Testament To Love

Posted: July 2005
Title: Testament to Love
Author: Ariel Tachna
Type: RPS
Characters: Orlando/Viggo
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't know them. I make no claims about them. I just want to have fun.
Warnings: Wingfic (therefore AU), religious themes
Beta: Willowwing and Sirkayem
Author's Notes: I got namarie120's request coincidentally, but it is a perfect opportunity to do something for the best friend I have made online. Sisters aren't closer than she is to me.

Summary: An angel and a mortal find salvation in each other's arms, but are they willing to live with the consequences?

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For as long as I shall live, I will testify to love, I'll be a witness in the silences when words are not enough. 'Testify to Love' by Avalon

Chapter 1

"Dom! Billy!"

The Voice boomed out of the shadows, causing the two angels' wings to agitate in alarm before they flattened in submission. They did not look up, did not seek the face that belonged to the Voice. No one did. No one dared.

"Yes, Lord?" they replied in unison.

"Where is Orlando?"

"I... we..." Dom stuttered.

"We haven't seen him in weeks, Lord. He never returned from his last assignment," Billy interrupted.

"I know," the Voice replied. "He is hiding his face from Me, and I want you to find out why. You have been his best friends for millennia. He needs your help."

"If You are sure, we will find him," Dom promised.

Billy elbowed Dom. "You heard what the Voice said. Come on. Let's find Orlando."

The two angels stretched their wings and their senses, searching their domain for signs of their friend. They glided swiftly between heaven and earth, seeking all Orlando's favorite haunts, but he was not perched on the towers of Notre Dame in Paris, nor atop the spires of the Canterbury Cathedral. The Sistine Chapel bore no sign of his presence, nor did St. Peter's in New York. He was not hiding in the Dome of the Rock, nor in the Jama Masjid in Delhi. Far and wide, they searched, among the grandest churches and temples, mosques and shrines, in the world, all the hallowed ground where angels sought rest, but they found no sign of their missing friend.

"What was his last assignment?" Dom asked when they grew tired.

"That painter in Idaho," Billy replied. "The one who had forgotten to look at the beauty around him."

"The one who had forgotten how to love," Dom added. "I remember now. Do you suppose we should try there? Maybe we can pick up his trail."

"We can try," Billy agreed, "although that has never been my forte."

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"No. Let's go."

And off they flew, searching for a painter in Sandpoint, Idaho whose life needed the grace of an angel.

They knew what it felt like when a soul rediscovered grace, for there was much rejoicing in heaven when that happened, but they felt no such joy as they hovered on the outskirts of town. Dom frowned. "Why did Orlando leave?" he asked. "He obviously did not complete his assignment."

"I don't know," Billy replied, equally surprised, "but I think we had better find out. Let's find that painter."

They flitted through the streets, invisible to mortal eyes in their angelic form, searching for any sign to guide them. They were about ready to give up when Billy saw a rough placard above a run-down door. Mortensen Painting, it read.

"Let's try in there," he suggested.

They floated to the ground and folded their wings, folding them gracefully against the line of their coats so that anyone looking at them, visible now, would see only two ordinary men. Billy knocked at the door, frowning at the peeling paint. It was not much of an advertisement. When there was no answer, he tried the knob, and finding the door unlocked, pushed it open.

"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone here?"

Silence greeted him first, then an icy chill he recognized all too well, having fought it off before.

"No!" he shouted, springing forward, his wings coming unfurled as he prepared to fight one of his own kind. "You won't take him."

Dom was at his side, a second behind, eyes searching for the cause. His gaze landed on a prone figure, huddled limply on the floor. Leaving Billy to struggle with the Adversary, Dom went to the man whose hand clutched a small gun. "Put it down," Dom said softly. "I don't know why you think this is the answer, but it's not. I promise you, there is a solution." He used every ounce of persuasion at his disposal to convince the man to talk to him, to surrender the gun.

The blue eyes opened slowly, focusing through the tears that flooded them and stained the stubble-covered cheeks. "He's gone," the blond man said in a dull voice. "He forced me to live again, to come out of the misery of my existence. For a few short weeks, he showed me I could be happy again. He made me believe it, and then he left, and it all went with him. I can't go back to that. I won't. Without him here, there's nothing left to live for."

"There's always something to live for," Dom answered softly, reaching slowly for the gun. It could not hurt him, even in mortal guise, but he did not want it to go off and injure the man. When he had pried it from the man's grip, he looked at the pathetic figure in front of him. He could hear the shrieking of the Adversary in the background as he lost the battle, at least for the moment, though he knew the sounds would not transfer onto the mortal plane. Dom had no illusions. Billy might have won that battle, but if they did not act quickly, the Adversary would still win in the long run.

"Who left you?" he asked. "Maybe we can find him again, convince him to come back. Will you tell me his name?"

" Orlando."

Dom lost his balance, the shock of the man's revelation sending him reeling, mentally and physically. It went against everything they were taught to let a mortal depend on them to that extreme, yet it appeared as if that was exactly what had happened.

'Don't jump to conclusions,' Billy's voice admonished him, his voice sounding only in Dom's head. 'Keep him talking. You don't know the whole story yet.'

Dom guffawed inwardly, sending his disbelief back at his friend. Orlando had been sent to help a painter. A painter was on the verge of suicide because someone named Orlando had left him. It was too much to be a coincidence.

"Tell me about Orlando," Dom said. "Where is he from and where does he live? We can search for him, try to find out why he left," Dom asked, following Billy's advice.

"I don't know," the man replied. "He showed up here a few weeks ago, looking for a job. I can barely support myself. I can't afford an employee, but he looked so down and out. I offered to let him stay for a day or two."

'I'm getting a sense of his trail,' Billy's voice interrupted. 'Stay here and learn what you can. I'm going after Orlando.'

"I'm Dom," the angel said, introducing himself. "What's your name?"

"Viggo," the blond man replied. "Do you really think we can find him?"

"We're certainly going to try," Dom promised, inwardly grim. They would try, but he feared the outcome if they succeeded. The situation had gotten unexpectedly complicated. He rose and offered Viggo a hand. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up so we can look for your friend."

Viggo accepted the extended hand, letting Dom pull him to his feet. "I live upstairs," he said, pointing redundantly toward the stairs. Dom followed Viggo, unwilling to leave the man alone, in case thoughts of suicide returned.

"So you're a painter," Dom began, trying to keep Viggo talking.

A cynical laugh greeted his comment. "I used to be," the man replied. "Now I'm just a slave."

"What do you mean?" Dom asked, sure that part of Viggo's problem lay in that comment.

"Look around you," Viggo said as they reached the top of the stairs. Dom did as he was instructed, amazed at the murals that covered every inch of the walls.

"It's beautiful. Did you do this?"

Viggo nodded. "I used to paint like this all the time. I even sold a few canvases. I wasn't getting rich, but I was getting by."

"What happened?" Dom asked.

"My ex-wife decided I wasn't providing for our son well enough. She demanded more and more money, so I had to find another source of income. I paint houses all day. Roller and brush, up and down, no creativity, no passion. Just make the homeowner or resort owner happy, get my paycheck and send it all to her."

"You could still paint for yourself in the evenings," Dom suggested.

"No inspiration," Viggo said dully. "What's there to paint when there's no joy in my life?"

"Paint the darkness."

"There isn't even that," Viggo replied. "There's just nothingness."

Dom approached the walls. "These look fresh. You must have found something to give you inspiration."

"I did," Viggo agreed. "For a few short weeks, I did. My routine didn't change, when Orlando showed up. I still went to paint other people's houses all day, but he went with me. I couldn't pay him, but he said it didn't matter. It was his way of repaying me for a place to stay and some food. And at the end of a few days, I found I wanted to paint for myself again. So he sat there, on that couch, and watched. And then a few days ago, he disappeared. No note, no goodbye, just gone. I looked everywhere, but no one remembered seeing him. Ever. They think I've gone mad, that I've created him out of my imagination to fill up the emptiness in my life, but I know I haven't. I know he was real."

"How do you know?" Dom asked, curious. They were trained to leave nothing behind, to let those they helped go on without them, until they were a faded memory, only the lesson learned staying fresh.

Viggo reached into his pocket and pulled out a little box that could be used to hold brushes. There were no brushes inside, though, only a few dark brown hairs. "These were on the couch where he slept," Viggo explained. "No one ever comes up here except me, and I don't have brown hair. They're his."

Dom's eyes flickered over the tatty red couch that was the centerpiece of Viggo's living room. He was getting more and more confused. It sounded like Orlando had made progress, had even succeeded for the most part in helping Viggo rediscover himself. So why had Orlando left before he was sure Viggo was stable?

"Did something happen before he left?" Dom asked. "Something that might, well, have scared him?"

"I... I don't know," Viggo said slowly.

"Why don't you tell me what happened the night before he disappeared. Maybe we can figure it out," Dom suggested, using all his power of persuasion to keep Viggo talking. He was quite sure the painter was not usually so forthcoming with a stranger, but he had no time to win Viggo's trust the conventional way. Something was terribly wrong, if his gut feeling could be trusted. He only hoped Billy found Orlando quickly.

"We'd been working in Coeur d'Alene on a new house. We finished it, and I offered to take Orlando out to dinner to thank him for his help..."

The memory was crystal clear to Viggo. They were both covered in paint splatters, but the euphoria of finishing a job was as evident on Orlando's face as it was in Viggo's heart. Not only had they finished the house, Viggo had finished the mural in the living room at home, inspired to paint for himself again for the first time since his divorce, five years before. He had tried once or twice to thank Orlando, to give him credit for the transformation in his life, but Orlando had always demurred, insisting that it was all there within Viggo, and that Orlando had nothing to do with it.

That was what Orlando thought, but Viggo knew the truth. Orlando had opened his heart again, had made him see the beauty that surrounded him every day, and in the process, Viggo had fallen in love with the young man. It had happened so simply, so effortlessly, that Viggo had not even been aware of it. When he looked into Orlando's laughing brown eyes as they left the cookie cutter house they had been working on all week, though, Viggo understood that he had everything he needed to make himself happy right there. He could deal with the drudgery of painting houses if he could have Orlando at his side. He could accept having no money because his wife took it all if Orlando was there to laugh with him and remind him that money wasn't important; happiness was. It was time to start his campaign to convince Orlando to stay forever.

"Let me take you to dinner," Viggo suggested as they left the house.

"Like this?" Orlando asked, laughing. "No decent restaurant would seat us."

"I meant after we've cleaned up," Viggo explained.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Orlando teased.

"You didn't answer my question," Viggo pointed out. "Will you let me take you to dinner?" His voice was earnest, his heart on his sleeve. He hoped Orlando would not be turned off.

"I'd love to have dinner with you," Orlando replied.

They went home and cleaned up as quickly as they could. Viggo knew Orlando did not have much in the way of clothes so he did not pull out his suit, settling instead on a comfortable shirt and slacks.

They had gone out to a simple restaurant that served simple food, but it was not the locale Viggo was interested in anyway. He was only interested in the company. He made a point of opening the car door for Orlando and then the door to the restaurant. He could see his companion looking at him strangely, since he had not bothered with those niceties before that evening, but that did not deter him. Viggo was determined to show Orlando how wonderful it could be if only he would agree to stay. Viggo would indulge his every whim, treat him like he was the center of the universe, because in those short weeks they had been together, Orlando had become the center of Viggo's universe.

At the restaurant, Viggo encouraged Orlando to order whatever took his fancy. "We're celebrating," Viggo insisted.

"But the bill... your wife..."

"Ex-wife," Viggo corrected, "and tonight I don't want to think about her. I only want to think about us."

"Us?" Orlando asked slowly.

"Yes, us," Viggo replied. "We've worked so well together that I was wondering if you would consider staying on."

"I thought you couldn't afford an employee," Orlando reminded him.

"I can't," Viggo admitted, "if I have to pay minimum wage, but I can afford to have you stay with me. I can afford to feed us both. If you're willing to keep helping me, at work and at living, I know we can do it."

"I don't know," Orlando hesitated. "I hadn't planned to stay very long."

"Do you have someplace you have to be?" Viggo asked. "You've never mentioned any family."

"I don't have any specific plans," Orlando admitted.

"Then stay," Viggo urged.

"I suppose I could, at least for a while longer," Orlando answered after a considerable pause.

"Wonderful!" Viggo exclaimed. The longer he could keep Orlando here, the harder it would be for the young man to leave. He would get used to being with Viggo, to working together, and to all the little signs of love that Viggo would shower on him. Viggo would win him over, day by day.

Dom frowned silently when Viggo recounted this part of the story. Orlando should have realized what was going on. He should have diverted Viggo's attention, found a way to focus his excitement inward rather than on Orlando. Something was terribly wrong.

Viggo recounted how the rest of the meal passed in easy conversation as they discussed their next project and what he was going to paint next. He talked about doing the walls in another room. Orlando suggested that he do a canvas instead. "That way, you can take it with you if you ever move."

"Is my place too small for you?" Viggo asked, half teasing, half apprehensive. He could not afford anything larger, but he would do his best to find a way if Orlando insisted.

"Not at all," Orlando replied smoothly. "Your couch is more than enough for me. People move sometimes, is all." As he spoke, Viggo smiled at the thought of the worn velvet that welcomed Orlando's weight each night. He wanted desperately to change places with the couch.

Looking across the table into the coffee-colored eyes, Viggo knew that on his couch was not where he wanted Orlando. He wanted the young man in his bed, as his lover, his partner, his mate. That would take time, though. Orlando had given no indication that he was interested in Viggo on that level. Even if that interest was never reciprocated, Viggo would be happy, simply having Orlando there. It did not mean, though, that he would not try.

When they were done with dinner, Viggo had escorted Orlando back to the car, letting his hand settle on the younger man's lower back, guiding him, subtly caressing him. When Orlando did not pull away, Viggo was incredibly heartened. If Orlando accepted that caress, he might be willing to accept more. They had driven home and settled on the couch as had become their habit. They had talked a little longer before Orlando had started yawning. Viggo had teased him about it, a little, before rising to give Orlando room to sleep. He lingered as Orlando settled himself on the couch, blankets hiding Orlando's slim form and the ornate carvings on the legs of the couch.

Right before he went to his room, Viggo leaned over Orlando's reclining form and kissed him, a gentle brushing of lips. A soft moan greeted his ears at the almost innocent touch, and Viggo could not stop himself from bending his head again. Orlando's lips moved pliantly under his, encouraging Viggo to deepen the kiss. He lapped softly at the seam of Orlando's mouth, urging the younger man to let him inside. It had taken a moment, but Orlando's lips had parted finally, letting Viggo's tongue through, letting his mouth be taken. The kiss stayed gentle, even as it grew more passionate. Finally, knowing that he was losing control, Viggo had raised his head and smiled down at his soon-to-be lover. "Sleep well," he whispered before going to his own room for the night.

"And when I came out in the morning, he was gone. I kissed him. That's all. There's no harm in that, is there?" Viggo asked with a pleading look on his face.

Dom did not know how to answer that question. If Orlando had been simply a young man, like Viggo believed, there would have been no harm, since it certainly sounded like Orlando had been willing. The problem arose because Orlando was not what he appeared, and he had broken the cardinal rule in allowing Viggo to fall in love with him. Dom wondered briefly if the emotions were reciprocal. That could explain Orlando's disappearance.

"Is there?" Viggo repeated.

"I don't know," Dom answered finally. "I guess that depends on Orlando."

Chapter 2

The trail Orlando had left was not fresh, but the panic was clear enough that Billy could follow it easily. He found Orlando in almost the same position that they had found Viggo, hiding in a corner of a rundown shed, deep in the Cabinet Mountains, curled up in a ball, crying as if his world had ended. The only differences Billy could see were the absence of the gun Viggo had held and the presence of the soft, feathery wings that hid Orlando's face from his friend.

" Orlando?" Billy said softly.

"Leave me alone." Orlando's voice drifted up softly, the pain muffled but not obscured by his wings, but he did not raise his head.

"I can't do that. Dom and I were sent to find you. I left Dom with your painter and followed you here."

"Viggo," Orlando whispered brokenly. "His name is Viggo."

"He's in bad shape, Orli. He was trying to kill himself," Billy told him gently.

Orlando's head flew up, wings opening aggressively. "What? I've got to..."

Billy caught Orlando's shoulders, stopping him from springing into the air in his haste to get to Viggo. "Calm down. Dom got the gun away from him, and I ran off the Adversary. Dom's still with him. He won't let anything happen. You wanna tell me what happened?"

"Not really," Orlando said, sinking back into his huddled position, his wings sagging in defeat, a cushion between his back and the splintered wood of the little cabin. "There isn't anything to say."

"I think there is," Billy disagreed, "and I think you'd better start by telling me what happened. Maybe we can still fix things."

"I don't know if I can go back," Orlando admitted.

"Why?" Billy was confused. What could possibly keep Orlando from finishing the job?

"I'm afraid that if I go back, I won't ever leave," Orlando said in a soft voice.

Billy's confusion gave way to shock. He had gathered from Dom that Viggo fancied himself in love with Orlando, but it had never occurred to him that the feeling might be mutual.

" Orlando! That's forbidden!"

"I know," Orlando replied bitterly. "Why do you think I'm here instead of with Viggo? I can't go back to him because I'm not allowed to offer him what he needs, but I can't go home either because I don't know how to stop these feelings."

"Tell me what happened," Billy said, "and start at the beginning."

Orlando sighed, trying to decide where to begin. "I did a little research before I left for this assignment, and I found out that Viggo fed every stray in town, so I thought I'd present as one of his strays. I showed up with just a backpack, asking for a job, telling him all I had was what was in my bag, and that I hadn't eaten in two days because I wouldn't scavenge in people's trash or beg on a corner. He looked so distressed when he told me he couldn't afford an employee, but he offered to let me stay for a day or two. I acted like I didn't want charity, so he said he'd let me help him out in exchange for meals and a place to stay. That gave me a way to spend more time with him."

Billy studied Orlando's face as he talked, catching glimpses of his normally enthusiastic friend in the now-dull voice.

"I could feel his despair, Billy, as soon as he opened the door. There is such grace in him, but he stopped seeing it long ago, and I could feel his soul dying little by little as we stood there. I had to stop it, any way I could." Orlando's voice was pleading, desperate for Billy to accept, to understand.

"Even at the expense of your own soul?" Billy queried softly. No one ever spoke of the exact punishment for letting a mortal become too dependent. No one needed to. What angel would want anything to separate him from the Most High? It was unthinkable. And yet that appeared to be what Orlando was thinking.

"Even that," Orlando agreed. "He took me in. I was prepared to 'persuade' him, but it wasn't necessary. What kind of man takes in a complete stranger in this day and age? Either a crazy one or a reckless one, but Viggo is neither. He is generous to his core, even when he hides it under layers of bitterness and regret."

"You've convinced me," Billy assured him placatingly. "What happened?"

"We worked together," Orlando said, "and a few days turned into a few weeks. He never gave any indication that he wanted me to leave, and after a few days, he started painting again, for himself again, instead of only for others." Orlando's eyes lit up as he remembered the evenings spent in Viggo's company and the amazing transformation that took place before his very eyes. "He painted the most extraordinary murals on the walls of his living room."

Orlando's eyes drifted shut as he remembered sitting on the ratty couch in Viggo's house, watching as the painter gave way to the artist, as the first tentative brush strokes became more and more confident, as dabs gave way to streaks of color, as dour colors gave way to joyous ones. Orlando did not dare to move when Viggo was painting like that, for fear of jarring the man out of his creative flow. He had even offered, at one point, to leave Viggo alone to paint, but Viggo had rejected that idea immediately, insisting that Orlando remain on the faded couch to keep him company.

"You're the one who inspired me to paint again. Why in the world would I want you to leave?" Viggo asked incredulously.

Orlando knew what his answer should have been. He knew he should have pointed out that the inspiration was inside Viggo all along and that all Orlando had done was help him see it again. That was what he was supposed to say, but the words never came out. Orlando simply could not make himself deny the feelings he felt growing between Viggo and himself. He knew it was forbidden. He knew he would pay a price if he let it go any further, but he did not have the heart to stop it.

"He finished the mural one night and we finished a big project the next day," Orlando continued. "He wanted to take me out to dinner. I tried to keep it light. I knew that he was getting too dependent on me, and I know how dangerous that can be. I had already decided that I needed to talk about moving on, so that Viggo would have time to get used to the idea and to realize that he did not need me, that he had all the grace he needed inside him, both for his art and for living his life."

He took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself to explain what happened next. "Then at dinner, he started talking about us. That word shouldn't have applied, but it did. It did, Billy," Orlando repeated, his voice breaking and tears shimmering in his eyes. "Somehow, over the three weeks I was there, he and I had become us. He talked about us becoming partners, about us working together, us living together. Us. Being together. Us." The sigh that escaped him was so heavy, so poignant that Billy felt tears welling in his eyes. "And I wanted what he was describing. I know I shouldn't have, but I agreed to stay. We talked all through dinner, mostly about work, but something changed when we left the restaurant."

As they were leaving, Viggo's hand settled low on Orlando's back. Orlando stopped the reflexive flinch at having a mortal's hand so near his wings, but he could not stop the shiver that went through him at the gentle pressure. Or at the thought of Viggo's hand moving just a little higher so it touched his wings. His eyes closed at the thought of Viggo's roughened palms moving across his feathered appendages. He had to remind himself that it would never happen, that he could not allow Viggo to learn of his true nature. The internal reminder did nothing to stifle his desire, though.

It had been a long day, and soon after they got home, Orlando's fatigue caught up with him, even though he wished he could stay in that moment forever. He tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. Since the couch doubled as his bed, Viggo had to retire himself in order for Orlando to get any sleep. Ever considerate, Viggo had immediately risen to let Orlando settle in for the night.

Orlando made himself comfortable, stretching out on the couch in preparation for going to sleep. He turned his head to say good night to Viggo only to find the man leaning over him. Before Orlando could speak, Viggo's lips were brushing his, not demanding anything, merely touching. They demanded nothing, but they offered Orlando his heart's desire. He could not stop the moan that escaped from his throat.

Almost immediately, Viggo's mouth was back, his tongue flicking tenderly across Orlando's lips, catching Orlando completely unprepared. He hesitated for a moment, but the wet caresses felt so wonderful that he parted his lips slowly, allowing Viggo inside. Orlando trembled beneath the onslaught of unfamiliar feelings as the kiss grew more passionate. And then Viggo raised his head and smiled lovingly. "Sleep well," he whispered, leaving Orlando alone to struggle with the newly awakened emotions.

"We angels touch so rarely," Orlando told Billy unnecessarily. "I had never considered the amazing joy to be found in the simple touch of a hand, much less in a kiss. I could have sat there all night and exchanged kisses with him, but he left me alone to sleep."

Orlando lay on the couch, listening to the sounds of Viggo getting ready for bed. He could hear the water running, the toilet flushing, the sound of Viggo's shoes hitting the floor, followed by the closet door opening and then closing again. All Orlando had to do was close his eyes, and he could imagine the scene in the next room, could imagine the layers of clothes coming off, one by one, until Viggo was down to his underwear, or perhaps even naked. The heat that spread through Orlando's body at the thought scared him. He was an angel. He was pure, above such base desires. Telling himself that had no effect on the emotion welling up in his heart because what he was feeling did not seem base to him at all. Yes, he could imagine, with disturbing clarity, what Viggo would look like without his clothes, but Orlando wanted so much more than that. He wanted to stay by Viggo's side and paint with him. He wanted to sit in Viggo's living room and inspire him to paint. He wanted to share every aspect of Viggo's life.

He had fallen in love.

And that was not allowed.

In a panic, hoping only Viggo's passion had been engaged, not his heart, Orlando grabbed his bag and fled. He had no idea where he was going, but he could not stay there and he could not go home. He had failed in his mission and would be chastised at the least, if not outright banished. He would be run out of any sanctuary, any holy site for having fallen as he had. He settled finally on the nearby mountains. They were not holy ground, so he did not have to worry about being rejected, but their beauty and majesty would still ease his soul. He only hoped Viggo would be all right.

"But he's not, is he?" Orlando finished.

"No, he's not all right," Billy agreed. "Apparently, he is as lost without you as you seem to be without him. You have to go back."

"And say what?" Orlando asked, beginning to get angry. "Sorry about this, but I'm an angel, and I'm not allowed to love you? I just wanted you to know that before I disappear forever? I won't do that to him. I've already hurt him so much by leaving once. It would be too cruel to go back only to leave him again. I can't do that. I won't."

Billy remained silent for a long time. What he wanted to suggest went against everything they believed. Their role in the lives of mortals was to remind them of the grace of God, to help them find their way home. And then to leave. But there could be no leaving this time if Orlando went back. Billy did not need Orlando's words to tell him that. He could see the anguish etched into the other angel's face, could feel the despair pouring off of him.

If Orlando went back, he would stay, and nothing but the Hand of God would be able to make him leave. He would be disinherited, removed from the ranks of angels, for no angel could hide his nature forever among mortals. Looking at Orlando's stricken face, Billy wondered if that even mattered to Orlando any more. Taking a deep breath, he made a decision. He had been sent to help Orlando, he and Dom. They had been chosen for a reason, because the Lord did not do anything by chance. He had to follow his heart and believe that it would not lead him astray.

"What if you went back and did not leave?" he said softly. Even saying the words scared him, but the pain he could feel emanating from Orlando scared him even more.

"I..." Orlando began, "I couldn't do that... Could I?"

"I don't know," Billy replied. "No one ever has, but what else can you do? If you go home the way things are now, you'll be reprimanded for sure, for not finishing your assignment, and that doesn't even take into consideration what will happen because you fell in love with a mortal. At the very least, you owe Viggo an explanation. You can't just leave him to try to commit suicide again as soon as Dom is gone."

"I won't be able to lie to him," Orlando admitted. "If I go back, I'll tell him the truth, all of it. It might be better if you and Dom left as soon as I get there. That way, what I do won't affect you. I'll risk my soul for him willingly, but I can't ask you to risk yours."

Billy smiled. "We already are, Orli m'lad, but I'm beginning to think it's worth it."

Chapter 3

Orlando stared at the peeling door, hand poised to knock. For three weeks, he had not needed to knock. He had walked in and out freely as if it were his right to do so. Viggo had given him the right to do so, but Orlando had lost that right when he disappeared in the middle of the night without saying thank you or good-bye. He had no idea what his reception would be now, but he knew he had to see Viggo one more time. Even if the man rejected him, he would know that he had faced him and been honest with him. He glanced back at Billy who stood on the other side of the street.

'Dom knows you're here,' Billy told him silently. 'He'll leave as soon as you knock so that you and Viggo can talk in private.'

'Don't wait for me,' Orlando pleaded. 'Don't put yourselves in jeopardy for me.'

'We'll be here when you're done,' Billy continued as if Orlando had not spoken.

Orlando sighed. He hated that his friends were about to be at risk for his decision, but Billy would not be swayed. Perhaps Dom could talk some sense into the other angel. He tried to imagine what he would say to Viggo, how the painter would react to the revelation that Orlando was an angel, wanting an answer to Viggo's possible objections so that he could convince the man to take him back. Realizing that he was stalling, Orlando took a deep breath and rapped on the door. He could hear footsteps inside the house as Viggo came down the stairs to answer the door.

The door swung open. Viggo stood there for a moment, looking haggard, far worse than when Orlando had first met him. "I'm sorry," Orlando whispered before Viggo had a chance to speak.

Viggo's fists opened and closed restlessly at his sides as he debated whether he should reach for the younger man. What he wanted to do was pull Orlando into an embrace and never let him go. He was afraid, though, that doing so would scare Orlando off before they had a chance to talk. "Would you like to come in?" Viggo said finally.

Orlando nodded, his heart in his throat as he walked inside.

"You left without saying good-bye," Viggo said plaintively when the door closed behind Orlando.

"I know." Orlando's head bowed with guilt at the state he found Viggo in. There were dark circles under the man's eyes that had not been there before and Orlando could see the traces of tears still on his face. "I'm so sorry. I... I got scared."

"Why?" Viggo asked. "What did I do wrong?"

The anguish in his voice was too much for Orlando. Abandoning his hesitations, he crossed to where Viggo stood, leaning in to kiss him. It was supposed to be a kiss of simple reassurance, but Orlando underestimated the effect that the touch of Viggo's lips against his own would have on him. At that first contact, his whole body yearned for more. Unable to stop himself, he stepped closer, letting their bodies touch softly.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Orlando assured him, their foreheads still touching even after he separated their mouths. "I have some things I need to tell you. Let's go upstairs and talk. Then, if you still want me, I'll stay. If not, I'll understand."

Viggo could not imagine what Orlando could tell him that would make Viggo not want him, but he agreed to listen. If nothing else, it would get everything out in the open and avoid something like this happening again.

~~~~~~~~
Viggo stared at Orlando, dumbfounded. An angel... The young man he had fallen in love with claimed to be an angel.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Orlando asked sadly, seeing the look on Viggo's face. "I don't blame you, really. I doubt I would believe me if I didn't know it was true." It saddened him, in a way. A part of him wished Viggo would believe him without having it proven, but that seemed to be asking more of the artist than he could give.

"It's not that," Viggo protested, though it was exactly that. "It's just a lot to take in all at once."

Orlando nodded. He did not know what he had expected, but he should not have been surprised, really. He would simply have to show Viggo so he would understand. "Have you ever wondered why I never took my shirt off, even on the hottest days, when we were working outside?" he asked, rising from the couch where they had been sitting and lifting his hands to the top button of his shirt.

"I figured you were shy," Viggo replied.

"I suppose I am," Orlando agreed, "but there's a reason for that." He opened the top button and then the second.

"What are you doing?" Viggo exclaimed, jumping to his feet, not quite sure why Orlando was suddenly getting undressed.

Orlando did not reply, merely undoing two more buttons. Alarmed by Orlando's odd behavior, Viggo grabbed the other man's hands, stopping their downward descent. "You don't have to do this," Viggo told him.

"Yes, I do," Orlando replied. "You'll understand when you see." He undid the last two buttons. "Take my shirt off," he requested.

Still confused, but feeling the first stirrings of desire, Viggo did as Orlando requested, pushing the fabric away from his shoulders and down his arms. When the shirt dropped to the floor by the couch, Orlando turned around slowly so that Viggo could see the wings furled tightly against his back. They arched up from where Orlando's shoulder blades should have been, covering his back and hips in the ivory shadow, parting just above his bottom to taper to their tips.

Viggo gasped, faced with the suddenly undeniable truth of Orlando's earlier statements. The part of him that wanted to cling to logic searched for a harness, anything that could explain the wings, but he knew, despite his mind's final grasping attempts at rationality, that Orlando was indeed the angel he claimed to be. Without conscious thought, his hand reached out to touch, stopping when it hovered a hair's breadth from the feathery edge.

Orlando looked over his shoulder at Viggo's stunned expression. "You can touch," he said softly, wondering if he was really ready to take that step and yet eager to finally know what it would feel like. He had been imagining this moment since Viggo touched his back on the way out of the restaurant.

Orlando's permission broke the spell that bound Viggo. He let his hand settle gently on the feathered contour of Orlando's wing. It was soft and warm beneath his touch, and through it, he could feel the minute tremors that were wracking Orlando's body. "Is this all right?" he asked in the same soft tone he had once used to gentle horses.

Orlando's nostrils flared as he tried to control his breathing, but he nodded in response to Viggo's question. Every muscle in his body had tensed in anticipation of the novel contact and even that simple tentative touch was enough to have him vibrating all over as he waited for more, unsure if he could handle more sensation. His fantasies had not even begun to prepare him for the reality of Viggo's hand on his wings. Then Viggo's hand moved, fingers sliding between the feathers, and Orlando had his answer. His back arched at the intimate touch, a current of desire sizzling down his spine and into his groin. He could not stop the whimper that escaped him.

Viggo snatched his hand back as if burned. "I'm sorry," he apologized, feeling like he had committed some terrible sin. Then Orlando turned to face him, and Viggo read the raw desire etched into the angel's features. "Orlando?"

"If you don't want me," Orlando whispered hoarsely, "tell me to leave now because if I stay much longer, I'll never be able to go."

"Don't go," Viggo whispered in the same hoarse tone. "I want you. You have no idea how much I want you."

"Show me," Orlando pleaded.

"Are you sure?" Viggo asked, apprehension assailing him at the thought of besmirching a celestial being.

In response, Orlando stepped back into Viggo's embrace, placed one of Viggo's hands back on his wings, down near his hip this time, and brought his mouth to the man's, kissing him with all the passion that the earlier caresses had inspired.

Viggo dove into the kiss like a parched man at an oasis. He had believed Orlando lost to him, and even his return had not eased those fears with Orlando's talk of angels. There was no denying Orlando's willingness, his eagerness, not with the angel burrowing deeper into his embrace, each heartbeat seeming to draw them closer. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of Orlando's body, every inch of his wings. He wanted to ravish him, feast upon him.

Worship him.

He could taste the passion in Orlando's kiss, but he also sensed the inexperience, and so he set out to teach Orlando how to make love with his mouth. Gently, he took control of the kiss, moving his lips over Orlando's, brushing, teasing, enticing.

Orlando ceded control to Viggo immediately. He knew his own ignorance. He only hoped Viggo would not mind enlightening him. Viggo's lips brushing across his own certainly suggested he did not. Orlando stood passively at first, quivering with desire but held in check by his inexperience and his fear of doing something wrong, something that would drive Viggo away. Quickly, though, he caught the rhythm of Viggo's kisses and began to anticipate them, turning his head, pursing his lips to meet the man halfway. This was what he had dreamed of, lying on Viggo's sofa after their first kiss: an exchange of kisses that stretched and stretched, gentle, soul-stirring touches of mouth to mouth that kindled a heat in Orlando's blood and a fire in his heart like nothing he had ever known before.

Viggo's tongue teased across Orlando's lips, reminding the angel that there was more to kissing than merely lips. His parted eagerly, ready for more of the delicious sensations Viggo was inspiring.

The man buried one hand in Orlando's sable curls, tipping the angel's head to get better access to his mouth. The other hand remained motionless on Orlando's wings. He wanted to run his hand over the elegant contours, to discover if their entire length was as sensitive as the one place he had already touched, but he thought it best to let matters develop slowly between them. He did not want Orlando to feel overwhelmed or to get scared because he moved too quickly. Instead, he let his tongue play along the inside of Orlando's parted lips, tantalizing him with the prospect of ever more intimate contact.

The enticement worked. After a few moments, Orlando's tongue slipped out to meet Viggo's, barely touching, flicking out for a tentative taste. Viggo retreated, hoping Orlando would have the courage to reciprocate the caress. The angel was nothing if not courageous. Having relished the sensations that Viggo's mouth inspired in him, he wanted nothing more than to return the favor and evoke those same sensations in Viggo. He did not know if he could, but he was determined to try. He thought about all the ways Viggo had kissed him since the first time and which way he liked best. That was how he wanted to kiss Viggo, what he wanted to always give Viggo: the very best. Coming to a decision, he let his tongue mimic the caresses that Viggo had most recently bestowed upon him, tracing the seam of the man's mouth and then, daringly, darting inside to find Viggo's tongue.

Viggo closed his lips around the invading tongue, sucking the probing flesh. Orlando gasped into the man's mouth at the sensual shock, but the surprise passed quickly, leaving only a desire for more. He moved with the rhythm of Viggo's mouth, his tongue surging and retreating as the pressure ebbed and flowed. At first, only his tongue moved in time, but before long, his entire body rocked against Viggo's in response to each pull. It made him wonder if he could influence Viggo the same way. He withdrew his tongue slowly, parting his lips in invitation, ready to clamp down and capture Viggo's invading muscle when or if it came.

As tempted as he was to abandon the kiss for other pleasures, Viggo was not so lost yet in passion that he forgot who he was making love with. He sensed that Orlando needed the time to explore, to gain in this arena the confidence he showed elsewhere, and while Viggo certainly wanted more, eventually, than mere kisses, he was quickly rediscovering the joys to be found in a leisurely exploration of another's mouth. He accepted Orlando's invitation and slid his tongue between the parted lips, there to be ensnared by the gentle pressure of Orlando's mouth. He moaned as Orlando sucked his tongue in an almost innocent caress that evoked in Viggo's mind much less innocent ones to come. He shivered, rocking into Orlando as the angel had rocked into him, only with a little more deliberation, so that he rubbed his hips intentionally against Orlando's groin.

Viggo could feel the tremors that wracked Orlando's body in the trembling of the wing under his hand. He smoothed his hand down the arched contour, trying to soothe the angel in his arms. It had the opposite effect. The shivering increased. Once again, Viggo snatched his hand back as if burned. "Orlando?" he asked, looking at the closed eyes and set features of his angel.

Orlando's lids lifted, revealing eyes so dark with desire that they were almost black. He licked his lips, trying to moisten them enough to speak. "Yes, Viggo?" he said finally, his voice deeper, huskier, than Viggo had ever heard it.

"I... Your wings..." Viggo stuttered, unsure of what he wanted to say now that he had the chance."

Orlando smiled a little. "They're very sensitive," he explained. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't touch them, but you can't expect me not to react when you do."

Viggo returned the smile and then glanced around his living room. "Do you want me to touch them?" he asked. That was the important question.

Orlando's smile broadened. "Oh, yes," he breathed. "Please."

"Then let's go where we can both be more comfortable. Will you come to the bedroom with me?"

Viggo expected a moment of hesitation, perhaps even more. Kissing in the living room was one thing. Going with him into the bedroom was a much bigger step, but Orlando did not hesitate. His smile grew ever more radiant as he nodded his assent and held out his hand to Viggo, leading the way to the other room.

Viggo followed Orlando into the bedroom, wondering what other mysteries Orlando's body had in store for him. His thoughts were derailed, though, when Orlando reached up and began to undo the buttons on Viggo's shirt. "I would watch you," Orlando said softly as he freed each button from its niche, "as we were painting. I would watch the way your muscles flexed as you worked. I told myself I was simply appreciating beauty wherever I found it, as any good angel would do, but it was so much more than that. I wanted to reach out and touch you, to see if your skin was as soft as it looked, to see what the hair on your chest felt like, if it was wiry or soft, to test the strength of your muscles, not against mine, but simply so I would know."

"Why didn't you?" Viggo asked softly, mesmerized by Orlando's tribute, afraid to break the mood surrounding them.

Orlando's smile dimmed for a moment as the thought of all he was leaving behind crossed his mind. "Because that's not why I was sent," he replied. Resolutely, he pushed his sad thoughts aside. That was not what he wanted to be focused on. "None of that matters now. All that matters is that I'm here and can touch you. Can I touch you?"

Viggo's breath caught in his throat. He tried to answer the question, but no words came out. He nodded instead.

Orlando's hands parted the halves of Viggo's shirt and settled tentatively on his skin, exploring as he had longed to do since the first time he had seen Viggo bare-chested, tracing the lines of his muscles, stroking the smooth skin and then tangling his fingers in the light pelt. Viggo schooled himself to stillness, his whole body quivering like a horse in heat. His eyes closed as the exquisitely delicate caresses set him alight.

Orlando took his time learning Viggo's body. He knew what he wanted - to stay with Viggo as long as the man would have him - but he did not know if that would be allowed and so he intended to experience everything the first time. In case there was no second time. He knew from the work he had done with Viggo that painting for hours on end, day after day, required a fair amount of strength in the arms, so he lingered there as he slid the shirt off Viggo's shoulders, testing the solidness of the muscle under his fingers. After a time, touching was not enough, so he bent his head to let his cheek settle against Viggo's upper arm, his head rubbing back and forth. Viggo's other hand rose to fiddle lightly with his curls, making Orlando smile and turn his head to press a kiss to Viggo's skin. The sudden indrawn breath made Orlando raise his head. "You like that?" he asked.

"Very much," Viggo replied honestly.

Orlando considered that new information. His inventive imagination supplied all sorts of uses for this newly-discovered sensitivity. Curiously, he let his lips move higher over Viggo's shoulder to the stubble-pocked skin of his neck. "You haven't shaved," Orlando observed.

"I didn't feel like doing much of anything while you were gone," Viggo admitted.

"That's all right," Orlando replied, running his fingers over the whisker-roughened skin. "I like it."

Viggo leaned into the touch, eager for that and more. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the palm of Orlando's hand. "Maybe you'd like to feel it elsewhere," he teased, rubbing his cheek against Orlando's and then lower to brush against the smooth skin of the angel's chest.

Orlando froze under the lash of new sensation. Viggo's stubble rasped most agreeably over his skin, sending frissons of desire through him again. Feeling incredibly bold, Orlando leaned into Viggo's caress and turned slowly so that Viggo was face to face with the arched edge of Orlando's wing. Moving his pinion gently, Orlando rubbed it against Viggo's cheek, letting the stubble scrape sensuously against his feathers. A raw moan escaped his throat, echoed by one from Viggo. Orlando's wings fluttered in what Viggo thought was invitation. "Tell me if it becomes too much," Viggo whispered, burying his face in Orlando's wings. "I'll stop if you tell me to."

Orlando was pretty sure it was already too much, but he was not about to tell Viggo to stop, not when he had never felt anything so wonderful. Viggo's hands moved up and down the feathery wings, tracing them, learning their shape and texture as Orlando trembled under the lash of sensation, moans and whimpers escaping his lips in a symphony of sound that resonated in Viggo's soul. His fingers burrowed into the feathers, seeking the flesh and muscle beneath. He kneaded the sinews when he found them, careful not to crush the feathers.

The tingling in his flesh spread outward from Orlando's wings, lighting up every nerve in his body, sending blood rushing to his groin in an indescribable sense of joy. He could feel his cock swelling, pulsing in time with each touch of Viggo's hands, each pass of his lips. Orlando pressed his lower body back against Viggo's, feeling an answering swelling in the man's pants. A part of him knew he should touch Viggo, should reciprocate the caresses in some way, but he was frozen in place, mesmerized by what he was discovering at Viggo's hands. The dizzying sensations built, layer upon layer, as Viggo lavished more and more attention on the angel's wings. Finally, Orlando could contain it no more. His body trembled in ecstasy and he slumped back into Viggo's arms.

"Wha... what was that?" he asked softly.

Viggo chuckled. "That is the ultimate pleasure to be found in the arms of someone special," he explained, not wanting to sully the beauty of what they were sharing with any more vulgar description.

"That pleasure seems to have a very physical consequence," Orlando commented, feeling the semen cooling and drying on his skin inside his clothes.

"A most enjoyable physical consequence," Viggo agreed. "Let's see if we can't make you more comfortable." He nudged Orlando toward the bed, his hands moving down to unfasten the angel's pants. "Take these off," Viggo urged when they arrived at their destination.

Orlando did as Viggo bade him, sliding the sticky cloth off his hips and down his legs so that he stood before the man in all his naked glory. He could not help the smile that crossed his face at the open admiration he could read in Viggo's eyes. Deciding that Viggo was overdressed, Orlando reached for the man's belt, drawing him closer so that Orlando could divest him of his clothes as well.

Viggo chuckled again. "Eager, are you?" he teased.

"You gave me the ultimate pleasure. I want to return it," Orlando explained.

"There's no rush," Viggo said, even as Orlando pushed his jeans down, revealing his rampant erection.

Orlando reached out and stroked Viggo's flesh inquisitively. When he heard Viggo's gasp, he looked up and smiled. "Are you sure? It seems rather urgent to me."

Viggo grabbed Orlando's hands and raised them to his lips, kissing them gently. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"With all that I am," Orlando replied, his wings rustling softly as if to remind Viggo of how much Orlando had already trusted him with.

"I want..." Viggo hesitated. How was he supposed to explain to this ethereal angel what he wanted? I want to fuck you was too vulgar. Penetrate was too clinical. There had to be a way to describe what he wanted without bringing it down to only matters of the flesh.

"I am yours," Orlando promised. "Tell me what you want, and I will give it to you if I can."

Orlando's words did not help. If anything, they pushed Viggo closer to the limits of his fraying control. He sat down on the bed and reached for Orlando. "Lie down here beside me," he requested.

Orlando furled his wings, stretching out to lie along Viggo's side, his eyes watching Viggo's curiously. "Kiss me again," Viggo asked.

Orlando obliged immediately, bringing his mouth to Viggo's and diving in to as deep a kiss as any they had shared. Slowly at first, Viggo ran his hand down Orlando's arm and side, caressing the skin, waiting to see if Orlando would protest. When none came, his questing hand grew bolder, sliding around to grasp Orlando's smooth flesh and pull them closer together. They both moaned when their movement brought their cocks into alignment. Orlando's hips bucked reflexively, driving their shafts into greater contact.

Viggo rolled to his back and reached into the drawer of the bedside table for the lube he had put there before Orlando's disappearance in the hopes of needing it sometime soon.

Not knowing what was going on, Orlando whimpered when Viggo pulled away, but the man was back almost immediately, lips and hands soothing the angel, assuring him silently that he had done nothing wrong.

Viggo coated his fingers with the lube and then paused, nervous again. "Can I... can I show you all the ways two people can love each other?" he asked finally.

Orlando's response was more moan than word, but Viggo understood the plea. He slipped one hand between them, encircling Orlando's cock and stroking gently. The other hand, the slippery one, moved to Orlando's back and down to the crevice that hid Viggo's ultimate target.

Orlando was so lost in the pleasure of Viggo's touch that he would not have protested anything the man did. All he wanted was more of the marvelous feelings that Viggo's talented hands were evoking. The fingers around his erection kept time with the movement of his hips, stroking him lightly, stoking the fires burning within him without pushing him beyond his limits. The other fingers, the ones slowly making their way inside him, were a different story. They kept striking a spot inside him that made the flames dance higher and higher until Orlando felt like he would explode at any minute. Some innate instinct told him that was not right, that the explosion should be mutual, but he did not know how to make that happen. He could not even think clearly enough to reciprocate the caresses that Viggo was lavishing on him.

"Turn over the other way," Viggo whispered, his fingers slipping out of Orlando's body and away from his cock. The angel was surprised, but he did as the man requested, turning so his back, and his wings, were against Viggo's chest.

Viggo buried his face in Orlando's wings, earning another trembling moan from Orlando's mouth, and pressed his aching cock against Orlando's buttocks. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered as he aligned his erection with the pulsing opening.

Orlando nodded, too caught up in the feeling of the kisses that Viggo was bestowing on his wings to be truly cognizant of what Viggo was saying. He felt the head of Viggo's cock pulsing against his entrance, and he knew it was important, but Viggo's chest kept moving against his wings, distracting him.

"Relax," Viggo whispered in his ear. Orlando tried to do as Viggo asked, but he had no attention for anything but the brush of Viggo's body against his wings.

Until Viggo's cock slid against that spot inside him. He could not contain the hoarse shout that burst from his lips, his back arching, pushing his wings tighter against Viggo's chest. He could feel the moment of complete ecstasy nearing again. Viggo's hands were on his hips now, guiding his movements to match the man's, but that was not where Orlando wanted them.

"Touch my wings," he pleaded.

Viggo trembled, moving his hands up from Orlando's hips to the place where the wings joined the smooth skin of his back. His thumbs slid against the top sides of each base while his fingers caressed the undersides. His fingers could not meet around the pinions, but Viggo stretched them as if to try, kneading at the sensitive flesh as his erection slid in and out of Orlando's velvety hot passage. The immediate stiffening of Orlando's body and the change in tone of his moans let Viggo know just how much pleasure he was bestowing, but the position made it more difficult for him to find leverage to thrust. And he very much wanted to thrust more deeply into the tight sheath that seemed made for him.

He pulled out, grinning slightly at Orlando's cry of protest. "Roll over onto your knees," he instructed, helping Orlando into the position he desired. He took a moment to look down at the vision spread out before him. Orlando's back arched as he leaned on his elbows, his wings spreading out wide, his knees set apart, his head hanging down between his arms as he panted with desire.

Viggo's hands trembled as he repositioned himself to slide back into Orlando's body. There had to be something wrong about this. It was too beautiful, too perfect to be allowed. He could not stop himself, though, and it was obvious that Orlando did not want him to stop. The angel pushed back against his inward thrust, bringing their bodies into sudden, sharp contact. Viggo gasped, his hands gripping hard at Orlando's waist.

"Wings!" the angel said again, reminding Viggo of why they had changed position in the first place. He let his hands drift back to their previous place around the base of Orlando's wings and then bent over the curve of the angel's spine as he drove deeper into Orlando's pulsing passage.

Orlando decided he had found heaven on earth. Nothing could possibly feel better than Viggo's hands on his wings, kneading the sensitive sinews, Viggo's shaft in his sheath, prodding repeatedly at the place within him that brought such pleasure, Viggo's breath on his back, rustling his feathers.

The rhythm of Viggo's hips faltered as he felt his release nearing. He started to reach for Orlando's cock, to bring the angel along with him, but the sound of protest when his hand left Orlando's wing was so needy that Viggo changed his mind. Orlando had climaxed once before, from just stimulation to his wings. Viggo would simply have to make sure it happened a second time. He leaned further over Orlando's back, bringing his lips to the upper curve of the arched wings. Tightening his pulsing grip on the base of the wings as he increased the speed of his thrusts, he bit down gently on the delicate camber.

The pressure of Viggo's teeth on his wings was enough to trigger Orlando's orgasm. He bucked and trembled beneath Viggo, his motions forcing Viggo's cock even deeper inside him, which only served to make him tremble harder, leaving him vibrating in helpless desire. He tried to support himself, to ride out Viggo's continuing thrusts, but his climax had left him spent. Then Viggo's arms were around his waist, balancing him as the man's climax overtook him. Orlando could feel the hot liquid spool out inside him, filling him. When he felt Viggo start to withdraw, he pushed back against him, unwilling to let the moment of communion pass so quickly.

Obligingly, Viggo rolled them to their sides, leaving their bodies joined for the time being. He nuzzled Orlando's wings tenderly before placing a kiss on the nape of his neck.

He did not want to ask, but he could feel reality impinging on their cozy little world. "What happens now?" he asked Orlando softly.

"That depends on you," Orlando replied honestly. "Do you love me?"

"Yes," Viggo answered without hesitation.

"Enough to have me here, mostly dependent on you, for the rest of our lives?" Orlando asked.

"Yes," Viggo answered again. "Why are you asking?"

"Because I have to go home soon and answer for what we've done," Orlando explained.

"What?!" Viggo asked, sitting up. "What do you mean?"

Orlando sat up beside him and ran a loving hand over Viggo's cheek. "This," he said, gesturing to the bed, "is not in my job description. I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you or let you fall in love with me. I don't know what will happen when I go home, but they will not be happy with me. When I come back to you, I will probably be as mortal as you."

Viggo was stunned. He had no idea Orlando had put himself in such a precarious position. If he understood what Orlando was saying... "You're giving up your place in heaven for me," he murmured, amazed and humbled.

"I've found my heaven here on earth with you," Orlando assured him. "As long as you love me, as long as you're with me, they won't have taken anything I haven't willingly given."

He heard Billy's voice in his head, calling him. He had felt the other angel disengage when he first entered Viggo's house, but the connection was back now "I have to go, but I promise, I will come back to you," he swore, bending to kiss Viggo's lips one last time for strength and courage. "Promise me you'll be here when I get back," he pleaded. "Even if it isn't right away, promise me you'll wait for me."

"I promise," Viggo said. The words were barely out of his mouth when Orlando disappeared, leaving him alone in an empty bed that smelled of sex and love and longing. Ignoring the discomfort of the damp splotches, Viggo snuggled down under the sheets, wrapping himself in the comfort they provided.

Chapter 4

When Orlando left the mortal plane for the celestial one, he was clothed again in white, all evidence of his recent activities gone from his body. He regretted the loss, but it did not matter in the end. Nothing could erase the evidence from his heart.

Billy and Dom flanked him as they made their way slowly back to heaven.

"Are you happy?" Billy asked softly.

Orlando's smile was radiant. "Happier than I can ever remember being."

The other two angels nodded. They did not understand, not really, but they could see, could feel, the contentment and joy radiating from Orlando. They had no idea what would happen next, but they rejoiced in the serenity of that moment.

Then they reached the Gates of Heaven, only to find them closed.

"They've never been closed to us before!" Dom exclaimed.

"And they wouldn't be closed to you now if I weren't here," Orlando replied. "I'm sorry that this has happened to you. I will make it very clear that this was my decision and that you should not suffer for it."

"Do you think you'll get that chance?" Billy asked.

"Oh yes," Orlando replied. "I have transgressed, and I am sure the Adversary will take great pleasure in informing everyone of it."

"When did you get so cynical?" Dom inquired.

"When the laws that govern us made me choose between the man I love and the God I love."

"Sacrilege!" The voice was cold and accusing.

Orlando turned to face his accuser. The Adversary stood there, finger pointed accusingly. "You heard him," he said to the gathering host behind him. "Sacrilege! He is mine now."

The word sent the multitude into a frenzy, lifting Orlando, Dom, and Billy, and bringing them to the Seat of Judgment.

"And why is it that an angel has been brought before me?" the Judge asked, not unkindly.

Before Orlando could reply, the host had taken up the cry, led by the Adversary. "Sacrilege!"

"Be silent," Billy shouted, coming to stand beside Orlando, aware that Dom had moved to his other side. "We fought you for the soul of the painter and won. How much harder do you think we would fight for the soul of our friend?"

Orlando bowed his head, not in shame, for nothing could make him ashamed of his love for Viggo, but in sadness that it had come to this.

"See!" the Adversary shouted. "He cannot even face his accusers."

Orlando's head snapped up, and he stepped forward. "What am I accused of and who accuses me? You? Tell them what you know, or think you know." He turned to the Judge. "I will submit to Your will, but I do not need the likes of him to accuse me. If loving Viggo is a sin, then yes, I have sinned. If finding joy in his arms is a trespass, then yes, I have trespassed. If seeing beauty and grace and goodness in his heart is a transgression, then yes, I have transgressed. I freely admit it, but I will not stand to have that beauty and grace sullied by that one's accusations. Judge me for what I have done, not for what he thinks I did."

"And what have you done?" the Judge asked.

"Saved a soul," Dom replied before Orlando could speak. "I saw the painter, Viggo, saw what misery he was in alone. That one would have taken him in his despair. I touched his heart again before we left to come back. Even if Orlando never returns, he will wait and hope. He may never love again, but he will wait and he will live, hoping to be worthy of Orlando when he does return."

"And why should he hope to be worthy of Orlando?" the Adversary sneered. "Should he not hope to be worthy of the Lord instead?"

"No act of kindness, of goodness, is forgotten," the Judge reminded him, "no matter the reason behind it. If he lives well to be worthy of anyone's love, he is worthy of Mine as well."

"There is more to it than that, though, isn't there?" the Judge asked Orlando.

"There is," Orlando agreed. "For I love him as he loves me. I promised to return to him, to stay with him, and it is a promise I intend to keep."

"You know you cannot live as an angel among mortals," the Judge pointed out.

"I know," Orlando replied. "It is a small enough price to pay. Let me go back to him."

"You do not have to leave. You could stay here and watch over him, guide his steps, be his guardian angel."

"And never know the joy of his smile directed at me, the beauty of his laugh, the grace of his touch? Yes, I could stay, and while he would wait and hope, I would wither and die a little more every day, knowing that he was waiting and hoping for a day that would never come. I will not do that, to him or to me. Let me go back."

"That is truly your choice?" the Judge asked, one last time.

"It is. But this was my choice. Dom and Billy had nothing to do with it. All they did was save Viggo from the Adversary until I came to my senses. They do not deserve to share my fate, for this was not their choice."

"Dom and Billy do not and will not stand accused before me. As for your choice, so be it," the Judge decreed. "You are cast out of the host of angels, to live as a mortal for the days allotted to you."

The pain in his back was searing, a terrible ripping sensation, then he was falling, falling, plummeting toward the earth. Darkness took him, and he did not feel the hands that caught him, that lay him gently on the doorstep of the run-down building with the sign, Mortensen Painting. He did not see those hands knock at the door or the two forms that hovered over him until the door opened and Viggo let out a sharp cry at finding Orlando there. When his eyes opened, he saw the deep blue ones looking at him, searching his depths for answers, but he did not see the fluttering wings of the two angels who left him to the life he had chosen. That sight, the one that let him see beyond the mortal world, was blinded, but he did not care. All he needed to see, to know, was that the man was holding him. "I told you I'd come back," he said weakly.

Viggo scooped Orlando into his arms, carrying him inside. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"I am human now," Orlando said, "with all the strengths and weaknesses of any man. I will live out my days at your side, if you will have me still."

"Now and forever," Viggo vowed.

"Forever is not promised to any of us, but I will treasure the days we have. I love you, Viggo."

"And I love you, angel."

Orlando winced. "Don't call me that. I am an angel no more."

"You will always be my angel. You saved me."

"I think maybe we saved each other," Orlando replied. "We are together. That's what matters. Kiss me, please, now."

Viggo hastened to do as Orlando requested, pulling the angel - the man nearer to him and bringing their lips together to seal the promises they had made. Orlando plunged into the kiss ravenously, needing the immediacy of the contact to remind himself why he had made his choice. It was all he remembered, all he craved, all he needed to be happy. His hands moved frantically to cup Viggo's head, holding it still so he could probe the other man's mouth passionately.

Viggo broke the kiss, gasping for breath. "Easy, Orlando. Calm down. There's no rush."

"Yes, there is," Orlando disagreed, urgency in every line of his body, every sound he made. "I need you. I need us to be joined as we were before. I need to feel that communion again."

"That's where we're going, baby, but I don't want it like this. I want to make love to you, slow and gentle. I want to show you everything we bypassed last time."

Viggo's voice washed over Orlando like soothing rain, calming his frenetic energy. "Just promise we'll get there," he pleaded.

"I promise," Viggo answered. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Come to bed now?"

Orlando nodded and they walked side by side into the bedroom. Orlando reached immediately for the buttons on his shirt, but Viggo caught his hands. "Let me," he urged.

Orlando could feel his impatience returning. He understood what Viggo wanted, but he needed more. He needed now. He stepped closer to Viggo and latched onto the older man's mouth again, pushing him toward the bed, trying to convey his desperation.

Realizing that Orlando was not going to be calmed, Viggo lay back under the onslaught and let his lover take what he needed. Then, he would show the younger man the joy to be found in leisurely lovemaking.

Heartened by Viggo's acquiescence, Orlando let his hands race over Viggo's body, undoing buttons, pushing fabric aside in his quest for contact with skin. Viggo moved only as necessary to facilitate his disrobing, but found that Orlando's urgency was contagious. When Orlando's fingers closed around his throbbing erection, Viggo let the passion those caresses evoked take him. He bucked his hips up into Orlando's hand, enjoying the tentative caresses that quickly became more assured. There would be time to teach Orlando finesse, but for the moment, Viggo simply luxuriated in the other man's touch, his smell, in his very presence. That he was there at all was a miracle that Viggo would never take for granted.

Despite the lack of finesse, Orlando's touch soon had Viggo teetering on the edge of orgasm. A part of him still protested the rush, but he gave in. His body gave him little choice. He thrust up into Orlando's fist one more time, his seed shooting out to coat his stomach and Orlando's hand, his face contorted with the intense pleasure.

The sight of Viggo, his head thrown back, his eyes clamped shut, his face a mask of ecstasy, was all Orlando's control could handle, and completely untouched, he felt his own release burst out of him. He collapsed forward onto the bed beside Viggo.

Viggo pulled Orlando into his arms even before his panting eased and his heartbeat slowed. He needed his lover in his arms. His hands moved leisurely over Orlando's arms and up his back, coming to a sudden halt when they reached the place where Orlando's wings had been.

"They're gone, aren't they?" he asked sorrowfully.

"Yes," Orlando replied. "I can't very well live as a human with wings on my back, can I?" He tried to make it a light-hearted quip, but his voice was flat.

"Don't make jokes," Viggo scolded. "You paid a terrible price for what we have."

"No, it wasn't like that," Orlando hastened to correct him. "This isn't my punishment. This is my choice. I could have stayed and remained an angel, but I made a promise to you, and I wanted to keep it. I chose to come back to you, to be mortal and live with you. They didn't take anything from me. I gave it up willingly, gladly even, for it let me return to your side. I love you, Viggo. That's what matters."

Viggo felt tears pricking his eyes at Orlando's words. "I love you, too," he replied softly.

For a moment more, he cradled Orlando against him. Then, slowly, he rolled the younger man onto his back and began working the buttons on his shirt, studying the revealed skin as he did. "I'll have to find your other sensitive spots then," Viggo said, his lips against Orlando's neck, "since I can't lavish attention on your wings any more. I guess I'll have to stroke and kiss you all over until I find where you're the most susceptible."

Orlando shivered at the sound of Viggo's silk and sandpaper voice and at the images he conjured. "I think I'd like that," he whispered, eager to begin this new phase of his life.

That was all the permission Viggo needed to begin his exploration, to start to learn all that there was to know about the creature in his arms. Orlando was mortal, human, now - he understood that - but he was also so much more, and Viggo looked forward to discovering Orlando's secrets. He parted Orlando's shirt, helping his young lover sit up so he could remove the hindering garment. As he lowered Orlando back to the bed, his hands encountered the raised, rough scar on Orlando's back. He fingered it slowly.

"It is not a rebuke," Orlando reminded him firmly. "It is a testament to our love."

Viggo nodded, reminding himself to always cherish Orlando the way he deserved, but his fingers lingered, caressing, discovering this new place on his lover's body. It took Orlando a minute to understand Viggo's actions, but he relaxed finally, realizing that Viggo's attentions to the scar were not objectionable, were even pleasant because of the devotion he felt in the touch.

Viggo raised up over Orlando's prone form, letting his weight press lightly against his lover. He propped himself on one elbow, leaving the other hand free to ghost across Orlando's chest, studying his face for every hint of reaction. Orlando's face was as expressive as Viggo could have wanted, flickers of desire racing across his features when Viggo stroked his neck, the sensitive spot beneath his ear, his Adam's apple, his nipples, his stomach.

His initial survey complete, Viggo went back to linger, to shower Orlando with love and tender devotion. His lips settled against Orlando's skin, drifting over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, to kiss away the lines of worry or pain that lingered there, despite all of Orlando's brave words. "I can't begin to imagine how you must feel right now, leaving behind all you've known, all you were," Viggo whispered, smoothing his fingers across Orlando's forehead, "but I am glad you're here with me." The word did not even begin to describe his feelings: overwhelmed, honored, flabbergasted, thrilled, but those words did not come out. The emotions were still too new. He did not know how to express them yet.

"There is no place I'd rather be," Orlando replied equally softly, but with a firm determination in his voice that made Viggo flush with pleasure. "Never forget; I chose this."

Viggo made his way slowly down to the strong jaw and the long, supple neck. He licked at the olive-hued skin, urging Orlando to tip his head back so Viggo could explore more fully. Already drifting in a sensual daze, Orlando was putty in Viggo's hands, moving willingly at his lover's will. He head fell back as the smooth lips teased his skin. It took him a moment to realize what was different from before. He raised a hand to Viggo's cheek. "You shaved."

Viggo smiled, pressing another kiss to Orlando's neck before raising his head. "I had something to look forward to while you were gone. I wanted to be ready for your return."

Orlando savored the smooth skin a moment longer before his hand dropped back to the bed and his head tilted back again in blatant invitation. "I like it," he murmured as he waited for Viggo to resume his explorations.

Viggo obliged immediately, his lips moving back to the silk on steel skin. His lover's corporeal form left nothing to be desired. As his lips moved lower, he said a silent prayer of thanksgiving for the gift in his arms and swore to do everything he could to be worthy of such grace. Then he returned his focus to Orlando, licking and nibbling at his collarbone.

Orlando moaned softly as Viggo's teeth and tongue teased his skin. The electric contact eased a fear he did not even know he had. At his insistence, their first round of lovemaking had focused almost completely on his wings, every other touch but Viggo's cock inside him paling in comparison. Feeling himself react now to Viggo's other caresses eased his mind on that last count. He could make love to Viggo as a mortal. Even without wings, his body reacted to Viggo's touch. He threaded his fingers through the soft blond hair, encouraging the continued exploration.

Teasingly, Viggo circled Orlando's nipple with his lips, playing across his lover's chest. When he sensed that Orlando's impatience was about to get the best of him, he took the tightly furled bud in his mouth, holding it between his lips as he laved it with his tongue. Orlando whimpered, arching his back into the novel caress. He could feel arousal surging through him again as Viggo worked his sensitive flesh.

Hearing the sounds of pleasure falling from Orlando's lips, Viggo intensified his attentions deliberately, redoubling his efforts to heighten Orlando's awareness, his sensitivity, his desire. He wanted to wrap Orlando in his love. His hands drifted lower as he switched to the other nipple, sucking and licking, nipping at it as he had its twin. He could feel Orlando trembling beneath his touch and it rocked him to the core of his being. It seemed that everything in his life had led up to this moment, with this man, molding him into the man Orlando could love, and he was determined to be that man. Slowly, he inched his way down Orlando's torso to the accompaniment of the other man's moans, savoring each fresh sound, each new patch of skin.

Orlando was caught in a sensual web, heart pounding, loins throbbing as he waited for what came next. He knew, or thought he knew, where they were going, but he did not know, could not anticipate, the path they would take to get there, and so he lay back under Viggo's caress, responsive but waiting, letting Viggo take the lead and teach him the joys of his changed body. Sensation upon sensation rushed through him, leaving him shaking with wanton desire. He shifted restlessly, feeling again the building pressure, the tingling that he was learning was a desire for release. "Please," he whispered.

"Soon," Viggo promised in a voice that stroked the younger man's ear like velvet, his lips memorizing every curve and cut of Orlando's stomach as he began to undo his lover's pants, sliding them off Orlando's hips, leaving him finally naked. His fingers followed the light dusting of hair down from Orlando's navel, sliding into the curls at his groin but studiously avoiding the eager erection.

His lips drifted out, over Orlando's hip and down his thigh before working his way around to the sensitive inner face. Orlando parted his legs eagerly, longing for Viggo's touch.

Suddenly hungry himself, Viggo moved up and buried his nose in the thatch of hair, inhaling Orlando's unique scent. His lover's cries were tempting him beyond control, driving him wild with desire. He pressed his lips to the base of Orlando's cock in a gentle kiss before sliding his mouth toward the tip. When he reached the rosy head, he let his tongue explore, loving the salty flavor that assailed his senses.

Orlando froze when he felt Viggo's mouth on his erection, but the knowledge that this was Viggo, his love, who was touching him so intimately, helped him overcome his instinctive inhibitions. "Can..." he began, feeling the need to touch Viggo, to return some measure of the joy that he was feeling. Viggo lifted his head to meet Orlando's eyes. "Can I touch you? That way?"

Viggo shifted so that he was lying beside Orlando, giving his lover access to his body even as he lowered his head to resume his ministrations. Tentatively, Orlando copied Viggo's actions, trying to give his lover the same pleasure he was receiving. He could not take Viggo as deeply as Viggo took him, but the sounds he could hear and feel emanating from Viggo's throat were intoxicating, making Orlando feel incredibly powerful.

"No more," Viggo said finally, raising his head and pulling away from Orlando's clinging mouth.

"Why?" Orlando protested.

"Because I want to be inside you again," Viggo replied hoarsely. Orlando groaned in delight at the words and the tone of Viggo's voice.

"Yes. I want that, too." Orlando's voice rubbed against Viggo's ear like an affectionate kitten.

Viggo shuddered as he fought to stay in control. He had to take this slowly. Orlando was still practically untouched, and after all he had sacrificed, willingly or not, the last thing he deserved was a rough, painful experience. Viggo sat up long enough to retrieve the lube from the bedside table and reposition himself on the bed. Orlando turned away immediately, lying on his side, offering himself to Viggo. The painter's heart leapt in his throat as he truly understood how much Orlando wanted this. It eased his concerns of rushing his lover, but it made him all the more determined to give Orlando the most fulfilling experience possible.

"Not this time," Viggo whispered, rolling Orlando onto his back. "This time, I want to see your beautiful face."

Orlando accepted Viggo's declaration, willing to do anything if it would bring the moment of their joining closer. He recognized the feeling of the lube-slicked fingers as they slid over his perineum and toward his entrance. Anticipation built inside him as he braced his feet and lifted his hips into the touch.

Viggo ran his other hand soothingly down Orlando's flank. "Easy," he crooned. "We'll get there. There isn't any rush."

"Yes, there is," Orlando panted. "I need you."

Viggo wanted to draw out the preparation, to tease and tantalize until Orlando was begging, until he was open and pleading, but his own need was too strong. It was time to satisfy both their appetites. He probed Orlando's rosette gently, waiting for it to relax, to let him inside. Almost immediately, Orlando pushed against the questing fingertip, trying to bring that much of Viggo inside him at the very least. Viggo obliged, working his finger slowly into Orlando's body.

Orlando whimpered, protesting the drawn-out pace. "I'm not fragile," he whispered.

"But you are precious," Viggo replied. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'll tell you if it hurts," Orlando promised, "but I need you now. Give us what we both want."

Viggo added a second finger, stretching Orlando's entrance, but more quickly, hurrying now toward their goal. He reached for the lube and smeared it over himself. "Tell me if you need me to stop," Viggo reminded Orlando as he lined up his cock with the clenching portal.

"Don't stop," Orlando pleaded, arching against Viggo's body.

Viggo slid inside Orlando, the sense of homecoming so strong that he nearly wept for the joy of it. He tried to pause, to give Orlando a chance to adjust, but the younger man was moving restlessly beneath him, stirring Viggo's cock in his sheath despite Viggo's immobility. That lasted only long enough for Viggo to realize that Orlando truly did not need the time, that he wanted this as badly and as immediately as Viggo himself did. He began to thrust, matching his rhythm to the movements beneath him, guiding Orlando's hips gently at first until he learned the pattern of this new position.

Orlando moaned at the feeling of Viggo sheathed inside him. He could feel the spiritual connection that was echoed by their physical joining. His hands moved to Viggo's broad shoulders, clutching at them frantically as they moved together in unison, pulling Viggo's face to his for a kiss. The configuration of their bodies trapped Orlando's cock between them so that with every thrust, Viggo's belly provided more stimulation to the throbbing flesh. Their mouths met in hungry desperation as they strove for completion, tongues entwining, mimicking the motions of their hips.

Viggo could feel the tightening in his groin that signaled his imminent release. He shifted enough that he could slide one hand between their bodies, providing the final push that Orlando needed.

His climax began, deep inside him, spreading outward in great, pulsing waves, He convulsed beneath Viggo, his channel clamping down on Viggo's cock, massaging the entire length.

Viggo whispered Orlando's name in hushed awe as his own orgasm overtook him, shaking him in its grasp like a rag doll. He continued to thrust slowly as he came down from the sensual high. "I think I've died and gone to heaven," he said softly.

Orlando smiled. "No, you just found a little piece of heaven on earth, our little piece of heaven." He knew what heaven felt like, but this was different. Heaven was open to any who chose it. Viggo's arms were open only to him. He smiled more broadly and shared those observations with his lover.

Viggo chuckled and kissed Orlando tenderly. "My angel," he whispered.

*****
Looking down at them from their place in heaven, Dom sighed. "It doesn't seem right, what happened to him," he told Billy.

"That's not for us to say," Billy disagreed.

"No, it is not for you to say," the Voice agreed, "but you were there. You heard Orlando make his choice. Close your eyes. Do you not hear it, the song of love? It swells each time they touch, each time they kiss. Orlando was not punished. He has chosen a different path to Me, a different way to testify to all that I am. He will live out his days with his love, honoring Me as love does in all its forms. Their road will not be easy, in the world that is still blind to My ways, that does not understand that I am love and that all love comes from Me. Death will someday part them, it is true, but if their hearts remain faithful, it will be only a temporary separation. And when Orlando's days are done, there will be much rejoicing in heaven, for we will have not one but two to add to our numbers. Orlando was right. He would have withered here, without Viggo, his soul growing dimmer and dimmer each day. And what would that have wrought? No joy, for sure. No, as unfair as it seems, Orlando made the right choice. Rejoice for your friend. He has found happiness and love. What more could any of us possibly want?"

*****

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Ariel Tachna

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