Orlando’s thigh and watched with mixed feelings as his friend thoroughly but carefully dried his skin that was cleaned and softened by the hot water with the fluffy towel. Then, Orlando put his slim hands around the exhausted foot and started to rub the tormenting tension out of the sinews and nerves. For a few moments Viggo let it happen, but then the contact between the foreign fingers and his own foot became too intense for him and he sat up, suddenly feeling uneasy.
“Okay, thanks Orlando, that’s enough”, he said and wanted to pull his right foot from the hands of his friend, but the young man held him tight.
“Now don’t act coy, Viggo. Doesn’t it feel good?” Orlando asked in disappointment and again moved his thumbs in small, softly stroking circles over the bare sole of his friend’s foot.
“It does”, Viggo replied in a low voice, leaned back again reluctantly and finally even closed his eyes. The problem wasn’t that it didn’t feel good, but that it felt too good.
“You have beautiful feet, Viggo. Do you know that?” Orlando murmured adoringly after a while, while he first rubbed over the whole tense sole and then carefully massaged each of the straight toes between his fingertips.
“At the moment, I only know that I have aching feet”, Viddo responded, smiling lightly. “But it’s getting better. You’re really good at it.“ His eyes were still closed, even as the touches of his friend grew more and more affectionate and the silence which was between them now grew more and more tense. He tried to convince himself that there was nothing unusual about this situation. His young colleague, who over many months had become one of his closest friends, gave him a thorough foot massage after an exhausting shopping expedition. It meant nothing. It was only a massage, right? But why did Viggo have to concentrate so hard to hold back his heavy breathing, then? Orlando’s fingertips touched and stimulated spots at his foot that would have drawn extensive sighs from him, if Viggo hadn’t controlled himself so well. But when suddenly moist, wonderfully silky heat closed around one of his toes, Viggo couldn’t keep back a low yet deep moan of pleasure.
The sensitive ends of his nerves which now were continuously stimulated by tickling and wet-rough Softness sent flashes of lust from his foot directly into his lap where certain, very pleasant strains started to gather. Confused, he opened his heavy eyelids just a crack and watched speechlessly as Orlando attended to his foot with diligence and inappropriate devotion. While he still massaged the hurting sole with both of his thumbs, he pushed his curious tongue between Viggo’s toes tenderly and playfully. When Orlando after a few moments again captured a whole toe with his lips, slowly circled it with the tip of his tongue and then started sucking it gently, Viggo’s breath caught in his throat and everything inside of him seemed to tense immediately. Without even noticing, he clawed his hands into the armrests of the armchair and stared at his young friend as if he was hypnotized. Only when Orlando very softly nibbled at his toe, Viggo finally managed to pull himself out of his trance and his toe out of Orlando’s mouth.
“What... Good God, Orlando, what are you doing?” he asked out of breath and hurriedly let his foot, which seconds ago had enjoyed this extremely erotic massage, sink back into the bowl between them. The warm water eased the tingling feeling Orlando’s tongue and lips had left on his skin, but the heat between his legs didn’t want to go away so quickly. Hastily he bent forward and leaned his elbows on his thighs, hoping that he could hide his current physical condition from Orlando’s eyes.
“I just want to tend your poor, tormented feet...”, the young man stated cantingly. “May I have the left one?“
“No!“ Viggo blurted, more vehemently than he had intended. “You had better hand me a part of the newspaper“, he added quickly in order to change the topic and pointed to the newspaper which he had bought during their shopping tour and which had been lying next to Orlando’s chair cushion since they had come back.
“Which part do you want?” Orlando asked in a light-hearted tone, as if nothing had happened and he hadn’t sucked on Viggo’s toes just a moment ago.
“Real estate advertisements”, Viggo said. “You’re right, this trailer is too damn small.”