Author: Lostiawen

E-mail: Lostiawen

Rated: NC-17

Pairing: VM/OB

Summary: The mystery deepens. ..

Archive: Mirrormere, VOLA, my site.  All others please ask.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Warnings: Crack!lite, AU, bondage, post-coital rimming, toilet humor, and EWE (editing, what editing?)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened.  The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within. 

Author´s Notes: Happy bday, Orlando! Hope you're having a great time today!

I might as well say now that this fic has somehow become way complex and pairings will vary over the course of it.  And yes, I´m aware that Orlando doesn´t meet Viggo until "Behind the Mask." All will be explained in future chapters.

Posted Jan.  13, 2008.

Eric couldn´t quite believe Karl´s diagnosis. "Are you sure?" 

"Quite."  Karl peered at the monitor and said, "Our Orlando can´t self-lube." 

"Self-lube?"  Eric´s brain just blew several circuits at that moment. He wasn´t sure if he should be pleased or appalled. 

"Look here," Karl said. Eric scooted over to where Karl was standing and squinted at the monitor. A light coloured 3D representation of the inside of Orlando´s body was displayed on the screen and a bunch of complicated terms as long as Eric´s arm scrolled past on the right hand side. 

Karl moved his mouse over where Orlando´s arse was and clicked. "He has a bunch of extra glands here, so he can lube himself up at will."  While Eric was trying to process this, Karl clicked on a couple of more places on Orlando´s body. "This clone looks like he can emit some sort of chemical that´s related to phermones. My guess is that´s what drove me crazy earlier." 

"Christ, and how did that shite get added?" 

"Genetic manipulation while the clone was developing. And there´s another interesting spot here."  Karl clicked on an area near the clone´s brain. A small, red patch appeared. After a few more clicks, Eric saw what looked like a complicated piece of circuitry. 

"What´s that?"  he asked. He couldn´t make heads or tails of it. 

"I can´t make out what material it is, but it neutralizes the subject´s natural impulses and substitutes other responses."  Karl answered. He must have noticed the glazed over look in Eric´s eyes because he snorted and replied. "It´s a mind control device." 

"You could have just said so," Eric growled. "Why in hell would anyone implant this?" 

Karl replied, "Because a clone still has the personality of the original person, unless it´s been tampered with while it´s growing in the vat. I´m just wondering why the clone´s creator didn´t do just that -- Orlando´s a stubborn cunt and wouldn´t blindly follow some villain. Having his brain reprogrammed so that he´s a docile slave would be much easier." 

"That sounds familiar..." Eric fell deep into thought, remembering one of Orlando´s rants. "I think he or she left it alone because mucking with the brain would keep the clone from performing magic. Orli went on about that once. Talked my ear off so I shut him up by shagging him." 

Karl clapped Eric on the back. "I don´t blame you. He´s quite a wildcat in bed if you can get him to shut it for two minutes." 

The mention of Orlando´s habits reminded Eric that he was still missing. He decided that he needed to focus on finding out where Orlando had gone off to. "So, if we have another Orlando here, why don´t you just pop the mind control thing out and he can help us?" 

He watched as Karl´s hands flew over the keyboard. Karl was peering at the monitor, and he frowned as he pondered over the display. "What in hell? According to the readout, this device has no attachment points." 

Karl moved the scanning equipment aside and parted Orlando´s hair. He exposed a small, flat device, about an inch above Orli´s ear. Karl attempted to brush his fingers over the foreign object, but a globe of energy suddenly formed over it and a small bolt shot out and zapped Karl´s glove. Karl pulled his hand back quickly, but the attack still left a scorch mark on the surface of his armor. "No good, I´ll get fried if I try anything. And more importantly, the clone is defenseless -- he might get damaged if I go about this the wrong way." 

Eric peered at the flickering globe, and he could see a few bits of some exotic language flickering across. He realized that some of the characters matched the lettering on the bottles that he had found underneath Orlando´s bed. "Shite, it´s protected by magic!"  he said. Karl replied, "And the mind control device is a sort of plastic, so I can´t disable it with an EMP."  He scratched his head. "How in hell does this thing work? Plastic isn´t conductive." 

"I don´t know. Maybe you can take it apart if you ever get it loose?" 

Karl nodded. "Let me see if I can get my nanites to dislodge it."  He tapped out some commands on the keyboard and waited for a few seconds. "Christ, they just got fried." 

"I could try peeling it off myself," Eric said. "I don´t think that can hurt me, and I can keep the clone safe." 

"Go ahead and give it a go, then," Karl said. 

Eric decided to go slowly, just to make sure that the ward wouldn´t hurt the clone. He stuck one finger in the globe, and carefully checked to make sure that none of the bolts arced over and struck the clone´s head. Eric´s skin tingled and itched slightly as mystic energy crackled around his hand, but they didn´t spread. 

Taking a deep breath, Eric worked the edge of one of his nails under the device. A shimmering tendril formed on the outside of the plastic and then the tip of it phased into the clone´s skull. 

Eric grunted in frustration. "Can´t do it, Karl. I think there´s another spell keeping it hooked in." 

Before they could puzzle out how to unravel this dodgy problem, Sean poked his face into the lab. He blinked and said, "Do I even want to know why Orli is starkers and trussed up on the table?" 

"This isn´t Orlando, it´s a clone of some sort, controlled by a neuro- suppressor that´s both tech-based and magical," Karl replied. 

"Right," Sean said. He appeared unfazed, as if naked clones of Orlando were an everyday occurence. "Listen, I got a minor alert. Some sort of mustard gas bomb went off at a Post Office in Costa Rica. Looks to be a one-person job." 

"I´ll get it," Eric said. "Karl needs to poke at our new visitor." 

"Miranda´s got the jet scrambled already," Sean replied. 

"Thanks, mate."  Eric dashed out into the Crusaders´ hanger bay and vaulted into the jet. He slid into the chair that had been specially built for his oversized frame and buckled himself in as Miranda took off. 

It´s not that he necessarily would be hurt by any acrobatics she had to perform with the jet, but since he weighed in at just over 32 stone, he needed to be strapped in to keep him from hurtling towards the pilot´s seat during any sudden evasive manoeuvers. 

"How are things, Eric?"  she asked. 

"Oh, the usual. A clone of Orlando showed up at the base and tried to kill us after shagging our brains out." 

"Uh huh," Miranda said. "And when do the space aliens start showing up in the toilet?" 

"I´m not taking the piss. A clone of Orlando really did infiltrate us. Karl´s got him in the lab." 

Miranda´s eyes went wide. "Oh no! But...then what happened to the real Orlando? Is he okay?" 

Eric plastered on the best smile he could manage. "Hey, we´re superheroes, right? We´ll find him." 

Miranda looked like she didn´t quite believe Eric, but he changed the subject on her, nattering on about other things. Miranda didn´t push it, and they kept making small talk until they reached Costa Rica. 

The scene when they landed was complete chaos. People were running in and out of the building, gasping for breath. Eric was glad that there didn´t appear to be any injuries. He leaped out of the jet and pushed his way into the foyer, looking for any people that had passed out. He saw a few unconscious forms, so he scooped them up in his strong arms, carrying as many as he could manage out into the fresh air. 

Once he was satisfied that they were safe, he went back inside. The gas wasn´t too bad in the foyer, but Eric could see a visible cloud coming out from the sorting area. As he made his way to that room, his eyes began to sting like mad. He recognized that particular sensation all too well. 

He located the large package that was the source of the gas cloud and punched the biggest hole he could manage in a nearby wall to get some ventilation. 

Eric hustled outside, knowing that fresh air was the best thing right now. He ripped the package open, and fished out an almost comatose Festule from the humongous box of packing peanuts. Festule had a the biggest shit eating grin on his face and his stomach was very distended. 

"Goddamnit, where´s Orlando?"  Eric asked the imp in the loudest voice he could manage. He received a happy, lip-smacking sigh and another paint-peeling round of gas in response. 

Now Eric had a dilemma. Festule showed no signs of waking up, and he couldn´t carry him inside the jet. Putting the toxic imp inside a confined space with a vulnerable Miranda would be fatal. But he couldn´t just hang out in a populated area while Festule continually generated toxic clouds. 

He wracked his brain for a solution, but only one came to mind. With a resigned grunt, he radioed Miranda and said, "Can you fish out some of the straps we use to buckle down heavy equipment and toss them outside?" 

"Sure," Miranda said. "Should I ask why, or is it in the ´you don´t want to know´ category?" 

"Because I need to ride on the outside," Eric said. "And it´s hero stuff."  He knew that if mentioned Festule´s name, she would probably do her best to scrape him off the jet. She was still narked that he had eaten all of her plastic hair clips and the covers on her eyeshadow containers. 

"All right," Miranda said. "Just tell me when you´re ready to take off." 

Eric grabbed the metallic-like straps and hopped onto the wing of the jet, holding Festule between his thumb and forefinger. The straps were another Karl-specialty item, made of a substance would stretch and conform to Eric´s body. After Eric was buckled in, he held Festule at arm´s length and gave Miranda the go ahead. 

As the jet rose in the air, several bugs splatted against Eric´s face. He sputtered, and tried to wipe them off. This proved to be a mistake since he instinctively used his right hand, which was holding Festule. He realized his error too late, and the smell that assaulted his nostrils was foul enough to straighten his hair. 

"Fuck!"  He slammed his arm back down, but now more bugs were sticking to his armor, arms, and legs. And to top it off, the wind was blowing up the skirt portion of his costume, making it feel like someone had put cold hands on his bollocks. Eric began to wonder if he would lose any good guy points for drop-kicking an annoying imp up and down the block a few times. He was still contemplating this after Miranda landed at the base and gave him the all clear. 

Sighing, he finally decided that much as he´d like to do something, he still needed Festule around. He unfastened himself from the jet wing, picked a last bug leg out from between his teeth, and radioed Sean. 

"Yeah, how´d it go?"  Sean asked. 

"That mustard gas was from Festule. Have Karl get the biohazard containment unit ready, ASAP." 

He must have sounded fairly stroppy because Sean didn´t ask any questions. After he grunted out an acknowledgment, Eric jumped down to the ground and sprinted for the containment facility. 

He dumped Festule off and then stripped off his costume, tossing it into the decontamination area before he walked back to his quarters completely starkers. He hoped he wouldn´t run into Sean, because right now, he could give a toss about offending his team leader´s sensibilities. He just wanted to take about five hot showers and peel the bug parts off his limbs and face. 

After a long, relaxing time under water that would scald a crunchie, Eric felt in much better spirits. He made a last bug-juice check before he turned off the taps. He had was still drying off when he heard a knock at his door. 

"Come in!"  Eric shouted while he pulled a towel around his hips. 

Sean walked in and said, "Karl´s been going over our unwanted visitor with a fine-toothed comb, but he can´t find any traces of unusual soil or fibres that would tell us where the real Orlando went." 

"Shite. And we can´t wake him up for questioning because he´ll just tport out of here. Have you gone through his clothes?" 

"I couldn´t find the set he arrived with. Does he shove them in a pocket dimension when he magicks them off?" 

Eric shook his head. "Search me, mate. I´ve never asked. So what do we do now?" 

"I guess we´ll have to wait until Festule wakes up. He´s the last one who´s seen our absent mage." 

***

Orlando drifted about in the blackness, trying to recall what had happened. It was a struggle, but all he could remember was his rather stroppy exchange with Eric before he cast an invisibility spell. Then there was a wrenching sensation, and everything went dark. 

He felt the heaviness lifting from his body, and he struggled towards consciousness. He has a slight headache as he woke up, and his surroundings were not quite what he expected. 

He was resting on a four-poster bed covered with yellow silk sheets in an opulent room. Rich tapestries hung on the walls, and lush hand made rugs covered the floor. Several gold, hand-engraved braziers provided the lighting. A doorway was obscured by heavy damask drapes. 

The bed itself had a canopy made from what looked like a type of chiffon, which stretched over Orlando´s head and then draped down over the sides. It was sunset orange, but it shifted to a soft yellow when the light flickered across the surface. The material was heavily embroidered with gold and silver thread and encrusted with shining jewels. 

"This is quite nice," Orlando thought before he sat up and rolled out of the bed. Or tried to. He sat up quite nicely, but when he swung his legs over the side and slid his bum forward, he felt a tug around his wrists and was flung back with a yell onto the mattress, landing flat on his back with his arms pinned above his head. 

After a round of loud cursing, Orlando turned his head to look at his arms. Two silver manacles were fastened around his wrists, and each of them was welded to a length of chain that was attached to the bedposts. 

Other than that, his arms were almost completely bare. His only adornment was a gold cufflink on his right bicep. Some sort of thick gold collar, engraved with ornate designs rested against the base of his throat and the top of his chest, and his skin had a soft shine to it. On taking a closer squint, Orlando noticed that every inch of him had been oiled. Other than the cufflink, the collar, and the chains, he was naked. He also noticed a vial of liquid on a small table right next to the bed and he had a pretty good guess what it was for. 

"Great, kidnapped by a pervy villain," Orlando grumbled. "And he´s a cunt with no fashion sense. Who in fuck mixes a European style bed with Moroccan decor?" 

He was about to whisper a quick spell to get loose, but then he stopped himself. If he had been captured, it was likely that he had been sealed off from all mystic contact. He needed to check before he did anything. 

Closing his eyes, Orlando tried to focus, seeking out the nearest ley line -- the source of his energy. He found it with ease, and started to tap into it. His cuffs suddenly glowed and then a blinding wave of agony surged through his body, causing him to scream out in pain. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the pain faded away, and Orlando collapsed back onto the bed, breathing heavily. Wonderful, the cunt who had strapped him down knew what he was doing and had enchanted his manacles. He was stuck here unless he could come up with an escape plan. 

Although a feasible escape plan wasn´t coming to mind. The cuffs looked like they had been welded on, so there was no key that he could steal to get them off. He moved around for a bit, and found out that the chains extended and contracted, much like a seat belt. However, they only had enough give so that he could put his arms at his side. Any attempts to stretch them further caused them to snap back, yanking him onto the bed into what Orlando called Standard Bondage Pose #1. 

That left the vial of oil. However, Orlando wasn´t one hundred percent sure that the glass would shatter. Whoever forged these cuffs wouldn´t be stupid enough to leave an easy weapon within reach. Besides, a piece of glass wouldn´t do shite to any villain worth his salt; and it was useless anyway if Orlando couldn´t get out of the cuffs. 

"Brilliant. I guess I´ll have to lie here until my bollocks shrivel and fall off," Orlando grumbled. 

At that moment, the drapes parted and a sandy-haired man was pushed inside. He was shirtless, and was clad in a pair of white linen harem pants. His wrists were also chained together, and he landed face-first in an ungainly sprawl on top of one of the rugs. 

"Oi, are you okay?"  Orlando asked before the stranger looked up at him. His breath caught when he saw an all-too familiar chiseled face and piercing blue eyes. "V-viggo? Fuck!" 

Viggo didn´t reply. He rose to his feet and walked towards the damask drapes. As soon as he drew close, his cuffs glowed and he collapsed in agony, writhing on the carpet. 

"Shite! Are you okay?"  Orlando said in alarm. He tried to launch himself off the bed, but he was flung backwards again. 

"Fucking cunting bloody stupid cuffs!"  Orlando growled. "Whoever put these things on is going to fucking regret it!" 

The angry glow around Viggo´s wrists had now subsided, and he struggled to his feet. He cocked his head to the side and said something in a language that Orlando didn´t understand. 

"What in hell?"  Orlando replied. "Stop arsing around, old man! What are you doing here? Where are we?" 

Viggo replied again, and Orlando groaned in frustration. The language didn´t sound the least bit familiar to Orlando. Maybe he should have paid more attention to the languages of his native planet instead of the ones in other dimensions. 

"Great, this is worse than when I was a teenager and you kept lecturing me."  He received a quizzical look from Viggo, which is what he expected. Orlando meant to shut his yap at that point, but he hated uncomfortable silences, so he just blurted out the next thing that popped into his head. 

"You know, I always wanted to jump your bones."  He tried to slap his hand over his mouth, but he couldn´t move it. Viggo didn´t appear to respond and Orlando groaned. Why in hell was he saying this, anyway? It´s not like Viggo could pick up what he was talking about. 

On the other hand, the language of shagging was universal. A light bulb went on in Orlando´s head and he knew what to do now. 

Viggo´s shirt had been stripped off, and Orlando raked his gaze over the toned muscles that had been hidden from his sight during his apprenticing days. He made sure that his appraisal was slow, and he let his final glances linger on the tent in the crotch of Viggo´s pants. 

Viggo ran a tongue over his lips and his eyes fixed on Orlando´s very prominent erection. Orlando grinned from ear to ear as he parted his legs, giving Viggo a look of unabashed desire. 

Viggo stood up and walked towards the bed with the grace of a stalking panther. He grabbed the vial of oil and his eyes roamed over Orlando´s trembling form as he crawled onto the mattress, hungrily gazing at his shining skin. 

"Fuck," Orlando said in a shaky voice, "do you know how long I´ve wanted this?" 

He moaned when Viggo covered his body and captured his lips. They kissed each other with an animalistic fervor, ravaging each other´s mouths until they were both panting with desire. 

"Don´t want to wait," Orlando moaned, pressing his dripping erection against the conspicuous tent in Viggo´s pants. Viggo seemed to disagree, and he began to run his free hand over every inch of Orlando´s flesh, caressing Orlando´s overheated skin with light strokes. 

Orlando wrapped his legs around Viggo´s waist. "Please," he whimpered, grinding upward. 

Viggo didn´t need to be told twice. He pulled the cork out of the vial with his teeth and pushed his trouser off. He coated two fingers with the scented oil, and then pushed them into Orlando. 

"Yes!"  Orlando cried out. He pushed down, undulating to increase the friction. He was dying to feel every inch of Viggo´s hard cock, and he tried to communicate his need, mewling and yelping as he spread his legs wide and fucked himself on Viggo´s pumping fingers. 

Viggo left his fingers buried deep inside Orlando as he put the vial aside. Fortunately, the chain between his manacles had enough extension so that he was able to use his free hand to push his trousers off. After kicking them to the side, he sat back on his heels and was about to remove his fingers when Orlando wrapped his legs around Viggo´s waist. 

"Uh uh," Orlando said with a shake of his head. The chains had enough strength so that he could grab them and lift his body up. He scooted his arse forward, grunting with exertion as he positioned himself over Viggo´s erection. 

"Hurry up," he panted out as his muscles strained with the effort. "I´m not nearly as strong as Eric is." 

His words must have been understood somehow because Viggo grabbed the vial and poured more of the oil onto his shaft. He placed his free hand on Orlando´s hip and pressed forward, easing the tip of his cock inside. 

Orlando moaned and tightened the grip with his legs, pulling himself forward. He cried out as Viggo´s length sunk into him, an ache pulsing through his body as he was filled. Heat raced through Orlando´s veins as he impaled himself, and he didn´t stop until he had taken every last bit. 

"Christ, so fucking good," he groaned. A wicked smile played on his lips and he flexed his internal muscles in a rippling pattern, causing Viggo to choke out loud. 

"Move," Orlando said. "Fuck me until I can´t remember my name." 

With a low growl, Viggo pulled back and thrust, hitting Orlando´s sweet spot. "Yes! Like that!"  Orlando wailed. 

Encouraged by Orlando´s cries, Viggo began to pound into Orlando, pumping his fingers in tandem with each stroke. Orlando tightened his grip on the chains and met Viggo thrust for thrust. He could hear the chains rattling against the bedposts and the frame creaking as Viggo slammed into him. 

Viggo was hitting Orlando´s prostate every single time, and Orlando moaned as wantonly as he could, shaking as Viggo fucked him so hard that he could feel his body rocking with each hard jab. 

Orlando whinged when he felt Viggo sliding his fingers out, but that soon faded off into another loud cry as Viggo stretched the chain across Orlando´s belly and gripped his hips. Viggo´s savage thrusts picked up in speed, and then he gripped Orlando tightly, throwing his head back as he cried out. He continued to roll his hips while he rode out his orgasm, and hot liquid filled Orlando to the brim and overflowed, dripping down onto the sheets. 

Viggo´s arms were still shaking as he pulled out, lowering Orlando gently onto the mattress. Orlando whimpered at the loss, and he hoped that Viggo would leave him hanging for long. 

"Please," he said, "I need to come..."

Orlando bit his lip when he saw Viggo sliding down and felt him parting his cheeks. "Oh yeah...do it," Orlando moaned. 

He felt hot air being blown over his sensitive entrance before a wet tongue began lapping at his flesh, swirling around. 

"FUCK!"  Orlando wailed, tightening his grip on the chains so that he could hump Viggo´s face. His entire body felt like it was sizzling, aching with unspent need as Viggo drove him closer to the edge. 

Viggo´s rough hand grabbed Orlando´s twitching cock, pumping it with sure, deft strokes. Orlando thrust frantically, screwing the fist that gripped him, rubbing until Viggo´s tongue snaked out and stabbed deep inside of his hole. 

Orlando screamed at the top of his lungs, his fingers gripping the chains tightly as his body arched off the bed, muscles tensing as he climaxed. He dimly registered feeling a wet splash against his throat before he lost himself to the waves of pleasure shaking his entire being. 

The press of a sweaty body against his own brought Orlando back to his senses. He groaned when he felt the touch of something hot and wet, and he felt his cock stirring back to life when he glanced down. 

He was greeted by the sight of Viggo licking off the streaks of white liquid that dappled the collar and his neck. Viggo went slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Orlando´s as he lapped up every bit, pausing to swirl his tongue in languid swipes around one of Orlando´s messy nipples. 

"Mmm, as long as you keep doing that, I don´t mind my arse being in the wet spot," Orlando giggled. 

Viggo stroked Orlando´s face and kissed him, murmuring something that sounded affectionate. He was looking deep into Orlando´s eyes, with an intensity that was unsettling. 

"Uh, right..." Orlando said. A shag was one thing, but something about the way Viggo was touching his cheek was going beyond what Orlando was prepared to deal with. 

Before things went further, the curtains parted again and a man dressed like one of the pharaohs of old walked in. He had an air of complete arrogance that was probably due to his rather large nose and short stature. 

He had a small jewel in his hand and he spoke what Orlando recognized as a command word. The multi-hued glow of a translation spell flared from the jewel and surrounded all three of them. 

"You should thank me for allowing you one last time with your lover before you die," the pharaoh said in perfectly modern English. "Despite what you think, I can be merciful." 

"Tell that to Beornhelm," Viggo snapped back. 

Before Orlando could ask what the fuck was going on, a rich voice called out from the doorway and cut him off. "Beornhelm was a stupid cunt," a male voice said. "He deserved to get the snot kicked out of him." 

The drapes parted and Orlando´s jaw dropped to the ground as he found himself looking at his exact mirror image. Deep brown eyes focused on Orlando´s own and the newcomer said, "I just hope that my twin brother will be a bit smarter." 

---
end part 3

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