"Ngila, I throw myself on your mercy," Orlando said dramatically.

Ngila Dickson, head of wardrobe for Wingnut Productions, looked up at the beautiful young man pleading so charmingly for her help. She knew she was going to help him, but didn't think she should make it too easy for him. "Honestly, Orlando, what is it you think I can do for you?"

Orlando bit his lower lip indecisively, and then confessed. "You mustn't tell anyone," he beseeched her, "but I've given myself a deadline. If I don't make Viggo notice me by February fourteenth, I'm going to give up."

Ngila raised her eyebrows. "I assume that when you say 'notice' you mean you want something other than Viggo's approval of your acting skills."

The young man dropped his eyes.

"My goodness," Ngila said. "A genuine blush. I haven't seen one of those in years. All right then, I'll listen to your no-doubt mad plan for snaring Mr. Mortensen."

Orlando looked indignant. "Snaring? I don't intend to deceive him, I just want him to really look at me."

"I wouldn't think that would be a problem for you."

"We're actors, Ngila. In our profession, almost everyone is attractive. I have to make him see me differently. I have to catch his interest."

"I've seen him looking at you when he thinks no one is watching," Ngila said. "I'd say you've already got his interest." She paused, and then smiled. "You just have to get him to admit that he's interested."

"Do you really think so?"

"I really do. How do you intend to shake him up?"

"Almost everyone has posed for Viggo except for me. He keeps reminding me that I have to sit for him eventually, but I keep making excuses. Now, I have a deadline so I thought I'd combine the two."

Ngila picked up her egret plume pen, and stroked her chin with the soft feather. Slowly, a smile spread across her face.



Viggo put the key in the lock of his rented studio, but the door swung easily open on its own. He frowned and entered cautiously, looking around for signs of a break-in. Nothing seemed to be disturbed and he heard no unusual noises. The only thing that caught his eye was a white feather on the floor that he attributed to the local pigeon population. Deciding he must have forgotten to lock up the last time he was here, he headed for his current work in progress. Passing through the small office space at the front of the old warehouse, he entered the huge open space lit by skylights. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief. Something was definitely different in here.

The opposite wall was draped in swathes of deep red silk waving gently like liquid fire. Framed against this billowing crimson backdrop stood the most exquisite creature that Viggo had ever seen. Tall and slender with elegance in every sleek contour and angular line, the remarkable being faced the wall, graceful white wings arching gloriously from delicate shoulder blades. The figure carried a quiver of silver arrows and a golden bow was in his hand. Apart from these accoutrements, and his long moon colored hair, the celestial stranger was resplendently naked, his smooth, translucent skin glowing like alabaster in the diffused light. Long, lean muscles rippled sinuously as the vision turned slightly, showing a supernal profile. One velvet dark eye gazed hotly at Viggo over a marmoreal shoulder and the pure, perfect lips drew up in an incongruously wanton welcome.

"Orlando?" Viggo said uncertainly.

There was no answer. The alluring smile still curved the sculpted lips. The beautiful apparition stood in exactly the same position as though turned to stone. Suddenly knowing what he must do, Viggo picked up a prepared canvas and slapped it onto an easel. Picking up his favorite utility brush, he began to slather the snowy linen with alizarin crimson.



Viggo armed sweat from his forehead and stepped back from the canvas. The painting was an ivory and flame ode to the beauty of the young man who'd stood so patiently for so long. After an extended interval that felt remarkably like afterglow, the artist set down his brush and turned the easel one hundred and eighty degrees so the divine model could see his likeness if he chose. When Viggo looked over at the boy, he saw tears running down the smooth cheeks, and his heart contracted with a breath-stealing pang. This was not a face that should ever be marred by sorrow.

Pulling a bandanna from his jeans pocket, Viggo dabbed at Orlando's face. As their eyes met, the boy put all his longing into his gaze, his lips parting softly in tacit invitation. Viggo admitted to himself that he wanted this, and the angelic masquerade gave the situation an air of unreality that imparted an implicit permission to go outside the usual boundaries. Wondering fleetingly if he were making a terrible mistake, Viggo leaned closer.

Orlando's eyes closed softly as the man's lips touched his. He hardly dared breath for fear of breaking the spell and sending Viggo running for cover. Orlando felt the man's tongue touch his tentatively and a bolt of unadulterated erotic pleasure shot straight to his groin. A small sound of need escaped his throat, and Viggo drew back.

Soft blue eyes regarded the boy's lovely features that were rearranging into an expression of dismay. Viggo gave a little shake of his head and then reached up to carefully remove the blonde wig. Setting it aside, he ruffled the young man's natural chestnut curls, reveling in the feel of the loose silk sliding over his knuckles. An approving smile lit Viggo's face as he cupped the pretty face in his hands.

Orlando was left breathless as the man took his lips with no trace of his earlier hesitation. Viggo's tongue boldly laid claim to every square inch of the young man's mouth, as one paint dappled hand slid down to rest against Orlando's columnar neck, while the other went to the small of his back. Soft feathers brushed sensuously against Viggo's skin, and he let his hands drift across the exquisite wings as he caressed the boy. Idly, he wondered just how durable they were, as the kiss grew more heated.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, as he pulled back to look at the wealth of beauty offered up to him like tribute to Caesar.

Orlando's heart fell. Everyone told him he was beautiful. That's not what he wanted from this extraordinary man. Yet, he had arranged this tableau at no small cost or amount of trouble so as to display himself to best advantage. Was that really all he was: a pretty face and a supple body? Was that all he had with which to win Viggo's heart?

Viggo's brows drew down in consternation when tears once again flooded the lovely, dark eyes. He couldn't tell what was troubling Orlando and the boy wouldn't speak.

"I'm sorry if I trespassed," Viggo said. "I thought you wanted me to kiss you."

From the look on Orlando's face, the kiss was not the problem. Still, he did not speak, and Viggo was compelled to fill the weighty silence.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "It's just that I've hardly been able to take my eyes off of you since the moment I first saw you. I don't think I've ever seen such a perfect example of the principle that power plus grace equals beauty. I took so many pictures of you."

Viggo paused, glancing at the corkboard across the room, literally covered with snapshots. "I never threw away a shot of you, not one. They're all there. I was trying to make a kind of map of you, as if it would help me to understand the power you had over me." The man chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Shallow, huh? I should have known it wasn't good looks, though you've got those, obviously. I'm not saying your beauty doesn't draw me, because that would be a lie, but . . ."

Viggo took a deep breath before continuing. "I was talking to Elijah earlier today," he said in a steadier voice. "He was so excited about his Valentine's Day plans. He's had everything arranged for days, possibly weeks. I listened to him go on about strawberries and champagne and a tub filled with rose petals and thinking how cliché it sounded and I realized that what I was really feeling was envy. I had no plans, cliché or otherwise. What was I doing today? I was going to my studio and wait around to accept delivery of . . ." Viggo's expression changed abruptly. "There is no delivery, is there?"

Orlando shook his head, the ghost of a smile haunting the corners of his mouth.

Viggo grinned wryly. "So there I was listening to Elijah chatter happily away and feeling a little bit sorry for myself when I started wondering who I would spend Valentine's Day with, if I could choose. It annoyed me that your face kept getting in the way and then I realized why it kept popping up. Out of all the people I know, or want to know, you were the one I instinctively thought of. Do you think it means anything?"

Orlando tilted his head slightly to one side, but maintained his silence.

Viggo sighed. "You're not going to make this easy on me, I see. All right then, Ill tell you what I love most about you. I love your boundless enthusiasm for the things that catch your fancy. You throw yourself into your passions, body and soul, holding nothing back. You embrace life fearlessly. I admire that . . . and I find it incredibly sexy."

Orlando's eyes widened and he nearly spoke at this, but reined himself in. This was going too well for him to spoil it with a classic 'insert foot in mouth' maneuver.

Viggo looked directly into the young man's eyes when he spoke again. "I was wishing for you subconsciously all the way to this studio. Can you imagine how I felt when I walked through that door and found an Elvish angel waiting for me?

"I'm Cupid," Orlando corrected, finally breaking his silence.

"Of course you are," Viggo answered.

Orlando made a surprised noise when the man's arms went around him tightly and his lips were captured in a voracious kiss that stole his breath. The young man's arms vined about Viggo's neck, holding on in genuine fear that he would fall to the floor otherwise. His brain had shut down and his knees were threatening to go on strike. The only part of him that wasn't melting was trapped uncomfortably against something with sharp corners in Viggo's pocket. He didn't want to interrupt the proceedings, but when Viggo pressed even closer, discomfort became pain.

"Just a second," Orlando said, reluctantly pulling his mouth from Viggo's. "Let me . . . just let me move back a bit. Yeah. No! Ow! Damn it, what's in your pocket?"

Viggo looked puzzled for a moment, and then smiled. He reached into his jeans and withdrew a small box of brushed aluminum.

"What is it, though?" Orlando asked, suddenly quite curious.

Viggo opened the lid to reveal a diamond stud of a heart-stopping number of carats. It was simple and unadorned, a flawless piece of frozen starlight on a cushion of cobalt velvet.

"I saw it sparkling in a shop window on the way here," Viggo said. "I'm never impulsive, but I walked through the door and handed over my credit card, telling myself that, if nothing else, it was a good investment. In the back of my mind, I knew I was buying it to give to someone I loved. I think it would look good on you."

"Viggo, I . . ." Orlando's voice choked off.

"Can I put it in?" Viggo asked, and then smiled as he realized what he'd said.

Orlando nodded. "Here," he said, taking hold of his right earlobe.

"It's not pierced," Viggo pointed out.

"I know that, silly."

"Oh," Viggo said. "Oh! All right, if you trust me, wait just a minute and I'll get . . ."

"Don't stop to explain. Go!" Orlando said.

Viggo returned with a first aid kit and removed a sterilized needle and alcohol swab packet. Orlando felt the liquid evaporate coolly from his skin and shivered a bit in anticipation as the point of the needle touched his earlobe. A glance at Orlando told Viggo that the boy was ready and he steeled himself to puncture the perfect flesh. One push and the heated shaft penetrated the virgin tissue and withdrew smoothly. Orlando let out a little hiss of pain, as a bead of carnelian welled up and was tenderly wiped away. Viggo swabbed the gold shank and eased it through the tender opening.

"And I thought it looked good in the window," Viggo said in awe. "It must have absorbed some of your spark with the blood."

"Paint it in," Orlando said.

"What?"

"Add it to the painting. Oh . . . I'm sorry. How presumptuous telling you to change your artwork. I didn't think. Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I want to paint that sparkler in your ear."

Viggo picked up a small brush and picked up a blob of pure titanium white. He placed a scintilla of light in the middle of the painted earlobe and then added a small smear of lampblack right beside it. Orlando marveled at how such minimal strokes could invoke, not an actual realistic rendering of a diamond, but that stone's very heart of light. To his chagrin, more tears overflowed his eyes as he gazed at the beautiful image.

"It's perfect," the young man said. "I'm honored to have been the inspiration."

"I've worshiped you with paint and canvas," Viggo said, as he held out his arms. "Now, I'd like to show you how I feel with my body."

"Yes, please," Orlando breathed, throwing himself into the man's embrace.

Viggo held him close, careful of the wings. "How are these staying on?" he couldn't help asking, running a finger down a large feather.

"The quiver," Orlando said. "It's some ultra-clever arrangement that Ngila worked out with one of the guys who makes the prop weapons. They're very light."

"Can you keep them on while we . . ." Viggo's voice trailed off.

"As long as I'm on top," Orlando answered. "Oh my, that was quite bold."

"I like it," Viggo said in mild surprise. "Be as bold as you want."

"Then I really have to tell you that I can't wait to make love with you. I'm incredibly turned on, as if you couldn't tell. I hate to break the romantic mood, but do you have anything around here we can use for lube?"

Viggo looked slightly taken aback at the boy's candor, but recovered his aplomb quickly. "Sure. I have pure linseed oil for mixing my raw colors."

"Is it expensive?"

"Do you care? I certainly don't."

Viggo grabbed a small glass bottle from a cabinet and set it within easy reach before embracing Orlando again. This time the boy took the initiative, thrusting his tongue assertively into Viggo's mouth. Viggo's hands tightened on yielding flesh and his cock pulsed in time with his heart as Orlando's tongue slid sinuously against his. He groaned into the warm, soft mouth when the young man's fingers plucked at his nipples through his shirt.

"Whoa," Viggo said, pulling back a bit. "Give a guy a chance to catch his breath."

"Vig?" Orlando said softly. "You've done this before, right?"

"You mean have sex? At least, I hope that's what you mean."

"Yeah, Viggo. I mean sex," Orlando rolled his eyes.

"Of course I've had sex, anal sex, just not with a man."

"Just checking. I would've been happy either way." Orlando reached out and cupped the ostentatious bulge in the man's jeans. "Is this for me?" he asked impishly. "Because the earring was enough, but if you've got another package for me, I'd like to open it now."

Orlando put his hands on Viggo's hard chest and pushed him backward. Viggo sat down abruptly on the threadbare antique sofa he used as a prop. He let his head fall back, his golden mane fanning out against the wine dark velvet. His eyelids lowered as he watched the exquisite angel kneel between his thighs. Slim, nimble fingers unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper. Warm hands brushed the sensitive flesh of his flanks as the pants were eased down his legs and tossed aside.

"Just like I pictured it," Orlando said, and reached for the upstanding rod.

Viggo gasped as the boy bent his neck and took the tip of the straining shaft between his lips. Then his rigid length was engulfed to the root and his hands shot out reflexively to grip the young man's skull. The tips of his fingers blindly traced the elegant upswept lines of the perfect ears as his arousal was ardently sucked, licked and fondled.

"Orli, wait," Viggo panted. "I'm getting a little too excited. I don't want to take a chance on not being able to get it up again."

Orlando let the thick staff slide from between his lips. "Don't you dare plead old age with me. Who was running up and down every bloody mountain in New Zealand at my heels? You pushed me, and you know it. I'm not worried about your stamina."

"Give me the oil," Viggo said, "and stand up."

Orlando did as his new lover asked, handing Viggo the small bottle and rising to his feet. Viggo stared for a moment at the hard, sculpted young body before he spoke again.

"Spread your legs wide," Viggo said, "and straddle my thighs."

Looking up into the trusting dark eyes, Viggo oiled his fingers and trailed them up the boy's cleft. He found the small opening and prodded gently, requesting entry. Orlando drew in a quick breath as a slippery finger slid into him and moved carefully. He knew what he was doing in theory, but Viggo watched the boy's face intently for clues, as he pushed another finger through the clamped opening and probed delicately.

Orlando's eyes rolled up and he shuddered, making the ethereal wings tremble. Viggo's fingers dragged across that susceptible spot again, and Orlando's legs nearly betrayed him. A third stroke, and the boy moaned helplessly.

Viggo withdrew his fingers and took hold of the slim hips. Gently, he guided the boy to his yearning erection and reached down to position the hard shaft. Orlando whimpered softly when he felt the taut head bump his opening, and bent his knees slightly. Viggo groaned as the boy took control, pushing down until tight heat surrounded the head of his cock.

"Oh God, baby," the man said, "that feels so good."

Orlando rested his hands on Viggo's broad shoulders and looked down into the man's face. Viggo's eyes were as soft and blue as melted pieces of the sky as the boy slowly lowered himself onto the rock hard rod. Other than tightening his grip on Orlando's waist, Viggo did nothing to help or hinder the boy, letting him proceed at his own pace. Fine lines appeared at the corners of the velvet brown eyes and the pretty mouth hung open on a gasping breath as Orlando took in the full length and paused. Viggo put a hand soothingly on a trembling thigh, stroking tenderly until the boy moved again.

With a flex of powerful muscles, Orlando gradually lifted himself off the impaling flesh only to sink down again and repeat the action at a leisurely tempo. Viggo's head fell back against the couch and he watched the young man's beautiful face, framed by snowy plumage, as he rode his cock. With his eyes locked on Orlando's, Viggo took hold of the boy's yearning arousal and pumped gently.

"How's this, baby?" he asked softly. "Is there something else I can do to make it better for you?"

"It couldn't . . . possibly . . . feel any . . . better," Orlando panted.

The cloudy fluid that seeped from the tip of the young man's handsome cock convinced his lover that he was telling the truth. Viggo used the viscous moisture to slick the hot hardness that filled his fist and increased the speed of his stroke.

"Oh, yeah, that's good, that's bloody good. A bit faster, oh God, yes, that feels amazing. Don't stop. I'm going to come!" Orlando gripped Viggo's shoulders tightly and bounced up and down rapidly a few times. Abruptly, he leaned in and covered Viggo's lips with his.

As the boy's tongue plunged into his mouth, Viggo felt a spark leap the gap between them. In instant response, the man's buttocks rose from the cushion as he pushed deeper into the quaking quicksand that engulfed him. Orlando broke the kiss, arching his back, his head lolling loosely, his tender throat exposed.

"God, yes! Fuck me!" he cried out.

The contrast between the boy's angelic appearance and his wanton behavior fanned the flames that threatened to consume Viggo, body and soul. He could feel his control slipping as the wildfire ran along his veins, heating his groin to the melting point. The muscles in Viggo's legs stood out in relief as he lifted his pelvis for Orlando to grind solidly against. He pumped the young man's rigid shaft, flicking a thumb over the pulsing head at each upward stroke while his other hand caressed the hard nipples.

"Oh, Viggo," Orlando moaned. "I love the way you fuck me. Fuck me, babe. Just like that. Oh, yeah. Oh, God, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Oh, God, Viggo I'm coming. I'm coming. Viggo!"

Orlando's fingers dug into the hard muscles of Viggo's shoulders. The boy's white teeth caught at his lower lip as his eyelids lowered softly and his brows quirked upward in the middle. His body grew perfectly still for a brief eternity as he was transported by his release.

Viggo saw a winged creature of air and light that had touched down to grace his life for a few fleeting minutes of ecstasy. Surely, this ephemeral vision of joy and beauty would have to return to paradise leaving Viggo alone again. Then thick, warm fluid flowed over Viggo's knuckles in proof of his fantasy's reality.

"Oh, God," Orlando groaned, resting his forehead against the man's. "That was bloody fantastic. I've never felt anything like . . . Oh, God! Viggo! Give me a min- . . ."

The boy's words were cut off when Viggo took his lips assertively. The man's arms went around the slim waist and his hips moved subtly, stirring the tight passage that encased his straining erection. Orlando whimpered into Viggo's mouth, and the man captured his tongue, sucking softly on it. The young man's sated cock stirred and began to rise again.

"Stand up, baby," Viggo requested hoarsely.

Orlando complied, raising himself off the long, thick column of dusky rose. Viggo stood and embraced the young man, claiming the pretty mouth and everything else within the circle of his arms. The kiss went on for some time, their tongues locked in a passionate duel, slick, hot cocks sliding dreamily together.

"You make me feel so good," Orlando murmured. "What can I give you in return?"

"Would you believe me if I told you this was enough for me? To know I've made you happy. To be able to hold you like this. I know it's a little early for this kind of talk, but this feels so right to me, like we fit together, not just our bodies but our hearts as well."

Viggo felt a shudder run the length of the slender body in his arms and feared he'd made a serious misstep. "Is everything all right?" he asked

"Yeah, except we need to call an exorcist. I feel exactly the same way you do and I was thinking the same thing. I felt like I knew you when I met you and I've been killing myself to get your attention ever since."

"You can stop now," Viggo smiled. "It worked."

Orlando pressed his groin insinuatingly against the other man's. "How about this? Does it work?" he asked.

"Don't play with me, boy," Viggo said, mock-gruffly.

Orlando smiled in delight. "You're not the sort of naughty boy who pulls the wings off of helpless creatures, are you?"

Viggo snorted. "I don't see any helpless creatures here."

"Seriously, tell me what you want," Orlando said.

"Come here," Viggo said, taking the boy by the hand.

Viggo yanked down one of the hanging panels of red silk, revealing the full-length mirror behind it. Pulling Orlando in front of him to face the glass, Viggo stepped between the arching wings and nuzzled the head of his weeping shaft against the boy's cleft. Orlando flattened his palms against the cool, slick surface and obligingly widened his stance. Viggo met the boy's eyes in the glass as the tip of his arousal entered the small opening. Each saw his yearning to be whole mirrored in the other's eyes, and more than that, they saw the promise of completeness in one another.

Abruptly, this crude joining of flesh, with all its tender indignities and messy aftermath took on another dimension. It became a union of souls using the only medium available to express their joy at finding one another again. Both Viggo and Orlando felt the shock of recognition, but experienced it as a sublime release. As the big cock drove home in him, Orlando came, spattering his reflection. Viggo groaned, rubbing his cheek against silvery plumage, as the tight channel clamped down on his rod, massaging the rigid length. Overwhelmed by the incredible sensation, the man was ambushed by a powerful climax that left him shaking. He sagged slowly, pressing Orlando against the smooth, cool surface of the mirror. They leaned there, sliding slowly down, rapt in the afterglow.

"Damn," Viggo said succinctly.

Orlando made a noise suspiciously like a giggle. "You're tickling my ear," he said.

"You've got nerve to complain about tickling. I've been dealing with all these feathers."

"Are you saying you want to pluck me?"

Viggo groaned. "Don't turn back into Mad Orli yet, please."

"Sorry," the young man said. "It was just too heavy all of a sudden."

Viggo carefully withdrew his softening cock, and turned Orlando in his arms. "You're not getting scared already, are you?"

"I want you so much that I'm scared I'm going to get scared. That's how crazy I am."

"You're not crazy. You're young, but you were smart enough to fall for someone who's been around for a few years," Viggo teased. "Don't worry, rookie, I'll look out for you."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart," Viggo said.