He watched him, standing in a sea of fans, smiling…laughing…just being himself. Soaking up the adoration like a flower would soak up the first spring rain. It was his life force, his fuel. He never noticed the other man, standing alone on a street corner, leaning against the drugstore wall. He could blend in anywhere, allowing himself to shrink into the background, becoming virtually indistinguishable from the average person on the street.

This was his talent, his salvation. It allowed him to watch the other man at any time, any place. Slowly, he raised his camera to his eye and snapped off a series of pictures. He put the camera in his bag with a slight smile. These would be beautiful. He shook a cigarette from the pack and put it between his lips, lighting it as he watched the crowd. As the smoke wafted from his mouth, he walked away, slipping past the squealing girls - and him - without a second glance.



The hotel room was dark when he entered. He moved across the room, turning on the light in the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking around. He felt comfortable here. Small-town America was safe. He abhorred large crowds, paparazzi, anything to do with celebrity. Unfortunately, it was something he had to deal with. Unless, of course, he decided to become Joe Nobody, blend in with the locals - disappear.

He had been watching the other man for years now. He had memorized everything about him. His movements. His speech patterns. His quirky habits. Nothing was left unscrutinized, unnoticed, unseen. He had thousands of pictures of him. They covered every surface in his workroom, even the ceiling. Some might say he was obsessed, and they would probably be right. But he could think of nothing better to obsess over.

A flicker of light caught his attention and he rose, walking slowly toward the window. The darkness of his room ensured that he would not be seen as he leaned against the frame, looking across the courtyard into the other man's room. He never fully closed the curtains. Perhaps it was the man's naiveté that no one would watch him this closely. It could have been his exhibitionist's tendencies, getting a slight thrill from the fact that someone, anyone could be watching his most intimate moments. Maybe he just didn't care.

The young man walked to the window and looked upward, enjoying the changing colors in the sky. Sunsets here were beautiful, as beautiful as they can be in middle America. He reached behind him and grabbed a camera from the table and focused it on the window across from him. Zooming in on the young man, he noticed the fatigue etched around his eyes. He was far too young, too beautiful to be marred this way.

The young man's shirt lifted slightly as his hand absentmindedly scratched at the patch of fine hair on his stomach. He thought about snapping a picture. It wasn't as if the other man would see the flash. His camera had come equipped with a special night vision feature, allowing him to take perfectly clear pictures in total darkness. It had cost him quite a bit of money, but now, it was worth every penny. He snapped off several pictures, capturing the young man's pensive face and lean body.

The young man's head was leaning against the cool glass of the windowpane, his eyes lazily searching the ground below. Curious, he looked down and saw a group of teenage girls sitting at a table in the courtyard, trying to appear nonchalant. Both of them knew why they were there. They were there to see him, hoping against hope that he would make an appearance, grace them with his presence. It would never happen. This was his time now - their time, even if the young Greek god didn't realize he was sharing it.

The shutter whirred again as he took another picture. He gasped slightly when the young man looked directly across at him. His head cocked, eyebrows knit together, leaning forward as if trying to see something. He jumped back from the window, then peeked around the edge of the curtain. The young man was still watching, still looking his direction. He chuckled to himself when he saw a large moth on the window, fluttering his wings against the cool night breeze. He hadn't been caught after all.



It was just another location shoot. He had been on hundreds, probably thousands, of them. He knew what was to be expected of everyone - crew, actors, extras. Which is why he chose to stand on the outskirts of the group. He hadn't shaved in days and the scruff around his mouth suited him. His hat was pulled down over his forehead, the shadow hiding his face. He looked like the others, a nondescript face in the crowd. That's how he wanted it.

As the director called his star over, the man raised his digital camera to his face and focused it on the object of his affection. The sun cast an ethereal glow on the young man's face, illuminating his features beautifully. Over the next hour, he took picture after picture, filling the camera with the most beautiful images. When a break was called, he quietly slipped away unnoticed, heading back to the hotel. He couldn't wait to download the pictures and add to his collection.



He had worked all day on his pictures, falling asleep in the late afternoon. When he woke, it was with the confusion one normally experiences in a strange place. After getting his bearings, he sat up, heading to the restroom. When he returned to the room, he noticed the light on across the way. Pulling up a chair, he sat down and began his vigil.

He couldn't see anyone in the room. He leaned forward, watching for any sign of movement but saw none. He lit a cigarette, keeping an eye on the window. A shadow fell across the room and he sat up, quickly stubbing out the embers. The young man walked across the room to the television. A towel was secured around his waist and another hung loosely around his neck, catching the drips from his glistening hair.

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching television as he dried his hair with the towel. The other man had a perfect view of him, his profile strong. A few shots later, the towel was dropped to the floor, but the young man made no move to get up. One hand rested on his thigh, the other stroking his chin, deep in thought. Behind the camera, an eyebrow raised as the young man's hand slipped up his thigh, disappearing inside the towel.

The towel came open. Snap. Long, lithe fingers teased the growing erection. Snap. His head arched back as the movement increased slightly. Snap. A small whir was heard as the camera zoomed in on a gorgeous rigid cock. The tip glistened with moisture he knew wasn't from the shower. Snap. Snap. One hand gently cupped full balls as the other wrapped around the straining, throbbing flesh. Snap. Snap. Snap.

He refocused, panning out to include the young man's face, twisted in sinful bliss. He knew these pictures would be slightly blurry as the young man pleasured himself, muscles going taut in his arm as his pace increased. No matter. He could brush them up, make them crystal clear, and add them to his special collection. His work was for his eyes only.

He wished it were his hand stroking the young man. Or better yet, his tongue. Oh yes…that would be much better. His wet tongue christening the young man's erection, lathing it, worshipping it, loving it. He moaned softly, dropping a hand to his lap and confirming his suspicions. He would have to take care of that later. Right now, he had more important work to do.

The cords in the young man's neck stood out as his pace increased. It was the most beautiful sight the other man had ever seen. He panned out once again, capturing the full length of the younger man as he lay back on the bed, one knee raised, the other leg laying flat. His hand was flying now, and there would be no way to clear up the blur. But, that didn't matter. The lens was trained on his face - his beautiful, angelic face.

His neck arched, his eyes squeezed shut and the other man could almost hear his strangled cries. Quickly, he moved the camera along the length of the young man's body, snapping the shutter as he exploded. He was reminded of an erupting volcano as the pearly white fluid shot up, landing in a pool on that flat, hard belly. When he was sure the show was over, he placed the camera on the table and made his way to the bed, stripping himself as he went. It didn't take long to relieve the pressure in his groin - not with his own private peep show playing in his head.



He checked out of the hotel shortly before noon, after making a special delivery to the young man's room. The drive to the airport was long, but very peaceful. His cameras were safely tucked inside his carry-on bag. His flight was uneventful, the drive home hectic. He didn't check his mail. Didn't check for messages. He headed straight to the basement darkroom, locking himself in with hundreds of rolls of film.

He had been working for a couple of hours, thinking about taking a break when he heard the phone ring. He slipped out of the room and made his way up the stairs, picking up the phone at the same time as the answering machine. He smiled when he heard the voice on the other end. "What's up, man? How's the movie going?" he asked.

A troubled sigh echoed over the phone. "The movie is great. It's just…" The young man's voice trailed off. "Just what?" Another sigh. He held up his favorite picture, the last one he had taken the night before. The young man was resting on the bed, his skin reflecting the afterglow of bliss. It had taken him all night and most of the next morning to perfect the digital image and print it out before slipping it under the young man's door.

"Someone left a rather…interesting gift for me today." He suppressed a chuckle. "What kind of gift?" he asked. "A picture. Of me. Um…naked. Here in my hotel room." He smiled again, but his voice had a tinge of seriousness. "I see." A rustling sound came over the phone as he pictured the man on the other end of the line, moving the phone from one ear to the other.

"I've gotten photos of myself before," the young man said. "Some of them were like this. Some of them were just…normal. It's a little creepy, mate." Viggo chuckled softly, glancing down at the pictures he had taken the night before, rearranging them in the right order. "Face it, elf boy," he said as he traced his finger over the image of Orlando's face, twisted into blissful pleasure, recalling the scene from last night. "You have a secret admirer." And it would remain a secret - for now.

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