Two of A Kind

“I’ll see your five, and raise you another five.”

Karl gave a half grin to Viggo who sat across from him at the table. Reaching beside him he picked out the appropriate chip, and tossed it into the pile in the center of the table. “I’ll meet that. What do you have?”

Viggo placed his cards on the table, displaying a pair of sixes, and a pair of tens with a king on the side. “Two pairs.”

“Whoa-ho!” Marton nodded in approval. Karl had been too goddamn lucky tonight, and it was nice to see him take a beating finally. “Tens over sixes, very nice.”

Grin twisting into a grimace Karl sighed heavily, his eyes lowering to his hand before lifting again to meet Viggo’s. “Two pairs, hard to beat.”

“But…?” Harry Sinclair urged, one brow lifting in curiosity.

“I also have two pairs,” Karl announced. He set two cards down. “A pair of twos…”

“Ha!” David laughed, snorting and shaking his head.

Karl set down another pair of cards. “…And another pair of twos.”

“Sonovab!” e!” exploded Craig, blinking in surprise. “What did you do, swallow a fuckin’ horseshoe?”

“No, it’s bloody well jammed up his arse,” Sean Bean snorted.

Viggo fell back into his chair with an amused shake of his head as the Kiwi used two muscled arms to sweep the pile of chips towards him. “I need a drink. Anyone else?”

“Nah, I gotta head out,” David stood up, suppressing a yawn. “I have a flight tomorrow I have to catch.”

“Yeah, I should head out too,” Craig also rose. “We should do this again… Without Karl.”

“Sore loser,” Karl grinned.

“I wouldn’t be so sore if it hadn’t been five hundred dollars,” Craig retorted.

“At least don’t let him join again until we’re assured he’s passed that horseshoe,” Sean quipped. “Get a lift, Craig?”

“Sure.”

“I need my beauty sleep,” Harry counted out his chips, and snorted in disgust. He tossed the twenty-five dollars worth to Viggo. “Here, you may as well keep it.”

Marton now pushed from the table also. “Good night.”

“You leaving too?” Viggo stretched, body arching in the chair and tee shirt rising up his flat belly to expose the taut skin there with the thin line of hair that disappeared in the waist of his denims.

“Yeah, I’m hoping to get lucky tonight before I actually get to sleep.” Marton winked and followed the others out. “Thanks, Vig!”

Viggo’s lips pursed in thought, and he glanced at Karl from beneath the cover of his lashes. “You sticking around?”

“If you don’t mind,” Karl was putting his chips away. “Don’t have much going on tonight. Rather stay here and annoy you than go home and be bored.”

Shrugging Viggo was gathering the cards when he paused. “Few more hands?”

“Just the two of us? That’s boring winning all your money, Vig,” quipped the Kiwi.

“Fuck you,” the older man shot, smiling to take the sting out of his words. “Alright, not regular poker. How daring are you?”

Suspicion began to narrow Karl’s eyes. “Why?”

“Just answer the damn question. Are you daring? Or… are you… a…”

“Quit with the schoolyard bullying and deal,” Karl growled.

“Alright, but you don’t even know what the stakes are.” Viggo began to shuffle the cards. “Once I deal the first card you can’t renege.”

Eyes narrowing even more in suspicion Karl fidgeted on the seat. “What are the stakes? A thousand? Five? Ten?”

“Strip poker,” Viggo calmly replied.

Snorting the New Zealander waved a dismissing hand. “Strip poker? Christ, Vig, that’s nothing. Though we’re both males so I fail to see the appeal.”

Viggo began to deal. “Let’s call it artistic curiosity.”

“Whatever.”

“But I’m not done. Betting is one piece of clothing. Meaning, if I bet my shirt and you win I remove my shirt. You can up the ante. If you meet my shirt bet, and think you have the best hand you can bet your socks too.”

Pausing in reaching for the cards Karl considered it. “Different. Alright, I’m game.” Lifting his hand of 5 cards he scanned them, and considered his chances. “I’ll bet my shirt.”

“I’ll see that bet,” Viggo told him. “How many?”

“One,” Karl tossed one card onto the table.

“Brave man. I’ll take three,” Viggo dealt out the cards. “Your bet.”

“My socks,” Karl grinned.

“I’ll see that bet, and raise you pants.” It was very tiny, the wrinkling of thought that appeared above Karl’s brows, but Viggo was watching for it.

“I’ll see you,” Karl nodded. He laid his cards upon the table. “Pair of aces, mate. Beat that.”

“Not a problem,” Viggo set his cards on the table. “Full house, ladies high. Start stripping, puppy.”

Rising to his feet Karl sighed as he unbuttoned his shirt, tugged it out of his denims, and slid it off his shoulders. He set it on an empty chair. Reaching to his waist he slipped the button of his denims through the hole, and unzipped them. He had dark blue form fitting boxers on beneath the jeans that he pushed to his feet and stepped out of. Finally he removed his socks, and set everything over his shirt.

Viggo had curiously watched the other man strip. Each move had been deliberate and neither hurried nor slow. And they had Viggo’s full attention. There was something sensuously beautiful about the way the shirt caught for a fraction of a second on the shape of muscles in those arms before sliding free to be caught in one of those broad hands and set on the chair. Those long and thick fingers worked at the front of the jeans, drawing Viggo’s eyes to the thin line of dark hair that led from the navel on that flat belly down into the secretive confines of a pair of dark blue boxers. As the denims were pushed down thick thighs and scraped over hair roughened legs Viggo noticed that the boxers hugged the contour of male anatomy in a pleasing yet not too defining way. Karl was not aroused, the weight of his genitalia resting comfortably without threat or promise in the cradle of his boxers. A small smile tugged at Viggo’s lips when Karl lifted one leg to pull a sock off, and then repeated the process. The man had large feet. But this position also gave glimpses of the roundness of his buttocks, but not enough to tempt, merely a glimpse to tease and inspire the need to want to see more.

Throwing his arms open he arched a brow. “I believe that was it?”

Nodding Viggo gathered the cards and pushed the neat stack towards his friend. “Your deal.”

Karl sat, and was unaware of the intense gaze of his companion upon him as he shuffled and dealt. Unaware that Viggo admired the bunch and ripple of muscles in his arms or the flex and movement of his hands. He dealt. “First bet is yours, Viggo.”

Viggo lifted his hand of cards and found three sevens sitting pretty before his gaze. “I’ll make it even,” he said. “I’ll bet everything I have on against your boxers.”

Karl had a straight going. “Fine by me.”

Viggo threw two cards down. “Two.”

Karl dealt him two cards. “I’ll take one,” he announced. “What do you have?”

“I still have another ante,” Viggo reminded.

“What will you bet? Whoever loses this hand shows his family jewels,” the younger man told him. “What do you want the loser to do? Dance the hula and sing?”

“Appealing,” chuckled the older man, eyes brigh amu amusement. “No, how about something better? Loser bares it all, and has too divulge one deep, dark and shocking secret.”

Karl eyed his straight, thinking furiously. It seemed to Viggo who held his breath in anticipation that it took forever for the other man to nod. “Alright, I’ll agree to that. I can’t wait to hear your shocking secret,” taunted the Kiwi.

Karl laid out his cards, going one card at a time. “Four, five, six, seven, and eight. A straight, Viggo. Read ‘em and weep.”

Viggo laid his cards out. He had a pair of little twos, one seven, one king, and one ten. “Guess you win.” As Karl cackled and gathered all the cards Viggo stood. He was far from ashamed of his body. For a man in his forties he was in great shape, and he knew it. He worked hard to keep his body fit, and his stamina up. Pulling the tee shirt over his head he let it hit the floor. Tanned fingers went to his jeans, deftly undoing them, and pushed them down. He wore no underwear, and he knew he was semi aroused. He left the denims on the floor at his feet.

Karl sat back, smug smirk on his lips. “Time to confess, I believe.”

‘Smug little bastard,’ thought Viggo. ‘Let’s see how smug he is after this.’ There was a tingle of fearful anticipation as he wet his lips and met the curious gaze of his friend. This was a huge step he was taking, divulging something he’d q fra frankly guarded close to himself to keep safe. His heart’s rhythm iasedased, and he inhaled deeply, and shakily.

“This must be good,” Karl sat forward eagerly. “You’re hedging.”

Better just to blurt it out. “Ever since we were filming The Two Towers I’ve found you very attractive, and I’ve spent these past years fantasizing about you.”

“Very funny,” snorted the Kiwi. “Quit fucking around, Viggo, and tell me your secret.” Those blue eyes never wavered, and the older man said nothing. Karl slowly sat back with jaw going slack in shock. “But we’re both men! You got excited over the women dressed in fake beards to be Rohan Riders!”

“What do you think made me realize I had a thing for some men?” Viggo countered, one brow arching. “I even did one of them from behind while she was still in full Rider gear and beard. Never came so goddamn hard in my whole life.”

“You’re pulling my leg,” Karl whispered, stunned.

“It’s not your leg I want to pull,” Viggo admitted. He watched color suffuse the other man’s face, and his wid widen.

“Have you ever… with a man?” Karl’s voice was soft and stunned.

“I was on a drunk with Bernard one night, and told him about my experience with that one Rider, and he told me he had gotten nearly that far with another, but that one had thought him too weird to continue with the beard still on. We were just drunk enough to wonder if it was just the beards, or… No one knew, but our relationship lasted a long time. We’re still close friends, but we haven’t had sex in a while.”

Everyone had noticed the weird closeness between Viggo and Bernard, but none had ever suspected it was sexual. They were just crazy, and got along extremely well. He wondered briefly if maybe Ian, an out of the closet gay, had noticed?

Viggo could see Karl doing some furious thinking here. He could just imagine the shock, and hoped there was no disgust. “Christ, Karl, I can handle a lot of things right now, but not if you hate me or are disgusted by me. Not from you. I’ve wanted you for years, and it hasn’t been easy for me to tell you this right now.”

“Why did you tell me?”

Spreading his hands palms up in plea Viggo gave him an earnest look. “I had to finally say something. It’s been eating away at me. I have a lot of respect and admiration for you, as an actor and a person. I hated keeping the truth a secret from you. And I guess a part of me is hoping that just maybe you feel something for me too.”

Karl wasn’t sure what he was feeling beyond shock right now. Rising to his feet he began to pace, intense gaze on his feete bae bare foot moving ahead of the other, alternating, and then turning to start the whole pattern over again. He suddenly halted, noticing not just his bare feet, but also his bare legs, and then his boxers and the bare skin of his belly and chest above. In the cradle of his boxers was a small poking of his member, and he realized the conversation had somewhat aroused him. It suddenly wasn’t lost on him the absurdity of the situation. Here he was in his underwear listening to a naked man confess of his sexual attraction for him.

Glancing up at Viggo Karl began to laugh. After a few moments it had him doubled over. “Look at… us,” he gasped between guffaws. “Underwear… naked… confessing…”

Viggo patiently waited for the other man to stop laughing, his lips twisting into a grimace. It took a w, bu, but the laughter finally subsided though did not totally disappear. Every few seconds a snort or grunt of it sounded. “I appreciate your sensitivity to this discussion.”

Karl wiped at his teary eyes. “Oh please! You’re naked and I’m in my underwear. I know your confession is serious, but…” Giggling and snorting and grunting laughter sounded.

Viggo went around the table to the other man, caught at his shoulders, and out of desperation and before he could think about it, kissed him. Karl was too stunned to react for the first few moments as the other man’s lips captured his. His first coherent, or maybe incoherent, thought was that Viggo’s lips were soft. His next was that the scrape of stubble from Viggo’s chin upon his own was strangely appealing. But these were quickly replaced with the surprise of feeling a damp tongue insinuate itself in his mouth and stroke his. If Karl did not know better he could almost swear it was a woman kissing him. There was almost no difference, except for the scrape of stubble.

Viggo was heartened when Karl didn’t yank free immediately. The man had delectable lips, the bottom one full and soft. Viggo couldn’t resist sucking it into his mouth and tracing it with his tongue. Their naked chests touched, and the older man hungrily ran his hands over the broad shoulders and down the sweep of spine and smooth back. It made Karl’s body move one step closer, and now they stood flush one against the other. Viggo was dimly aware of the feel of soft material against his swelling member, and when he shifted his weight realized his was not the only growing arousal as both lightly bumped and touched.

Karl broke away, his eyes wide, and a hand up to his kiss-swollen lips. His breathing was erratic, and he knew he was half aroused. A shiver made him tremble, the sensation not from disgust, and he shook his head. What the hell was happening? “I don’t know, Vig. I… I donnow…now…”

“I know,” Viggo understood. “I’ve been where you are right now.”

In desperation Karl grabbed his clothes, and yanked them on in jerky movements. “I have to go. I…”

Viggo nodded. “I’ll wait.”

Karl paused, blinking at the older man. He needed to think. He needed to think without Viggo there to influence his thoughts. He needed… “I…” Shaking his head he rushed out.

“I’ll wait,” Viggo repeated. He hadn’t lost hope yet.