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fellowshippers2004-09-29 11:15 pm
rosemending.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-09-29 11:15 pm
FIC: Nomenclature (Viggo/Orlando)
Title: Nomenclature
Author: Rosemending
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Warning: Some name calling
Rating: Tame
Disclaimer: This fic boldly asserts the rumour that Orlando is not a bus.
Summary: Orlando is sick of metaphors.
Some people wanted Orlando to be steady. They said Orlando should know where he was going. Orlando ought to be reliable. A routine would settle him down. And he needed to work on his punctuality.
Orlando laughs at them, Orlando wasn't the Surry to Sussex bus service.
Some people called Orlando, "Tardy."
His parents wanted him to have depth. They hoped Orlando would be accommodating, that he would hold his own. They also wanted Orlando to be useful. Orlando was taught to be mobile and handy for his friends.
Orlando is perplexed by this. Orlando thought there was more to life than being a bucket.
His parents called Orlando, "Orlando Bloom."
Orlando's mates liked Orlando to be fun. Orlando's friends thought he should party with them all night long. It would suit them if Orlando could be easily reached. They looked to Orlando for solace and excitement.
Orlando was okay with that. But sometimes, he felt used like a vibrator.
His mates called Orlando "Bloom."
His lovers desired to drink Orlando up. They nourished upon his love. Orlando was gentle and open. Orlando buoyed up their confidence. Orlando was expected to pour out his heart. Orlando drenched their thighs.
But in the end, Orlando felt like an emptied glass.
His lovers called Orlando "Darling," or, "Cunt."
Orlando's fans couldn't live without him. They thought of him constantly. Orlando's beauty relieved them daily. Orlando knows just how they feel. Such devotion was intimate and unspeakable, like the affliction of long-term constipation.
Orlando's friends called him "Orli."
Orlando wants to be a woman, with an unbroken hymen, lying encased in crystal, sunk into the darkest pit beneath the ocean, in a frozen star, in an unknown universe, in a black hole, in another dimension, set in a grain of sand, on a vast, empty beach.
Orlando would like to wipe it all clean. But Orlando wasn't a bottle of mouthwash.
Viggo had no routine. Viggo was called "Viggo".
Viggo's parents were dead. But they used to called him "Viggo."
Viggo's lovers had left. They once called him "Viggo."
Viggo's friends change. But he was always known as "Viggo."
Viggo's fans are slightly frightened by him. They knew "Vigs" or "Viggy" was forbidden.
Viggo was a man, with a calm penis encased in old denim, hidden behind the hem of flennal shirts, swaying gently as he walked, bobbed up and down, like the head of a beast of burden, when he became aroused, easily pulled out and quietly put away.
Viggo looks at Orlando. Viggo doesn't bother with metaphor or nicknames. Viggo waved Orlando over and introduced himself. Orlando said hello and Viggo called Orlando, "Orlando."
And that was it. As if that was all Orlando was and all he had to be. And Orlando was pleased and called him, "Viggo."
The end.
Author: Rosemending
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Warning: Some name calling
Rating: Tame
Disclaimer: This fic boldly asserts the rumour that Orlando is not a bus.
Summary: Orlando is sick of metaphors.
Some people wanted Orlando to be steady. They said Orlando should know where he was going. Orlando ought to be reliable. A routine would settle him down. And he needed to work on his punctuality.
Orlando laughs at them, Orlando wasn't the Surry to Sussex bus service.
Some people called Orlando, "Tardy."
His parents wanted him to have depth. They hoped Orlando would be accommodating, that he would hold his own. They also wanted Orlando to be useful. Orlando was taught to be mobile and handy for his friends.
Orlando is perplexed by this. Orlando thought there was more to life than being a bucket.
His parents called Orlando, "Orlando Bloom."
Orlando's mates liked Orlando to be fun. Orlando's friends thought he should party with them all night long. It would suit them if Orlando could be easily reached. They looked to Orlando for solace and excitement.
Orlando was okay with that. But sometimes, he felt used like a vibrator.
His mates called Orlando "Bloom."
His lovers desired to drink Orlando up. They nourished upon his love. Orlando was gentle and open. Orlando buoyed up their confidence. Orlando was expected to pour out his heart. Orlando drenched their thighs.
But in the end, Orlando felt like an emptied glass.
His lovers called Orlando "Darling," or, "Cunt."
Orlando's fans couldn't live without him. They thought of him constantly. Orlando's beauty relieved them daily. Orlando knows just how they feel. Such devotion was intimate and unspeakable, like the affliction of long-term constipation.
Orlando's friends called him "Orli."
Orlando wants to be a woman, with an unbroken hymen, lying encased in crystal, sunk into the darkest pit beneath the ocean, in a frozen star, in an unknown universe, in a black hole, in another dimension, set in a grain of sand, on a vast, empty beach.
Orlando would like to wipe it all clean. But Orlando wasn't a bottle of mouthwash.
Viggo had no routine. Viggo was called "Viggo".
Viggo's parents were dead. But they used to called him "Viggo."
Viggo's lovers had left. They once called him "Viggo."
Viggo's friends change. But he was always known as "Viggo."
Viggo's fans are slightly frightened by him. They knew "Vigs" or "Viggy" was forbidden.
Viggo was a man, with a calm penis encased in old denim, hidden behind the hem of flennal shirts, swaying gently as he walked, bobbed up and down, like the head of a beast of burden, when he became aroused, easily pulled out and quietly put away.
Viggo looks at Orlando. Viggo doesn't bother with metaphor or nicknames. Viggo waved Orlando over and introduced himself. Orlando said hello and Viggo called Orlando, "Orlando."
And that was it. As if that was all Orlando was and all he had to be. And Orlando was pleased and called him, "Viggo."
The end.
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