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Wipeout	By : sagralisse Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > General > Lord of the Ring Stars Views: 2033 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is work of fiction! I do not know the celebrity(ies) I am writing about, and I do not profit from these writings.

Chapter List
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Author: sagralisse

Pairing: Viggo/Karl

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: The author has verified that everything about this fictional work is quite false.

Warning: Lots of S&M, but not the bad, scary kind of S&M. It's more like the happy, friendly kind.

Feedback: Oh you'd love to see me beg for it, wouldn't you.

A/N: Thanks to the lovely and talented bunniewabbit the beta.

First Wave: Quimby
They'd come to surf, but the surf wasn't cooperating. There wasn't anyone but the the the beach. Probably those two things went together. Viggo was there, because he missed surfing and because this beach made him think of the curve of the world and thousands of miles of empty ocean. Karl was there because Viggo wanted to go, and now Viggo would listen to him when he said that that it was gonna be flat. Maybe.
So, Viggo thought curve and Karl thought flat, but both were thinking that the sun was excellent and that the beach feels like a very different place when there isn't a crowd. The nature of it is always there, of course, but it talks to a person more when it's empty. Karl thought that had something to do with very small swimsuits. Then he decided that a nap would be better than thinking of small swimsuits.
"You should roll over or put on some more sunscreen." Viggo's voice woke him up.
"Yes, Mum." Karl rolled onto his stomach.
"So, what happened here." Viggo touched his wrist. Karl wore a bracelet of streaky marks that couldn't decide on a color. Actually it was two bracelets.
"Ummm..."
Viggo took his hand and looked more closely. "That isn't good. You risk nerve damage."
Karl retrieved his hand, shrugged. He seemed able to push the softness out of his expression at times, withdrawing behind the strength of his features. "It was worth it." It was half-true. "Absolutely." His mind reached back for a bit of that recent high, skirting dark places.
Viggo considered him for a moment, waiting for him to say more. Karl let the ocean speak for h At At last Viggo seemed to find the proper words. "It isn't necessary, you know."
"What would you know about it?"
Viggo tilted his head in that way that made people want to reassess their lives. "I know enough."
There was a pause. Karl seemed to be at a loss, then retreated into an all-purpose smile. Viggo let him go and turned his gaze back toward the ocean. Karl sighed and wished for bigger waves.
That evening Karl wasn't as comfortable playing host. Not that he regretted having Viggo come to stay at the beach house, but yesterday the dirty dishes hadn't seemed like a big deal, and the sleeper hadn't looked quite so dilapidated. What was "I know enough" supposed to fucking mean anyway?
They ordered Chinese food and ate it, and he cleaned up while Viggo made some phone calls. But then Karl felt troubled and tired and retreated to his room, putting the solidity of the bedroom door between himself and vague annoyance of Viggo's compassion.
He couldn't sleep, of course. He wondered if his mind would ever get tired of replaying the same memories. First there was that single visit to a leather bar, that feeling of being preyed upon, assessed by that fucking top. It had been beyond unsettling... just the impersonality of it. The guy was so in costume that Karl had to stifle an urge to laugh out loud. He had retreated, endurihe she self-satisfied smiles... blushing at that parting shot: "Come back when you grow some balls, boy." He wondered if they called all their bottoms "boy" because they couldn't be bothered to remember their names.
And then he wheedled an invitation to a private BDSM club from a friend of a friend. Even before getting the invite he'd gotten a label. "Are you sure you aren't dominant, or at least a switch?" she kept asking. "So many single male subs want to come. We'd be up to our asses in them if we let them all in." But she'd gotten him in, after he'd promised to make an appearance at her daughter's school fundraiser, of all things. She warned him that it was mostly lesbian and hetero, and he tried not to be startled at her ability to peg him.
The group had been like another world. It was held in small gay bar that was closed for their party. He remembered the female dommes socializing, surrounded by their entourages and their hopefuls. They petted their favorites and swapped stories about them. Some of their favorites looked very plain, as if they'd been chosen with no regard for gender or attractiveness. But the stories told about them were... startling, and haunting. The brilliant laughter of the dommes kept all eyes turning their way. Pretty college girls circled, always nearby to light their cigarettes.
He remembered the married couples, their complaints about their nosy teenagers, the wives arranging to swap nights babysitting. And then he and an ancient male cross-dresser were drafted by one of the male doms to help assemble a big bondage station. He felt like a part of the furniture... just an extra male submissive. It was surreal, and it was still the social hour.
After a while the dommes had started calling for Robert, and voice had called back for them to chill, which made them laugh. There was a shift as a couple emerged from the back of the bar heading toward center stage. He (Robert, apparently) wore leathers that were a bit too tight around the waist to be sexy, and she wore a thong and nothing else but for some crazy reason she reminded Karl of a bride on her wedding day. Maybe it was all in Karl's head, but when she held up her wrists to be strapped into the bondage station it seemed as if the dommes just stopped absorbing all the attention in the bar, like they turned off the glitter somehow.
He remembered disbelieving what he was watching, and then it was happening, and he was hearing the thump of a flogger hitting her back, a sound that made his heart thump in sympathy. And she wasn't shrieking or writhing but she just went quiet. Her head went down and her hair fell in front of her face, and everyone was watching. It went on for a long time. Robert was casual but concetingting, swinging two floggers. Only after her skin was all striped and pink did she begin crying out and moving against her bonds. It was like she was unaware of anyone watching. Eventually Robert stopped and reached around her, squeezing her breasts. He pushed her hair back and revealed her face, which was glowing, ecstatic. She was beautiful. Her name was Rose.
Others followed. Some of the dommes played hard... more paddles and canes and less romance. One submissive was defiant, laughing when his domme broke a paddle on him. But she seemed to enjoy the challenge of the situation and subdued him with a box of clothespins. It was all in good fun. Karl watched, and then jumped when he felt a hand on his thigh. That was how he met Tamara.
Tamara was almost pretty, young and enthusiastic. She didn't worry about the rules too much, or fitting in with the group. She liked playing rough and mind games. And she liked getting paid.
Karl gave up on sleeping went to the bathroom and washed his face. In the bright light he examined the fading marks on his ws, ts, too far down on his hands to be covered. Of course Viggo would notice. He pushed down his shorts and examined the fading cigarette burn on his hip, just outside the line of his pubic hair. He stared at his reflection, miserable and unattractive. He gave himself a smile that transformed into a snarl, a look of defeat.
"Fuck you Viggo." He snapped off the light and went back to bed.
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Wipeout

First Wave: Quimby