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fellowshippers2004-07-01 06:19 pm
elf-skitzo.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-07-01 06:19 pm
I wonder what happens
Title:I wonder what happens (4/4)
Author: elf_skitzo
Pairing: V/O
Rating: NC-17
I wonder what happens...
Orlando gasped when a pair of lips kissed down his neck, teeth closing on the sensitive tendon to incite a moan. He arched closer to the body pressing down against him, dazed as he recalled how this had started.
His life had been normal, if one could consider waking up at four in the morning to have a pair of gelatine ears and a blonde wig put on. If normal was cradling a styrofoam cup of tea in one hand and a cigarette in the other while listening to a Hobbit-like man explain the scene for the day; if normal was not hearing a word he said, too intent on the man smudges with dirt and dressed in leather, sword at his hip and a new cap on his tooth.
Orlando had tried for the longest time to pawn off his attraction to Viggo to youthful hormones and hero worship. But it had lasted longer than a few days, than a few weeks, than a few months. Four months, to be exact, and one week since Viggo had arrived on set to play Aragorn. He had immediately caught Orlando's interest, which was impressive, considering that when he first met Viggo, the man was quiet and absorbed, more or less, in his role. But after filming for the day, he had changed. Orlando had been able to witness - observe - so many different facets: the quiet and dedicated actor, the almost childish prankster, the sharp and witty drinking partner, the amused cook, the loyal friend, and the slightly eccentric artist. And as each facet had been introduced, he had been intrigued. His intrigue had gained him a friendship with the older actor, with whom he could hold intellectual conversation or sit in complete silence with and neither would grow uncomfortable.
But after a while, he felt something eating at him. He was still fairly shy, despite the growing opinion of the cast, and he could not bring himself to say anything about it. Orlando regretted his silence the most the day that filming ended, and the day that he had to say goodbye to everyone. His parting from Viggo had been emotionally quiet - just two, close friends saying goodbye at the airport. When they hugged, Viggo whispered to him:
"I wonder what happens.."
Orlando had not had the chance to ask what he meant, to ask Viggo to finish the statement, because the American walked off to board his plane, leaving a confused young man in his wake.
It would be over a year before he saw Viggo in person again.
The excitement leading to the London premiere of the Fellowship was electric, but balanced out by the tedious repetition of interviews - the actors were constantly reminded of what they could not say. It was hard to answer the same questions and react as if he was hearing them all for the first time, but he did his best.
It was in London that he saw Viggo again. Just like the first time they met, he would have walked right by the other man if Sean Bean had not boisterously greeted him - Viggo was standing quietly beside him. Orlando was surprised to see him; Viggo had expressed a dislike for events that were so publicly driven. Orli had not realised how much he had missed Viggo's steady presence until he saw him again. They embraced, and the lingering statement the other man had made upon their parting in New Zealand popped to the forefront of his mind. Before Orlando could ask about it, however, the hug ended and their group was herded into the theatre.
Everyone was amazed by the film - Orlando couldn't help but remember everything that had happened behind the scenes. The film received a standing ovation and Orlando felt the excitement of the crowd bubble up inside himself. Failing to pay attention to where he was going on the way out, Orlando almost ran into Viggo. Looking up to apologise, he was startled to meet the other man's gaze. Viggo had never looked at him like that before. It made his heart beat quicken, and Orli tilted his head down when Viggo leaned closer. He's just doing it so I'll hear him...
"If you're not going out, I'd love to catch up..." Viggo's voice was warm against his neck, and Orlando closed his eyes in an attempt to bear the misery it caused him. Did Viggo even know...? For a moment, he considered - he could go out with the Hobbits at the other premieres, and there was no guarantee that Viggo would be at any of them.
"All right," he answered at last. "Where are you staying?"
He didn't know why he didn't invite Viggo to his place - he lived in London, after all. For some reason, it just hadn't occurred to him. Perhaps because he was afraid to let Viggo into his life so quickly. Homes were an intimate place, after all.. and.. well... Stop it.
"Wait.. never mind. Here... I don't live too far. Drop by when you get a chance..." Orlando paused, realising that he didn't have a pen or anything. Without fail, Viggo produced one. It figured that he'd have one, as well as a little pad to write on. Orlando jotted down his address and the phone number to his flat, making the promise that he would be there. When they parted ways, that same, questioned statement echoed in his head. I wonder what happens...
Orlando didn't know why he felt nervous. Viggo had called, informing him that he was on his way over. His flat was clean - he hadn't been home long enough to make a mess of it. He had made himself a cup of tea to relax. He shouldn't have been so worked up about seeing Viggo again, but he was. Orlando was so lost in thought, the knock on the door startled him. Orli put down his mug to answer, stepping aside to let Viggo in.
"Make yourself at home," he invited quietly.
Leading by example, Orlando sat down on a cushy chair, Viggo sat across from him. Out of habit, Orli drew his legs up beneath them, curling up in his seat as he sipped at his tea.
"How have you been?" Viggo's gentle voice broke the silence.
"Getting busy, but that's all right. And what about you, then? How's Henry?" Viggo's son had come out to visit while they were in New Zealand; Orlando and the Hobbits had taken him surfing. Viggo smiled when he answered - Orli liked his smile.
"Henry's good, he misses everyone. And I'm fine."
There was a brief pause while Orlando drank another mouthful of tea, then Viggo spoke again.
"Your hair's longer. I like it more than the mohawk."
Orli blinked at the observation, having not expected it at all. "Yeah? Why's that?"
The Brit saw something flash in the artist's eyes and the look he was given made his insides shiver. "Because it looks like I could pull on it."
Orlando looked down and felt heat rush to his cheeks. He missed the smug look on Viggo's face. Before he could stop himself, however, he was retaliating: "Lamenting the days of elf-lusting, old man?"
But Viggo was ready for it. "No - you look better like this."
Orlando took a moment to recover, then finally asked the question that he had wanted an answer to sine the last time they saw each other. "Viggo, what did you mean in New Zealand? When you said you wondered what happens?"
Orli watched the smile that flickered across Viggo's face. "I'm surprised you remembered."
"Of course I did. You left rather abruptly, really. Left without finishing it..."
Orlando watched the other man get up from his seat, and without thinking about it Orlando put his mug down. He sat up a bit more, facing the man that had cornered him: Viggo's hands rested on the arms of the chair, his body looming over Orlando's. Viggo tilted his head down, his cheek resting against Orlando's. The youth noticed that he was clean shaven.
"I wonder what happens... when someone treats you right."
Orlando groaned, gasping for breath as Viggo's mouth moved on to his collar bone. Slender hands gripped the back of the older man's shirt, dragging at it insistently. Viggo sat up and Orlando watched intently as the other man shrugged his shirt off. He had seen Viggo shirtless before - and he had been half-naked in front of this man numerous times... But never in the intimacy of a bedroom. Rather than pausing both men finished undressing before returning to each other - Orlando wrapped his arms around Viggo's neck, they kissed again.
Blindly Orlando reached for his bedside table. Viggo's hand caught his own for a moment, pressing it to the bed. When they parted to breathe, Orli freed his hand again and pulled the little drawer open, only to have Viggo's hand meet his again, batting it away before grabbing a foil-wrapped ring and the cool tube hidden in there. "Entertain much?"
At the sound of Viggo's teasing, husky voice, Orlando opened his eyes, flashing a little smile. "Not often."
"Good."
For some reason Viggo's answer sent a tremour through him. Orlando waited with baited breath, hearing the promise in Viggo's sigh when the condom was rolled on.
"Patience, kitten."
As if Viggo knew what he was thinking. Orli squirmed, dropping his head back to the pillow as a pair of slick fingers teased against the tight ring of muscle guarding his most hidden orifice. He trembled, groaning first in protest when a coated digit pushed into his body, followed shortly by the second.
"Viggo..." Orlando whimpered, brow knitting for a moment as his body was taken, stretched. He didn't want it all to stop because it hurt.
"Shh.. promise I'll make it better, angel."
And he did.
Orli gasped, arching his back and spreading his thighs a bit more when those fingers rubbed against something inside him, sending a shock of pleasure through his body and straight to his core. Hands grabbed the sheets, dragging at them as Viggo massaged against his prostate. Each caress sent a wave of pleasure through him and the youth all but writhed on the bed. Heat washed through him and rushed to his lower body, coiling tightly, building up until...
"Viggo!" A gasped cry escaped his lips, disappointment ringing in his voice when those fingers pulled away.
"It's all right, Orlando."
And how could it not be with a voice like that? Spoken like a promise, Orli believed it.
They moved together, Orlando following Viggo's gentle coaxing. He rolled over, his body bowed before Viggo's. He shivered, feeling the older man's warm body blanket over his own, those hips pressed against him. Calloused hands traced up his back, teasing the sensitive scar tissue that lined his spine. They flowed down his arms and finally covered Orlando's hands, fingers lacing together, pinning them to the bed.
He felt Viggo's hips rock against him, coaxing him to respond. "C'mon.." he pleaded softly, pushing back against the cradle of Viggo's hips.
Viggo's grip tightened on his hands, as if warning him. A soft cry tore from the back of Orlando's throat and he felt as if his body would break in half. Viggo moved slowly, lips brushing against his ear as he whispered comfort and endearment. Orlando couldn't hear a word of it over the pounding of his own heart. When Viggo's hips finally rested against the curve of his rear again, Orlando remembered that he needed to breathe. He drew a sharp breath, releasing it again as a moan when the artist began to move. Orlando held Viggo's hands tightly, and it took a few moments before he could relax enough, before they fell into a steady rhythm together. Viggo shifted his hips and low moan eased past Orli's lips, dark eyes falling shut as each stroke rubbed that spot inside him. Their bodies undulated together smoothly, faster and faster; Orlando gasped for breath.
Viggo's thighs pressed to his own, lips tended to his neck and shoulders as Orlando allowed himself to be dominated in the tenderest way. Orli was lost, his head bowed as Viggo helped him to sate the ache he hadn't realised he felt. Soft moans and simpers bled past his lips as readily as incoherent whispers escaped Viggo's. Orlando groaned, his body arching when a sharp thrust was delivered, rocking him forward against the bed. He was burning. Orlando closed his eyes, tried to listen to what Viggo murmured to him, but he couldn't hear him anymore.
"Viggo!" Orlando cried the older man's name, feeling his muscles tense. His hands clutched the sheets, held tightly to Viggo's, his body desperately seeking release. He nearly screamed when he found it, but the most he could manage was a weakened moan as an intense flash of pleasure tore through him. All the heat and pressure that had been building up inside him exploded through his body, rushing to his fingertips and toes as he came; stars exploded behind his eyelids and fell around him.
Orli struggled to keep himself up beneath the last few, desperate thrusts. A weak grin touched his lips when he heard Viggo's satisfied groan. The youth breathed a sigh when Viggo pulled away from him, grabbing a towel that lay folded by the bed. He'd find another for his shower in the morning, using this one to clean off. Orlando collapsed to the bed, smiling when he felt the bed dip behind him.
He cuddled back against the older man, feeling a strong arm drape around his waist, holding him back against Viggo's chest. Warm lips traced across his neck and shoulder. Orlando sighed softly, then turned his head a little, grinning beneath the kiss Viggo leaned in to give him. "Mm.. what did you mean by treat me right?"
"Didn't like the little flings I heard about in New Zealand.. Always thought you needed more than that." Orlando liked the way Viggo's voice rumbled when he spoke quietly.
"And you thought you'd be the one to give it to me, hm?"
"Yes."
The flat answer coaxed a quiet laugh and lazily Orlando rolled over to face the older man, a delicate brow quirking. He was answered with another kiss, and he smiled beneath it, easing his body closer to Viggo's. "Go to sleep.. gone and warped my brain enough to night," he teased tenderly, kissing Viggo again before nestling down beside him, lulled by his steady breath and heartbeat.
So this is what happens.
Author: elf_skitzo
Pairing: V/O
Rating: NC-17
I wonder what happens...
Orlando gasped when a pair of lips kissed down his neck, teeth closing on the sensitive tendon to incite a moan. He arched closer to the body pressing down against him, dazed as he recalled how this had started.
His life had been normal, if one could consider waking up at four in the morning to have a pair of gelatine ears and a blonde wig put on. If normal was cradling a styrofoam cup of tea in one hand and a cigarette in the other while listening to a Hobbit-like man explain the scene for the day; if normal was not hearing a word he said, too intent on the man smudges with dirt and dressed in leather, sword at his hip and a new cap on his tooth.
Orlando had tried for the longest time to pawn off his attraction to Viggo to youthful hormones and hero worship. But it had lasted longer than a few days, than a few weeks, than a few months. Four months, to be exact, and one week since Viggo had arrived on set to play Aragorn. He had immediately caught Orlando's interest, which was impressive, considering that when he first met Viggo, the man was quiet and absorbed, more or less, in his role. But after filming for the day, he had changed. Orlando had been able to witness - observe - so many different facets: the quiet and dedicated actor, the almost childish prankster, the sharp and witty drinking partner, the amused cook, the loyal friend, and the slightly eccentric artist. And as each facet had been introduced, he had been intrigued. His intrigue had gained him a friendship with the older actor, with whom he could hold intellectual conversation or sit in complete silence with and neither would grow uncomfortable.
But after a while, he felt something eating at him. He was still fairly shy, despite the growing opinion of the cast, and he could not bring himself to say anything about it. Orlando regretted his silence the most the day that filming ended, and the day that he had to say goodbye to everyone. His parting from Viggo had been emotionally quiet - just two, close friends saying goodbye at the airport. When they hugged, Viggo whispered to him:
"I wonder what happens.."
Orlando had not had the chance to ask what he meant, to ask Viggo to finish the statement, because the American walked off to board his plane, leaving a confused young man in his wake.
It would be over a year before he saw Viggo in person again.
The excitement leading to the London premiere of the Fellowship was electric, but balanced out by the tedious repetition of interviews - the actors were constantly reminded of what they could not say. It was hard to answer the same questions and react as if he was hearing them all for the first time, but he did his best.
It was in London that he saw Viggo again. Just like the first time they met, he would have walked right by the other man if Sean Bean had not boisterously greeted him - Viggo was standing quietly beside him. Orlando was surprised to see him; Viggo had expressed a dislike for events that were so publicly driven. Orli had not realised how much he had missed Viggo's steady presence until he saw him again. They embraced, and the lingering statement the other man had made upon their parting in New Zealand popped to the forefront of his mind. Before Orlando could ask about it, however, the hug ended and their group was herded into the theatre.
Everyone was amazed by the film - Orlando couldn't help but remember everything that had happened behind the scenes. The film received a standing ovation and Orlando felt the excitement of the crowd bubble up inside himself. Failing to pay attention to where he was going on the way out, Orlando almost ran into Viggo. Looking up to apologise, he was startled to meet the other man's gaze. Viggo had never looked at him like that before. It made his heart beat quicken, and Orli tilted his head down when Viggo leaned closer. He's just doing it so I'll hear him...
"If you're not going out, I'd love to catch up..." Viggo's voice was warm against his neck, and Orlando closed his eyes in an attempt to bear the misery it caused him. Did Viggo even know...? For a moment, he considered - he could go out with the Hobbits at the other premieres, and there was no guarantee that Viggo would be at any of them.
"All right," he answered at last. "Where are you staying?"
He didn't know why he didn't invite Viggo to his place - he lived in London, after all. For some reason, it just hadn't occurred to him. Perhaps because he was afraid to let Viggo into his life so quickly. Homes were an intimate place, after all.. and.. well... Stop it.
"Wait.. never mind. Here... I don't live too far. Drop by when you get a chance..." Orlando paused, realising that he didn't have a pen or anything. Without fail, Viggo produced one. It figured that he'd have one, as well as a little pad to write on. Orlando jotted down his address and the phone number to his flat, making the promise that he would be there. When they parted ways, that same, questioned statement echoed in his head. I wonder what happens...
Orlando didn't know why he felt nervous. Viggo had called, informing him that he was on his way over. His flat was clean - he hadn't been home long enough to make a mess of it. He had made himself a cup of tea to relax. He shouldn't have been so worked up about seeing Viggo again, but he was. Orlando was so lost in thought, the knock on the door startled him. Orli put down his mug to answer, stepping aside to let Viggo in.
"Make yourself at home," he invited quietly.
Leading by example, Orlando sat down on a cushy chair, Viggo sat across from him. Out of habit, Orli drew his legs up beneath them, curling up in his seat as he sipped at his tea.
"How have you been?" Viggo's gentle voice broke the silence.
"Getting busy, but that's all right. And what about you, then? How's Henry?" Viggo's son had come out to visit while they were in New Zealand; Orlando and the Hobbits had taken him surfing. Viggo smiled when he answered - Orli liked his smile.
"Henry's good, he misses everyone. And I'm fine."
There was a brief pause while Orlando drank another mouthful of tea, then Viggo spoke again.
"Your hair's longer. I like it more than the mohawk."
Orli blinked at the observation, having not expected it at all. "Yeah? Why's that?"
The Brit saw something flash in the artist's eyes and the look he was given made his insides shiver. "Because it looks like I could pull on it."
Orlando looked down and felt heat rush to his cheeks. He missed the smug look on Viggo's face. Before he could stop himself, however, he was retaliating: "Lamenting the days of elf-lusting, old man?"
But Viggo was ready for it. "No - you look better like this."
Orlando took a moment to recover, then finally asked the question that he had wanted an answer to sine the last time they saw each other. "Viggo, what did you mean in New Zealand? When you said you wondered what happens?"
Orli watched the smile that flickered across Viggo's face. "I'm surprised you remembered."
"Of course I did. You left rather abruptly, really. Left without finishing it..."
Orlando watched the other man get up from his seat, and without thinking about it Orlando put his mug down. He sat up a bit more, facing the man that had cornered him: Viggo's hands rested on the arms of the chair, his body looming over Orlando's. Viggo tilted his head down, his cheek resting against Orlando's. The youth noticed that he was clean shaven.
"I wonder what happens... when someone treats you right."
Orlando groaned, gasping for breath as Viggo's mouth moved on to his collar bone. Slender hands gripped the back of the older man's shirt, dragging at it insistently. Viggo sat up and Orlando watched intently as the other man shrugged his shirt off. He had seen Viggo shirtless before - and he had been half-naked in front of this man numerous times... But never in the intimacy of a bedroom. Rather than pausing both men finished undressing before returning to each other - Orlando wrapped his arms around Viggo's neck, they kissed again.
Blindly Orlando reached for his bedside table. Viggo's hand caught his own for a moment, pressing it to the bed. When they parted to breathe, Orli freed his hand again and pulled the little drawer open, only to have Viggo's hand meet his again, batting it away before grabbing a foil-wrapped ring and the cool tube hidden in there. "Entertain much?"
At the sound of Viggo's teasing, husky voice, Orlando opened his eyes, flashing a little smile. "Not often."
"Good."
For some reason Viggo's answer sent a tremour through him. Orlando waited with baited breath, hearing the promise in Viggo's sigh when the condom was rolled on.
"Patience, kitten."
As if Viggo knew what he was thinking. Orli squirmed, dropping his head back to the pillow as a pair of slick fingers teased against the tight ring of muscle guarding his most hidden orifice. He trembled, groaning first in protest when a coated digit pushed into his body, followed shortly by the second.
"Viggo..." Orlando whimpered, brow knitting for a moment as his body was taken, stretched. He didn't want it all to stop because it hurt.
"Shh.. promise I'll make it better, angel."
And he did.
Orli gasped, arching his back and spreading his thighs a bit more when those fingers rubbed against something inside him, sending a shock of pleasure through his body and straight to his core. Hands grabbed the sheets, dragging at them as Viggo massaged against his prostate. Each caress sent a wave of pleasure through him and the youth all but writhed on the bed. Heat washed through him and rushed to his lower body, coiling tightly, building up until...
"Viggo!" A gasped cry escaped his lips, disappointment ringing in his voice when those fingers pulled away.
"It's all right, Orlando."
And how could it not be with a voice like that? Spoken like a promise, Orli believed it.
They moved together, Orlando following Viggo's gentle coaxing. He rolled over, his body bowed before Viggo's. He shivered, feeling the older man's warm body blanket over his own, those hips pressed against him. Calloused hands traced up his back, teasing the sensitive scar tissue that lined his spine. They flowed down his arms and finally covered Orlando's hands, fingers lacing together, pinning them to the bed.
He felt Viggo's hips rock against him, coaxing him to respond. "C'mon.." he pleaded softly, pushing back against the cradle of Viggo's hips.
Viggo's grip tightened on his hands, as if warning him. A soft cry tore from the back of Orlando's throat and he felt as if his body would break in half. Viggo moved slowly, lips brushing against his ear as he whispered comfort and endearment. Orlando couldn't hear a word of it over the pounding of his own heart. When Viggo's hips finally rested against the curve of his rear again, Orlando remembered that he needed to breathe. He drew a sharp breath, releasing it again as a moan when the artist began to move. Orlando held Viggo's hands tightly, and it took a few moments before he could relax enough, before they fell into a steady rhythm together. Viggo shifted his hips and low moan eased past Orli's lips, dark eyes falling shut as each stroke rubbed that spot inside him. Their bodies undulated together smoothly, faster and faster; Orlando gasped for breath.
Viggo's thighs pressed to his own, lips tended to his neck and shoulders as Orlando allowed himself to be dominated in the tenderest way. Orli was lost, his head bowed as Viggo helped him to sate the ache he hadn't realised he felt. Soft moans and simpers bled past his lips as readily as incoherent whispers escaped Viggo's. Orlando groaned, his body arching when a sharp thrust was delivered, rocking him forward against the bed. He was burning. Orlando closed his eyes, tried to listen to what Viggo murmured to him, but he couldn't hear him anymore.
"Viggo!" Orlando cried the older man's name, feeling his muscles tense. His hands clutched the sheets, held tightly to Viggo's, his body desperately seeking release. He nearly screamed when he found it, but the most he could manage was a weakened moan as an intense flash of pleasure tore through him. All the heat and pressure that had been building up inside him exploded through his body, rushing to his fingertips and toes as he came; stars exploded behind his eyelids and fell around him.
Orli struggled to keep himself up beneath the last few, desperate thrusts. A weak grin touched his lips when he heard Viggo's satisfied groan. The youth breathed a sigh when Viggo pulled away from him, grabbing a towel that lay folded by the bed. He'd find another for his shower in the morning, using this one to clean off. Orlando collapsed to the bed, smiling when he felt the bed dip behind him.
He cuddled back against the older man, feeling a strong arm drape around his waist, holding him back against Viggo's chest. Warm lips traced across his neck and shoulder. Orlando sighed softly, then turned his head a little, grinning beneath the kiss Viggo leaned in to give him. "Mm.. what did you mean by treat me right?"
"Didn't like the little flings I heard about in New Zealand.. Always thought you needed more than that." Orlando liked the way Viggo's voice rumbled when he spoke quietly.
"And you thought you'd be the one to give it to me, hm?"
"Yes."
The flat answer coaxed a quiet laugh and lazily Orlando rolled over to face the older man, a delicate brow quirking. He was answered with another kiss, and he smiled beneath it, easing his body closer to Viggo's. "Go to sleep.. gone and warped my brain enough to night," he teased tenderly, kissing Viggo again before nestling down beside him, lulled by his steady breath and heartbeat.
So this is what happens.