"I don't have any cherries to lose anymore, Vig." Orlando looked glum. "Sorry. I sorta wish you'd been my first. First something at any rate."

n Viggo shrugged. "Virgins are highly over-rated in my opinion." He paused, scratching his chin for a moment. "I'd rather be with someone who knows what they want, who isn't surprised or nervous or afraid of our bodies or what we're about to do with them."

They sat in silence for a while.

"Maybe we could pretend," Orlando suggested with a note of hope in his voice.

Viggo frowned. "No."

"Please?" Orlando fluttered his eyelashes like an ingenue in a melodrama.

"No."

He pouted. "But... I just wish I could give you that or something."

Viggo rolled his eyes. He got out of their bed and padded into the kitchen, naked.

Orlando heard the refrigerator open and close.

Viggo came back to the bedroom with his hand clenched in a fist.

Orlando raised an eyebrow.

"On your stomach," he was ordered.

After a slight hesitation Orlando complied. At the nudge of Viggo's hands he spread his legs apart. Something cold touched his hole and he yelped, craning his head around to see what was going on.

Viggo had that mad glint in his eyes. "Hold still," he said, pushing whatever it was so that it rested firmly against Orlando's arsehole.

Orlando wiggled, trying to see.

"There," Viggo said, stepping back and assessing Orlando's arse critically. "I call it Maraschino Cherry on Orlando's Ass. Perfect."

Laughter quickly morphed into moans as Orlando thoroughly lost his cherry to Viggo.